Chapter 4 - THE TRAITOR'S DEMAND
The rain hammered against the wooden planks of Pier 4.
Frankie stood in front of the headlights, his scarred face twisted into a mockingly apologetic smile. Three heavily armed men stepped out of the SUV behind him, raising rifles at us.
Dominic didn't flinch. He slowly lowered his pistol, not dropping it, but holding it at his side.
"You took the boy, Frankie," Dominic said. It wasn't a question.
"I took the insurance policy," Frankie corrected, wiping rain from his eyes. "You see, when Sabrina brought that idiot sister of yours into the house tonight, I knew the watch would come out. I knew my time was up."
Answer one: Frankie orchestrated the kidnapping tonight to secure his own escape when he realized his three-year-old crime was about to be exposed.
Open two: Why did Frankie, a fiercely loyal bodyguard for ten years, murder Vincenzo Marino? And where was six-year-old Leo right now?
Elena clutched the tiny blue coat to her chest, sobbing. "Where is my son, you monster?!"
"He's safe, sweetheart," Frankie laughed. "As long as Dominic signs the port authority deeds over to the Vitiello family. That was the deal three years ago. Your father wouldn't sign. So, he had an accident."
My blood ran cold. The Vitiellos. The most ruthless rival syndicate in Chicago.
"You sold us to the Vitiellos," Dominic said, his voice deadly quiet. "You murdered my father for a paycheck."
"I did it for a future," Frankie sneered. "Now, drop the gun, Dominic. Slide it over. Or I call my guys, and the kid goes into the river."
Dominic stood perfectly still. The tactical disadvantage was absolute. Three rifles and a handgun against his single pistol.
"I'll sign the deeds," Dominic said smoothly. "Bring the boy here. Make the trade."
"You don't dictate terms anymore, Boss," Frankie barked. "Drop the gun!"
I was standing slightly behind Dominic. Frankie's men were focused entirely on the Mafia boss. They weren't looking at the waitress in the black apron.
My father had worked on these docks. He had taught me exactly what happens when you step on the rotted planks near the old mooring posts.
I looked down. Two feet to my left was a thick, rusty iron lever embedded in the dock—the manual release for the heavy cargo crane suspended directly above Frankie's SUV.
I caught Dominic's eye for a fraction of a second. I flicked my gaze upward.
Dominic saw it. He understood instantly.
"You win, Frankie," Dominic sighed, bending his knees as if to place the gun on the ground.
"Smart choice," Frankie smiled.
I threw all my weight to the left and stomped my heavy work shoe down onto the rusted iron lever.
The metal groaned with a deafening screech.
The heavy locking gears above us snapped open.
Two tons of solid steel cargo netting, suspended from the defunct crane, plummeted from the sky.
It crashed directly onto the hood of the SUV with an earth-shattering explosion of metal and glass.
Frankie's men screamed as the crushing weight brought the front of the vehicle down, sending the back tires flying into the air.
Frankie dove to the side, firing wildly.
"Get down!" Dominic roared, tackling Elena to the wet wood.
Dominic returned fire instantly. Two sharp cracks from his pistol.
One of the riflemen dropped. The other two scrambled for cover behind the crushed metal of the SUV.
Frankie realized he had lost the upper hand. He scrambled to his feet and bolted down the narrow catwalk leading toward the abandoned shipyard warehouses.
"Stay here!" Dominic yelled to me and Elena.
He took off sprinting after Frankie, disappearing into the maze of rusting shipping containers.
I pulled Elena behind a stack of wooden crates, shielding her as the remaining two gunmen fired blindly in our direction.
"He has Leo," Elena wept, hyperventilating. "Claire, they're going to kill my baby."
"No, they won't," I said, grabbing her hands tightly. "Dominic won't let them."
Suddenly, a loud splash echoed from the water below the catwalk.
The gunfire stopped.
A moment later, Dominic emerged from the shadows. His suit was torn, and his knuckles were bloody. He walked over to us, breathing heavily.
"Did you get him?" Elena begged.
Dominic shook his head. "He jumped into a waiting speedboat. He's gone."
Elena let out a gut-wrenching wail.
Dominic knelt beside her, pulling a small object from his pocket.
"He didn't get away clean," Dominic said grimly. "I caught his jacket before he jumped. He dropped this."
Dominic opened his hand.
Resting in his palm was a heavy silver bracelet.
But it wasn't a man's bracelet. It was delicate, adorned with diamonds, and engraved with a highly specific family crest.
I recognized it instantly.
It was the matching bracelet to the necklace Sabrina DeLuca was wearing tonight at the engagement dinner.
Answer one: Sabrina wasn't innocent. She was working with Frankie the entire time.
Open two: Did Sabrina know Frankie killed the father, or was she manipulating the traitor for her own gain?
Dominic stared at his fiancée's jewelry, his eyes turning to black ice.
"Sabrina didn't just cover up my father's murder," Dominic whispered. "She orchestrated it. And she knows exactly where my nephew is."
He stood up, pulling a spare magazine from his pocket and slapping it into his gun.
"Claire," Dominic said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "We are going back to the house. And Sabrina is going to tell me the truth, even if I have to tear it out of her."
As we turned to run back to the car, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I pulled it out.
It was an unknown number.
I answered it, putting it on speaker.
A small, terrified voice came through the static.
"Mommy?"
Elena gasped. "Leo! Leo, baby, where are you?!"
"I don't know," the six-year-old cried softly. "It's dark. It smells like old flowers."
Before Elena could speak, a new voice took the phone. An older, raspy man's voice.
"Hello, Dominic."
Dominic froze. "Don Vitiello."
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"The boy is safe," the rival boss chuckled. "For now. But I think you and I need to have a conversation about the future of Chicago. Come to the old greenhouse on the edge of your estate. Come alone. Or the boy goes to sleep forever."
The line went dead.
