Chapter 4 - Playing the BaitThe revelation that Julian Vance was a spy for the Irish syndicate sent a shockwave through our operation. Julian hadn't invited me to the gala because he found me attractive; he had invited me to isolate me so O'Connor's men could snatch me outside the venue. Gabriel’s sudden arrival at the ballroom had unwittingly saved my life.
"I'm going to kill him," Gabriel said coldly, pulling his phone out to call Tommy.
"No," I said firmly, standing up from the desk and holding his arm. "If you kill Julian now, O'Connor will know we've uncovered the leak. He’ll go into hiding, and the threat will hang over us forever."
Gabriel looked at me, an eyebrow raised. "What are you suggesting?"
"We use Julian to set a trap," I said, a dangerous confidence blooming in my chest. "We let Julian think I’m still unsuspecting. I’ll send him a message saying I want to meet him at the docks to discuss what happened at the gala. O'Connor will think I’m walking straight into his hands."
"Absolutely not," Gabriel snapped instantly, his eyes flashing with anger. "I am not using you as bait!"
"Gabriel, listen to me!" I insisted, stepping closer and placing my hands flat on his chest. "For three years, I’ve managed your empire behind a screen. I know how O'Connor operates better than your captains do. I won't be alone. You and your men will be surrounding the warehouse before I even step foot inside."
Gabriel stared at me, his chest heaving as he fought against every protective instinct in his body. "If anything happens to you—"
"Nothing will happen to me," I swore softly, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. "Because I have the most terrifying man in Boston protecting me."
Gabriel groaned against my mouth, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me onto the edge of the mahogany desk. He kissed me deeply, fiercely, desperate to reassure himself of my safety.
"If a single hair on your head is harmed, Chastity," Gabriel warned, his eyes dark with deadly resolve, "I will turn this entire city to ash."
The plan was set for the following evening.
By 9:00 PM, I arrived at the desolate North End docks in a black sedan. I was wearing a practical black leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots, but beneath my collar was a tiny, high-frequency microphone connected directly to Gabriel’s earpiece.
The night air was freezing, carrying the salty smell of the Atlantic Ocean and rust. I walked down the dimly lit pier toward Warehouse 4, my footsteps echoing against the wet asphalt.
Inside my earpiece, Gabriel’s voice was a steady, comforting murmur. "I’m on the roof of Warehouse 3, Chastity. Tommy has the perimeter covered. You’re clear."
"Copy," I whispered quietly.
I pushed open the rusted metal door of Warehouse 4.
Inside, standing near a row of heavy shipping containers illuminated by a single overhead light, was Julian Vance. He was wearing an expensive coat, but his face was nervous, his eyes darting around the shadows.
"Chastity!" Julian gasped, stepping forward with a relieved smile. "You actually came. I was worried after Mercer’s outburst at the gala—"
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"Cut the act, Julian," I said coolly, stopping ten feet away from him, my hands tucked into my jacket pockets. "I know who you work for."
Julian’s smile instantly evaporated.
