Chapter 4 - The Man Who Could Find Anyone
I grabbed June’s wrist.
“Don’t look at it again.”
Naturally, she looked at it again.
“What?”
“The car.”
“What about it?”
“We’re not going upstairs.”
Her expression changed.
“Norah.”
“Keep walking.”
We continued past her building.
My pulse hammered.
I had spent enough time around Nico to recognize his security vehicles.
Black Escalades.
Mercedes sedans.
Occasionally armored Range Rovers.
Never that particular Lincoln.
More importantly, Nico’s people did not sit obviously beneath streetlights.
They were better than that.
“Who is it?” June whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“I know.”
We turned at the corner.
I pulled out the prepaid phone and called the only number I had memorized besides June’s.
I stared at it before pressing dial.
Nico answered before the first ring finished.
“Norah?”
I almost hung up.
Hearing my name in his voice did something violent to my chest.
I forced myself to speak.
“Is there a black Lincoln outside June’s apartment?”
Silence.
Then Nico’s tone changed completely.
“What plate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“Nico.”
“Norah, tell me where you are.”
“No.”
A pause.
He breathed once.
Controlled himself.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. Are you somewhere public?”
“Yes.”
“Stay there.”
“Is the car yours?”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
Nico was already moving.
I heard a door slam through the phone.
“Listen carefully. Go somewhere crowded. Restaurant, hotel lobby, police station. Do not go back to June’s.”
“Nico—”
“I’m not coming to take you home.”
I went silent.
He continued.
“I swear to you. I just need to know you’re safe.”
It was probably the first promise he had made in years that wasn’t backed by power.
I wanted to distrust it.
Part of me did.
But fear won.
“There’s a twenty-four-hour café on Belmont.”
“I know it.”
Of course he did.
“Go inside. Stay away from the windows.”
June and I reached the café.
Ten minutes later, two men entered.
I recognized one.
Marco.
He had worked for Nico for years.
He stopped near the entrance rather than approaching.
Then he lifted both empty hands slightly.
“Miss Quinn.”
“Did Nico send you?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here.”
That surprised me.
Marco continued.
“Mr. Moretti instructed us not to approach unless you asked.”
June whispered, “Well, that’s new.”
I almost laughed.
“Who was in the Lincoln?”
“We’re finding out.”
“Was it Salerno?”
Marco’s expression gave him away.
June looked at me.
“Who is Salerno?”
“Someone I wish you never needed to know.”
By morning, the Lincoln was gone.
So was any illusion that leaving Nico meant instantly leaving his world.
Nico learned the same lesson from the opposite direction.
Victor Salerno knew I had left.
That meant someone close to Nico had talked.
He gathered six senior men in the study.
Arthur stood beside him.
“I want to know who leaked it,” Nico said.
No shouting.
That made everyone more nervous.
One man began, “Boss, people see things. Miss Quinn hasn’t been—”
Nico’s eyes cut toward him.
“She has a name.”
The room went quiet.
Arthur noticed the change.
So did everyone else.
“Norah,” Nico said. “Her name is Norah.”
The meeting lasted two hours.
By the end of it, they had identified three possible sources.
Nico did not order anyone hurt.
Instead he removed access, suspended accounts, and demanded records.
Arthur waited until they were alone.
“Different approach.”
Nico poured coffee.
“I’m tired of solving stupidity with more stupidity.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“Norah would approve.”
Nico’s hand stopped.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Use her to congratulate me.”
Arthur’s expression softened.
“Fair.”
Nico stared into his coffee.
“Did she sound afraid?”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened.
Arthur leaned against the desk.
“You can’t protect her from everything.”
“I can protect her from Salerno.”
“Maybe.”
“I will.”
“And when that’s finished?”
Nico knew what Arthur meant.
Would he use danger as an excuse to pull me back?
Old Nico would have.
New Nico—if such a man even existed—was learning that protection without consent could become another cage.
“Then she goes back to her life,” he said.
Arthur nodded slowly.
“That answer probably cost you.”
“You have no idea.”
Across town, I made June promise not to quit her routine.
“You’re the one being followed,” she said. “Why am I being lectured?”
“Because this is my mess.”
“No.”
“June.”
She set her coffee down.
“You didn’t create Nico’s enemies.”
“I chose Nico.”
“Three years ago.”
“I knew what he was.”
“Did you?”
I didn’t answer.
The truth was uncomfortable.
When I first met Nico, I knew he was dangerous.
I didn’t know the scale.
There had always been euphemisms.
Logistics.
Security.
Private investments.
Family operations.
By the time I understood, I loved him.
So I became talented at not asking questions.
That silence had protected our relationship until it destroyed me.
“I can move,” I said.
June shook her head.
“I’m not sending you back because some guy owns a Lincoln.”
“June—”
“No.”
Her stubbornness reminded me why we had once been inseparable.
Later that day, I called Nico again.
He answered quietly.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Who was in the car?”
A pause.
“Two men connected to Salerno.”
“Why were they watching me?”
“To see whether you could be useful.”
“To hurt you?”
“To pressure me.”
I closed my eyes.
“So leaving you didn’t work.”
His voice changed.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“No.”
“Nico, I wanted out.”
“And you are out.”
“Then why are your men outside June’s building?”
“Because somebody else made you a target.”
“I don’t want six armed shadows.”
“Two.”
“What?”
“There are two.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“That was not the point.”
“I know.”
He exhaled.
“What do you want me to do?”
The question stunned me.
Three years.
Nico had rarely asked that without already deciding the answer.
“I want them invisible.”
“They can do that.”
“I want June left alone.”
“Yes.”
“I want no trackers on my phone.”
A hesitation.
“Nico.”
“Fine.”
“No people following me into work.”
“Fine.”
“And you don’t come to my office.”
A longer silence.
“Fine.”
I swallowed.
“Thank you.”
He said nothing for several seconds.
Then, “Norah.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
I gripped the phone.
There were a thousand things he could have been apologizing for.
I wasn’t ready to ask which.
“I have to go.”
“Okay.”
No demand.
No argument.
That hurt too.
I ended the call.
That evening, Nico stood alone in our bedroom.
He opened the closet.
My champagne dress from the night I left still hung near the front.
He touched the sleeve once.
Then dropped his hand.
Arthur called from downstairs.
They had found the leak.
A man named Daniel Costa had sold information about my departure to one of Salerno’s intermediaries.
Nico listened to the evidence.
Then asked, “Where is he?”
“Warehouse office.”
“What do you want done?” Arthur asked.
Old Nico would not have needed the question.
But Nico surprised him.
“Terminate him.”
Arthur paused.
“From the company?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Turn the financial evidence over to the attorneys. If he stole from us, sue him.”
Arthur stared at the phone.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
After they disconnected, Nico sat on the edge of the bed.
He understood something he had resisted his entire life.
If he wanted even the possibility of becoming a man I could trust, he couldn’t change only the way he treated me.
He would have to change the world he expected me to live inside.
And somewhere across Chicago, Victor Salerno was about to make that much harder.
Because the Lincoln had not been sent merely to watch me.
Its occupants had photographed June.
My office.
My route home.
And one photograph had already been delivered to a man who believed Nico Moretti still had exactly one weakness.
May you like
Me.
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