Chapter 2 - The Woman He Had Sent Away
The armored SUV crossed Manhattan at ninety miles an hour.
Dominic sat in the back seat staring at Amelia’s photograph.
He enlarged it.
Then enlarged it again.
There was no possibility of misunderstanding what he was seeing.
Her stomach curved beneath the blue coat.
Large.
Low.
Late pregnancy.
Dominic knew almost nothing about pregnancy, but he understood calendars.
Eight months.
The hotel bunker had happened eight months ago.
He and Amelia had spent the following months together.
Then he had forced her away.
His grip tightened around the phone.
“Get me everything.”
Matteo sat opposite him.
“On Torres?”
“On Amelia.”
Matteo hesitated.
Dominic looked up.
That hesitation was wrong.
“What?”
“We lost contact with her surveillance team four months ago.”
The air inside the vehicle changed.
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“What did you say?”
“Boss—”
“You told me she was safe.”
“She was.”
“Was?”
“Until December.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Explain.”
Matteo had worked beside Dominic for fourteen years. He had watched him execute traitors, negotiate territory wars, and walk into rooms where everyone intended to kill him.
He had never looked afraid of Dominic.
He looked afraid now.
“The team reported Amelia moved from Brooklyn. Her sister relocated to Boston. Amelia closed the flower shop.”
“I know.”
“She began moving frequently. Different apartments. Cash rentals.”
“You told me you had eyes on her.”
“We did. Then our man disappeared.”
“Which man?”
“Peter Knox.”
Dominic recognized the name.
Former police detective.
Reliable.
Expensive.
Supposedly loyal.
“And nobody thought to tell me?”
“I ordered a replacement team.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“You were trying to sever contact.”
Dominic leaned across the space between them.
“I ordered you to protect her. I did not order you to decide what information I could handle.”
“No.”
“Then why am I learning four months later that you lost her?”
Matteo said nothing.
Dominic understood.
“Someone buried the report.”
“We’re investigating.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
Dominic sat back.
Outside, traffic scattered before their escort vehicles.
Inside, something colder formed inside him.
The attack on the hotel had required inside information.
Now Amelia’s disappearance from surveillance had been hidden.
And Gabriel Torres had somehow found her.
Coincidence was a story stupid men told themselves before dying.
“Pull every internal communication involving Amelia for the last eight months.”
Matteo nodded.
“And Matteo?”
“Yes?”
“If anyone inside my organization knew she was pregnant before today…”
Dominic looked again at the photograph.
“…I want their name before the sun goes down.”
Mercantile Reserve Bank occupied a limestone building on East Fifty-Third Street.
Federal tactical trucks already surrounded the block.
Police barricades held back reporters and crowds.
Dominic’s convoy stopped two intersections away.
“Federal command says you don’t go closer,” Matteo said.
Dominic opened the door.
“They’re welcome to stop me.”
He walked toward the barricade.
Uniformed officers shouted.
Dominic continued.
Then a tall woman wearing an FBI windbreaker stepped into his path.
“Dominic Castellano.”
“Special Agent?”
“Rachel Monroe.”
“I need access to the building.”
“No.”
“There are nine hostages.”
“Exactly why you’re not entering.”
“One of them is mine.”
The sentence escaped before Dominic could stop it.
Monroe noticed.
“Yours?”
Dominic’s face closed.
“One is personally important.”
“Interesting distinction.”
“I didn’t come here for word games.”
“Neither did I.”
She held up a tablet.
“The hostage taker asked for you by name.”
“I know.”
“He also asked for federal media presence, a helicopter, and immunity.”
“He won’t use the helicopter.”
“You sound confident.”
“Torres wants theater.”
Monroe studied him.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Professionally?”
Dominic gave her a look.
Monroe almost smiled.
“Right.”
A gunshot cracked from inside the bank.
Dominic turned instantly.
Every muscle in his body tightened.
“What happened?”
Monroe touched her earpiece.
“One shot. No breach.”
Dominic stepped toward the building.
Agents blocked him.
“If he hurts her—”
Monroe caught the word.
“Her.”
Dominic said nothing.
The bank’s front doors opened.
A man stumbled outside.
His hands were raised.
Blood covered one sleeve.
Agents dragged him behind cover.
“He’s a hostage,” someone shouted.
The man collapsed.
Monroe rushed toward him.
Dominic followed despite the agents trying to stop him.
The hostage was a bank employee in his sixties.
“He wants Castellano,” the man gasped. “He said five minutes.”
“Who’s injured?” Dominic asked.
The employee looked at him.
Recognition spread across his face.
“The pregnant woman.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
“What happened to her?”
“She fell.”
“Was she shot?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Is she bleeding?”
“I couldn’t see.”
Dominic crouched.
“Look at me. Was Torres touching her?”
The man nodded.
“He kept asking her questions.”
“What questions?”
“About you.”
Dominic’s stomach twisted.
“What did she say?”
“That she didn’t know you.”
A humorless smile crossed Dominic’s face.
Of course she had.
The hostage gripped his wrist.
“He didn’t believe her.”
Dominic looked toward the bank.
Torres wasn’t merely using civilians.
He knew.
Somehow, Gabriel Torres knew exactly what Amelia meant to Dominic.
A phone rang inside the federal command truck.
Monroe answered.
“Special Agent Monroe.”
A pause.
Then she looked at Dominic.
“He wants you.”
Dominic took the phone.
“Gabriel.”
A warm laugh answered.
“Dominic. I was beginning to think twelve billion dollars had made you rude.”
“If Amelia is hurt, you won’t leave that building alive.”
Silence.
Then Torres laughed again.
“There he is.”
Dominic’s blood turned cold.
“You always were predictable when someone touched what belonged to you.”
“She doesn’t belong to me.”
“No?”
Dominic saw Monroe watching him.
Torres continued.
“That’s not what your face said when you saw the surveillance photo.”
Dominic looked toward surrounding rooftops.
“Are you watching me?”
“I’ve been watching you for months.”
Dominic’s gaze moved to windows, cameras, neighboring buildings.
“You want me. Release the hostages.”
“I want several things.”
“The ledger.”
“Obviously.”
“You can’t decode it.”
“I don’t need to.”
Dominic frowned.
Torres lowered his voice.
“You think today is about your money.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“It’s about discovering your price.”
Dominic heard movement on the line.
A woman gasped.
Then Amelia’s voice.
“Don’t touch me.”
Every nerve in Dominic’s body ignited.
Torres sounded amused.
“Would you like to say hello?”
Dominic closed his eyes for one second.
“Amelia.”
Silence.
Then a broken whisper.
“Dominic?”
Eight months.
One word.
His name in her voice nearly destroyed every wall he had built.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
A tiny, disbelieving sound escaped her.
Even now.
Even there.
He knew.
“Listen to me,” Dominic said. “I’m getting you out.”
“No.”
His eyes opened.
“What?”
“Don’t come in here.”
Torres laughed.
Amelia’s voice became urgent.
“He wants you inside. That’s the whole point.”
“I know.”
“He has explosives.”
Monroe’s head snapped toward Dominic.
“Where?”
“Dominic—”
Torres struck her.
Dominic heard it.
His expression changed so violently that even Monroe stepped back.
“Gabriel.”
“Yes?”
“You just made the last mistake of your life.”
“Maybe.”
Torres sounded almost cheerful.
“But before I die, I’m going to make you choose.”
The line went dead.
Monroe grabbed Dominic’s arm before he could move.
“Explosives. What did she say?”
“He wired the building.”
“We don’t know that.”
“She does.”
“Could be coercion.”
“It isn’t.”
Monroe stared at him.
“You trust her?”
“With my life.”
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
Monroe understood more than Dominic wanted her to.
“You’re not entering.”
Dominic looked at the bank.
“Yes, I am.”
“If you cross that perimeter, I will arrest you.”
“Do it afterward.”
“You think being rich means—”
“I think there is a pregnant woman inside that building who is there because of me.”
Monroe stopped.
Dominic’s voice lowered.
“I sent her away because I believed distance would keep her safe. Someone inside my organization sold her location to Torres. If I stay outside now and something happens to her, I don’t deserve whatever happens next.”
Monroe studied him.
Then she asked quietly, “Is the child yours?”
Dominic did not answer.
He didn’t have to.
Another phone rang.
This time, video.
Torres appeared on the screen.
Behind him, hostages knelt on the marble floor.
Amelia sat against the counter.
Her wrists were tied.
Her cheek was red from the blow.
Her stomach was unmistakable.
Dominic’s entire world reduced to that image.
Torres crouched beside her.
“One minute, Dominic.”
He placed the revolver against Amelia’s stomach.
Dominic felt every person in the command center freeze.
“Walk through the front door alone,” Torres said, “or your heir dies before you ever get to meet him.”
Him.
Dominic stared at Amelia.
Her face crumpled.
Not because Torres had threatened her.
Because of the word.
Heir.
Him.
A son.
Dominic understood.
She had never intended him to learn this way.
He handed Monroe the phone.
Then removed his weapon.
Placed it on the table.
Removed the second gun from his ankle.
His knife.
His phone.
His watch.
Monroe stared.
“Castellano.”
Dominic turned toward the bank.
“You enter that building, I can’t protect you.”
He looked back at her.
“I’m not asking you to protect me.”
Then he walked toward the front door.
Unarmed.
May you like
For the first time in his adult life, Dominic Castellano entered enemy territory with nothing in his hands.
Because everything worth protecting was already inside.
