Chapter 9 - The old cold-storage warehouse on Canal Street had not contained food in approximately 8 years.
According to Lorenzo, it had contained 3 different shell companies, 2 illegal gambling rooms, a federal surveillance operation no one admitted existed, and one corpse that had briefly belonged to a city councilman.
I decided not to ask follow-up questions.
There are moments in a person’s life when knowledge stops being useful.
We arrived at 1:17 in the morning.
Rain struck the roof of the SUV with the persistence of thrown gravel.
Matteo sat beside me.
He had not touched me during the drive.
That mattered.
Six months ago, he would have put a hand behind my neck, around my waist, over mine.
Tonight, he understood that comfort required permission too.
Lorenzo sat in front with an earpiece and a handgun beneath his coat.
Three other vehicles remained 2 blocks away.
Vanessa had demanded I come alone.
Technically, I was about to enter alone.
The technicality was doing a great deal of work.
“There are 4 heat signatures on the ground floor,” Lorenzo said.
“Mari, Vanessa, 2 unknown.”
“Possibly.”
“Upper level?”
“Nothing.”
Matteo looked toward the warehouse through rain-streaked glass.
“I don’t like it.”
“Obviously,” I said.
He turned.
For one second, we were back in another life.
The one where my sarcasm made the corner of his mouth move.
Tonight it did not.
“Chloe.”
“I know.”
“If anything changes—”
“I know.”
“If Vanessa moves toward you—”
“I know.”
“If you say you know one more time,” Lorenzo muttered from the front seat, “I may personally surrender to Moretti.”
I stared at him.
Matteo stared at him.
Lorenzo looked forward.
“I apologize.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
The warehouse door stood open approximately 15 centimeters.
Yellow light leaked through the gap.
I got out of the SUV.
Rain immediately entered the collar of my coat.
Matteo remained inside because that was the arrangement.
I walked across wet concrete.
My legs did not feel attached to me.
At the door, I stopped.
“Mari?”
My voice traveled inward.
“Chloe!”
I pushed the door open.
The building smelled like old refrigeration, rust, dust, and rain entering through broken roof panels.
Mari sat in a wooden chair approximately 20 meters away.
Her hands were tied in front of her.
There was blood near her eyebrow.
My body reacted before my brain.
I moved.
“Stop.”
Vanessa stepped from behind a concrete pillar.
She held a handgun.
I stopped.
She looked exactly as she always did.
That was the worst part.
Gray trousers.
Cream blouse.
Dark hair tied low.
Pearl earrings.
The woman appeared prepared for a board meeting.
“Hello, darling.”
“I am going to kill you.”
Mari made a sound that might have been a laugh.
Vanessa smiled.
“There she is. I always liked that about you.”
“You kidnapped my best friend.”
“Temporarily borrowed.”
“Mari, are you hurt?”
“My dignity mostly.”
Vanessa tapped the pistol lightly against her own thigh.
“I said she was fine.”
“You and I have different definitions.”
“We have different definitions of many things.”
I looked around.
A man stood near the rear exit.
Another beside Mari.
Neither seemed relaxed.
Good.
That meant Matteo’s reputation had entered before I had.
“Let her go.”
“In a moment.”
“No. Now.”
Vanessa tilted her head.
“You sound like him.”
“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t intended as an insult.”
This time, Mari actually laughed.
Vanessa’s smile vanished.
“She does that often?”
“What?”
“Uses humor when terrified.”
“Constantly,” Mari answered. “It’s exhausting.”
“Quiet.”
Mari closed her mouth.
I saw the anger in her eyes and almost loved her to death.
Vanessa looked at me again.
“You heard Matteo’s recording.”
“Yes.”
“And his explanation.”
“Yes.”
“You believed him?”
I did not answer.
Her expression changed.
Something sharp entered it.
“That is disappointing.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expected Ethan’s sister to possess more loyalty.”
“You betrayed Ethan.”
Vanessa laughed.
The sound echoed against metal walls.
“Is that what Matteo told you?”
“Did you?”
Her eyes lowered briefly.
Not enough to appear guilty.
Enough for me to notice.
“You loved him,” I said.
She looked at me again.
That one landed.
“I loved many things when I was young.”
“No. You loved him.”
“Careful.”
“He died trying to save you.”
The pistol rose approximately 2 centimeters.
“Careful.”
“You told him you needed help escaping Moretti.”
“Matteo has always been excellent at arranging a story.”
“Then give me yours.”
Vanessa watched me.
I understood something then.
She had brought me there to speak.
Not kill me immediately.
People who intend only murder rarely stage midnight reunions with photographs.
She needed something.
Perhaps belief.
Perhaps forgiveness.
Perhaps an audience.
“Ethan discovered what my uncle was doing,” she said finally.
“Your uncle?”
“My father’s brother. Vittorio DeLuca.”
I had heard the name.
He died approximately 12 years earlier.
Natural causes, according to company history.
Given my life, that now meant almost nothing.
“He was moving money with the Morettis,” Vanessa continued. “Matteo discovered part of it. Ethan discovered the rest.”
“And you?”
“I was 24.”
“That does not answer me.”
“I was stupid.”
“You were helping.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
There.
The word entered the room and stayed.
“Why?”
“Because women in the DeLuca family inherited jewelry while men inherited power.”
The answer was almost reasonable.
That made it dangerous.
“My uncle offered me control of 3 companies. I believed I was building something.”
“By laundering money.”
“Everyone around me laundered money.”
“Strong ethical framework.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“You think you are different because Matteo lets you see him bleed?”
The sentence struck.
I kept my face still.
“He has turned confession into seduction with you. Do you understand that?”
“No. But I understand you tied Mari to a chair.”
“Because you would not listen otherwise.”
“I’m listening.”
She came closer.
The pistol remained low.
“Ethan wanted me to run.”
“I know.”
“He told me he had evidence.”
“I know.”
“He told Matteo.”
“I know.”
“And Matteo decided Ethan had become a liability.”
“No.”
Vanessa smiled.
“You believe him because he sleeps beside you.”
“I believe evidence.”
“Then perhaps you should see all of it.”
She gestured toward the man beside Mari.
He placed a laptop on a metal table.
The screen displayed an audio waveform.
Another recording.
Vanessa pressed a key.
Matteo’s younger voice emerged.
“If Bennett talks, we lose everything.”
Lorenzo answered.
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know him.”
“No. You know what you want him to be.”
The audio clicked.
Then Matteo again.
“If this goes wrong, do what is necessary.”
Silence.
My pulse pounded.
Vanessa watched me.
“Your hero.”
I forced myself to breathe.
“What came after?”
Her expression shifted.
“What?”
“You taught me that question.”
I walked toward the laptop.
“What came before? What came after?”
“Chloe.”
I reached the table.
Vanessa raised the weapon.
“Stop.”
I stopped.
Then the warehouse speakers crackled.
Matteo’s voice filled the building.
“Play the entire file, Vanessa.”
Every person inside froze.
Vanessa’s face lost color.
“Matteo.”
“You always did enjoy editing.”
His voice came from somewhere above us.
Vanessa turned toward the catwalk.
There he stood.
Dark coat.
No umbrella.
Rain had darkened his hair.
Lorenzo appeared on the opposite side.
Two armed men silently blocked the rear door.
Vanessa lifted her pistol toward me.
Matteo stopped moving.
There it was.
The thing I had seen in the car after my kidnapping.
Fear.
Not for himself.
Never for himself.
“Put it down,” he said.
Vanessa laughed shakily.
“You came.”
“Of course.”
“You always do when she is involved.”
“Yes.”
No shame.
No hesitation.
Something in my chest hurt.
Vanessa pressed the barrel against my side.
I did not move.
Mari whispered an extremely creative profanity.
“Release Mari,” Matteo said.
“No.”
“Vanessa.”
“You destroyed everything.”
“You did that yourself.”
“I built half your legitimate empire while you walked around pretending honor existed in our family.”
“You sold routes to Moretti.”
“I created leverage.”
“You killed Ethan.”
The building became silent.
Vanessa stared up at him.
“No.”
Matteo’s voice became colder.
“You gave Vescari the drainage route.”
“I did not.”
“You were the only person outside this room who knew it.”
“I didn’t tell Gabriel.”
The words came too quickly.
Matteo’s expression changed.
So did Lorenzo’s.
I felt it before I understood.
Matteo descended one step.
“We never said Gabriel.”
Vanessa stopped breathing.
Neither did I.
He continued.
“The file states that the route was sold through an unidentified Moretti contact.”
Vanessa’s grip tightened.
“You just named Gabriel Vescari.”
Mari looked at me.
I looked at Vanessa.
Her composure fractured.
Only slightly.
Enough.
“You gave him the route,” I whispered.
“No.”
“You knew Ethan would be there.”
“I was trying to save myself.”
The words escaped her.
Her eyes widened.
It was over.
Not the danger.
The lie.
“He threatened me,” she said. “Gabriel said if I didn’t give him the route, he would kill Ethan anyway.”
“So you gave it to him?”
“I thought they would take the ledger.”
“They shot him.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew enough.”
Her pistol trembled.
Tears appeared in her eyes.
For the 1st time, Vanessa looked human.
I hated her more for it.
“I loved him.”
My voice broke.
“So did I.”
“He was going to leave me.”
“He was trying to save you.”
“I was 24!”
“And he was 25!”
My scream struck the walls.
Vanessa flinched.
“You don’t get to be the only young person in the story.”
Her hand tightened on the gun.
Everything happened afterward with terrible speed.
The man beside Mari reached into his jacket.
Lorenzo shouted.
Matteo moved.
A gunshot exploded.
I dropped.
Another shot.
Metal screamed somewhere above.
Mari’s chair fell sideways.
I crawled toward her.
Vanessa fired again.
Then someone struck me from behind.
Not hard.
Enough to disorient.
I hit the concrete on one shoulder.
The world became noise.
Boots.
Shouting.
Gunfire.
A light shattered.
Darkness swallowed half the warehouse.
Then arms closed around me.
I fought.
“Chloe.”
Matteo.
I stopped.
His body covered mine behind the metal table.
His hand pressed against the back of my head.
“You’re all right.”
“I am.”
“You’re all right.”
“Matteo.”
He was repeating the warehouse sentence.
The old one.
Trying to convince himself again.
I put my hand against his face.
“I’m here.”
A final gunshot sounded from the rear.
Then silence.
Lorenzo’s voice.
“Clear.”
Matteo lifted his head.
Mari was on the floor beside the overturned chair while one of Lorenzo’s men cut her restraints.
She looked furious.
Alive.
I almost sobbed from relief.
Vanessa was gone.
The side door stood open.
Rain entered through it.
“Where is she?” Matteo demanded.
Lorenzo crossed toward us.
“She had a vehicle waiting.”
“You let her leave?”
“She wasn’t alone.”
“What does that mean?”
Lorenzo held something in his hand.
A telephone dropped near the rear exit.
The screen remained illuminated.
A message was visible.
Get to Dock 14. Moretti is ready.
Matteo stared at it.
“The Morettis are helping her?”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Because Moretti died 3 months ago.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
Lorenzo’s face had become grim.
“Carmine Moretti was found dead in Sicily in May.”
Matteo stood slowly.
“If Vanessa believes she’s meeting Moretti…”
“She’s meeting someone else,” Lorenzo finished.
My blood went cold.
Mari appeared beside me, rubbing her wrists.
“Could somebody explain why every revelation in this family produces a worse revelation?”
No one answered.
Then Matteo’s telephone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A male voice spoke only long enough for us to hear 1 sentence.
“Dock 14. Bring Ethan Bennett’s sister if you want Vanessa alive.”
The call ended.
Matteo looked at me.
I understood before he spoke.
Vanessa had believed she was the one arranging the trap.
May you like
She had been wrong.
Someone else had been arranging us all.
