Chapter 2 - The Name Roman Vale
Officer Denton forgot about Nora the moment he saw the woman outside.
That frightened her more than the gun.
Because Denton had been ready to draw it.
Ready to confront Roman.
Ready to do whatever someone had paid him to do.
But one look through the diner window made his hand fall away.
The woman standing beneath the red glow of the Marlowe’s sign looked no older than thirty-five.
Dark wool coat.
Black trousers.
Hair pulled into a severe knot.
No umbrella.
No bodyguard visible.
Rain struck her shoulders, but she did not move.
She simply stared through the glass.
At Roman.
Nora whispered, “Who is she?”
Roman did not answer.
Officer Denton unlocked the front door.
“Don’t,” Roman said.
Denton looked over his shoulder.
“You don’t get to give orders tonight.”
The woman entered.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
Brutus growled.
She stopped.
Her eyes lowered toward the dog.
Something like grief flashed across her face.
Then she looked at Roman.
“You look terrible.”
Roman’s voice was cold.
“You look disappointed.”
She glanced at Nora.
“And this must be the waitress.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“How do you know who I am?”
The woman removed one black glove.
“Your name tag.”
Nora almost believed her.
Almost.
Then Isabella added, “Nora Hale. Apartment 3B on Mercer Street. Thirty-one years old. Employed here for four years and three months. Mother deceased. Father deceased. No siblings.”
The diner went silent.
Nora could hear grease crackling on the grill.
“How do you know that?”
Roman stepped between them.
“You tracked her already.”
Isabella’s gaze remained on Nora.
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
“That,” Isabella said, “is why we need to leave.”
Officer Denton locked the door again.
Benny muttered, “I really hate tonight.”
Roman stared at Isabella.
“You were at the warehouse.”
“I arrived afterward.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“What happened to Matteo?”
Isabella hesitated.
That was enough.
Roman’s face hardened.
“Say it.”
“I don’t know.”
“Say it.”
“He’s missing.”
Roman looked away.
Nora understood none of it.
Warehouse.
Missing man.
Corrupt cop.
A woman who knew her address.
She should have run.
Instead she heard herself ask, “Can somebody explain why the entire criminal population of the city appears to be having a meeting in my diner?”
Isabella looked mildly impressed.
Roman did not.
Officer Denton moved toward the blinds.
“Two vehicles on Archer.”
Isabella glanced over.
“Mine?”
“One.”
“And the other?”
“No plates.”
Roman reached beneath his torn shirt and pulled out something Nora had not noticed before.
A small black device taped against his ribs.
Isabella inhaled sharply.
“You still have it.”
Roman ripped it free.
“A tracker?”
Nora asked.
Roman examined it.
“No.”
Isabella held out her hand.
Roman did not give it to her.
She said, “If they wanted to track you, they wouldn’t need a device that crude.”
“What is it?”
“A storage key.”
Nora blinked.
“It looks like a piece of plastic.”
“It contains records,” Isabella said. “Financial transfers. Account numbers. Judges. Police commanders. Contractors. City officials.”
Benny slowly switched off the grill.
Nora looked at Denton.
The officer’s jaw tightened.
Roman noticed.
“You knew.”
Denton shook his head.
“No. Not all of it.”
“You knew enough.”
“I knew someone inside Internal Affairs was feeding information to Vale people.”
Nora’s eyes moved between them.
“Vale people?”
Silence.
Isabella finally looked at her.
“You truly don’t know who he is?”
“No.”
Roman muttered, “Leave it.”
Isabella ignored him.
“Roman Vale controls the Vale organization.”
Nora waited.
No explanation came.
Then it hit her.
The Vale name had been on television.
Not often.
Never directly.
But whispered around corruption hearings.
Construction contracts.
Shipping unions.
Nightclubs.
A shooting outside a courthouse two years earlier.
Nora looked at Roman.
“You’re that Roman Vale?”
His expression did not change.
“That depends what you’ve heard.”
“That you’re a mob boss.”
Benny whispered, “Oh, we are so dead.”
Roman looked at Nora.
“I prefer businessman.”
“You were chained to a pipe.”
“I had a bad meeting.”
“You were covered in blood.”
“Very bad meeting.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped her.
One short, disbelieving sound.
Then headlights swept across the blinds.
Officer Denton drew his weapon.
“Back room. Now.”
Isabella took Nora by the arm.
Nora jerked free.
“Stop grabbing me.”
“Nora—”
“No. Everyone keeps touching me and ordering me around.”
Roman looked toward the windows.
“This is not the time.”
“Then make time.”
A shadow crossed the frosted glass.
Roman moved.
He shut off the dining room lights.
Benny killed the kitchen lights.
Darkness swallowed the diner except for red neon bleeding through the windows.
Brutus crouched.
No barking.
No whining.
Just waiting.
Nora’s breathing sounded too loud.
Roman leaned near her ear.
“When the door opens, stay behind the counter.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll handle it.”
“With what?”
Roman held up the broken chain still wrapped around his wrist.
Nora stared at him.
“That is ridiculous.”
“It has worked once.”
The front glass shattered.
Nora ducked.
Something metal clattered across the floor.
Denton shouted, “Down!”
Smoke erupted.
Not tear gas.
Dense gray cover.
Brutus launched through it.
Someone yelled outside.
Roman disappeared.
Nora crawled behind the counter.
Isabella followed.
Benny hid beside the coffee machine.
Gunshots cracked.
Nora flattened herself against the floor.
One.
Two.
Then silence.
Her ears rang.
A figure appeared through the smoke.
Nora grabbed the nearest object.
A glass coffee pot.
She swung.
Roman caught her wrist inches before the pot hit his head.
“Seriously?”
“Sorry.”
“You almost killed me with decaf.”
“It was regular.”
He pulled her up.
Denton came from the kitchen.
“Back exit compromised.”
Isabella’s face tightened.
“How?”
“Two men.”
“Alive?”
Denton hesitated.
Roman understood the answer.
Nora didn’t ask.
Brutus returned, dragging a strip of black fabric from someone’s coat.
Roman checked him for injury.
The dog seemed fine.
“We need a vehicle,” Roman said.
“My truck,” Benny offered.
Everyone stared at him.
“What? I’d rather lose a truck than die at work.”
Nora almost hugged him.
They escaped through the kitchen loading door while Denton covered the alley.
Benny’s old Ford pickup sat beneath a flickering security lamp.
Roman opened the passenger door.
“Nora, inside.”
She stopped.
“Why me?”
“Because they know your name.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Mine.”
The admission caught her off guard.
Roman held her gaze.
“If you stay, they’ll come back. If you go home, they’ll be waiting. If you call someone, you endanger them.”
Nora thought of her apartment.
Her sixty-three dollars.
Her landlord.
Her overdue power bill.
That life already felt impossibly far away.
She climbed into the truck.
Brutus jumped into the bed.
Isabella got beside him.
Denton remained behind.
“You’re not coming?” Nora asked.
Denton looked toward the diner.
“I need to make this look like I arrived after the shooting.”
Roman gave him a hard look.
“You sold me out.”
“I fed them enough to keep my daughter alive.”
Roman’s expression shifted.
Denton reached into his jacket and handed him a folded photograph.
“I didn’t know they were going to take Matteo.”
Roman unfolded it.
Nora saw two children.
A teenage girl and a younger boy.
“They have your family?” she asked.
Denton nodded.
“For eleven months.”
Isabella went pale.
Roman said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because they showed me what happened to the last cop who tried.”
Roman looked down at the photograph.
Then handed it back.
“I’ll get them.”
Denton laughed bitterly.
“You can’t even protect yourself.”
Roman met his eyes.
“Watch me.”
They drove.
Benny’s truck rattled like it might lose a wheel.
Nora sat squeezed between Roman and the passenger door.
He pressed a diner towel against his ribs.
“You’re bleeding again.”
“I noticed.”
“Where are we going?”
“A safe place.”
“Your safe place?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
“You dislike me.”
“You’re a mafia boss.”
“So?”
“So that usually isn’t a charming personality trait.”
Roman almost smiled.
Then his phone vibrated.
Nora frowned.
“I thought phones were dangerous.”
“This one isn’t registered.”
He checked the screen.
The color drained from his face.
Isabella leaned forward from the back seat.
“What?”
Roman didn’t answer.
Nora looked down.
A live video filled the screen.
A man sat tied to a chair.
Older.
Gray hair.
Bleeding from his lip.
Roman whispered, “Matteo.”
A distorted voice came through the speaker.
“You lost something tonight, Mr. Vale.”
The camera shifted.
Nora saw a room.
Concrete walls.
One bare bulb.
Then the camera turned toward a second chair.
Someone sat beneath a hood.
Smaller than Matteo.
Roman’s hand tightened around the phone.
The distorted voice continued.
“Bring the storage key to Pier Nineteen before sunrise.”
The hood was pulled away.
Officer Denton’s teenage daughter stared into the camera.
Her mouth was taped.
Nora stopped breathing.
Then another person stepped into frame.
He leaned close enough for his face to become clear.
Isabella made a sound behind them.
Roman went perfectly still.
Nora looked from the phone to him.
“You know him?”
Roman did not blink.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
May you like
Roman’s answer came quietly.
“My brother.”
