Chapter 3 - The Brother Who Died
I didn't believe the message.
Not immediately.
Marco would never kidnap his own daughter from me if Elena had trusted me enough to send Lily to my room.
Unless Marco had changed.
Eleven years could change anyone.
I checked the study camera.
Disabled.
Again.
But one exterior camera had survived.
At 12:51 a.m., a black SUV left the underground garage.
Driver unidentified.
Passenger: Dr. Harris.
In the back seat, Lily.
She wasn't struggling.
That mattered.
“Find that vehicle,” I ordered.
Vittorio called our traffic contacts.
Within eight minutes we had a route.
Brooklyn.
The SUV stopped at an abandoned church.
I went with Vittorio and four men.
Inside, we found Dr. Harris sitting alone.
“Where is Lily?”
He raised his hands.
“She is safe.”
“Where?”
“A man took her.”
“Who?”
“He said his name was Marco.”
My gun lowered slightly.
“What did he look like?”
Harris described my brother.
Older.
Scar across his left cheek.
Same green eyes.
Alive.
“Why did you help him?”
“Because Elena told me to.”
That stopped me.
“Elena?”
“She contacted me months ago. She said if anything happened, I was supposed to help Marco get Lily out.”
“Why didn't she trust me?”
“She did.”
“Then why remove Lily from my house?”
Harris looked at Vittorio.
“Because Elena said the traitor was still inside it.”
My uncle went still.
I looked at him.
Vittorio's face hardened.
“You think it's me?”
“I think everyone is suspect.”
Including Matteo.
Including Vittorio.
Including Marco.
Including me, if I allowed emotion to replace judgment.
Harris handed me a folded paper.
“Marco asked me to give you this.”
An address.
Red Hook.
Warehouse 12.
COME ALONE.
I went.
Of course I did.
Warehouse 12 was empty except for one hanging light.
A man stepped from the darkness.
Older.
Lean.
Scarred.
My brother.
Marco.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Then I hit him.
He staggered backward.
“You're alive.”
He wiped blood from his lip.
“Yes.”
I hit him again.
“You let me bury you.”
“I didn't have a choice.”
“You had eleven years.”
“I had a daughter.”
That stopped me.
“Lily.”
His expression softened.
“My little girl.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“And Elena?”
His eyes darkened.
“I don't know.”
“You're her father?”
“Yes.”
“Why wasn't she with you?”
“Because hiding a child with me would have put a target on her from birth.”
“So Elena came into my house.”
“She was supposed to watch you.”
“Watch me?”
“To find out whether the traitor had gotten close to you.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
My hand tightened.
“Who?”
Marco looked toward the entrance.
“Not here.”
“You brought me here.”
“To see whether you were followed.”
A light flashed outside.
Marco swore.
“Move.”
Gunfire shattered the window.
We dropped.
Marco fired back.
I recognized the attackers.
Not faces.
Technique.
Romano security training.
My people.
Someone had sent my own soldiers to kill us.
We escaped through a rear loading bay.
Marco drove.
“Who knew you were coming?” he asked.
“Vittorio.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“You still trust him.”
“He raised me.”
“He lied to you about my death.”
“To protect me.”
“That's what he says.”
“Do you think Vittorio is the traitor?”
Marco didn't answer.
“Marco.”
“I think our father trusted the wrong person.”
“Name him.”
“Matteo Rossi.”
I stared.
“No.”
“Matteo's father worked for Bellandi.”
“I know.”
“What you don't know is that Matteo was inside the warehouse the night Dad died.”
Impossible.
Matteo had told me he arrived afterward.
Marco continued.
“I saw him.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried. Then someone shot me.”
“Who?”
“I never saw.”
We reached a safe house.
Lily ran from the bedroom.
“Daddy!”
Marco caught her.
The sight hit me harder than any bullet.
Lily knew him.
This wasn't a stranger.
She buried her face against his shoulder.
“Mommy's gone.”
“I know, baby.”
“You'll find her?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Uncle Dante helped me.”
Uncle.
Marco looked at me.
For the first time in eleven years, my brother smiled.
“You always were good at showing up late.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Then Lily said something.
“Daddy, Mommy said Uncle Matteo knows where Grandma is.”
Marco froze.
I froze.
“Grandma?”
Our mother Isabella had died when I was seventeen.
Or so I had believed.
Marco put Lily down.
“What did you say?”
“Mommy said Grandma Isabella was hiding.”
I looked at Marco.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Lily reached inside her dress pocket.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“Mommy gave me this too.”
A child's drawing.
Five figures.
Mommy.
Daddy.
Lily.
Uncle Dante.
And an older woman.
Above the woman, Elena had written one word.
ISABELLA.
Our mother.
Alive.
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He put it on speaker.
Elena's voice.
Weak.
“Marco?”
“Elena!”
“Don't come for me.”
“Where are you?”
“Listen. Lily is the key, but not because she's your daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“The ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one Salvatore hid.”
I pulled it from my coat.
“I have it.”
Elena inhaled sharply.
“Dante?”
“Yes.”
“Page eighty-seven.”
I opened it.
A list of payments.
One name appeared repeatedly.
V. ROMANO.
Vittorio.
My uncle.
Marco stared at me.
Elena whispered, “He knows you found it.”
A gun clicked behind us.
We turned.
May you like
Vittorio stood in the doorway.
And his pistol was aimed directly at Marco.
