Sentenced to Marriage by MadlainQ

Confessing his crimes | sat in one of the rooms in the operating center and observed the fierce CEO transform into a secret agent on a mission. It was amusing and fascinating and, above all, absolutely freaking hot. He took off his navy suit and white shirt and put on a pair of dark-grey combat pants and a fitted black shirt. | wouldn't expect any businessman to turn into a fighter and get his hands dirty, but Aren was different. He wasn’t afraid to settle things personally, even if it was a very risky move.

“Have you done with the ogling?” he asked, amused. | grinned teasingly. “Are you forbiddingfrom admiring my sexy husband?” He walked closer, pullingup from my seat and kissingpassionately. “Aren’t you even a bit concerned about tonight?” | knew that his words were meant to sound playful, but they wiped the smile off my face instead. “I am worried.” I slid my arms around his waist, pressing myself against his firm body. “I am crazily anxious, and | don’t want you to get involved in the fight...” | muttered.

He snorted. “Cora, we are not going there to ambush those guys literally. We'll do anything we can to minimize the risk. We don’t care about the pawns-we are aiming at the big fish, and even then, the evidence comes first.

We cannot spook them without getting undeniable proof of their illegal activity.” | wasn’t sure if his words madeless worried. | narrowed my eyes at him. “If you are not worried yourself, then why did you tell Chris to gather twenty more people?” He sighed. “It’s precaution, sunshine. We need to be able to secure the place, and the Red Hook isn’t exactly a small area to cover...” | nodded and forced myself to smile despite my fearfully pounding heart. There was one more fact that madeanxious-Aren was putting on a harness with a holster and a gun...

ork A few hours later, | was sitting in a van parked right by the fence surrounding one of the warehouses of the Red Hook Terminal. | stayed there along with two of Aren’s men, Damian and Eli, who were constantly staring at the monitors. They were armed with headpieces with microphones to contact Chris, Jack, and Aren. Their computers were connected to several cameras attached to every corner of the port leading to container no 9. Their equipment was able to detect even the slightest movement and odd sound, informing the team that something was up. Aren, Jack, and Chris all led groups of six to seven people, hidden behind containers or on the roofs of the surrounding warehouses. | was getting more restless with every minute, but the one thing that allowedto stay focused was the fact that | could be in constant contact with Aren during the entire mission, listening to his commands and talking to him through the microphone if necessary. | also had my headpiece and a microphone, even though | stayed silent, not wanting to jeopardize the mission with my babbling.

Aren’s team settled on the roof of the warehouse, right next to container no 9. | could partially see them, watching the view from one of the cameras. They were sneaky like panthers, lurking around and waiting for their prey to appear. It was almost 8:30 when two black vans appeared on the road, leading straight to our container. The area was surrounded by narrow paths that only a motorbike could get through and one road for the cars from the east side and one from the west side. The vans appeared from the west, heading to the place where the meeting was supposed to take place, but never got in front of the blue container. They stopped in one of the dark corners, and about ten people wearing black got out of those vans and spread around the area.

“Company coming from nine and ten o'clock,” Eli informed Aren, Chris, and Jack “Numbers?” | heard Aren’s voice asking.

“Eleven. Distance: 15 feet away from Mr. Collins's team,” Eli replied.

“Jack, your move. Use sleep darts only, and try to stay quiet,” Aren commanded.

“Seriously? | don’t need you to remind me. We're on it.” Jack responded. Two minutes later, | could observe Jack’s team on the screen, taking those men wearing black down, one by one. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped open. The way they moved, their swiftness, and their agility were beyond incredible. “Wow...” An audible gasp escaped my mouth. “It’s better than watching an action movie...” Damian snorted. “It’s nothing. You should have seen Mr. Lan.” “Yeah,” Eli cut in, “He would have taken care of them faster than the entire team would.” Damian looked atand winked. “Mrs. Lan, your husband is the real monster here.” A faint smile crossed my lips just imagining Aren in action. | thought that it must be one hell of a sexy scene to watch. That way, my lewd mind had completely shut down my anxiety... for a moment.

“Those guys were all heavily armed,” Jack informed. “Watch your backs, guys.” | swallowed hard. Our teams were having their vests on, but that didn't make any of them completely bulletproof. My heart rate sped up as | saw more cars coming from both sides of the road leading to container no 9. Two motorcades stopped in front of each other at a 30-foot distance.

“Keep silent from now on and record everything those guys say. Zoom cameras at the first two cars from both sides,” Aren commanded.

“Understood,” the teams replied simultaneously.

I held my breath, watching the doors of those vans open and six people walk out. | recognized Lester Packton getting out of the van on the left side. He was flanked by two men whom I'd seen before; they were with Packton in our office at Lan Diamond Corporation when they were trying to take Callan’s phone. Eight people got out of the cars, standing on the right side as well. They were carefully dressed in black from head to toe, making them look like clones. One of them slightly stood out since he was wearing a hood on his head that covered most of his face and his walk seemed more laid back. Yet, that image was nothing like I had pictured the mysterious Mr. C., and judging by Packton’s expression, he was surprised just as much as | was.

“Who the fuck are you? i thought that Mr. C. was coming in person tonight.” Packton’s low growl pierced the silence.

The man in the hood walked forward and chuckled coldly. “Relax, Lester. Mr. C. is... around, and he’s gotto take care of his business. You may callMax. Tellwhat you had to say to Mr. C., and | will be happy to pass it on to him. | can also make decisions in his name.” The man’s nasally voice, with a strange accent, and his cockiness must have driven Packton to the edge. “Money first,” he hissed, the men flanking him anxiously looking around. “Assurethere are no loose ends first.” Max giggled viciously.

Packton and his men seemed more and more nervous. | could see all of them glancing to the right, where Mr.

C.’s men were, and at the rooftops of the warehouses surrounding them as if they were trying to spot snipers.

Fortunately, Aren’s men were nearly unnoticeable, lying on the smooth roof surface in their dark clothes and observing the whole scene.

Lester Packton stepped closer to Max. As their distance shrunk, it was even more obvious that the mysterious man in the hood was almost a head shorter than Packton and much thinner, and yet he stood in front of the fierce agent with an aura of the most dangerous predator around.

Packton chuckled daringly, looking down at Max. “Listen, kid-" The sound of reloading guns shut his mouth in an instant. Max smirked, “Talk, Lester. | don’t have all night.” Packton roared viciously and fisted his hands, trying to contain his fury. | could see him taking a deep breath before he squeezed the words out of his throat. “We had our man guarding the cell, and we took care of the surveillance in the arrest. Our guard gave Winton water with sleeping pills. He was unconscious when our men cand staged his suicide. The men who did it are on our side. They are paid, and they will never talk, so we are covered.” “What about the agent that was supposed to run this case?” Max inquired.

“We faked the toxicology report, suggesting that Winton took the sleeping pills right after he had been arrested when he was still in Agent Collins’s hands,” Packton explained. Max nodded in approval. “Good job. What about the toxicologist who made the real report?” Packton chuckled coldly. “Let's just say that he went on a vacation- an eternal one.” | clenched my hands into fists as I listened to him admit he had arranged to kill someone, and he did it for no other reason but to get money. | hated that guy more by the second, but | was also glad because his driven-by-greed confession was about to guarantee him life in prison. “Excellent!” Max clasped his hands and then snapped his fingers, gesturing at one of his men. The man ran to the car, pulled out a black briefcase, and handed it over to Max. “Here's your reward, Agent Packton.” He giggled spitefully, pointing at the briefcase.

Suddenly, Aren’s low voice cthrough everyone's earpieces. “Hold it until he shows the money and Packton takes it. Wait for my signal.” | took a deep breath. My heart hammered against my chest, and | started to pray that everything went smoothly without anyone getting hurt.

Scrimes When Max put the briefcase on the ground, Packton walked toward it. He growled as he had to kneel in front of Max to open it. “Should | count it?” he smiled smugly, as he pulled out one of the many piles of hundred-dollar bills.

“Half a million. It’s all there,” Max yawned before glancing at his watch.

Packton glared at him, annoyed more and more by Max's behavior, but he finally got what he wanted. He closed the briefcase and took it from the ground, providing the last piece of evidence we needed.

| could hear Aren’s soft chuckle quickly followed by the command everyone was waiting for,” Get them all. Now!”