Chapter 6 - Mateo's Silent Warning
Vincent smiled into the camera.
Then the feed died.
Lorenzo was moving before anyone spoke.
“Lock the garage.”
Carlo's voice came through the radio.
“System isn't responding.”
“Manual lockdown.”
“Already trying.”
Lydia watched another monitor.
“Wait.”
Lorenzo turned.
“What?”
“He wants you downstairs.”
“Obviously.”
“So don't go.”
“He has the ledger.”
“He wants you angry.”
“I am angry.”
“Exactly.”
Mateo's tablet spoke.
TRAP.
Lorenzo looked at his brother.
Mateo typed:
EAST.
TUNNEL.
Lorenzo frowned.
“What east tunnel?”
Mateo stared at him.
For once, Lydia almost laughed.
Apparently even mafia bosses could discover their disabled brothers knew more about their houses than they did.
Mateo explained through the tablet.
The estate had an old service passage beneath the east garage.
Vincent knew it.
He could enter and disappear without using monitored doors.
Lorenzo sent guards to both exits.
Nobody found Vincent.
But the ledger remained.
Placed neatly on the hood of Lorenzo's car.
Lydia opened it wearing gloves.
Most pages contained coded transactions.
One page contained her father's handwriting.
VINCENT ISN'T THE TOP.
Below it:
R.B. ANSWERS TO C.V.
Lydia knew immediately.
“Charles Vane.”
The alderman.
The man who had ordered her to falsify Mercer's report.
Roland Blackwood wasn't the top of the network.
Vane was.
That changed everything.
Lorenzo's war with Blackwood had been useful camouflage.
While two criminal organizations blamed each other, a respected public official profited from both.
Lydia turned pages.
One entry caught her eye.
M.M.—TRANSFER AFTER RECOVERY.
“Mateo.”
Lorenzo leaned over her.
Another entry:
If speech returns, terminate.
Lorenzo's hands curled into fists.
Mateo read it from his chair.
His expression didn't change.
That was worse.
Lydia crouched beside him.
“They were afraid of you.”
Mateo looked at her.
“Yes,” she said. “That's what this means.”
His tablet spoke.
GOOD.
Lorenzo actually laughed.
It was brief.
Dark.
Proud.
“My brother.”
But Lydia kept reading.
Then she found her own initials.
L.C.
Under them:
CONTROL THROUGH LICENSE.
Secondary leverage: F.C.
Frank Coppola.
Her father.
She shut the ledger.
“I need air.”
Lorenzo followed her into the hallway.
“You don't have to keep reading tonight.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
She turned.
“Don't order me to grieve conveniently.”
His expression softened.
“I wasn't.”
“Everyone keeps deciding what I can handle. Blackwood. Vane. My father. You.”
“Your father was trying to protect you.”
“So are you.”
Lorenzo went silent.
“That doesn't automatically make it right.”
He nodded.
“No. It doesn't.”
That stopped her anger.
He was learning.
Annoyingly quickly.
Lydia sat on the window bench.
“I spent six years thinking maybe they were right about me.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
She looked down.
“When enough doors close, you start wondering whether you're the problem.”
Lorenzo sat beside her.
“You walked into a room with two armed men and chose my brother over yourself.”
“That doesn't erase everything.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“But it tells me something about you that a licensing board never could.”
Lydia swallowed.
“Careful. That almost sounded kind.”
“I have a reputation.”
“I won't tell.”
Their eyes held.
Something dangerous changed between them.
Not fear.
Not suspicion.
Something warmer.
Lorenzo leaned closer.
Then Mateo's tablet voice sounded from the doorway.
BAD.
TIMING.
Lydia burst out laughing.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Mateo looked delighted.
The moment passed.
But not entirely.
Later that night Lydia helped Mateo prepare for bed.
His eyes kept moving toward the dresser.
“What?”
He indicated the tablet.
PRIVATE.
Lydia closed the door.
Mateo typed slowly.
VINCENT.
NOT.
BETRAYER.
ALONE.
“I know.”
NO.
INSIDE.
FAMILY.
Lydia froze.
“Someone related to Lorenzo?”
YES.
“Who?”
Mateo typed a single initial.
A.
Lydia thought.
Antonio Moretti was dead.
No.
Another A.
Lorenzo had an uncle.
Anthony Moretti.
A respected businessman who had stayed outside the family's criminal operations.
Or claimed to.
Before Lydia could ask more, Mateo's tablet chimed.
An incoming message.
No sender.
A photograph loaded.
Lorenzo was standing downstairs.
Beside him was an older man Lydia had never met.
Mateo's face changed instantly.
Fear.
Real fear.
The message beneath the photograph contained five words.
May you like
HE DOESN'T KNOW HIS UNCLE KNOWS.
Then footsteps approached Mateo's bedroom.
