Chapter 2 - The Name Everyone Feared
“Meline?”
The voice came again.
Meline froze.
Dominic moved in front of her.
Victor drew his weapon.
A figure stepped from the hallway.
“Harper?”
Meline’s knees nearly gave way.
Harper Bennett looked nothing like the woman who had laughed over coffee six hours earlier.
Her dark hair was wet.
Blood streaked one sleeve.
She held a pistol.
Dominic aimed at her.
Harper aimed back.
“Put it down,” he said.
“You first.”
“Harper!” Meline snapped. “What is happening?”
Harper’s eyes remained on Dominic.
“I tried to stop them.”
“Who?”
“The men at Belladonna.”
Meline held up the photograph.
“Did you leave this?”
Harper looked at it.
Her expression changed.
“No.”
“Did you send me to Dominic’s table?”
“No.”
“You told me charcoal suit. Back booth.”
“I told you table nineteen.”
Meline went still.
“No. You said secluded booth in the back.”
“I texted you the table number.”
Meline reached for her phone.
It was gone.
She remembered dropping her coat at Belladonna.
Dominic spoke quietly.
“Someone changed the message.”
Harper lowered her gun slightly.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”
Dominic didn’t lower his.
“And why should I believe you?”
“Because if I wanted her dead, she’d be dead.”
Victor muttered, “Comforting.”
Harper looked at him.
Recognition flashed across her face.
“You.”
Victor stiffened.
Harper whispered, “You were with Thomas the night he died.”
Meline turned toward him.
“What?”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
Dominic looked between them.
“You told me Thomas Hayes was an accountant.”
“He was,” Victor said.
“No,” Harper replied. “He was Costello’s architect.”
Silence.
Meline laughed softly because the alternative was breaking something.
“My father designed libraries.”
Harper looked at her sadly.
“That was his public work.”
Meline backed away.
“No.”
“Meline—”
“No.”
Dominic took the photograph from her.
“Hawthorne Exchange.”
Harper nodded.
“Thomas designed something underneath it.”
“B-17?”
Her face confirmed it.
Dominic lowered his weapon.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Victor did.
Everyone saw it.
Dominic turned.
“Tell me.”
Victor stared at the floor.
“Not here.”
Dominic’s voice became dangerous.
“Now.”
Victor looked at Meline.
“Your father built a vault.”
“For what?”
“Records.”
“What records?”
“Everything.”
Dominic understood before Meline did.
“My father’s organization.”
Victor nodded.
Meline stared at Dominic.
“Organization?”
Dominic said nothing.
Harper answered.
“The Costello family ran half the organized crime on the East Coast.”
Meline looked at Dominic.
He did not deny it.
Her stomach turned.
“You’re Mafia.”
“I don’t use that word.”
“That is your objection?”
“I inherited something I’ve spent years dismantling.”
Harper laughed bitterly.
“And building something cleaner on top of it.”
Dominic ignored her.
“What records?”
Victor answered.
“Judges. Police. Politicians. Businesses. Payments. Murders. Informants. Every secret Dominic’s father ever bought.”
Meline looked at the photograph again.
“My father had access?”
“He created the vault.”
“Then why was he killed?”
Victor hesitated.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Victor.”
“Because he tried to destroy it.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Meline had been twelve when her father died in a highway accident.
That was the story.
A wet road.
A guardrail.
A funeral.
Her mother refusing to talk about it afterward.
“It wasn’t an accident.”
Nobody answered.
Meline’s voice broke.
“Was it?”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
She slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Victor accepted it without moving.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“For fourteen years?”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe—”
“I promised him I would keep you out of it.”
Meline’s eyes filled.
“Fantastic job.”
Dominic stepped closer.
She backed away.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
That mattered more than she wanted it to.
Harper moved toward her.
Meline turned on her.
“And you?”
Harper swallowed.
“My father worked with yours.”
“What?”
“I met you because I was supposed to watch you.”
Eleven years of friendship collapsed in one sentence.
Meline stared.
Harper’s eyes filled.
“It stopped being a job a long time ago.”
“Get out.”
“Meline—”
“Get out!”
A gunshot exploded through the window.
Dominic tackled Meline.
Glass rained across the floor.
Victor fired toward the opposite building.
Harper dropped behind the sofa.
Another bullet hit the wall.
Dominic dragged Meline into the hallway.
“We’re leaving.”
“My father—”
“Later.”
“My entire life just became a lie!”
“And you can be angry about it alive.”
They escaped through the service stairs.
In the car, Meline sat as far from Dominic as possible.
Harper remained behind with Victor.
“Where now?”
“My house.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Meline.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
The answer surprised her.
Dominic looked out the window.
“But right now you know exactly what I want.”
“The vault.”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
His eyes returned to hers.
“I haven’t figured that out.”
Her heart made one unwanted movement.
She hated it.
His house turned out not to be a house.
It was a limestone mansion behind iron gates overlooking the Hudson.
Armed security guarded every entrance.
Inside, Dominic gave her a bedroom.
No locked door.
No guard inside.
She noticed.
“You’re not imprisoning me?”
“If you leave, six people may try to kill you before you reach the gate.”
“That sounds like imprisonment with landscaping.”
He almost smiled again.
Then he handed her a phone.
“One call.”
“My mother.”
Dominic’s expression sharpened.
“Where is she?”
“Connecticut.”
“Call her.”
Meline did.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Voicemail.
Then a text appeared.
Unknown number.
Meline opened it.
A photograph loaded.
Her mother sat in a chair.
Alive.
Terrified.
Behind her stood a man holding a newspaper.
Today’s date.
Underneath were seven words:
BRING THE ARCHITECT TO B-17. COME ALONE.
Meline’s breath disappeared.
Dominic took the phone.
Another message arrived.
This one contained a name.
Dominic read it.
For the first time since Meline had met him, genuine shock crossed his face.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward her.
The message said:
ASK DOMINIC WHO KILLED THOMAS HAYES.
Then another message appeared.
A video attachment.
Meline pressed play.
Her father appeared on the screen.
Alive.
Fourteen years ago.
He looked directly into the camera and said:
“If my daughter ever sees this, Dominic Costello must never learn what I put behind Door Seventeen.”
The video stopped.
Meline looked up.
Dominic had gone completely still.
Then the bedroom door opened.
May you like
Victor stood there.
And he whispered, “There’s something about your father’s death I never told either of you...”
