Chapter 4 - Someone Came for Her
"You are not locking me in your penthouse."
Mara stood in Dante's office at two in the morning wearing borrowed sweatpants and somebody's oversized sweatshirt.
There was dried blood on Dante's cuff.
Not his.
"Technically," he said, "the doors lock from the inside."
"That's not funny."
"I wasn't joking."
"That makes it worse."
Nico leaned against the wall.
Dante pointed toward the door.
"Leave."
"Gladly."
When they were alone, Mara faced him.
"Someone just tried to kill us."
"Exactly."
"And your solution is to hide me?"
"My solution is to keep you alive."
"I spent eight years hiding from questions I was afraid to ask. I'm done."
Dante rubbed his jaw.
"Rourke has forty men in New York."
"Congratulations to him."
"Mara."
"What?"
"He doesn't miss twice."
Her anger faltered.
Dante stepped closer.
"The shooter wasn't aiming at Vale."
She understood.
"Me."
"Probably."
"Why?"
"Because Vale said you have something."
"I don't."
"Maybe you don't know you have it."
Mara thought about her father.
His apartment.
His belongings.
Everything she'd kept.
Then she remembered the photograph.
She went still.
Dante noticed.
"What?"
"I have something."
She walked into the guest suite and returned with her wallet.
From a hidden pocket she removed the photograph.
Daniel and Mara.
Coney Island.
She was seventeen.
They were both laughing.
Dante turned it over.
If anything happens—Moretti.
His face hardened.
"When did he write this?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you show me?"
"Because your last name was the reason I didn't."
Fair.
Dante examined the photograph beneath the desk lamp.
Then noticed something.
"The backing."
"What?"
"It's too thick."
He carefully separated the photograph from its cardboard backing.
A tiny brass key fell onto the desk.
Mara stared.
Dante picked it up.
A number was engraved into it.
417.
Nico was called back.
By sunrise they had an answer.
Penn Station.
Private luggage lockers.
Locker 417 hadn't officially existed in years.
But an old maintenance map showed it.
At 7:20 a.m., they opened it.
Inside sat a metal box.
Daniel Ellison had hidden it eight years ago.
The box contained a flash drive, three handwritten ledgers and a letter addressed to Mara.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Sweetheart,
If you're reading this, I failed to get us out in time.
Mara stopped.
Dante looked away.
She continued.
Daniel explained everything.
Vincent Moretti had been selling confidential information about Moretti operations to Sebastian Rourke.
Routes.
Contracts.
Names.
Rourke used that information to eliminate competitors and quietly build power.
Daniel discovered the transactions.
He planned to expose Vincent.
But Daniel had also discovered something else.
Dante wasn't part of it.
Vincent had attempted to implicate his nephew by routing money through accounts bearing Dante's authorization codes.
Daniel secretly corrected the records.
That was why his ledger said KEEP HIM OUT.
Mara looked up.
"My father was protecting you."
Dante didn't speak.
A man he'd never met had died partly because he'd refused to help frame him.
The knowledge sat heavily inside his chest.
Nico inserted the flash drive into an isolated laptop.
Files appeared.
Transactions.
Audio recordings.
Photographs.
Then one folder.
Rourke / V.M.
Nico opened it.
Dante stared at the screen.
There was Sebastian Rourke.
Older now, but unmistakable.
Standing beside Vincent.
And beside them—
Rafael Costa.
One of Dante's most trusted men.
The same Rafael who'd stood behind him the night he discovered Mara's prosthetic leg.
Mara whispered, "He knew."
Dante's phone rang.
Rafael.
Nobody moved.
Dante answered.
"Where are you?"
Rafael's voice sounded calm.
"Penthouse."
Dante's blood chilled.
They weren't at the penthouse.
But someone was.
Mrs. Alvarez.
The chef.
Two housekeepers.
Dante's security staff.
"Why?"
"Looking for something."
Dante signaled Nico.
Nico began calling security.
Rafael sighed.
"You found Daniel's box, didn't you?"
Mara heard him.
Dante stared at her.
"How long?" Dante asked.
"Longer than you want to know."
"Rourke?"
"He's offering a way out."
"Of what?"
"Your father's mistakes. Vincent's mistakes. All of it."
Dante's voice became dangerously quiet.
"And Mara?"
Silence.
Then Rafael said, "She's a loose end."
Mara's face hardened.
Dante's did something worse.
"No," he said.
One word.
Rafael laughed softly.
"You've known her seven months."
"I've known you twelve years."
"Exactly."
"Which makes what happens next your fault."
The call ended.
Nico looked up from his phone.
"Penthouse security isn't answering."
Dante grabbed his coat.
Mara followed.
"No."
She kept walking.
"Mara."
"You can waste five minutes arguing with me or use those five minutes getting home."
Dante stared at her.
Then swore.
"Stay behind me."
She shook her head.
"Beside you."
For the first time that morning, Dante almost smiled.
They reached Manhattan forty minutes later.
The penthouse appeared empty.
Too empty.
Dante entered first.
Mara followed.
A chair lay overturned.
Glass covered the hallway.
"Mrs. Alvarez?" Mara called.
A faint sound came from the pantry.
They found the older woman tied to a chair but alive.
Mara rushed toward her.
Then a voice came from behind them.
"I wouldn't."
Rafael stood in the doorway.
Gun raised.
Dante froze.
Rafael looked at Mara.
"I'm sorry."
She stared at him.
"No, you're not."
Rafael's expression twitched.
"Give me the drive."
Dante moved slightly in front of Mara.
Rafael laughed.
"Already protecting her?"
Dante said nothing.
"You know what Rourke told me?" Rafael continued. "He said this would happen. He said you'd confuse guilt with affection."
Mara looked at Dante.
Guilt.
The word hurt more than she expected.
Rafael noticed.
"Oh. He hasn't told you."
"Shut up," Dante said.
"She deserves to know."
"Rafael."
"Vincent called Dante the night your father died."
Mara stopped breathing.
"Dante knew there was a problem on Route 9."
She looked at him.
"Is that true?"
Dante didn't answer quickly enough.
That was answer enough.
Mara stepped backward.
"You knew?"
"I knew something happened. I didn't know about you."
"But you didn't ask."
Dante's face tightened.
"No."
Rafael smiled.
"That's the Moretti family. They don't pull every trigger themselves."
Mara stared at Dante.
For the first time since Pennsylvania, she didn't see the man who had caught her when she fell.
She saw the name on the back of her father's photograph.
Moretti.
Rafael raised the gun.
Then Mara moved.
Not away.
Forward.
She kicked the pantry cart hard with her prosthetic leg.
The heavy steel cart slammed into Rafael's knees.
His shot went into the ceiling.
Dante hit him before he recovered.
Seconds later Rafael was on the floor, disarmed.
Nico secured him.
Mara stood against the counter, breathing hard.
Dante approached.
She raised a hand.
"Don't."
He stopped.
Her eyes were wet.
"You didn't kill my father."
"No."
"But you had a chance to ask what happened."
Dante swallowed.
"Yes."
"And you chose not to."
"Yes."
She nodded slowly.
"At least you're finally telling me the truth."
Then she walked away.
Dante didn't follow.
Nico came beside him.
"Give her time."
Dante looked at Rafael lying on the marble floor.
"We don't have time."
"Why?"
Rafael began laughing.
They turned.
"You think I'm the betrayal?" he said.
Blood ran from his lip.
"I'm nothing."
Dante crouched.
"What does that mean?"
Rafael smiled.
"Ask Nico who opened Daniel Ellison's restricted hospital records eight years ago."
Silence filled the room.
Dante slowly turned.
May you like
Nico had gone pale.
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