Chapter 7 - The Woman Cameron Had Been Protecting for Six Years
“You were my guardian?”
Avery’s voice barely carried across the warehouse.
Cameron closed his eyes.
“Not exactly.”
“That phrase should be illegal.”
“Avery—”
“My father named you?”
“Contingent guardian.”
“What does that even mean?”
“If your mother had died before you turned eighteen, I would have become responsible for your care.”
Avery stared.
“You were twenty-four.”
“Twenty-three when he wrote it.”
“My father wanted a twenty-three-year-old billionaire he barely knew raising me?”
Cameron’s expression hardened.
“He knew me better than most people did.”
“And you never told me.”
“You never needed to know.”
“I needed to know eight years ago!”
“You were sixteen and grieving.”
“So you decided everything for me.”
“No. Vincent did.”
The words came out sharper than Cameron intended.
Avery flinched.
His anger vanished.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked away.
Cameron lowered his voice.
“Your father believed someone might come after your mother too. He wanted a legal arrangement nobody connected to the Russo family.”
“Why you?”
“I asked him the same question.”
“What did he say?”
Cameron looked at her.
“He said I knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by dangerous people and still want to become something different.”
Avery felt her anger weaken.
She hated that.
Then Bradley interrupted.
“Touching. But Salvatore currently has the diner owner.”
Avery turned.
“We’re going.”
Cameron shook his head.
“I’m going.”
“We already did this.”
“Yes, and somehow you keep making the wrong decision.”
“My wrong decisions have been unusually productive today.”
Marco, still seated on the floor, laughed.
Cameron glared.
Marco stopped.
Avery approached Cameron.
“Rosa is family.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t ask me to hide.”
His eyes searched hers.
Finally, he nodded.
“But you stay beside me.”
“Fine.”
“Not ten feet away.”
“Fine.”
“Not five.”
“Cameron.”
“Beside me.”
“Fine.”
Bradley muttered, “I see why you drink black coffee.”
Nobody asked what he meant.
Rosa’s Diner was dark when they arrived.
No police.
No customers.
Rain covered the neon sign in streaks.
Cameron’s security surrounded the block.
Avery entered beside him.
Salvatore Moretti sat in booth nine.
Cameron’s booth.
He was sixty-three, silver-haired, elegant, wearing a navy overcoat.
Rosa sat at the counter.
Her wrists were not tied.
No visible injury.
Two men stood nearby.
Salvatore smiled.
“Cameron.”
“Let her go.”
“Still no hello?”
“You lost that privilege years ago.”
Salvatore’s gaze shifted to Avery.
“Vincent’s daughter.”
Avery stood straighter.
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“Did Thomas Hayes?”
Salvatore smiled faintly.
“Thomas acted without permission.”
Bradley stepped forward.
“My father worked for you.”
“He worked for money.”
“Same difference.”
Salvatore ignored him.
Avery said, “Why do you want the recipe box?”
Rosa’s eyes widened.
Too late.
Salvatore smiled.
“Clever girl.”
Cameron moved closer to Avery.
Salvatore noticed.
His amusement deepened.
“Oh, Cameron.”
“Don’t.”
“All these years.”
Cameron’s voice became dangerous.
“Don’t.”
Avery looked at Salvatore.
“All what years?”
Salvatore leaned back.
“You really don’t know.”
“Know what?”
Cameron’s jaw clenched.
Salvatore laughed.
“Your father didn’t make Cameron your guardian because he trusted him.”
Cameron spoke sharply.
“Enough.”
“He made him your guardian because Cameron begged him.”
Avery turned.
“What?”
Cameron looked furious.
Not with Avery.
With Salvatore.
“You were sixteen,” Salvatore continued. “Cameron saw you once at Moretti Maritime.”
Avery searched her memory.
Nothing.
“You were waiting for Vincent in the lobby.”
Then she remembered.
A young man in a dark suit.
Bruised knuckles.
Sitting alone after everyone else had left.
Avery had bought two vending-machine chocolate bars.
She had handed one to him.
She had forgotten his face.
But she remembered what she said.
You look like you’ve had a terrible day.
The young man had replied:
Terrible year.
Avery stared at Cameron.
“That was you.”
He said nothing.
Salvatore smiled.
“Cameron remembered.”
Avery’s heart beat faster.
Cameron finally spoke.
“You were a kid.”
“So were you.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“Exactly.”
“You gave me a candy bar.”
“Chocolate.”
“Almond.”
Avery swallowed.
He remembered.
Of course he remembered.
Cameron looked at Salvatore.
“This is irrelevant.”
“No,” Salvatore said. “It is your greatest weakness.”
Avery hated that word.
Weakness.
As if caring made someone smaller.
Salvatore continued.
“After Vincent died, Cameron protected you because he promised your father. Years later, when he began visiting your diner, the promise became something else.”
Avery looked at Cameron.
His eyes met hers.
No denial.
Salvatore laughed softly.
“Do you know why I sent Bradley into Rosa’s this morning?”
Avery said, “To scare me.”
“No.”
Bradley’s face changed.
“What?”
Salvatore smiled.
“I wanted to see Cameron’s reaction.”
Bradley stared.
“You used me.”
“Obviously.”
Avery felt sick.
Salvatore leaned forward.
“I needed to know if the rumors were true.”
“What rumors?”
“That Cameron Moretti had finally acquired something money could not replace.”
Cameron stepped toward him.
“Say another word about her—”
Salvatore raised one hand.
“Your father had the same flaw.”
“Compassion wasn’t his flaw.”
“It killed him.”
Avery interrupted.
“You keep talking about weakness because you don’t understand loyalty.”
Salvatore looked at her.
“No?”
“No. My father protected Cameron. Cameron protected my family. Rosa kept a letter for eight years. Bradley came back even though he knew you might kill him. Marco betrayed you by telling us the truth.”
Marco, standing near the door under guard, looked surprised.
Avery stepped closer.
“You’re the one standing alone.”
Salvatore’s smile disappeared.
For the first time, Avery saw anger.
“Bring me the box.”
“No.”
One of Salvatore’s men grabbed Rosa.
Cameron moved.
Avery caught his hand.
She looked toward Rosa.
Then toward the old kitchen.
The recipe box sat on the top shelf.
Avery walked slowly toward it.
“Avery,” Cameron warned.
“I know.”
She reached the shelf.
Removed the wooden box.
Her father had painted tiny yellow flowers along the lid.
She had not opened it in years.
Salvatore stood.
“Bring it here.”
Avery opened the box.
Recipe cards.
Tomato sauce.
Cannoli filling.
Meatballs.
Her father’s handwriting covered dozens of cards.
She searched.
Nothing.
Then she lifted the false wooden bottom.
A flash drive.
Salvatore’s eyes lit up.
“There.”
Avery picked it up.
Cameron watched her carefully.
She held it toward Salvatore.
“Let Rosa go.”
“First the drive.”
“No.”
Salvatore nodded toward his men.
Rosa was released.
She ran toward Cameron.
Avery placed the drive on the counter.
Salvatore walked toward it.
Then alarms began screaming.
Fire alarms.
Sprinklers exploded from the ceiling.
Everyone shouted.
Water poured down.
Rosa grinned.
Avery stared.
“What did you do?”
Rosa held up a lighter.
“Kitchen safety.”
Cameron’s security crashed through the rear entrance.
Salvatore grabbed the drive.
Marco tackled one of his men.
Bradley pulled Rosa behind the counter.
Cameron reached Avery.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Salvatore fled toward the kitchen exit.
Cameron started after him.
Avery grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“He has the drive.”
She looked at him.
Then smiled.
“No, he doesn’t.”
Avery opened her hand.
The real drive rested in her palm.
Salvatore had taken an empty flash drive Rosa used for payroll backups.
For the first time all night, Cameron Moretti laughed.
Not a smile.
Not a quiet breath.
A real laugh.
Avery stared.
“What?”
“You’re terrifying.”
“I learned from the corner booth.”
Then the lights went out.
When emergency power returned thirty seconds later, Marco Bellini was gone.
And so was the real flash drive.
Avery looked at her empty hand.
May you like
She hadn’t even felt him take it.
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