Chapter 39 Trap Sprung

• Pier 7 stank of rotting fish and diesel fuel. Santino parked two blocks away, approaching on foot through the maze of shipping containers. His Glock pressed reassuringly against his ribs.
• The warehouse stood dark against the lake, its broken windows like dead eyes. A single light burned in the office section.
• He found Léon tied to a chair, blood crusted around his split lip. Two men flanked him; they were professionals judging by their stance, cheap muscle by their clothes.