Chapter 4 - THE BLOOD I NEVER KNEW I CARRIED
For twenty-seven years, I had believed my father was a coward.
That was the story my mother gave me.
He left before you were born.
He chose another life.
Don't waste your heart wondering about a man who didn't want us.
I had believed every word.
Now Dante Moretti stood in front of me telling me my father hadn't abandoned me.
He had been murdered.
“Why?”
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
“Why did your father kill him?”
Dante didn't answer immediately.
I hated him for that.
“Why?”
“Michael Rinaldi was supposed to marry my aunt.”
I stared at him.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He fell in love with your mother.”
I looked at the photograph again.
My mother.
Young.
Smiling.
A man beside her whose face had been torn away.
Dante continued.
“Back then, the Morettis and Rinaldis were negotiating peace.”
“Through a marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Your aunt and my father.”
“Yes.”
“But he chose my mother.”
Dante nodded.
“And that started a war?”
“It contributed.”
“Contributed?”
I laughed.
“My father dies and you call it contributing?”
Dante's voice hardened.
“I was eleven years old.”
The anger stopped me.
He wasn't defending his father.
He was separating himself from him.
“My father believed Michael humiliated our family. Michael also knew things about Moretti operations that made him dangerous.”
“So your father killed him.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother?”
“Was pregnant.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared.”
“She didn't disappear. She raised me.”
“From our world, she disappeared.”
I stared.
Dante looked toward Marco.
“Show her.”
Marco hesitated.
“Boss—”
“She deserves the truth.”
Marco pulled a folder from a locked cabinet.
Apparently mafia families kept terrible histories organized.
Inside were photographs.
My mother at twenty-six.
My mother leaving a courthouse.
My mother sitting inside a car with two men.
Then—
Dante's father.
Antonio Moretti.
I had seen his photograph in newspapers years ago.
He was standing beside my mother.
Not threatening her.
Helping her.
“What is this?”
Dante's voice softened.
“My father protected her after Michael's death.”
I looked at him.
“You said he ordered the murder.”
“He did.”
“Then protected his pregnant girlfriend?”
“No.”
Dante shook his head.
“Because he regretted what he'd done.”
I almost threw the folder.
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
His answer stopped me again.
“No, Cara. It doesn't.”
Silence.
“He gave your mother money. New papers. A place to live. He made certain no Rinaldi could find her.”
“Why would the Rinaldis hurt us?”
“Because Michael broke their alliance.”
“He was family.”
“In families like ours, betrayal is often punished more severely than enemies.”
My skin crawled.
“So my mother spent her life hiding me from them.”
“Yes.”
I remembered things.
Changing schools.
Moving apartments.
My mother refusing to let anyone photograph us.
Her panic whenever unfamiliar cars stayed outside too long.
I had thought she was anxious.
She had been afraid.
“Did she know who killed my father?”
Dante looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Did she forgive Antonio?”
“I doubt it.”
“But she accepted his protection.”
“For you.”
That sounded like my mother.
She would have accepted protection from the devil if it kept me alive.
“What happened in 2009?”
Dante became very still.
“My father died in 2008.”
I knew that.
Heart attack, newspapers had said.
“My mother died the next year.”
“Yes.”
“Was her accident really an accident?”
Dante looked at Marco.
That told me everything.
“No.”
My knees weakened.
Dante caught my arm.
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
He released me immediately.
“Who killed her?”
“We never proved it.”
“Who?”
“The Rinaldis were searching for Michael's child.”
The room blurred.
All those years.
All those lies.
I had spent eleven years thinking my mother had died because another driver fell asleep at the wheel.
“She died protecting me.”
“Yes.”
“How did they not find me afterward?”
“Your mother's lawyer changed your records.”
“Who?”
“Paul Devereaux.”
My mouth fell open.
The murdered attorney.
Vanessa's divorce lawyer.
The man found holding surveillance pictures of me.
Dante continued.
“He knew who you were.”
“And someone killed him tonight.”
“Yes.”
The pieces began locking together.
“They found me.”
Dante nodded.
“Someone did.”
“Because I'm Michael Rinaldi's daughter.”
“Yes.”
“But why now?”
That was the real question.
My father had been dead nearly three decades.
My mother eleven years.
Why suddenly care about a waitress?
Marco answered.
“Because Carlo Rinaldi is dying.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“The current head of the Rinaldi family.”
“My father's—”
“Older brother.”
My uncle.
The word felt ridiculous.
I didn't have an uncle.
I didn't have a family.
Apparently I had an entire criminal dynasty.
Marco continued.
“Carlo has no surviving sons.”
“So?”
Dante understood before I did.
“Succession.”
Marco nodded.
“Michael was the younger brother. If Cara is recognized as his legitimate child—”
“I am not becoming a mafia boss.”
Neither man laughed.
I pointed at them.
“I'm serious.”
Dante actually looked amused.
“I don't think that's the plan.”
“Good.”
“I think someone wants to use you to control the transition.”
Less good.
“Who?”
“That,” Marco said, “we still don't know.”
A knock came.
A guard entered.
“Mrs. Moretti wants to speak to Cara.”
“No,” Dante said immediately.
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“She knows why they chose me.”
“Possibly.”
“Then I want to hear it.”
“You're not going near Vanessa alone.”
“I didn't ask to.”
Ten minutes later, Vanessa sat inside a secure room.
No gun.
No phone.
No jewelry.
Two guards at the door.
She still managed to look powerful.
When I entered with Dante, she smiled.
“Now you know.”
I sat across from her.
“You knew my father.”
“No.”
“But you knew who he was.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you need me at Bellini's?”
Vanessa looked at Dante.
“Because Carlo Rinaldi wanted you dead.”
My heartbeat jumped.
Dante frowned.
“And you helped him find her?”
Vanessa laughed.
“I helped her survive.”
“By destroying her apartment?”
“I didn't do that.”
“By staging a conversation about my brakes?”
Vanessa's expression changed.
“That wasn't supposed to happen.”
Dante leaned forward.
“What?”
“The brake sabotage was real.”
We stared at her.
“I was supposed to meet Sullivan at Bellini's,” she said. “He told me we were moving Cara into protection.”
“Why would you protect her?” I asked.
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because your mother protected me once.”
That was the last answer I expected.
“What?”
“Before she died.”
Vanessa looked down.
“I was nineteen.”
Dante's face darkened.
“You never told me this.”
“There are things you don't know about me.”
“Clearly.”
Vanessa ignored him.
“My father owed money to Rinaldi. They were going to use me to settle part of the debt.”
My stomach turned.
“Use you how?”
She didn't answer directly.
“Your mother helped me disappear for six months.”
“My mother knew you?”
“She knew every girl who needed hiding.”
My eyes burned.
That sounded like her too.
Vanessa continued.
“She told me something before I left.”
“What?”
“If she ever had a daughter, she hoped someone would protect her too.”
The room went quiet.
“Then why were you talking about killing Dante?”
“Because Sullivan told me the room was wired.”
Dante stood.
“With whose equipment?”
“I don't know.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“He said someone inside Rinaldi believed I was helping you. He told me we had to perform a conversation making it look like I was betraying you.”
“And the brakes?”
“I thought they were fake.”
I stared at her.
“You said they'd fail.”
“Because Sullivan gave me the lines.”
Dante looked ready to kill someone.
“What was supposed to happen?”
“You were supposed to leave using a different car.”
“I wasn't told that.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“Sullivan changed the plan.”
Dante stared at her.
“So someone took your fake murder plot and made it real.”
“Yes.”
“And Cara?”
“I was told she'd overhear us, follow you, and call for help.”
I laughed without humor.
“So I really was selected because I'm stupid enough to chase mafia bosses into rainstorms.”
Vanessa almost smiled.
“Your mother would have.”
That hurt more than I expected.
Then Dante asked the question that mattered.
“Why would Sullivan want Cara to save me?”
Vanessa looked at him.
“I don't think he did.”
She turned to me.
“I think he expected the car to reach the bottom.”
A chill went through me.
“Then why involve me?”
“So your body would be found near Dante's.”
Silence.
The truth hit.
Two deaths.
One Moretti.
One Rinaldi.
A perfect reason for war.
Dante whispered, “Someone wants both families fighting.”
Vanessa nodded.
“And while everyone is killing each other…”
“Someone else takes control,” Marco finished.
A guard's radio crackled.
Then screaming erupted outside.
A gunshot.
Another.
Marco shoved me down.
The lights went out.
Dante drew his pistol.
Red emergency lights flashed on.
A guard burst through the door.
“Breach!”
“How many?” Marco shouted.
“Unknown!”
Windows exploded.
Men flooded the courtyard.
Vanessa looked terrified.
“They found her.”
Dante grabbed my hand.
“This way.”
We ran through a hidden door behind the wall.
Gunfire thundered behind us.
Down stone stairs.
Through darkness.
Dante pulled me into an underground garage.
An SUV waited.
Marco started the engine.
Vanessa climbed in behind us.
The gates began closing.
Then I looked through the rear window.
A man stood at the end of the tunnel.
Patrick Sullivan.
Dante's missing security consultant.
He wasn't holding a gun.
He was holding a phone.
He looked directly at me.
And smiled.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown sender.
One message.
May you like
RUN FROM DANTE.
HE'S THE REASON YOUR MOTHER DIED.
