THE INK ON THE RECEIPT WAS STILL FRESH

“My house,” I repeated, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “They took him back to the house where I grew up.”

Luca stood up instantly, his tactical mind shifting gears. He pulled a heavy black Glock from his shoulder holster, checking the magazine before sliding it back.

“Why would they take him there?” Luca asked, his voice sharp.

“Because they didn’t find what they were looking for two years ago,” I said, my hands trembling as I stood up. “When Vanessa poisoned him, she searched his office. But my dad was paranoid. If he hid the master ledger, he would have put it somewhere no outsider could ever find.”

“And the Bellinis realized it,” Luca said, his eyes darkening. “They’re taking him back to the scene of the crime to force him to show them where it is.”

“But he can’t speak! He can’t move his right side!”

“He doesn’t have to speak to look at a wall,” Luca said grimly. “People give themselves away with their eyes. The Bellinis are experts at reading fear.”

We ran back down the stairwell.

My childhood home was in a quiet, working-class neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. We hadn’t lived there since the stroke. The bank had foreclosed on it months ago to pay for the hospital bills. It was supposed to be empty, boarded up, waiting for an auction.

It took us twenty minutes to reach the neighborhood.

The rain had turned into a heavy, freezing downpour. The streetlights flickered, casting long, eerie shadows across the wet pavement.

Luca parked the SUV two blocks away.

“Stay here,” Luca ordered, reaching into the backseat and pulling out a heavy tactical flashlight.

“No,” I said immediately.

Luca stopped. “Emma, these men are syndicate enforcers. They kill for a living.”

“That’s my father in there,” I said, my voice fierce despite my fear. “I know that house better than anyone. I know the squeaky floorboards. I know the blind spots. You need me.”

Luca stared at me for a long moment. He saw the sheer, unyielding desperation in my eyes.

He didn’t argue. He reached into his coat and handed me a small, heavy silver object.

A knife.

“Keep it in your pocket. Do not hesitate if someone grabs you.”

I gripped the cold metal and nodded.

We moved through the shadows of the alleyways, the freezing rain soaking through my thin housekeeping uniform. We approached the back of my old house.

The wooden gate was hanging off its hinges. The back door, the one leading into the kitchen, had been crowbarred open.

Inside, a faint, yellow light glowed from the front living room.

We slipped through the kitchen. The smell of dust and damp wood filled my nose, bringing back a flood of memories I wasn’t prepared for.

We crept down the narrow hallway.

From the living room, a man’s voice echoed.

“Look at it, Thomas. Look at the room. Where did you put it?”

I peeked around the corner.

My father was slumped in a wooden dining chair in the center of the living room, still wearing his hospital gown. He was shivering violently.

Standing over him was a massive man in a leather jacket. Dominic Bellini. Vanessa’s older brother.

Two other armed men stood by the boarded-up windows, keeping watch.

Dominic grabbed my father by the hair and yanked his head back.

“You hid a billion dollars in clean assets, Thomas. My family needs that money to pay off the cartel. If we don’t get it by midnight, my father is a dead man. So you are going to tell me where it is.”

My father let out a strained, garbled groan. A line of drool slipped from the corner of his paralyzed mouth.

Tears burned my eyes. I wanted to scream, to run at Dominic with the knife, but Luca’s heavy hand rested on my shoulder, holding me back.

Wait, Luca mouthed.

Dominic let go of my dad’s hair in disgust.

“Break his good hand,” Dominic ordered one of the guards. “Maybe the pain will jog his memory.”

The guard stepped forward, pulling a heavy steel baton from his belt.

Luca didn’t wait.

He stepped out from the hallway, his gun raised.

Pop. Pop.

Two suppressed shots echoed quietly in the room. The guard with the baton dropped instantly, a bullet in his kneecap. The second guard turned, but Luca fired again, hitting him in the shoulder. He hit the floor, groaning.

Dominic froze, his hand hovering near his holster.

“Don’t move, Dominic,” Luca said, his voice colder than the rain outside.

Dominic slowly raised his hands, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“Luca,” Dominic chuckled. “I should have known you’d figure out the decoy at Pier 49. But you’re too late. The transfer is already happening.”

“There is no transfer without the ledger,” Luca said, stepping further into the room, keeping his gun aimed squarely at Dominic’s chest.

I ran to my father, dropping to my knees. “Dad! Are you okay?”

My father looked at me, his eyes wide with panic. He tried to speak, forcing a horrific, guttural sound from his throat. He raised his good left hand and pointed frantically toward the fireplace.

I looked at the brick hearth.

It was empty.

“He’s not pointing at the fireplace,” Dominic laughed. “He’s pointing at what was inside it.”

Dominic kicked a loose brick on the floor.

Behind it was a small, empty cavity.

“We found it ten minutes before you got here, Luca,” Dominic sneered. “Vanessa was right. The old man hid it behind the loose brick. I already handed the ledger off to my courier. He’s halfway to our accountant by now.”

My heart stopped.

We had lost. The Bellinis had the ledger. They were going to steal Luca’s entire legitimate empire.

But my father was still shaking his head.

He grabbed my arm with surprising strength. His fingernails dug into my skin.

He wasn't pointing at the fireplace.

He was pointing above it.

Hanging above the mantel was an old, faded oil painting of a sailboat. It had been there since I was a baby.

My father frantically tapped his own chest, then pointed at the painting.

Luca saw it.

“Emma,” Luca said, not taking his eyes off Dominic. “Take the painting down.”

I stood up and reached for the heavy wooden frame. I pulled it off the wall.

The back of the frame was thick.

I turned it over.

Taped to the cardboard backing was a heavy brass key.

Dominic saw the key. His smile vanished instantly.

“What is that?” Dominic demanded.

Luca let out a dark, knowing laugh.

“My father never trusted paper, Dominic. You found the ledger. Congratulations. It’s useless. Because the accounts are locked in a biometric vault. And that key is the only thing that turns the lock before the fingerprint scanner will even activate.”

Dominic lunged for his gun.

Luca fired.

The bullet grazed Dominic’s shoulder, spinning the massive man around and sending him crashing into the coffee table.

“Emma, grab your father!” Luca yelled.

I pulled my dad up, supporting his weight on my shoulder.

We rushed out the front door, leaving Dominic bleeding and cursing on the living room floor.

As we reached the SUV, I looked at the heavy brass key in my hand.

“Where does this go, Luca?” I asked, breathless.

Luca helped my father into the backseat.

He looked at me, his dark eyes intense in the pouring rain.

“It goes to a vault beneath the First Chicago Trust. And we have to get there before Dominic calls his father.”

He paused, looking at the key.