Chapter 5 - THE ALTERATIONS SHOP
The line went dead. The silence in the SUV felt heavier than lead.
"I have to go," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt, panic making my hands shake. "Nico, let me out. I'll take a cab. I have to give them the box."
Nico locked the doors from the driver’s control panel. The sharp click echoed loudly.
"You're not going anywhere alone," Nico said, shifting the car back into drive. "And you are certainly not handing over my nephew or the evidence that brings down the Rossi family."
"She has my mother!" I yelled, a sob tearing from my throat. "My mother is sick, Nico! Her hands are crippled with arthritis. She can't defend herself!"
"Emma, look at me." Nico's voice was firm, grounding me in the chaos. He turned completely in his seat. "I am a Bellini. We protect our own. You protected my mother’s legacy today. You saved my nephew tonight. Your mother is now under my protection. Do you understand?"
I stared at him, the tears spilling hot down my cheeks. I gave a small nod.
"Good," Nico said. He looked at Leo in the back seat. "Leo, are you brave?"
Leo sniffled, clutching his oversized coat. "Mommy said I have the heart of a lion."
"You do," Nico agreed softly. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a heavy black flashlight, handing it back to me. "Emma, when we get there, you and Leo stay in the car until I secure the perimeter."
"Nico, there could be a dozen men inside," I warned.
"Then I feel sorry for them," he replied quietly.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the darkened alley behind my mother's shop in Cicero. Collins Alterations was a tiny, cramped storefront wedged between a bakery and a laundromat. The back door was slightly ajar, a sliver of yellow light spilling onto the wet pavement.
"Lock the doors the second I step out," Nico instructed, chambering a round in his weapon. "Don't open it for anyone but me."
He slipped out into the rain, moving with terrifying, silent grace.
I locked the doors and pulled Leo into the middle seat, shielding him with my body. Minutes ticked by. It felt like hours. Every shadow in the alley looked like a man with a gun.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from inside the shop, followed by a muffled scream. It was my mother's voice.
I couldn't breathe. The rules didn't matter anymore.
"Stay here, Leo," I ordered, grabbing the heavy flashlight. "Hide under the seat. Don't make a sound."
I threw open the door and sprinted to the back entrance of the shop. I crept inside, the familiar smell of chalk dust and old cotton hitting my nose.
In the front room, mannequins had been knocked over. Bolts of fabric were unrolled across the floor.
Claire was standing near the front register, holding a small pistol pointed directly at my mother, who was sitting on a wooden stool, clutching her swollen hands to her chest.
Nico was standing ten feet away, his own gun aimed at Claire, but his path was blocked by Marcus Vance—a massive man holding a jagged pair of heavy fabric shears against Nico's neck.
"Drop the gun, Bellini," Vance growled. "Or I open your throat."
"You came for the box," Nico said, his voice completely steady. "Let the women go. This is business."
"It was business until your little maid decided to play hero," Claire snapped, her polished stylist facade completely gone. She looked ragged, desperate. "Bianca was an idiot. She just wanted the evidence destroyed. My boss wants to use the evidence to blackmail Rossi for half his territory. Now, where is the box?"
"It's safe," Nico lied smoothly.
"Wrong answer," Claire sneered. She cocked her pistol and aimed it at my mother's knee. "I'll ask again."
"Stop!" I screamed, stepping out from behind a rack of wedding dresses.
Everyone froze.
I raised the heavy black flashlight in my hand. But I wasn't aiming it like a weapon. I was holding it over a large, industrial steam press that was currently turned on, hissing with boiling hot steam.
"Let her go, or I smash the pressure valve on this steamer," I warned, my voice surprisingly steady. "It will blow this entire room with 300-degree steam. We'll all burn."
Vance laughed. "You won't do it, little girl. You'd burn your own mother."
"My mother is wearing a heavy wool coat," I said, staring directly at Claire's bare arms and silk blouse. "You aren't. And I know exactly how much pressure this machine holds. Let him go."
Claire hesitated.
That one second of hesitation was all Nico needed.
With lightning speed, Nico grabbed Vance's wrist, twisting it violently until the shears dropped. He slammed an elbow into Vance's chest, throwing the massive man into a rack of heavy winter coats, pinning him down.
Claire panicked and swung her gun toward me.
Before she could pull the trigger, my mother—frail, arthritic, gentle mother—kicked the heavy wooden stool out from under herself, sending it sliding violently across the hardwood floor. It slammed into Claire's shins.
Claire shrieked, falling forward.
Nico was there before she hit the ground, kicking the gun out of her hand and pinning her face down on the floorboards.
"Mom!" I cried, running to her. I threw my arms around her trembling shoulders.
"I'm okay, Emma," she cried, hugging me back tightly. "I'm okay."
Nico zip-tied Vance and Claire using the heavy plastic garment ties from the racks. He stood up, breathing heavily, and looked at me. There was a profound respect in his dark eyes.
"You're a very dangerous woman, Emma Collins," he said softly.
Before I could answer, the front door of the shop violently burst open.
May you like
Standing in the doorway, flanked by four armed men, was Bianca Rossi.
"Well," Bianca smiled coldly, stepping inside. "Isn't this a lovely little family reunion."
