Betrayal at the Pier

When the traitor opened fire, Jules McKenna threw herself between me and the bullet. She grabbed the shooter, dragged him off the pier with her, and the two of them went down together. Neither one came back up.

The day her body was pulled from the water, I knelt until the gravel bit into my knees. I swore that whoever was behind it would pay in blood.

Three years later, I hung the heads of the ten men left from that syndicate outside my front gate, a warning to anyone who might get ideas.