chapter thirteen
846 Words
They moved pass the sign board " Good bye San Diego" like it was trying to hide everything.
Claire killed the engine a block from Pier 9. No lights on the dock, no guards at the gate—just the skeletal outline of cranes against the sky and the slap of water against pilings.
“Gate logs rerouted,” Tessa whispered from the back seat, eyes on her laptop. “You’ve got a 6-minute window. After that, the system snaps back and alarms hit Dela Cruz’s phone.”
“Six minutes,” Adrian said, checking his sidearm once, then setting it on the dash. “Quiet only. We don’t fire unless they fire first.”
Claire nodded. She wasn’t scared. She was focused. Twenty-three people were on that dock, and if they didn’t move now, they’d be gone by sunrise.
“Let’s go.”
---
The chain on Gate 3 was cut clean. Tessa’s work.
They moved fast, low, sticking to the shadows between shipping containers. The air smelled like salt, diesel, and something metallic Claire didn’t want to name.
Two men stood by a refrigerated container at the end of Pier 9. Armed, but bored. Talking low in Spanish, passing a vape back and forth.
Adrian signaled. _Left. I take left._
Claire nodded. _I take right._
They split.
Claire came up behind her target fast, hand over his mouth before he could react, forearm locking his airway. He struggled for three seconds, then went limp. She eased him to the ground, breathing hard but quiet.
Across from her, Adrian had his man facedown on the concrete, zip tie already cinched. No punches thrown. No blood.
“Clear,” he mouthed.
Tessa’s voice came through the earpiece, barely above a whisper. “Container’s unlocked. You’ve got 3 minutes. Get them out.”
The container door was heavy. It rolled open on rusted wheels with a screech that made Claire’s teeth hurt.
Inside, twenty-three people sat on the floor, huddled together. Ages from 16 to 60. Eyes wide, exhausted, terrified. One woman clutched a toddler to her chest.
“Shh,” Claire said in Spanish. “We’re getting you out. Stay quiet.”
Adrian was already cutting the zip ties on the first row. “Move fast, stay low. Tessa’s got a van two blocks west. No one talks until you’re in it.”
A teenage boy hesitated, staring at Claire. “Police?”
“No,” she said. “Better.”
They moved. Fast, silent, one hand on the person in front of them. Adrian counted heads at the door. Twenty-three out, twenty-three accounted for.
“Two minutes,” Tessa said.
They were halfway to the gate when headlights swept across the dock.
A black SUV rolled in, slow, deliberate. Dela Cruz’s driver got out first. Tall, broad, and pissed.
“Stop,” the driver said.
Claire stepped in front of the group, hands up.
“Walk away,” she said. “They’re not yours anymore.”
The driver smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
“Dela Cruz doesn’t lose cargo.”
Adrian stepped up beside her. “Then tell him to get better locks.”
For a second, it looked like it would go bad. The driver’s hand moved toward his waistband.
A shot cracked through the air.
Not from the dock. From the far end, near the gate.
“Go!” Tessa shouted over the comms. “I’ve got eyes. Move now!”
The group broke into a run. Adrian grabbed the woman with the toddler and lifted her over his shoulder. Claire grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled him forward.
The driver hesitated, then went for his g*n.
Adrian didn’t wait. He tackled him low, driving him into the concrete with a thud. No shot fired. The g*n skittered away.
“Go!” Adrian yelled at Claire.
She didn’t argue. She ran.
They made the van with 20 seconds to spare. Tessa slammed the doors shut, hit the gas, and they peeled out just as the gate alarm started blaring.
In the back, twenty-three people were breathing, crying, whispering thank yous in three different languages.
Claire leaned against the seat, chest heaving. Her hands were shaking.
“You okay?” Adrian asked, sitting next to her.
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
He nodded. “All of them are alive.”
Tessa glanced back in the rearview. “Dela Cruz is gonna lose his mind when he sees the footage. Gate cams caught everything.”
“Good,” Claire said. “Let him.”
The van hit the freeway, headlights cutting through the fog. Behind them, Pier 9 was lighting up like a Christmas tree.
But the people in the back weren’t there anymore.
Adrian reached over and brushed a smudge of dirt off Claire’s cheek with his thumb.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly.
“No,” Claire agreed. “But we won tonight.”
Tessa rolled her eyes.
Claire laughed. It was shaky, but it was real.
For the first time in weeks, they had breathing room.
- Writer
