Chapter 3 - Under His Protection
Marlowe refused to panic until Oliver was at school.
Then she panicked efficiently.
She locked every door.
Checked every window.
Called the landlord.
Changed the deadbolt herself because the landlord did not answer.
Roman stood in her kitchen and let her do all of it.
He did not tell her to calm down.
For that alone, she was grateful.
“Explain,” she said finally.
Roman placed two photographs on the table.
One showed Marlowe outside a grocery store.
The second showed her van near Oliver’s school.
Both had been taken before Enzo’s collapse.
“I don’t know why you were being watched,” Roman said.
“That’s not good enough.”
“No.”
“Does Dale know?”
“Probably not.”
“His brother?”
“Cal Mercer knows many things he shouldn’t.”
“Who is he?”
Roman looked at Mateo.
Mateo closed the kitchen door.
Roman sat across from her.
“Cal Mercer runs collections for several illegal lending operations.”
Marlowe stared.
“What kind of collections?”
“Debts. Businesses. Gambling markers.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“I know.”
“I don’t borrow from criminals.”
“I know.”
“Then why me?”
Roman slid another document across the table.
A loan agreement.
Her name appeared at the top.
MARLOWE QUINN.
Thirty-eight thousand dollars.
Her stomach dropped.
“I never signed this.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“The signature is wrong.”
“That’s not why you know.”
“No.”
Roman looked almost apologetic.
“I had it examined.”
“You had my signature examined?”
“Against your diner employment paperwork.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You accessed my personnel records?”
“Dale gave them to someone months ago.”
“To who?”
“Cal.”
Marlowe stood.
The chair scraped.
“This is insane.”
Roman did not move.
“The loan was taken eighteen months ago.”
“I never saw that money.”
“It went to an account belonging to your former husband.”
Marlowe stopped breathing.
“Evan?”
Roman nodded.
Oliver’s father.
Evan Quinn had left two years earlier after deciding that fatherhood interfered with what he called “getting his life together.”
He sent birthday texts.
Sometimes.
Child support arrived in unpredictable bursts.
Marlowe had stopped expecting anything else.
She sank back down.
“He used my name?”
“Apparently.”
“For thirty-eight thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Why would they watch me?”
“The loan is in default.”
She laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“So his debt collectors decided I was easier to find.”
“That’s one possibility.”
“And Dale?”
“His diner may be used to identify people connected to Cal’s accounts.”
Marlowe thought of forms.
Emergency contacts.
Addresses.
Copies of driver’s licenses.
Her stomach turned.
“Dale knew.”
“I can’t prove that yet.”
“I worked there for three years.”
Roman’s voice softened.
“I know.”
“I gave them my address.”
“Yes.”
“Oliver’s school was listed as an emergency pickup location.”
Roman said nothing.
Marlowe covered her mouth.
He waited.
When she lowered her hand, her eyes were wet but furious.
“Do not tell me I’m under your protection.”
Roman’s brow shifted.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
“I was going to tell you that whoever forged your name has already crossed into my family’s business.”
“How?”
“Cal Mercer has been trying to take contracts from companies tied to us.”
“Us?”
“My father.”
“There it is again.”
Roman nodded.
“My family.”
Marlowe folded her arms.
“What are you?”
Roman met her gaze.
“A man trying not to become what everyone assumes I already am.”
It was the closest thing to an answer he had given.
Marlowe studied him.
“Are you a mafia boss?”
Mateo looked at the floor.
Roman actually laughed once.
Quietly.
“No.”
“Your father?”
Roman’s silence answered.
Marlowe closed her eyes.
“This is unbelievable.”
“My father ran criminal operations when he was younger.”
“When he was younger?”
“He has spent the last decade moving most of our businesses into legitimate holdings.”
“Most.”
Roman nodded.
“Most.”
“That word is doing criminal amounts of work.”
He smiled faintly.
Then became serious again.
“Cal Mercer believes my father is weak.”
“And now your father owes me a blanket.”
Roman leaned forward.
“That is exactly why you matter to him.”
“I don’t want to matter to him.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t want money.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t want men following Oliver.”
“I can keep security farther back.”
She glared.
“That was not the point.”
“No.”
They argued for twenty minutes.
In the end, Marlowe agreed to temporary security only around Oliver’s school and apartment.
Nothing more.
Roman agreed.
Then he broke the agreement twelve hours later.
Not by adding guards.
By showing up himself.
Marlowe was at a laundromat when Roman walked in carrying two coffees.
She stared at him.
“You have got to be kidding.”
“I was nearby.”
“In a neighborhood where your shoes cost more than every washing machine in this building?”
“I contain multitudes.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Roman handed her coffee.
“No sugar.”
She frowned.
“How did you know?”
“You drank it that way yesterday.”
“That’s creepy.”
“That’s observant.”
“Same family.”
Oliver sat on top of a dryer doing homework.
Roman looked at his worksheet.
“Multiplication?”
Oliver sighed.
“Terrible invention.”
Roman pulled up a plastic chair.
“Which number?”
“Seven.”
“Seven is rude.”
Oliver brightened.
“I knew it.”
Marlowe watched them.
Roman Vescari, feared by half the city if Dale’s expression was any indication, spent fifteen minutes helping her son understand seven times eight by arranging quarters into rows.
It was ridiculous.
And oddly tender.
Then Marlowe noticed the scar near Roman’s wrist.
Thin.
Old.
He saw her looking.
“Kitchen accident.”
“You don’t cook.”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He gave up.
“Not a kitchen accident.”
She smiled.
Later, after Oliver fell asleep in the van, Roman walked Marlowe to her apartment.
“I found Evan,” he said.
She stopped.
“Where?”
“Atlantic City.”
“Of course.”
“He owes more than thirty-eight thousand.”
“How much?”
“Almost ninety.”
Marlowe felt sick.
“He forged my name to cover part of it.”
“Yes.”
“Can I press charges?”
“Yes.”
“Will that make Cal stop watching us?”
“No.”
She looked at Roman.
“Why?”
“Because Cal doesn’t care who legally owes the money.”
The cold returned to her spine.
“What does he want?”
“Leverage.”
“Against me?”
“Against anyone.”
Roman hesitated.
“Against me now.”
Marlowe laughed bitterly.
“I knew it.”
“What?”
“I knew helping your father would somehow become a debt.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Not to us.”
“It pulled me into this.”
“You were already being watched.”
“Then you made me visible.”
Roman did not deny it.
That was what stopped her anger.
He could have lied.
Instead he said:
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more.
Marlowe looked away.
“I want this over.”
“So do I.”
“No, you want to win.”
Roman was silent.
She turned back.
“I want normal.”
“Normal was already failing you.”
The words landed badly.
Roman knew immediately.
Marlowe’s face changed.
“Go.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know exactly what you meant.”
“Marlowe.”
“You saw the apartment. The van. The job. You decided my life was broken.”
“No.”
“You decided I needed rescuing.”
“I decided someone was exploiting you.”
“That isn’t the same thing?”
“No.”
“How?”
“Because rescue requires you to be helpless.”
Roman stepped closer.
“You are not helpless.”
She said nothing.
He continued.
“You stopped in a snowstorm when everyone else drove past. You lost your job and still refused money. You faced Dale with half the diner watching. You changed your own lock before I finished one phone call.”
His voice dropped.
“I don’t think you’re helpless.”
Marlowe’s anger weakened.
“That does not mean you get to decide what happens to me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He stepped back.
“I’ll leave.”
He turned.
Marlowe almost called him back.
She did not.
The next morning, she interviewed at a bakery.
They liked her.
The owner offered her part-time work.
It paid less than the diner but came with daytime hours.
She accepted.
For four days, life almost felt manageable.
Then someone slashed two tires on her van.
No note.
No message.
Just the damage.
Roman arrived before the tow truck.
Marlowe stood with her arms crossed.
“You’re going to say it.”
“No.”
“You want to.”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
Roman looked at the ruined tires.
Then at her.
“You and Oliver are moving somewhere secure tonight.”
“No.”
“Marlowe.”
“No.”
He took a breath.
“Someone has escalated.”
“I’m not moving into some mansion.”
“I didn’t say mansion.”
“You were thinking mansion thoughts.”
Despite the situation, his mouth twitched.
Then Mateo approached.
He handed Roman a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a folded piece of paper found beneath the windshield wiper.
Roman opened it.
Read it.
His face went completely blank.
Marlowe reached for it.
“What does it say?”
Roman did not hand it over.
“Roman.”
He looked at her.
Finally, he gave her the note.
Three words were printed in block letters.
PAY EVAN’S DEBT.
Below them was a second line.
OR THE BOY DOES.
Marlowe stopped breathing.
Roman took the note from her hand.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet enough to frighten Mateo.
“Now you’re under my protection.”
Marlowe stared at him.
Roman’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then slowly looked toward Oliver’s school.
“What happened?” Marlowe demanded.
May you like
Roman was already moving.
“Someone just tried to sign Oliver out.”
