Chapter 5 - The Law of the East Docks
Adrian didn't raise his voice. He didn't drop the sleeping toddler.
With a movement so fluid and blindingly fast that Clara barely registered it, Adrian’s right hand shot out. His fingers locked around the thug’s throat like hydraulic steel clamps.
Before the man could swing his brass knuckles, Adrian lifted him off his feet by the windpipe and slammed him backward into the brick wall of the alley. The impact rattled the brick mortar, knocking loose snow from the fire escape above.
The other two men froze, their sneers instantly evaporating.
"Listen to me very carefully," Adrian whispered into the gasping man's ear. The thug’s face was turning purple; his legs kicked frantically against the alley wall, unable to touch the ground. "Your name is Gary. You work for Frank Vance. Frank Vance reports to Jimmy Cole. And Jimmy Cole answers to Hale Holdings."
At the mention of *Hale*, Gary’s eyes bulged with absolute, blinding terror. Every petty crook in the tri-state area knew the name Adrian Hale. He wasn't a legend; he was the boogeyman who buried the Rossi family beneath twenty feet of harbor concrete.
"H-Hale..." the man wheezed, spit bubbling at the corners of his lips.
"Tell Vance that Clara Bennett’s debt is settled," Adrian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Tell him that if any man wearing his colors walks within three blocks of her street, her diner, or her son, I will not call Jimmy Cole. I will come to the docks myself. And I will dismantle Frank Vance piece by piece with an engine hoist. Do you understand?"
Gary nodded wildly, tears streaming down his wind-burned cheeks.
Adrian released his grip. The thug crashed into the snow, coughing violently, clutching his crushed throat.
Adrian turned his gaze toward the other two men. They took one look at his cold, dead grey eyes, grabbed their choking leader by his collar, and dragged him backward into the alley as fast as their boots could carry them, slipping and sliding in the slush until they vanished into the darkness.
Silence fell over the street again. Only the distant pop of fireworks and the soft hum of city traffic remained.
Adrian adjusted Leo on his shoulder, smoothed his coat with one hand, and turned back to Clara.
Clara was backed up against the bistro's frosted window, her eyes wide, her hands trembling over her mouth. She was looking at him not as the stranger who shared her pasta, but as a predator who had just shown his fangs.
"What are you?" she whispered, her voice shaking violently in the freezing air. "You... you lifted a two-hundred-pound man with one hand. Who are you, Adrian?"
Adrian looked down at the snow. The mask of a regular businessman had slipped, and he knew it was impossible to put back on.
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"I told you, Clara," Adrian said quietly. "I solve complicated problems. Now let’s get your son out of the cold."
***
