Chapter 6 - THE WAR AT PIER ELEVEN
Dominic did not sleep that night.
Neither did Mia.
Angela survived surgery.
The bullet had missed the artery by less than an inch.
By midnight she was stable.
Mia sat beside her hospital bed wearing one of Dominic's suit jackets over her pajamas because in the rush from Hoboken nobody had remembered her coat.
The sleeves swallowed her hands.
Dominic watched from the doorway.
Sister Teresa stood beside him.
"She should come back with me tonight."
Dominic nodded.
No argument.
Sister Teresa looked at him.
"That was easier than expected."
"I learn."
"Occasionally."
Dominic's phone rang.
Nico.
He walked into the corridor.
"We cracked part of the ledger."
"And?"
"Marco has been feeding the Rosses information for seventeen years."
Dominic leaned against the wall.
Seventeen.
Not one mistake.
Not one desperate choice.
A life.
"What else?"
"The drop schedule at Pier Eleven tomorrow night is a setup."
"How?"
"They think you'll go because they know you've seen the ledger."
Dominic looked through the glass at Mia.
"What do they want?"
"You."
"Then let's disappoint them."
Nico hesitated.
"Boss."
"What?"
"This is bigger than Marco. He has captains inside our crew."
Dominic turned.
"Names?"
"At least three."
Dominic understood instantly.
If he moved openly, Marco would know.
If he did nothing, Marco would move first.
He needed to separate loyalty from habit.
At 8:00 the following morning, Dominic summoned twelve men to the Moretti headquarters.
Marco arrived last.
He smiled.
Dominic did not.
A map of Brooklyn lay across the conference table.
"The Rosses are moving tonight," Dominic said.
Men leaned forward.
Marco folded his arms.
"Where?"
Dominic pointed.
"Red Hook."
Nico said nothing.
It was a lie.
Dominic watched the room.
Three men exchanged quick glances.
Marco did not.
Interesting.
"We hit them at eleven," Dominic continued. "No phones after eight. Nobody leaves this floor."
Marco raised an eyebrow.
"Paranoid?"
Dominic looked at him.
"Alive."
By 8:17, one of the captains asked to use the restroom.
By 8:21, a signal detector caught a hidden transmitter taped beneath his shirt.
The room exploded.
Two men reached for weapons.
Nico's team moved faster.
Chairs overturned.
One shot hit the ceiling.
Dominic never moved.
Within fourteen seconds, the three compromised captains were on the floor.
Marco stood beside the table, hands visible.
His expression was perfect disbelief.
"You think this proves me?"
"No," Dominic said.
Marco exhaled.
Dominic continued.
"Elena does."
Marco's face emptied.
Dominic placed a copy of the ledger on the table.
For the first time in twenty years, Marco Bellini had no answer.
No smile.
No joke.
No brotherly voice.
Nothing.
Dominic stared at him.
"Why?"
Marco slowly looked at the paper.
Then laughed once.
Quietly.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes."
"Because your father chose you."
Dominic frowned.
Marco's eyes hardened.
"My father worked for yours for thirty years. Thirty. When your father died, half the organization expected the old captains to take over."
"I was his son."
"You were eighteen."
"I earned it."
Marco slammed his palm on the table.
"You inherited the chance to earn it!"
The room went silent.
Marco's face had turned red.
"I carried guns for you. I hid bodies for you. I stood beside you while you became the man everyone feared. And every room we walked into, they looked at you."
Dominic's voice remained flat.
"So you sold me to the Rosses."
"I built insurance."
"You stole Elena."
Marco's jaw tightened.
"She would have destroyed you."
"She loved me."
"Exactly."
The word hung there.
Marco laughed bitterly.
"You started talking about leaving. Remember? Long Island. You said maybe there was another life."
Dominic remembered.
He had forgotten telling Marco.
"I couldn't let you walk away."
Dominic stared.
"So you convinced the woman I loved that I wanted her dead."
"I convinced her to survive."
"You kept my daughter from me."
"I didn't know she was pregnant."
"Then why send men after Angela?"
Marco's expression shifted.
There.
The admission.
Dominic stepped closer.
"Why?"
"Because once Elena died, Angela started asking questions."
"And Mia?"
Marco said nothing.
Dominic's hands curled.
Nico stepped closer.
Not to protect Dominic.
To protect Marco.
Dominic saw it.
He hated that he saw it.
Then every light in the building went out.
Darkness.
A second later, emergency alarms screamed.
"Down!"
Gunfire exploded from the corridor.
The Rosses.
They had come early.
Glass shattered.
Men shouted.
Emergency lights flickered red.
Dominic drew his weapon.
Marco disappeared behind the conference table.
Nico returned fire toward the doors.
"Back exit!"
Dominic moved.
Then he heard Marco's voice behind him.
"Dom."
The old name.
The one only Marco used.
Dominic turned.
Marco held a gun.
Not at Dominic.
At Nico.
"Drop it."
Nico froze.
Dominic stared.
Marco smiled sadly.
"You always were too trusting."
The rear door opened.
Two Rossi gunmen entered.
Marco backed toward them.
"Tonight was supposed to happen at Pier Eleven."
Dominic's face hardened.
"But you changed the plan."
Marco nodded.
"So I changed mine."
"Where are you going?"
"Away."
Dominic almost laughed.
"You think the Rosses let traitors retire?"
Marco's eyes flickered.
Then he looked at Nico.
"Shoot him."
One Rossi gunman raised his weapon.
Dominic fired first.
The man's gun flew from his hand.
Chaos erupted again.
Nico tackled the second shooter.
Marco ran.
Dominic followed.
Down the emergency stairwell.
Thirty floors.
Marco took them three at a time.
Dominic gained.
On the twenty-sixth floor landing, Marco turned and fired.
The bullet tore through Dominic's upper arm.
He slammed against the wall.
Marco kept running.
Dominic looked at the blood.
Then followed.
At the lobby, Marco burst through a side exit.
A car waited.
He jumped inside.
Dominic emerged seconds later.
Too late.
The car disappeared into traffic.
Nico reached him.
"You're hit."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding through your shirt."
"Find Marco."
Nico grabbed his shoulder.
"Dominic."
The phone in Dominic's pocket rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice said:
"If you want the girl alive, come to Pier Eleven alone."
Dominic stopped.
His blood turned cold.
"What girl?"
The line went dead.
He called Sister Teresa.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then Nico's phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
"Boss."
Dominic already knew.
"Say it."
Nico swallowed.
"St. Cecilia was hit twenty minutes ago."
Dominic felt the floor disappear.
"Mia?"
Nico did not answer quickly enough.
Dominic grabbed him by the coat.
"Mia?"
"Gone."
Dominic released him.
For eight years, Mia had waited for a father who did not know she existed.
Now, after knowing her for less than a week, Dominic understood exactly what Elena must have felt when she ran.
There was no fear like the fear of someone holding your child.
Dominic looked toward the doors.
"Pier Eleven."
Nico shook his head.
"They said alone."
Dominic walked.
"Nico."
May you like
"Yeah?"
"Since when have we done what people tell us?"
