Chapter 6 - No Longer His PossessionBy sunrise, Declan had twenty-three names.
By eight o’clock, the list contained eleven.
By ten, it contained four.
Nico stood behind him as data filled the screen.
Anthony Sera’s organization was built differently from Nico’s.
Less centralized.
More compartmentalized.
Sera preferred cells that knew only what they needed to know.
It made infiltration difficult.
It also meant unusual movement became easier to identify once you knew what to look for.
One man mattered more than the others.
Vincent Rocco.
Thirty-eight.
Collections.
Surveillance.
Occasional abductions.
No wife.
No children.
An apartment in Newark.
Two vehicles.
According to financial records, Vincent had purchased gas at a rural station north of Rockford at 3:12 that morning.
“Rockford,” Arthur said.
Nico looked at the map.
“Farms.”
“Hundreds.”
“Properties tied to Sera?”
“None.”
“Don’t search Sera.”
Declan glanced up.
Nico tapped the desk.
“Search relatives. Girlfriends. Shell companies. Men he did favors for ten years ago. People like Anthony don’t put a hostage in property connected directly to them.”
Thirty minutes later, Declan found a farmhouse registered to the deceased uncle of a Sera associate.
Seventy-four miles north.
Electricity usage had increased suddenly two days earlier.
Nico was already reaching for his coat.
Arthur stopped him.
“You’re not going in first.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Nico looked at him.
Arthur did not move.
“You’re emotionally compromised.”
“If you say that again—”
“You’ll what? Kill me?”
Arthur stepped closer.
“Then do it after we get her back. Until then, listen. Sera wants you angry. Angry men rush through doors. Rush through doors, and hostages die.”
Nico stared at him.
Arthur had known him since he was nineteen.
Few people could speak to him this way.
Even fewer survived doing so.
Nico finally nodded.
“Fine.”
They prepared for forty minutes.
No army.
Too much noise.
Six men.
Two vehicles.
Suppressors.
Body armor.
Emergency medical kit.
A drone.
Declan stayed behind coordinating remotely.
Nico rode in the second SUV.
Snow covered the highway.
He barely saw it.
His mind kept replaying Norah’s face in the motel room.
The way she looked toward the ashtray.
Preparing to defend herself against him.
He had promised himself he would never become her danger again.
Yet his enemies had turned her into a target simply because she had once loved him.
That reality destroyed the small comfort he had taken in staying away.
Maybe there was no clean escape from his world.
Maybe loving him had permanently marked her.
The thought made him physically ill.
Arthur sat beside him.
“You need to decide something before we reach that house.”
“What?”
“What happens when we get her.”
Nico looked over.
Arthur continued.
“You can rescue her. You cannot use this as an excuse to take her back.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Nico’s expression hardened.
“I know.”
Arthur nodded.
“Good.”
The farmhouse appeared beyond a line of bare trees.
They parked half a mile away.
The drone lifted first.
Thermal readings showed five people.
Four moving.
One mostly stationary.
Norah.
Nico watched the small glowing shape on the screen.
Alive.
For the first time in twelve hours, oxygen seemed to enter his lungs properly.
“Two upstairs,” Arthur said. “One kitchen. One rear door. Norah center room.”
Nico pointed.
“Generator.”
One man nodded and moved into the trees.
The lights went out forty seconds later.
Inside the farmhouse, Norah heard the generator die.
Vincent cursed.
One of the guards opened the hall door.
“Stay here.”
“Planning on it.”
He ignored her sarcasm.
The door closed again.
Darkness changed the room.
Norah listened.
Footsteps.
A voice downstairs.
Then silence.
Not normal silence.
Men who guarded captives did not become silent simultaneously.
Something was happening.
Norah’s pulse accelerated.
A suppressed gunshot sounded like a hard cough from outside.
Then another.
The hallway erupted.
“Move!”
Furniture crashed downstairs.
Someone shouted.
Gunfire cracked through the farmhouse.
Norah dropped sideways, taking the chair with her.
Pain exploded through her shoulder when she struck the floor.
Bullets punched through the wall above her.
She curled as tightly as the chair allowed.
A man screamed.
Another burst of gunfire.
Then footsteps came toward her door.
The lock turned.
Norah searched blindly for anything she could use.
The door opened.
A silhouette entered.
Norah kicked outward with both feet.
The man caught the chair before it toppled again.
“Nora.”
Everything stopped.
She knew the voice.
Nico.
A flashlight clicked on.
He wore black body armor over dark clothing.
Blood covered one sleeve.
His face looked harder than she remembered.
But his eyes—
His eyes broke her.
Not because they were cold.
Because they were terrified.
“Nico?”
“I’m here.”
He moved toward her.
Norah instinctively recoiled.
He stopped immediately.
That mattered.
Even now.
Even with bullets somewhere outside and blood on his clothing.
He stopped because she moved away.
“Can I touch you?”
Norah stared at him.
He waited.
“Yes.”
Nico knelt.
His hands shook while he examined the cuffs.
“Are you hurt?”
“Bruised.”
“Shot?”
“No.”
“Stabbed?”
“No.”
“Head injury?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“Neither are you.”
He looked at the blood on his sleeve.
“Not mine.”
Of course.
Norah closed her eyes.
For one instant, she was back in the penthouse.
Nico returning at two in the morning with someone else’s blood on his clothes.
She opened them.
“Get me out.”
“Yes.”
He cut the cuffs.
The moment her hands were free, sensation returned painfully.
Norah rubbed her wrists.
Nico noticed the bruise on her cheek.
His expression changed.
“Who did that?”
“Nico.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.”
“No.”
She grabbed his wrist.
He looked down at her hand.
Norah realized she had touched him voluntarily for the first time in months.
She almost pulled away.
Instead, she tightened her grip.
“Getting out matters.”
Nico looked at her.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
He helped her stand.
Her knees nearly failed.
His arm moved instinctively around her waist.
Norah stiffened.
Again, he released her instantly.
“Sorry.”
The apology startled her more than anything else.
Nico Valenti did not apologize.
Not the man she remembered.
A figure appeared in the doorway.
Arthur.
“Back exit is clear. Rocco ran east.”
Nico’s head snapped toward him.
“Get him.”
“Two men are tracking.”
Norah spoke.
“Vincent?”
Arthur looked at her.
“You know his name?”
“He talked.”
Nico reached for the handgun at his side.
Norah saw the decision on his face.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“If they catch him, don’t kill him.”
“Nora.”
“Please.”
The word carried more force than a command.
“He knows things. Police can use him.”
Nico stared at her.
Police.
That created complications Nico clearly disliked.
But this was not his captive.
Not his house.
Not his decision alone.
He took out his phone.
“Arthur.”
Arthur waited.
“Tell them alive.”
Arthur looked surprised.
“So we interrogate him?”
“No.”
Nico looked at Norah.
“We turn him over.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose.
“To cops?”
“Yes.”
“For kidnapping?”
“Yes.”
“Nico, the questions that creates—”
“I know.”
Arthur studied Norah.
Then Nico.
“All right.”
They moved outside.
Snow had begun falling harder.
A body lay near the porch.
Norah looked away.
Nico immediately stepped between her and it.
That gesture was so familiar that her throat tightened.
A black SUV waited beside the barn.
Nico opened the rear door.
Norah stopped.
Every memory associated with black SUVs returned.
Men.
Weapons.
Leaving the motel.
The life she had escaped.
Nico saw her hesitation.
“We can call an ambulance.”
“You have an ambulance?”
“I can get one.”
“I mean a real ambulance.”
His mouth almost moved.
Not quite a smile.
“Yes.”
Norah looked around.
There were dead men on the property.
Armed men in dark clothing.
Nico’s people.
Calling standard emergency services into the middle of this would create chaos.
“I’ll take the car.”
Nico nodded.
He did not enter beside her.
Instead, he closed the door and moved toward the front passenger seat.
Norah stared.
“You can sit back here.”
He turned.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Nico entered slowly.
He stayed on the opposite side.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Arthur drove.
Norah watched snow move across the windows.
Her hands trembled now that the immediate danger was gone.
Nico noticed.
He removed his coat.
“May I?”
Norah nodded.
He placed it around her shoulders without touching anything except fabric.
The coat smelled like him.
Cedar.
Smoke.
Cold air.
Memory hit too hard.
Norah closed her eyes.
Nico looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“For the kidnapping?”
“For all of it.”
She opened her eyes.
Nico stared through the windshield.
“They found you because of me.”
“You didn’t send them.”
“No.”
“You didn’t tell Sera where I was.”
“No.”
“Then the kidnapping is Sera’s fault.”
Nico finally looked at her.
“That’s generous.”
“It isn’t generosity. I spent months learning not to carry responsibility that belongs to other people.”
The words landed between them.
Nico understood they were not only about Sera.
“I should have protected you better.”
“No.”
Norah’s voice sharpened.
“That is exactly what you should not say.”
He frowned.
“You weren’t supposed to protect me. You were supposed to leave me alone.”
“And I did.”
“Yes.”
“And this happened.”
“That doesn’t mean you were wrong to respect my boundary.”
Nico stared at her.
Norah continued.
“If you decide this proves you should have been watching me, then Sera wins in another way. He turns my kidnapping into justification for you controlling me again.”
Nico slowly leaned back.
He had not considered it like that.
Old Nico would have responded immediately.
Installed guards.
Changed her home.
Chosen her movements.
Called it protection.
Norah watched the conflict happen across his face.
Finally he said, “What do you want?”
The question was so simple.
So different.
Norah swallowed.
“I want Margaret safe.”
“Done.”
“I want the bakery repaired.”
“Done.”
“With legal money.”
That earned a faint grimace.
“Complicated.”
“Nico.”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I want police to get Vincent if your men catch him.”
“Yes.”
“And after that…”
She hesitated.
Nico waited.
“I want to go home.”
The last word hurt him.
She saw it.
Oak Haven was home.
Not Chicago.
Not the penthouse.
Not him.
But Nico nodded.
“Then I’ll take you home.”
Two hours later, Norah slept with her head against the window.
Exhaustion had finally won.
Nico sat beside her in silence.
He did not touch her.
Not even when the car turned and her head nearly slipped from the glass.
He simply placed a folded jacket between her temple and the window.
Arthur saw it in the mirror.
Said nothing.
The old Nico would have interpreted rescuing Norah as reclaiming her.
The man sitting in the back seat understood something more difficult.
Saving someone did not create ownership.
Love did not create debt.
Norah owed him nothing for coming after her.
And if he wanted to become someone she could someday look at without fear, the first proof would be what he did after the rescue.
So when they arrived at the edge of Oak Haven and Norah woke, Nico did not tell the driver to continue toward Chicago.
May you like
He gave Arthur the bakery address.
Then he took Norah exactly where she had asked to go.
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