Chapter 6 - MY UNCLE CAME WITHOUT A GUN
Every person in the safe house told me not to speak to Carlo Rinaldi.
That was exactly why I did.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I trusted no one.
Dante had spent years protecting secrets.
Vanessa had manipulated me.
Sullivan had watched me.
Marco belonged to Dante.
And Carlo Rinaldi was supposedly dying.
At this point, the truth was probably the only thing in the room more dangerous than the guns.
Carlo entered after being searched three times.
He carried nothing except a leather folder.
He looked older than his photographs.
Thin.
Gray skin.
A tremor in one hand.
Cancer, Marco whispered.
Carlo looked at me for a long time.
Then his eyes filled.
“Michael's eyes.”
I hated how much that affected me.
“You don't get to do that.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
“You don't know me.”
“No.”
“You spent years trying to find me.”
“Yes.”
“To kill me?”
“No.”
Dante laughed coldly.
Carlo looked at him.
“You would say that.”
“Your men killed her mother.”
Carlo's jaw tightened.
“My men did not touch Elizabeth.”
“My mother had a name to you?”
“She was going to be my sister.”
The words landed strangely.
Carlo sat.
“Michael loved her.”
“You're the reason he couldn't be with her.”
“No.”
He opened the folder.
“Antonio Moretti was.”
Dante's expression darkened.
Inside were letters.
Photographs.
Bank records.
Carlo slid one across the table.
“My brother wanted peace.”
Dante scoffed.
“Michael trafficked weapons through Boston.”
“He also wanted out.”
I looked at Carlo.
“Out of the family?”
“Yes.”
Carlo smiled sadly.
“He was never built for our world.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently that was genetic.
“He met Elizabeth at a charity hospital.”
“My mother worked in a pharmacy.”
“He fell in love immediately.”
Carlo looked down.
“My father had already arranged Michael's marriage to Caterina Moretti.”
Dante's aunt.
“Michael refused.”
“Antonio had him killed.”
Carlo shook his head.
“That is the story Dante was told.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Be careful.”
Carlo ignored him.
“The assassination order was signed using Antonio's seal.”
“So?”
“So Antonio was in Sicily when the order was transmitted.”
Marco frowned.
“Orders could be issued remotely.”
“Yes.”
“But Antonio later spent years protecting Elizabeth,” Carlo said.
Dante stared at him.
“You think my father was innocent?”
“No.”
Carlo's smile disappeared.
“Antonio was guilty of many things.”
“But not my father's murder.”
“I don't believe so.”
I felt sick.
“Who, then?”
Carlo slid another document toward us.
A transfer authorization.
Signed by—
Salvatore Moretti.
Dante's uncle.
The man who controlled the Moretti family after Antonio died.
Dante's face went blank.
“No.”
Carlo nodded.
“Your uncle killed Michael.”
Dante picked up the document.
“This could be forged.”
“Of course.”
Carlo placed a second item down.
An old voice recorder.
“My brother recorded conversations when he became frightened.”
Marco inserted the tape.
Static.
Then a man's voice.
Michael.
I knew somehow.
Not because I'd heard him before.
Because something inside me recognized him.
“You promised me safe passage.”
Another man answered.
Salvatore.
“You embarrassed both families.”
“Elizabeth is pregnant.”
“So?”
“With my child.”
Silence.
Then Salvatore said,
“That child can never exist.”
My stomach twisted.
Michael's voice became furious.
“Touch them and I'll burn both families to the ground.”
The recording ended.
Dante sat completely still.
Carlo looked at me.
“Salvatore killed Michael because Michael had evidence connecting him to theft from both families.”
“What theft?”
“Millions.”
Carlo turned to Dante.
“Your uncle built his personal empire by stealing from Moretti and Rinaldi accounts during the war.”
Marco frowned.
“That was thirty years ago.”
“And he is still doing it.”
Dante stared.
“My uncle retired ten years ago.”
Carlo laughed.
“Men like Salvatore don't retire.”
Vanessa suddenly stood.
“Sullivan.”
We looked at her.
“Sullivan worked for Salvatore.”
Dante's face changed.
“You know that?”
“He introduced us.”
The room became silent.
“When?” Dante asked.
“Eight years ago.”
Before their marriage.
Vanessa swallowed.
“Salvatore told me Sullivan could help with security.”
Dante rose.
“And you never mentioned that?”
“I didn't know it mattered.”
“Everything matters!”
The table shook when he hit it.
Vanessa flinched.
Carlo watched them carefully.
Then he looked at me.
“Salvatore arranged your mother's death too.”
Dante turned.
“No.”
Carlo nodded.
“Elizabeth discovered the truth about Michael.”
My heart broke again.
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“She was going to expose him.”
“To whom?”
“To Antonio.”
Dante whispered, “My father.”
Carlo nodded.
“Antonio learned what his brother had done.”
That explained the protection.
Antonio had been cleaning up Salvatore's crime.
“Why didn't he kill Salvatore?”
“Because killing his brother would have started another war inside his own family.”
“So he hid us instead.”
“Yes.”
Carlo looked at Dante.
“After Antonio died, Elizabeth had no protection.”
Dante's face tightened.
“I tried.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
Carlo turned toward me.
“Your mother called me too that night.”
I stopped breathing.
“She called you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you help her?”
Pain crossed his face.
“I was in Boston.”
“That's not good enough.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“It isn't.”
For a second, Carlo wasn't a mafia leader.
He was an old man who had failed his brother's widow.
Maybe all these powerful men were just collections of failures hiding behind expensive suits.
I looked at Dante.
“Where is Salvatore now?”
“Palm Beach.”
“Call him.”
Dante stared at me.
“What?”
“Call him.”
Marco looked uneasy.
“Cara—”
“If he's behind Sullivan, he already knows I'm alive.”
Carlo nodded.
“She is right.”
Dante gave him a warning look.
I continued.
“Don't accuse him. Tell him you're injured. Tell him Vanessa betrayed you. Tell him you need advice.”
Vanessa smiled.
“Now she's thinking like us.”
“I really wish people would stop saying things like that.”
Dante called.
Salvatore answered on the third ring.
“My boy.”
Warm voice.
Gentle.
Grandfatherly.
It made my skin crawl.
“Uncle.”
“I heard about the accident. Thank God.”
Dante looked at me.
“Someone cut my brakes.”
Silence.
“My God.”
“I think Vanessa was involved.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
Salvatore's voice softened.
“I always warned you about marrying outside the family.”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“I found the waitress who warned me.”
Another pause.
Very slight.
But there.
“What waitress?”
Got him.
Dante's eyes sharpened.
“I didn't say she was a waitress.”
Silence.
Then Salvatore laughed.
“You probably mentioned it earlier.”
“No.”
Marco smiled.
Dante leaned forward.
“How do you know Cara Fields?”
The call ended.
Everyone froze.
Three seconds later, the lights died.
Again.
Marco cursed.
“Generator!”
Carlo stood.
“He tracked my phone.”
“I searched you,” Marco said.
Carlo pulled at his jacket lining.
A tiny device fell out.
Not his.
Someone had sewn it inside.
Dante's face hardened.
“Move!”
Gunfire exploded outside.
This attack was larger than the first.
Windows shattered.
Men screamed.
Marco shoved Carlo behind a wall.
I ran with Vanessa toward the basement.
Then the kitchen door opened.
Patrick Sullivan stepped through.
Gun raised.
Vanessa froze.
He smiled.
“Hello again.”
Before he could fire, I grabbed a cast-iron pan from the counter and swung.
It connected with his wrist.
The gun fell.
Vanessa kicked it away.
Sullivan punched me.
I hit the floor.
Dante charged through the doorway and slammed him against the wall.
For the first time, I saw the man newspapers feared.
Dante wasn't elegant.
He wasn't controlled.
He was violence with a pulse.
He hit Sullivan once.
Twice.
Then put a gun beneath his chin.
“Who gave the order?”
Sullivan laughed through blood.
“You still don't see it.”
“See what?”
“You think Salvatore wants your empire.”
Dante pressed harder.
“He doesn't.”
“Then what?”
Sullivan looked at me.
“He wants hers.”
Silence.
“My what?”
Sullivan smiled.
“Your father didn't just leave you blood, Cara.”
He coughed.
“He left you the one thing Salvatore has spent twenty-seven years searching for.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Carlo went pale.
Sullivan laughed.
“Michael recorded every politician, judge, cop, banker, and businessman both families ever bought.”
Dante's eyes narrowed.
“Where is it?”
Sullivan looked at me.
“Ask her mother.”
“She’s dead.”
“Yes.”
His smile widened.
“But she left Cara the key.”
My hand went to my pocket.
The brass key.
St. Gabriel.
Sullivan saw the movement.
And smiled.
Dante saw him see it.
“Marco!”
Too late.
The window exploded.
A bullet struck Sullivan in the throat.
He collapsed.
Dead before he hit the floor.
A sniper.
Someone had silenced him.
May you like
And now everyone in the room knew exactly where we were going next.
St. Gabriel.
