Chapter 6 - THE COAT
“Enzo?” Emily whispered, staring at the dark wool coat in Santino’s hands.
The world seemed to stop spinning, replaced by a cold, sharp dread. Enzo Baron had managed the Ferrara household for forty years. He was the grandfather Santino had never had.
“Why would Enzo take him?” Emily asked, her voice trembling. “You said he was loyal.”
“He was,” Santino said, his jaw tightening until the muscle jumped. “Until today.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and hit a speed dial number. It rang out to voicemail. Santino cursed violently in Italian, throwing the phone onto the ruined sofa.
“Mrs. Higgins!” Emily suddenly remembered.
She ran to the small bathroom. The door was locked. “Mrs. Higgins, it’s me! It’s Emily!”
The lock clicked, and the door opened slowly. The elderly woman was pale and shaking, clutching a heavy cast-iron frying pan to her chest.
“Oh, Emily,” she cried, dropping the pan and pulling Emily into a hug.
“What happened? Who took him?” Emily demanded gently, pulling back.
“It was two men,” Mrs. Higgins stammered. “A big, scary man in a suit tried to break the door down. That must have been the one who wanted to hurt us. But then… an older man, a gentleman in a nice coat, came up the fire escape. He knocked on the window. He told me he worked for Mr. Ferrara and that he was here to save the boy.”
Santino leaned heavily against the doorframe, his face a mask of agony. “Enzo got here first. He took Leo to protect him from Rafe.”
“Where would he take him?” Emily pleaded.
“The safe house,” Santino said instantly. “The old winery out in Bristol. It’s a fortress. Only Enzo, Rafe, and I know about it.”
“If Rafe knows about it, Enzo isn't safe there!” Emily realized.
“I know,” Santino said grimly. “Help me to the car.”
The drive to Bristol was a blur of speed and terrified silence. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the Rhode Island coastline.
Santino sat in the back of the SUV, systematically checking the magazine of his weapon. Emily couldn't take her eyes off his hands. They were steady. He was no longer the helpless man in the wheelchair; he was the apex predator of the Ferrara family, awakened by the threat to his bloodline.
“You knew Maya was pregnant?” Santino asked quietly, not looking up from his gun.
“She found out two weeks before she died,” Emily said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “She was going to tell you. But then she found the ledgers. She thought Victoria was going to kill her to protect the smuggling ring. So she ran.”
“Victoria didn't run the smuggling ring,” Santino said, finally looking at her. “Rafe did. Rafe has been using my ports to move narcotics for the Cartel. Victoria found out, but Rafe blackmailed her. He threatened to kill me if she exposed him. She took the blame in Maya’s journal to protect me.”
Emily gasped. “Victoria has been protecting you this whole time?”
“Yes,” Santino said heavily. “And I treated her like a traitor.”
The SUV tore off the main highway, rattling down a long, unpaved road surrounded by overgrown grapevines. In the distance, a massive stone building loomed against the darkening sky. The old winery.
The SUV screeched to a halt near the heavy oak doors.
Santino pushed his door open. “Stay in the car, Emily.”
“Not a chance in hell,” she fired back, already getting out.
Santino didn't have time to argue. He limped toward the doors, weapon raised.
He kicked the door open.
The massive cavern of the winery was dark and silent. Dust motes danced in the faint light bleeding through the high windows.
“Enzo!” Santino roared.
A shadow moved on the upper catwalk.
Enzo Baron stepped to the railing. He looked exhausted, older than time. He was holding a small hand.
Leo peered through the railing, his eyes wide.
“Aunt Emily!” Leo cried out.
“Leo!” Emily sobbed, running toward the iron spiral staircase.
“Stop!” Enzo shouted, raising a hand. “Do not come up here.”
“Enzo, give me my son,” Santino ordered, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
“I cannot, Santino,” Enzo said, tears streaming down his weathered face. “I took him to save him from Rafe. But Rafe followed me. He’s already here.”
A cold laugh echoed from the darkness beneath the catwalk.
Emily froze.
May you like
Rafe Lombardi stepped out from behind a massive oak wine barrel. He held an assault rifle, and it was pointed directly at Santino’s chest.
“Hello, Boss,” Rafe smiled. “Nice to see you on your feet.”
