Chapter 11 - [THE GUARD DOG'S BITE]
The flashlight beam trembled slightly in Luca’s hand.
Matteo stood perfectly still, his eyes cold and dead.
This was the man who had guarded Luca’s door for five years. The man who had driven us to the train station.
“Matteo,” Luca said, his voice surprisingly calm.
“Where is my uncle?”
“In the trunk of a car at O’Hare,” Matteo said flatly.
“Waiting for a private flight to New York.”
“Then why are you here?”
Matteo gestured to the steel lockbox with his gun.
“Because Carlo promised me five million dollars from that offshore account to ensure those floorboards stayed nailed shut.”
Betrayal.
It’s the only currency that never loses its value in this world.
“You’ve been working for Carlo this whole time,” Luca realized.
“Carlo pays better than you do, Boss,” Matteo said.
“You wanted to go legitimate. Legitimate doesn’t buy villas in Italy.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“Kick the box over to me.”
Luca didn't move.
“Where is Vanessa’s son?”
Matteo chuckled. It was a harsh, ugly sound.
“The kid is leverage. Carlo has him stashed in a safe house. If Vanessa ever opened her mouth, the kid disappeared. It’s how the game is played.”
“She ran,” I spoke up, my voice shaking.
“Vanessa left the city. She thinks her father is dead. She thinks it’s over.”
Matteo looked at me.
“Then she’s an idiot. Carlo will use the kid to drag her back, or he’ll just get rid of the loose end. But that’s not my problem.”
He aimed the gun squarely at Luca’s chest.
“My problem is that you found the box. Carlo told me if you ever dug it up, I had to bury you in the hole.”
“You kill me, the syndicate will hunt you to the ends of the earth,” Luca warned.
“The syndicate thinks Carlo is a traitor,” Matteo countered.
“I kill you, I burn the carriage house, and I tell the council that Vanessa’s father killed you before he died. Neat. Tidy.”
Matteo pulled back the hammer on the pistol.
“Kick. The. Box.”
Luca slowly moved his foot to the steel lockbox.
He pushed it across the dusty floor.
It slid to a halt at Matteo’s feet.
Matteo crouched down, keeping the gun leveled at Luca.
He reached for the handle of the box.
He made one mistake.
He took his eyes off me for a split second.
I wasn't a trained killer.
I wasn't a mafia boss.
But I was holding the heavy river stone Luca had used to smash the padlock.
I didn't think. I just threw it.
The jagged stone hit Matteo squarely in the wrist.
He shouted in pain.
The gun slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the floorboards.
Luca moved like lightning.
He lunged forward, tackling Matteo to the ground.
The two men crashed into a rotting horse stall, splintering the dry wood.
Matteo threw a vicious punch, catching Luca in the jaw.
Luca absorbed the blow and drove his knee into Matteo’s ribs.
I scrambled across the floor, desperately searching for the dropped gun in the dark.
My hands brushed against cold metal.
I grabbed the pistol.
“Luca!” I screamed.
Luca rolled off Matteo and pinned the larger man face-down on the dirt floor, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.
I stood over them, aiming the gun at Matteo’s head.
My hands were shaking, but my finger was on the trigger.
“Don't move,” I breathed.
Matteo stopped struggling. He looked up at the gun in my hands and laughed weakly.
“The maid’s got teeth.”
Luca hauled Matteo up by his collar, slamming him against the stone wall.
“Where is the safe house?”
Matteo spat blood onto the dirt.
“Go to hell.”
Luca pressed his forearm against Matteo’s throat, cutting off his air.
“You think Carlo is going to pay you? Carlo is on a plane to New York to face the council. He’s a dead man. You have no money. You have no boss. Give me the boy, and I let you walk away.”
Matteo gasped for air.
He looked at Luca. He saw the absolute, uncompromising truth in his eyes.
The empire was dead. Matteo was fighting for a ghost.
“Apt 4B,” Matteo choked out.
“On State Street. Above the old bakery. Two guards.”
Luca dropped him.
Matteo fell to his knees, coughing violently.
Luca turned to me. He gently took the gun from my shaking hands.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Luca looked down at Matteo.
“Leave Chicago. If I ever see your face again, I won't ask questions.”
Matteo didn't argue. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled out into the dark.
Luca picked up the steel lockbox and the yellow backpack.
He looked at me.
The fire was back in his eyes.
“One last job,” Luca said.
“We’re going to get the boy,” I said.
Luca nodded.
May you like
“We’re bringing him home.”
TITLE: A SEAT AT THE TABLE
