CHAPTER 27 TOMMYS DISAPPEARANCE #2
Dario’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Evelyn Crane doesn’t make mistakes. If she wanted Tommy gone, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. She’d leave a message, not a void.”
Ezra nodded, though his unease didn’t dissipate. “So what do we do?”
Dario moved around the desk, his steps measured, deliberate. “We find him. Before someone else does.” He paused at the door, glancing back at Ezra. “And keep this quiet. If word gets out that Tommy’s missing, it’ll stir up more questions than we can afford.”
Ezra straightened, his expression hardening. “Understood.”
As Dario left the room, Ezra lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ledger sitting prominently on the desk.
It was a subtle reminder of the stakes—Tommy’s disappearance wasn’t just about him.
It was about the delicate balance of power they all navigated, the unspoken rules that kept them alive.
And if Tommy had crossed a line, the cost would be more than any of them were ready to pay.
Ezra pocketed his phone and headed for the door, his thoughts racing. He’d find Tommy, one way or another. But first, he’d need to tread carefully. Because in their world, the wrong move could cost more than a life. It could cost everything.
Dario Vitale stood in the dimly lit room, the faint hum of the city outside barely penetrating the thick walls.
His fingers brushed the edge of the desk, where a single sheet of paper lay folded neatly.
The faint scent of ink lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of whiskey from the glass he’d left half-empty moments ago.
He picked up the note, his eyes narrowing as he recognized Tommy’s handwriting—bold, hurried strokes that betrayed urgency.
He unfolded it carefully, the paper crisp beneath his fingers.
The words were brief, but their weight settled heavily in the room.
Protecting Evelyn is my priority. Trust me.
Dario’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable but for the slight flicker of irritation in his eyes.
Tommy had always been impulsive, but this—this was more than recklessness.
It was a potential breach of protocol, a misstep that could ripple through the delicate balance they all navigated.
"Dario," Ezra’s voice cut through the silence from the doorway, his tone low but insistent. "We’ve got movement at the docks. Maya’s watching, but she’s not sure what she’s dealing with."
Dario didn’t look up immediately, his gaze lingering on the note. "Tommy’s gone rogue," he said flatly, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made Ezra pause.
"Rogue?" Ezra stepped into the room, his boots scuffing softly against the hardwood floor. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means," Dario said, turning to face him, "he’s decided protecting Evelyn Crane is more important than following orders. And if he’s made that choice, he’s either compromised or he knows something we don’t."
Ezra’s brow furrowed, his hand instinctively moving to the holster at his side. "You think he’s flipped?"
"I think," Dario said, his tone measured, "he’s made a decision that could cost us more than his loyalty. If Evelyn’s involved, it’s not merely about her anymore. It’s about who’s pulling the strings."
Ezra swore under his breath, his fingers drumming against the grip of his weapon. "So what’s the play? We can’t afford to have Tommy out there acting on his own."
"No," Dario agreed, his voice steady. "We can’t. But we also can’t afford to make a move without knowing what he’s protecting her from. If there’s a threat we’re not seeing, we need to find it before it finds us."
Ezra nodded, his expression grim. "I’ll get Maya on it. If Tommy’s been compromised, we’ll know soon enough."
"Good," Dario said, his gaze shifting to the window. The city lights flickered faintly through the grime-streaked glass, casting uneven shadows across the room. "But remember, we’re not merely dealing with Tommy anymore. This is about Evelyn. And if she’s become a target, we need to know why."
Ezra hesitated, his hand dropping from his holster. "You think this is bigger than us?"
"I think," Dario said quietly, "it’s always been bigger than us. We’ve just been too focused on our own game to see the board."
The room fell silent again, the weight of Dario’s words hanging in the air. Ezra exhaled sharply, nodding once before turning to leave. "I’ll keep you updated."
Dario didn’t respond immediately, his attention still fixed on the window.
When the door clicked shut behind Ezra, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the note again.
Trust me, Tommy had written. Trust was a currency Dario rarely spent lightly, and Tommy’s decision to ask for it now was either a sign of desperation or a calculated move.
Either way, it left Dario with a choice—one that could alter the course of their fragile alliance.
He folded the note once more, his movements precise, and tucked it away. For now, he would watch. But if Tommy’s loyalty had shifted, Dario would need to act—and quickly. Because in their world, hesitation was more dangerous than betrayal.
Maya Torres leaned back in her chair, the glow of her laptop screen casting sharp shadows across her face.
The federal building’s security feeds scrolled in a grid on her monitor, each frame meticulously analyzed by her custom facial recognition software.
She’d been running it on loop for hours, waiting for something—anything—to ping.
The Boss’s orders were clear: find Tommy Caruso. And Maya wasn’t one to disappoint.
Her fingers drummed against the desk, the rhythm sharp and impatient.
The software hummed quietly in the background, a constant reminder of the stakes.
If Tommy was working with the feds, the entire operation was compromised.
And if he wasn’t, well, that raised its own set of questions.
Questions Dario Vitale didn’t have the luxury of ignoring.
The screen flickered. A red box snapped into place around a figure exiting a side door of the federal courthouse. Maya froze, her breath catching as the algorithm confirmed the match: Tommy Caruso. The timestamp placed him there less than an hour ago.
She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Got you,” she muttered under her breath. The image was grainy, but unmistakable. Tommy’s broad shoulders, the way he carried himself—like he was always one step ahead of trouble. But this time, trouble wasn’t just behind him. It was waiting.
Maya’s fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up additional angles. The courthouse cameras caught him walking briskly, head down, hands shoved into his coat pockets. No entourage, no backup. Just Tommy, alone, in a place he had no business being.
She grabbed her phone, her thumb hovering over Dario’s contact. But she hesitated. If she called him now, it would set off a chain reaction. Tommy was one of Dario’s men, but this—this was different. Federal buildings weren’t neutral ground. They were a line no one crossed without consequences.
Her gaze flicked back to the screen. Tommy was heading east, toward the parking garage.
She tapped into the garage’s security feed, her stomach tightening as she watched him approach a black sedan.
The car was unmarked, but the plates were government-issued.
Maya’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t just a sighting. This was a meeting.
She snapped a screenshot and sent it to Dario with a single line of text: Tommy’s at the federal courthouse. Meeting someone.
The reply came almost instantly. Keep watching. Don’t engage.
Maya exhaled sharply, her fingers curling into fists. She wasn’t just watching anymore. She was tracking. And if Tommy was working with the feds, she’d be the one to prove it.
Her software continued to scan the feeds, but her focus was locked on the parking garage.
The sedan’s driver stepped out—a man in a dark suit, his face obscured by the angle of the camera.
Tommy exchanged a few words with him before climbing into the passenger seat.
The car pulled away, disappearing into the city’s labyrinth of streets.
Maya leaned back, her mind racing. Tommy was in deep. Deeper than anyone had guessed. And if Dario didn’t act soon, this wouldn’t just be a problem for the Moretti family. It would be a disaster.
She opened a new window, her fingers moving with practiced precision. If Tommy was meeting with federal agents, there’d be a paper trail. And Maya knew how to find it. She just hoped Dario would let her dig deep enough to uncover the truth.
Because in their world, the truth wasn’t just dangerous. It was deadly.
Dario's phone buzzed against the steering wheel as he took the turn too fast, tires screeching on wet asphalt.
Evelyn's text glowed on the dashboard screen: Tommy's at Pier 12.
Feds inbound 14 min. The numbers ticked down in his head—fourteen minutes to intercept, fourteen minutes before catastrophe.
He swerved around a delivery truck, earning a middle finger from the driver. The pier loomed ahead, its rusted girders silhouetted against the orange haze of city lights. Dario killed the engine two blocks out and moved on foot, the weight of his Glock reassuring against his ribs.
Tommy stood under a flickering sodium lamp, shifting from foot to foot like a kid waiting for his first date. The idiot hadn't even posted a lookout. Dario scanned the shadows—no feds yet, but the dock reeked of a setup. Crates stacked too neatly. A tarp flapping over nothing.
He stepped into the light. "You lost, kid?"
Tommy whirled, hand jerking toward his waistband before recognition flashed across his face. "Jesus, boss. You scared the shit outta me."
"That's the idea." Dario closed the distance, voice low. "Walk with me. Now."
Tommy hesitated, glancing at his watch. "I can't—"
Dario grabbed his elbow, fingers digging in just shy of bruising. "Federal agents are seven minutes out. You got played." He didn't wait for denial, dragging Tommy toward the alley between warehouses. The kid stumbled, his breath coming fast.
"Who told you to come here?" Dario demanded.
"Daniel Marsh. Said he had a tip on the Albanian shipment." Tommy's throat worked. "Fuck. He wore a wire?"