Chapter 5 - THE MAN ON THE FIRE ESCAPE
I didn't think. I reacted.
I slammed the apartment door shut and threw the deadbolt.
“Get away from the window!” I yelled.
Clara scooped up Leo. Her face was white with terror. “Mom, what is going on? Why are you here?”
“Your father sent me. The Russos know where you are.”
At the mention of her father, Clara's expression hardened, even through the fear.
“I don't need his help. I don't want anything from him.”
Glass shattered in the living room.
A heavy boot kicked away the window blinds.
“Clara, move!” I shoved her toward the bathroom.
A man stepped into the apartment.
He had a deep scar over his left eye. Just like Leo's drawing.
He pulled a heavy, suppressed pistol from his jacket.
“Well, well,” the man rasped. “Eleanor Moretti. Two birds, one stone.”
I stood between him and the bathroom door.
My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept my chin high.
“If you pull that trigger, the ledger goes to the FBI,” I bluffed, praying Vincent was right about their fears.
The man smirked. “Bianca said you'd mention that. We know there is no ledger. Your husband was bluffing.”
He raised the gun.
I braced myself, closing my eyes.
Crack.
The sound was deafening, but I felt no pain.
I opened my eyes.
The man with the scar stumbled forward, dropping his gun, and collapsed onto the cheap carpet.
Standing behind him in the shattered window frame was a man I hadn't seen in a decade.
Sal. Vincent's oldest enforcer.
He was breathing heavily, clutching his shoulder where dark blood stained his coat.
“Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Moretti,” Sal grunted, stepping inside.
He reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out a worn silver rosary.
He tossed it to me.
I caught it. It was cold.
“Vincent gave me this thirty years ago,” Sal said. “Said if I ever handed it to you, it meant the worst had happened.”
My stomach plummeted.
“Where is my husband, Sal?”
Sal looked at the floor.
“Bianca's brother went to your house, Eleanor. Vincent traded himself.”
“Traded himself for what?”
“For time,” Sal said grimly. “He told them you took the ledger to a safehouse. He told them he'd take them there if they let you and the girl live.”
“He lied to them,” I whispered.
“Yeah. He did. And when they figure out he's stalling, they'll kill him.”
Clara stepped out of the bathroom, holding Leo tight.
She stared at the dead man on her floor, then at me.
“He sacrificed himself for us?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“He always did,” I said softly.
I looked at the rosary in my hand.
Then I looked at the dead man's gun on the floor.
“Sal,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Where did they take him?”
Sal's eyes widened. “Mrs. Moretti, no. My orders are to get you on a plane—”
“I am not leaving my husband to die!” I picked up the heavy pistol. It felt foreign and terrifying in my hands. “Now, where are they?”
Sal sighed.
“The old warehouse on Pier 4. But Eleanor, it's a fortress. It's owned by Bianca now.”
I looked at Clara.
“Take your son. Get on the plane.”
“Mom, what are you going to do?”
May you like
I slid the gun into my coat pocket.
“I'm going to finish the conversation Bianca and I started in my living room.”
