Chapter 3 - The Name Behind the Wedding
Darkness swallowed the warehouse yard.
Lorenzo moved before Emma processed what had happened.
One arm wrapped around her waist.
He pulled her behind the old truck.
“Stay down.”
Gunfire cracked from the far side of the yard.
Emma flinched.
Matteo drew a pistol.
Daniel dropped beside them.
“You led them here,” Lorenzo said.
Daniel looked furious.
“No. You did.”
Another shot struck metal.
Emma covered her ears.
“This is exactly why I don’t attend mafia weddings!”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“Noted.”
“Really? Now?”
“You prefer panic?”
“I prefer electricity.”
Matteo leaned around the truck.
“Three shooters. Warehouse roof.”
Lorenzo removed his jacket and placed it over Emma’s shoulders.
She stared.
“What is this supposed to do?”
“Keep you down.”
“It’s Armani, not body armor.”
“It is custom.”
Despite everything, she nearly laughed.
Lorenzo motioned toward the loading bay.
They moved.
Daniel followed.
Inside Warehouse B, emergency lights flickered on.
Emma knew every aisle.
That gave them an advantage.
She guided them through stacked freight toward the rear office.
Once inside, Matteo locked the door.
Lorenzo turned on Daniel.
“Talk.”
Daniel looked at Emma.
“She shouldn’t hear this.”
Emma picked up a heavy stapler.
Daniel frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m considering throwing this at you.”
“Emma.”
“Talk.”
Daniel sat.
“I met your father twenty-seven years ago. Carter Freight wasn’t just a freight business then.”
“What was it?”
“A route.”
“For what?”
“Information.”
Lorenzo’s expression sharpened.
Daniel continued.
“Your father transported sealed cargo for legitimate companies. Sometimes he discovered shipments that weren’t legitimate.”
“Drugs?”
“Weapons. Cash. People.”
Emma felt ill.
“Dad was involved?”
“He was trying to stop it.”
Daniel looked toward Lorenzo.
“So was Alessandro Duca.”
Lorenzo’s father.
“Alessandro and Peter discovered that members of several Chicago organizations were moving weapons through legitimate freight lines.”
“My uncle?” Lorenzo asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Which uncle?”
“Salvatore.”
The man whose death had triggered Lorenzo’s marriage problem.
Lorenzo’s face revealed nothing.
Emma knew that meant he was furious.
“Isabella discovered it too,” Daniel said.
“She was an accountant for Duca Holdings. Peter and Isabella worked together gathering records.”
Emma looked at the wedding invitation.
“They weren’t getting married.”
“No.”
“The invitation was a code?”
“A cover. They created evidence of an engagement so they could meet without Salvatore becoming suspicious.”
“What about my mother?”
“She knew.”
That hurt in a different way.
“How much did everyone know except me?”
“Enough to want you protected.”
Emma stood.
“Stop saying protected.”
Daniel fell silent.
“My father is dead. My mother died believing I knew nothing. You watched me inherit a company full of fake debt. And somebody shot at me ten minutes ago. Whatever protection you people designed was terrible.”
Lorenzo’s gaze remained on her.
Pride flickered there.
Daniel rubbed his face.
“You’re right.”
“So finish.”
“Isabella disappeared because Salvatore discovered she had copied the ledgers.”
“And Victor Sanz?” Lorenzo asked.
“He helped her escape.”
“Where?”
“I never knew.”
“Someone did.”
“Peter.”
Emma’s heart sank.
“Dad knew Isabella was alive.”
“Yes.”
The old flip phone suddenly made sense.
“He was communicating with her.”
“For years.”
“And Michael?”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Peter’s twin brother.”
Emma stared.
“Twin?”
“Yes.”
“Why hide a twin?”
“Because Michael worked for Salvatore.”
Silence.
“He was the enemy,” Emma said.
“At first.”
“What changed?”
“Peter.”
Daniel looked at the dark window.
“Brothers are complicated.”
Lorenzo gave a humorless laugh.
“That is one word.”
“Michael eventually switched sides. He helped Peter move Isabella. Salvatore believed Michael died in a warehouse fire.”
“But he survived.”
“Yes.”
“And now he’s here.”
“Yes.”
Emma paced.
“So the man who entered Lorenzo’s property was my uncle.”
“Probably.”
“You say probably too much.”
“Because I haven’t seen Michael in twelve years.”
Gunfire stopped outside.
That was somehow worse.
Matteo received a message.
“Police scanners are active. Someone reported the shooting.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Too fast.”
Daniel nodded.
“It’s a setup.”
“To force us out?” Emma asked.
“Or identify who leaves together.”
Lorenzo looked toward her.
“They want confirmation that Emma and I are connected.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Are you?”
Emma answered first.
“No.”
Lorenzo answered simultaneously.
“Yes.”
They looked at each other.
Emma whispered, “Excuse me?”
Lorenzo did not look embarrassed.
Daniel almost smiled.
“This is not a relationship discussion,” Emma said.
“Agreed,” Lorenzo replied.
“You just told him we’re connected.”
“We are.”
“Because people are shooting at us?”
“Among other reasons.”
“What other reasons?”
Matteo cleared his throat.
“Boss.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“We should move.”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
“This conversation isn’t over.”
“I assumed.”
They escaped through an old service tunnel beneath the warehouse.
Emma had not known it existed.
Daniel apparently did.
That irritated her further.
An SUV waited near a neighboring lot.
Lorenzo insisted Emma sit beside him.
She insisted it was because he was controlling.
He said it was because she attracted gunfire.
Neither admitted they wanted the other close.
At the mansion, security doubled.
Emma refused to be sent home.
“You don’t have a home that’s secure,” Lorenzo said.
“My apartment has three locks.”
“My wine cellar has more.”
“That is not the argument you think it is.”
“You’re staying.”
Emma stared.
“Do I get a vote?”
“No.”
She turned to Matteo.
“Is he always like this?”
“Worse.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
Matteo suddenly became interested in a painting.
Emma smiled.
Her room was larger than her entire apartment.
She hated that she liked the bed.
She hated even more that someone had already placed pajamas in her size inside the closet.
She found Lorenzo in the hall.
“You bought me clothes?”
“No.”
“They appeared magically?”
“My house manager arranged them.”
“How did she know my size?”
Lorenzo paused.
Emma pointed.
“You investigated my clothing size?”
“It was in the file.”
“There was a clothing section?”
“I did not write the file.”
“But you read it.”
He looked at her.
“All of it.”
Emma shook her head.
“You’re terrifying in very unexpected ways.”
That night she could not sleep.
At one in the morning, she found Lorenzo in the kitchen.
The feared mafia boss of Chicago was making grilled cheese.
Emma leaned against the doorway.
“This destroys your reputation.”
He looked over.
“You saw nothing.”
“Is that cheddar?”
“Go back to bed.”
She sat at the island.
“Make me one.”
“You order me around in my own kitchen.”
“You invited me.”
“You nearly strangled me.”
“Still holding that against me?”
He placed a sandwich in front of her.
They ate quietly.
For the first time, no guards stood within sight.
Lorenzo seemed younger without his jacket.
Less like the man newspapers feared.
More like a tired son carrying something inherited.
“Were you close to Isabella?” Emma asked.
He stared at the pan.
“She was my favorite person.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen when she disappeared.”
“You thought she died?”
“My father told me she had.”
“Why?”
“To protect me, apparently.”
Emma made a face.
He noticed.
“You dislike that word.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“So am I.”
She took a bite.
“This is good.”
“I know.”
“Confidence is attractive until it becomes annoying.”
His gaze lifted.
Emma immediately regretted the word attractive.
Lorenzo did not rescue her.
“Do you find me attractive?”
She swallowed.
“Your grilled cheese.”
“Emma.”
“Don’t get excited.”
He smiled.
There it was again.
That private version of him.
She suddenly understood why those other women had feared Lorenzo.
They had met the armor.
Emma had accidentally grabbed the armor by its tie and pulled the man out.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
She opened it.
A photograph appeared.
Lorenzo standing in the kitchen.
Taken through the window.
Emma’s blood ran cold.
Under it:
YOU WERE WARNED ABOUT HIM.
She silently showed Lorenzo.
Everything soft vanished from his face.
He stood.
“Down.”
A bullet exploded through the window.
Lorenzo threw himself across Emma.
Glass rained over them.
Security alarms screamed.
Guards rushed into the kitchen.
Matteo shouted orders.
Lorenzo remained over Emma, shielding her body with his.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He helped her up.
Another message arrived.
This one contained no photograph.
Only an address.
And four words.
COME WITHOUT LORENZO DUCA.
Emma stared at it.
Lorenzo read over her shoulder.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“We don’t know who sent it.”
“That is why the answer is no.”
Then a second text appeared.
A photograph loaded slowly.
Emma’s face changed.
It showed a woman tied to a chair.
Older now.
But unmistakably the same woman from the photograph in her father’s box.
Isabella Duca.
Across her chest hung a handwritten sign.
BRING EMMA CARTER.
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
Then Emma noticed something he had not.
A reflection in the metal wall behind Isabella.
The photographer’s face.
Emma enlarged the image.
May you like
She knew him.
And he was already inside Lorenzo’s house.
