Chapter 3 - Blood Doesn't Make a Man Loyal
Leo returned to the estate with one question consuming him.
Which member of his family wanted him dead?
His uncle Dominic controlled the docks.
His cousin Marco controlled distribution.
His godfather Vincent handled political relationships.
And his younger brother Adrian managed legitimate businesses.
Any one of them could have paid Arthur.
Any one could have ordered Samuel Hayes killed.
Leo trusted them because they were family.
That suddenly seemed like the worst possible reason.
He summoned them to dinner.
Nobody knew it was an interrogation.
At seven, Dominic arrived first.
Sixty-two, silver-haired, broad, old-school.
“You look terrible,” Dominic said.
“Good evening to you too.”
Marco arrived ten minutes later.
Then Vincent.
Adrian came last.
“Sorry,” Adrian said. “Traffic.”
Leo hugged his younger brother.
Adrian had been sixteen when their father died.
Leo had raised him.
Paid for college.
Kept him away from violence.
If there was one person Leo refused to suspect, it was Adrian.
Dinner began.
Leo watched.
Dominic complained about port inspections.
Marco talked about money.
Vincent discussed a judge.
Adrian barely ate.
Leo placed his wine down.
“Someone tried to kill me last night.”
Silence.
Dominic stopped chewing.
Marco stared.
Vincent's face hardened.
Adrian whispered, “What?”
“Three men were supposed to enter my bedroom.”
“Who?” Dominic demanded.
“Moretti.”
Marco swore.
Vincent asked, “How did they get through security?”
“They didn't.”
Leo looked around the table.
“Someone stopped them.”
“Arthur?” Adrian asked.
Leo watched his brother.
“No.”
“Who?”
“My maid.”
Marco laughed nervously.
“The little brown-haired girl?”
“Clara.”
Dominic shook his head.
“How?”
“She discovered the plan.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“And where is she?”
“Gone.”
Nobody spoke.
Leo continued.
“She left evidence.”
That was a lie.
He wanted reactions.
Dominic leaned forward.
“What evidence?”
Marco looked frightened.
Vincent remained still.
Adrian's hand tightened around his fork.
Leo noticed.
“What kind?” Adrian asked.
“Enough.”
Adrian looked down.
Dinner ended twenty minutes later.
Leo ordered surveillance on everyone.
Then Nico called.
“I traced Samuel Hayes' final investigation.”
“And?”
“He wasn't investigating you.”
Leo stopped walking.
“Everyone said he was.”
“Everyone was wrong.”
Nico continued.
“Hayes was investigating laundering through Rossi legitimate businesses. Construction. Hotels. Restaurants.”
Leo felt something tighten in his chest.
Those were Adrian's companies.
“No.”
“Leo—”
“Check again.”
“I checked three times.”
Leo hung up.
He walked outside.
The night air was cold.
His brother.
The boy Leo had protected.
Could Adrian have murdered a detective?
He refused to believe it.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
Clara.
She was sitting inside what appeared to be an abandoned apartment.
Alive.
Below it was a message.
STOP LOOKING OR SHE DIES.
Leo stared at the image.
Another message arrived.
MIDNIGHT. PIER 17. COME ALONE.
Leo smiled without humor.
Someone had made a mistake.
Threatening him was ordinary.
Using Clara was personal.
And personal mistakes got people killed.
At 11:58, Leo arrived at Pier 17.
Alone.
At least visibly.
Nico had positioned men three blocks away.
Fog rolled across the river.
A figure emerged.
Arthur.
Leo wasn't surprised.
“Where is she?”
Arthur laughed.
“You really care about the maid.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“For now.”
Leo stepped closer.
“Who are you working for?”
Arthur shook his head.
“You think this is about the Morettis.”
“Isn't it?”
“They're muscle.”
“Then who's paying?”
Arthur smiled.
“You're smarter than your father, Leo. But you've got the same weakness.”
“What weakness?”
“Family.”
Leo's face remained expressionless.
Arthur continued.
“Your father trusted blood too.”
“What does my father have to do with this?”
Arthur's smile widened.
“Everything.”
A gunshot cracked.
Arthur jerked backward.
Blood appeared across his chest.
Leo spun.
Another shot struck the metal railing.
He dropped behind a concrete barrier.
Arthur collapsed.
Leo crawled toward him.
“Who?” Leo demanded.
Arthur coughed blood.
“Ask…”
“Ask who?”
“Your…”
His eyes lost focus.
“Arthur!”
Dead.
Leo searched the darkness.
The shooter was gone.
Nico's men arrived seconds later.
Too late.
Leo stood over Arthur's body.
Arthur had been silenced before he could reveal the truth.
Then Leo noticed something clenched in Arthur's hand.
A gold cuff link.
Leo pried it loose.
An engraved letter decorated the front.
A.
Adrian wore identical cuff links.
Leo had given them to him for his thirtieth birthday.
For the first time in his life, Leo felt afraid of the answer he was approaching.
Then Arthur's phone rang.
Leo answered.
A distorted voice said:
“You should have stayed home.”
“Where is Clara?”
“She knows too much.”
“If you touch her—”
“You'll what?”
Leo's voice dropped.
“I'll take everything you love.”
The caller laughed.
“You already did.”
The line disconnected.
Leo stared at the river.
Those words were not random.
They were personal.
And only one person had ever accused Leo of taking everything from him.
May you like
His brother.
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