Chapter 19 - The Scent of Gardenias
The ship's exterior ladder was slick with freezing spray, but we scaled it silently, moving like shadows across the rusting steel deck.
Suddenly, a metallic clatter echoed from the lower decks—followed by the muffled *thwip-thwip* of Dominic's suppressed weapon.
*Clack.*
Every light on the freighter died simultaneously. The deep thrum of the ship's massive diesel engines ground to a violent halt, plunging the vessel into pitch-black darkness.
"Move!" Luca hissed.
We bounded up the exterior stairs leading to the bridge superstructure. Inside the wheelhouse, flashlight beams jerked erratically as shouting in Italian erupted.
"Get the auxiliary power online!" a voice roared—Marco Valenti's voice. "Start the transmission manually!"
Luca kicked open the side door of the wheelhouse, his weapon barking twice in rapid succession. Two armed mercenaries collapsed to the deck before they could turn their lights on him.
I scrambled up the short steel ladder to the roof of the bridge where the massive satellite uplink dish stood illuminated only by the flashes of lightning across the sky.
My fingers worked furiously, unscrewing the panel on the dish transceiver. "Just two minutes," I whispered to myself, pulling out the circuit board and hunting for the main coaxial feed.
Down below, gunshots echoed through the bridge.
"Marco!" Luca’s voice was a terrifying roar above the storm. "Face me!"
Through the glass skylight beneath my feet, I saw Luca advance like the angel of death through the smoky gloom of the bridge, firing with ruthless precision, clearing every bodyguard who stepped into his path.
Marco Valenti stood backed against the helm console, holding the vintage leather briefcase tightly against his chest with one hand, a heavy revolver leveled at Luca with the other.
"You look just like Vito," Marco snarled, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. "Arrogant. Cruel. But your mother knew what he was. She hated him! And she would have hated you!"
"My mother died because of monsters like you and my father," Luca said coldly, his gun aimed directly at Marco's forehead. "Put the gun down, Marco. This ends tonight."
"It does end," Marco smiled, a grotesque, bloody grin. "Because I'm not the one who hired the crew to bring this ship here, Luca. I was just the courier."
I paused, wire cutters in hand, my stomach plummeting as Marco's words drifted through the shattered skylight.
"What did you say?" Luca demanded, his voice dropping into dangerous suspicion.
"You thought this was about thirty-year-old revenge?" Marco laughed, a wet, choking sound. "The Valentis died out decades ago. I sold this briefcase three weeks ago to the highest bidder. The one person who hated your little housekeeper wife enough to spend thirty million dollars to orchestrate your total ruin."
From the bridge shadows, the faint, sickeningly sweet scent of gardenia perfume drifted through the air.
My breath seized.
Gardenia.
May you like
It was the signature perfume of Elena Vance—Luca’s disgraced former fiancée.
***
