Chapter 8 - THE MEN WHO BURIED SONS
Patrick Keane entered the hospital alone.
That frightened Roman more than armed men would have.
A man walked alone when he believed the building already belonged to him.
Roman handed Luca to Norah.
“Stay behind me.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I spent a year staying where people put me.”
“Norah.”
“I’ll stay beside you.”
Roman wanted to argue.
Then he remembered every promise he had made during the last six hours.
He nodded.
Patrick entered the room three minutes later.
Sixty-one.
Broad shoulders.
Weathered face.
He looked less like a crime boss than a contractor who had spent forty years outdoors.
His eyes went first to Anthony.
“You survived.”
Anthony glared at him.
“Disappointed?”
“Actually, no.”
Patrick looked at Roman.
“Merry Christmas.”
Roman’s expression did not change.
“You’re early.”
“I heard my name was being used by men who weren’t invited.”
He held up the rosary.
Matteo stepped forward.
“Where did you get that?”
“Off one of my nephews.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
Patrick continued.
“Declan took it from your office two weeks ago.”
Matteo stared.
“Why?”
“To make Roman blame you after Anthony was shot.”
Patrick looked toward the hospital bed.
“That part worked.”
Roman said, “You ordered the shooting.”
“No.”
“Your nephew did.”
“Yes.”
“Difference without distinction.”
Patrick’s face hardened.
“There is a distinction when a man disobeys you.”
Roman almost smiled.
“Now you understand my evening.”
Patrick’s gaze moved toward Norah.
Then the twins.
Something changed in his expression.
“My son was twenty-six when your father’s men killed him.”
Roman said, “Sean was armed.”
“He was still my son.”
Neither man looked away.
Patrick’s voice remained level.
“I have spent eleven years telling myself I wanted your family to understand the same grief.”
Norah’s arms tightened around the babies.
Roman stepped slightly in front of her.
Patrick noticed.
“But when Matteo told me you had children, I realized I didn’t.”
Roman said nothing.
“I wanted your routes. I wanted your people out of Colorado. I wanted you humiliated.”
Patrick’s eyes went to the infants.
“I did not want those.”
Norah spoke.
“Did you know I was pregnant a year ago?”
Patrick looked genuinely confused.
“No.”
“Did you send a photograph of me outside St. Vincent’s?”
“No.”
“Did anyone in your organization?”
“Not that I knew.”
Matteo’s face tightened.
Roman saw it.
The answer destroyed the story everyone had used to justify Norah’s disappearance.
There had been danger.
But the specific threat?
The twins had not been discovered by Keane.
Patrick looked at Matteo.
“You told me about the children in June.”
Norah stared at him.
“June?”
Matteo closed his eyes.
Roman’s voice became lethal.
“You told him.”
Matteo answered carefully.
“I was negotiating peace.”
“You exposed my children to Patrick Keane while telling Norah she had to hide because men like him might find them.”
“I never gave him a location.”
Patrick interrupted.
“He gave me nothing useful.”
Roman looked at his uncle with disgust.
“You don’t get credit for partial betrayal.”
Matteo lowered his gaze.
Patrick placed the rosary on the table.
“Declan found out later.”
Roman turned back.
“How?”
“One of my men followed Matteo after a meeting. Saw him visit a post office box. Eventually connected it to Elena.”
Elena went pale.
Patrick continued.
“Declan believed your children would guarantee you surrendered Denver.”
Norah whispered, “The SUV in Queens.”
Patrick nodded.
“Most likely.”
Roman’s body went still.
“Where is Declan?”
“In the parking garage.”
“You brought him here?”
“I brought him to apologize.”
Roman gave a humorless laugh.
“You think this is a church picnic?”
“I think if I left him outside Colorado, he’d start another war.”
Patrick looked at Matteo.
“And I’m tired of burying young men because old men refuse to speak plainly.”
For several seconds, no one answered.
Then Roman said, “You want Denver?”
“Yes.”
“You can have the freight routes.”
Patrick blinked.
Matteo looked stunned despite expecting the offer.
Roman continued.
“Warehouses. Truck contracts. Everything west of Aurora connected to our underground business.”
“What do you want?”
“My family is untouchable.”
Patrick looked at Norah.
“They already were to me.”
“Make them untouchable to everybody who answers to you.”
Patrick considered.
“And Chicago?”
“Not your concern.”
“It becomes my concern if your captains retaliate later.”
“They won’t.”
“How do I know?”
Roman reached for his phone.
He opened the operations channel in front of everyone.
Then typed a message.
DENVER IS CLOSED.
NO RETALIATION.
NO REVENGE.
ANY MAN WHO DISOBEYS LEAVES THE ORGANIZATION.
He sent it.
Patrick read over his shoulder.
“Your father would spit on you.”
Roman looked at him.
“My father is dead.”
Patrick almost smiled.
“So is mine.”
The tension changed.
Not gone.
Changed.
Then movement flashed in the hallway.
Patrick turned.
A younger man appeared near the doorway.
Thirty.
Red-haired.
His right hand inside his coat.
Patrick’s expression sharpened.
“Declan.”
Roman moved before anyone else.
Not toward the man.
Toward Norah.
Declan pulled a pistol.
The nurse outside screamed.
Patrick shouted, “Put it down!”
Declan’s face twisted.
“He killed Sean!”
“Sean was my son!”
“He was my brother!”
Roman placed himself completely between the gun and the twins.
Norah pressed herself against his back.
Declan aimed.
Patrick stepped into the line of fire.
“Then shoot me first.”
Everything stopped.
Declan stared at his uncle.
Patrick’s voice cracked.
“You want another child buried for this?”
Declan’s hand trembled.
“You told me we were taking everything from him.”
“His routes. Not his babies.”
“You went soft.”
“No.”
Patrick stepped closer.
“I got old enough to know the difference between justice and inheritance.”
Declan’s arm began to lower.
Roman did not move.
Then the gun slipped from Declan’s fingers.
It hit the hospital floor.
Patrick kicked it away.
No one spoke.
Security alarms began sounding in the corridor.
Patrick looked at Roman.
“Take your family somewhere safe.”
Roman stared at the man he had expected to kill before midnight.
Instead, Patrick Keane bent down, picked up Matteo’s rosary, and placed it in the older man’s palm.
“Enough sons.”
Matteo’s eyes filled.
Patrick walked out with Declan.
Roman finally turned toward Norah.
She was shaking.
He touched Rose’s blanket.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“The babies?”
“Fine.”
His shoulders dropped.
Then Norah looked past him.
At Elena.
One question remained.
“If Keane didn’t know I was pregnant,” she said, “then the warning on the photograph was never about him.”
Nobody answered.
Norah’s eyes moved to Matteo.
“You said you didn’t write it.”
“I didn’t.”
She looked at Elena.
Roman followed her gaze.
His mother’s face had gone white.
Norah whispered, “You knew exactly what the note said before Roman ever showed it to you.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Roman understood.
His voice barely carried.
“Mom.”
May you like
Elena opened her eyes.
“I wrote it.”
