Chapter 7 - THE SIGNATURE ON THE LEGAL PAPERS
The rain lashed against the windshield of the armored SUV, the wipers frantically slicing back and forth.
Luca stared at the glowing screen of my phone, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.
“That’s impossible,” Luca whispered.
I looked at the man in the photo again. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a sharp jawline, and a distinct scar across his left eyebrow.
“Who is he?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“His name is Dominic Rossi,” Luca said, his voice hard as stone. “He was the assassin who tried to kill my father twenty years ago. The one your mother stopped.”
My blood ran cold.
“But he’s dead,” Luca continued, scrolling rapidly through his own phone. “My father ordered the hit himself. Marco was the one who confirmed it. Marco said he put two bullets in Rossi’s chest and dumped him in the river.”
The realization hit us both at the exact same time.
Marco had lied.
Marco hadn’t killed the assassin twenty years ago. Marco had hired him.
“Marco tried to kill your father,” I breathed, piecing the puzzle together. “He wanted the family business back then. And when my mother ruined it, Marco hid the assassin.”
Luca punched the steering wheel, a terrifying roar of anger erupting from his chest.
“He’s been playing the loyal brother for twenty years,” Luca snarled. “He used Vanessa to kill Catherine. And now, he’s using Rossi to take the one loose end that can prove Marco orchestrated the hit on my father.”
My mother.
If Marco’s men were taking her, they weren’t taking her for ransom. They were taking her to silence her forever.
Suddenly, my phone rang again. Same unknown number.
Luca snatched it from my hand and put it on speaker.
“Listen to me, you piece of garbage,” Luca roared into the phone. “If you touch one hair on her head—”
“Relax, Luca,” a raspy, amused voice came through the speaker. It was Rossi. “The nurse is fine. A little pale, maybe. Needs a sweater.”
“What do you want, Rossi?” Luca demanded.
“I want out,” Rossi said bluntly. “Marco has kept me on a leash for twenty years, hiding in the shadows. He told me to grab the nurse tonight to clean up his mess because he knew you were getting close to the truth.”
“And?”
“And then I saw your men drag Marco out of the mansion in zip-ties,” Rossi chuckled darkly. “Looks like my boss is out of a job. Which means I’m a free agent.”
“I’ll pay you triple whatever Marco promised you,” Luca said instantly, slipping into negotiation mode. “Just bring her to me.”
“Your money doesn’t do me any good if your men gun me down the second I show up,” Rossi replied.
“I’ll call them off. You have my word.”
“A mafia boss’s word. Forgive me if I don’t jump for joy.” Rossi sighed. “Here’s the deal, Luca. I have legal papers. Documents proving Marco paid me twenty years ago, signed by the old man himself. Evidence that guarantees Marco rots in federal prison, and I get immunity for testifying.”
“Where are you?” Luca asked, his voice deathly calm.
“Pier 44. The old shipping warehouse. You come alone. No guards. No backup. You bring the girl so she can get her mother. We make the trade. The documents for the nurse.”
Before Luca could answer, Rossi added one last thing.
“By the way, Luca. You might want to hurry. The nurse’s heart monitor doesn’t sound too good.”
The line went dead.
I burst into tears, covering my face. My mother was dying in the back of a van on a freezing pier.
Luca dropped the phone into the cupholder. He shifted the SUV into gear and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The heavy truck roared to life, tearing out onto the main highway toward the docks.
“We’re going to get her, Hannah,” Luca said, his eyes glued to the road.
“He said to come alone,” I cried. “It’s a trap, Mr. Moretti! He’s an assassin!”
“I know it’s a trap,” Luca said grimly.
He reached under his seat and pulled out a heavy, matte-black shotgun, resting it between the center console.
“But he made one mistake.”
“What?” I asked, wiping my eyes.
“He assumes I care about playing by the rules.”
Luca pressed a button on the dashboard radio. A secure line clicked open.
“Enzo,” Luca barked.
“Boss,” Enzo’s voice replied immediately.
“Pier 44. I want snipers on the cranes. I want boats in the water. Blockade the street exits. Nobody gets out alive except Hannah and her mother.”
“Consider it done, Boss.”
The drive took less than fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours. The Chicago skyline faded into the grim, industrial shadows of the shipping docks. Rain pounded against the metal containers stacked like mountains in the dark.
Luca killed the headlights as we approached Pier 44.
He parked the SUV behind a rusted crane.
“Stay behind me,” Luca ordered, chambering a round into his pistol. “Do not step out of my shadow. Do you understand?”
I nodded frantically, my heart hammering against my ribs.
We crept through the rain, slipping between towering shipping containers. The smell of salt and diesel fuel filled the air.
At the end of the pier, illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp, was a black van.
Standing in front of it was Dominic Rossi.
He was holding an umbrella, smoking a cigarette.
“Right on time, Luca!” Rossi called out over the sound of the rain.
Luca stepped out from behind the container, keeping me tucked safely behind his broad back.
“Where is she?” Luca demanded.
Rossi smirked and knocked on the back door of the van. The doors swung open.
Inside, sitting in a wheelchair, shivering in a thin hospital gown, was my mother.
“Mom!” I screamed, trying to run to her.
Luca grabbed my arm, holding me back.
And then I saw why.
Stepping out from the shadows behind the van weren’t Rossi’s men.
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It was Vanessa.
She was soaking wet, her red silk gown ruined, holding a gun pointed directly at my mother’s head.
