Chapter 3 - The Black SUV
“Dri.”
The voice came from outside.
Adrian had not heard that name since he was twelve.
His mother used to stand at the bottom of the stairs and call it when breakfast was ready.
Dri.
Never Adrian.
Never Mr. Moretti.
Never Boss.
Dri.
His hand closed around the weapon beneath his jacket.
Emma dragged Sophie behind the workbench.
Luca moved beside the doorway.
“Stay down.”
Adrian looked through a thin gap in the curtain.
The black SUV sat twenty feet away.
Engine running.
Windows tinted.
No plates visible from this angle.
“Who knows that name?” Luca whispered.
“Family.”
Emma answered.
“And two people who were practically family.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Marco?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Emma hesitated.
“Your father’s attorney.”
“Samuel Vale?”
She nodded.
Samuel had retired fifteen years ago.
According to company records, he lived in Arizona.
Adrian had received Christmas cards from him for years.
The SUV’s rear door opened.
A man stepped out.
Adrian recognized him immediately.
Marco DeLuca.
His father’s closest friend.
Adrian’s adviser.
The man who had taught Adrian to shoot.
The man who had stood beside his mother’s coffin.
The man Adrian had called Uncle Marco until he was sixteen.
Marco raised both hands.
“I’m alone.”
Luca muttered, “That’s a lie.”
Adrian opened the door anyway.
Emma grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“He came for me.”
“He came because somebody told him I was here.”
“Exactly.”
Adrian walked outside.
Marco looked older than he had that morning.
Not physically.
Defeated.
His eyes moved past Adrian toward the garage.
“So it’s true.”
“What?”
Marco swallowed.
“Elena.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“You knew she was alive?”
Marco looked at him.
“I suspected.”
“For twenty-seven years?”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“And you said nothing.”
“I didn’t know who I could trust.”
“That excuse is getting popular today.”
Marco glanced at the SUV.
“You have to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who sabotaged your car are coming.”
“You sabotaged it?”
“No.”
“You sent the route?”
“No.”
“You called me ten minutes ago asking what I found.”
“Because I knew the road.”
Adrian studied him.
“How?”
Marco looked past him again.
“Your mother used this road when she moved Elena.”
Emma appeared in the doorway.
“Don’t say her name like you cared.”
Marco’s face broke.
“Elena.”
“You told him I died.”
“I was ordered to.”
“You stood beside Father.”
“I was nineteen!”
“You became his right hand.”
“To stay close enough to stop him.”
Emma laughed bitterly.
“You had twenty-seven years.”
Marco lowered his voice.
“I failed.”
That answer sounded too honest.
Adrian hated it.
A second vehicle engine became audible in the distance.
Marco turned sharply.
“We need to move.”
Luca stepped outside.
“How many?”
“Enough.”
“Who?”
Marco looked at Adrian.
“Men who believe Moretti blood belongs to them.”
Adrian smiled without humor.
“That sounds inconvenient.”
Marco opened the SUV.
Inside were no gunmen.
No ambush.
Only several storage boxes.
Documents.
Hard drives.
Old photographs.
A leather ledger.
Adrian stared.
“What is this?”
“Everything I could steal before they discovered me.”
Emma stepped closer.
“You finally did something.”
Marco ignored the insult.
He handed Adrian the ledger.
On the cover was an embossed M.
Inside were names.
Dates.
Payments.
Companies.
Police officers.
Judges.
Business owners.
Several deceased politicians.
And one repeated notation.
E.M. TRANSFER.
Adrian looked at Emma.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Marco said, “I do.”
He turned several pages.
A hospital payment.
Six years earlier.
Emma’s face drained.
“No.”
Marco pointed to a line.
INFANT FEMALE.
GUARDIAN: E. MILLER.
BIOLOGICAL MATCH: MORETTI LINE.
Adrian looked toward Sophie.
“No.”
Marco’s voice softened.
“Sophie was tested after birth.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody had been watching Elena.”
Emma stepped toward Marco.
“You told me the clinic was safe.”
“It was. The doctor wasn’t.”
Adrian’s eyes stayed on the ledger.
“Moretti line could mean Elena.”
Marco shook his head.
“It says paternal.”
Silence.
Adrian looked at Emma.
“You said her father died.”
“He did.”
“Who was he?”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“A man named Daniel Ross.”
“Moretti connection?”
Emma slowly shook her head.
“No.”
Adrian stared at her.
“Then how can Sophie have paternal Moretti blood?”
Emma sat down hard on the bumper.
“Because Daniel wasn’t her biological father.”
Adrian felt anger rising.
Not because he believed he had a claim to Sophie.
Because secrets were multiplying.
“Who was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Emma.”
“I don’t.”
Marco said, “Your father did.”
Emma’s face twisted.
“Our father was dead long before Sophie was born.”
“Not your father.”
Marco looked directly at Adrian.
“Adrian’s.”
Nobody spoke.
Adrian almost laughed.
“Our father was the same man.”
Marco shook his head.
And just like that, another foundation cracked.
“Giovanni Moretti raised you,” Marco said. “But he wasn’t your biological father.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“You have ten seconds to explain.”
“Your mother was already pregnant when she married Giovanni.”
Emma whispered, “No.”
Marco nodded sadly.
“She told me before she died.”
Adrian’s throat tightened.
“Who was my father?”
Marco closed the ledger.
“Samuel Vale.”
The retired attorney.
The man who had sent Christmas cards.
The other man who knew the nickname Dri.
Adrian stared at the black SUV.
Samuel.
His father’s attorney.
His mother’s lover.
His biological father.
“And Sophie?”
Marco spoke quietly.
“Samuel had a son from an earlier marriage.”
Emma’s breath caught.
“Daniel.”
Marco nodded.
Adrian understood.
Daniel Ross had not been Daniel Ross.
He had been Daniel Vale.
Samuel Vale’s son.
Which meant Adrian and Daniel were half brothers.
Which meant Sophie was Adrian’s niece.
Real blood.
Direct blood.
The photograph message suddenly made sense.
SHE HAS YOUR BLOOD.
Sophie stood in the garage doorway.
She had heard enough.
“Adrian?”
He turned.
“Are you my uncle?”
Emma closed her eyes.
Adrian looked at Sophie.
The little girl who had repaired his car.
Who had ordered him to move.
Who had asked for orange soda instead of money.
Somewhere beneath the shock, something warm and painful moved through him.
“Yes,” he said.
Sophie stared.
Then a small smile appeared.
“I never had an uncle.”
Adrian crouched.
“Apparently I never had a niece.”
A vehicle roared around the distant bend.
Marco’s face changed.
“They’re here.”
Two black trucks appeared.
Not civilian.
Reinforced.
Moving fast.
Luca shouted for everyone inside.
Adrian grabbed Sophie.
Emma followed.
Gunfire struck the garage wall.
Sophie screamed against Adrian’s chest.
He carried her behind the engine block of the sedan while Luca and Marco returned fire toward the road.
“Stay down!”
Emma covered Sophie.
Adrian glanced at the connector she had repaired.
His sedan would run.
Maybe.
He looked at Luca.
“Get them in the car.”
“What about you?”
“I’m driving.”
Marco shouted from the doorway.
“They’ll block the road!”
“There’s another way,” Sophie yelled.
Everyone looked at her.
“A dirt road behind the barn!”
Adrian stared.
“Where does it go?”
“To the creek!”
“Can a car make it?”
Sophie looked insulted.
“My mom’s truck does.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Another round shattered a window.
Adrian made the decision.
They piled into the armored sedan.
Emma and Sophie in back.
Marco passenger side.
Luca in a second vehicle with two men.
Adrian started the engine.
It came alive.
Sophie shouted, “I told you!”
Despite everything, Adrian smiled.
Then he drove through the rear gate.
The armored sedan tore down the dirt track.
Branches scraped the doors.
Dust swallowed them.
Behind, the black trucks followed.
Emma held Sophie.
Marco navigated from memory.
“Left!”
Adrian turned hard.
The creek appeared.
A narrow concrete crossing barely wide enough for the sedan.
He hit it at speed.
The suspension slammed.
Sophie laughed once from pure adrenaline.
Then the engine warning light flashed.
Adrian looked at the dashboard.
“No.”
Sophie leaned forward.
“What?”
“Temperature.”
“It’s not my repair.”
“I believe you.”
The engine coughed.
One of the pursuing trucks appeared behind them.
Marco looked back.
“They’re gaining.”
Sophie shouted, “There’s a house!”
Ahead, half-hidden among trees, stood a small farmhouse.
Emma froze.
“No.”
Adrian heard it.
“What?”
“Don’t stop.”
“Why?”
“Keep driving.”
The engine coughed again.
Then died.
The sedan rolled to a stop directly in front of the farmhouse.
Adrian looked through the windshield.
An elderly man stood on the porch.
White hair.
Straight posture.
A cane in one hand.
The man stared at Adrian.
Adrian stared back.
The face was older than the photograph on the Christmas cards.
But unmistakable.
Samuel Vale.
His biological father.
Samuel raised his cane and pointed behind Adrian.
“Get inside!”
Adrian turned.
The black truck had stopped.
May you like
Four armed men stepped out.
And the man who emerged behind them was wearing Adrian’s own family ring.
