Chapter 24
DOMINIC
“We have an opportunity here,” I tell Rafe and Tomasso. “Whoever sent this to Sofia is clearly watching Marco. This is how we smoke them out.”
“Is all this really necessary?” Tomasso sighs heavily. “We’ve sent plenty of messages like that in the past. It’s just a warning.”
“It’s not about what they could do to Marco,” I remind him tensely. “Whoever grabbed this footage slipped past our security undetected.”
“Assuming it wasn’t one of our security,” Rafe suggests.
“That’s possible.” I nod. “The point is, protecting Marco is only half the plan. The other half is to find the damn mole. Once we do, we can stop reacting and start cutting this problem out at the root.”
Tomasso leans back in his chair, looking bored. It irritates me more than it should, but almost everything he does irritates me lately.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” he asks.
“We leak a route,” I tell him. “Make it look like we’re moving Marco tonight to one of our secure properties outside the city. The intel goes through the same channels that had access to the garage security and Sofia’s apartment detail.”
Rafe nods slowly, already following. “Different versions to different people?”
“Exactly.”
“Smart,” he says. “If Calderone moves, we see which route he bites on.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Tomasso asks.
“He will,” I answer. “Enzo sent that video to Sofia because he wants a reaction. I’m going to give him one.”
Tomasso studies me, his expression finally losing some of its indifference.
“Does Sofia know about this plan?”
“No.”
Rafe sighs.
I look at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he answers, holding up his hands in surrender.
“Your sigh was loud enough,” I grumble. “I’m not giving her false hope until Marco is safe.”
Rafe watches me for a moment. “Then we better make sure he stays safe.”
We spend the next hour building the trap. Rafe handles the route variations, working only with the men he trusts most. Tomasso hovers over his shoulder, tossing out suggestions to feel useful.
He points out gaps. He marks the version most likely to tempt Calderone. He recommends sending the false movement through a warehouse district where traffic thins and cameras are easier to cut.
My phone buzzes halfway through the planning with a text from Sofia.
Will you be home soon?
I stare at the message for too long. Rafe glances at the screen, then back at me. He has the good sense not to say anything this time.
I hate lying to her. Lying and hiding things has not worked well for us in the past. We’re just starting to find a good groove. I’m just starting to think that maybe she’d be willing to build some kind of life with me.
All of that would be ruined if she knew what I was doing, and shattered if she found out I’d kept it from her.
I type back carefully.
I’m just working on some non-Vieri Holdings things.
It isn’t a lie. Not the whole truth, sure, but I don’t feel terrible about sending it. Her response comes almost immediately.
Does it have anything to do with my father?
Damn it. How could she possibly know? This woman has a sixth sense, I swear.
I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.
I set the phone face-down on my desk, knowing the answer will drive her nuts, but it’s all I can give her right now.
I call the head of my security to collect Marco. This part will be tricky, since Marco has no idea we’ve been watching him. Essentially, this is a kidnapping, but it’s for his own good. I just hope he’ll forgive us for it.
My men will move him to a safe location in Queens. It’s a narrow brick building with heavy locks, cameras, and men posted at every entrance. Secure enough for one night, or it should be.
Rafe leaves to help with the move. He texts me an hour later to confirm Marco is at the safe house with the head of my security, Sal. Apparently, he’s making it difficult for my men.
“He refuses to stay inside,” Sal tells me over the phone. “Says he isn’t a prisoner.”
“He isn’t a prisoner,” I remind him. “But if he doesn’t trust us, he might end up dead.”
“I told him that.”
“And how did he respond?”
“He told me to go to hell.”
Tomasso, sitting across from me, laughs under his breath.
I glare at him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry. “I’m starting to see where Sofia gets it.”
I ignore him and focus on Sal. “Keep him inside.”
“We’re trying.”
“Try harder.”
“If Calderone doesn’t bite on the fake route, he might go for the real one,” Tomasso says darkly. “There are so many variables to consider.”
“He doesn’t have the real one,” I remind him.
“That’s what we’re testing, isn’t it?” he asks.
At seven-thirty, the false route goes live. At seven forty-eight, we have confirmation that Calderone’s men are moving.
Rafe calls from the road, his voice sharp but controlled.
“Two SUVs took the warehouse route.”
“Which version?”
“Security dispatch.”
“Take them,” I say.
“We’re moving now.”
The next few minutes pass through the phone in fragments. Tires against wet pavement. Rafe barking orders. A crash of metal. One gunshot, then another. Tomasso goes still across from me, all his earlier irritation gone. Eventually, Rafe comes back on the line.
“We’ve got them.”
“How many?”
“Four. Two breathing.”
“Names?”
“Working on it.”
“Good.”
My other phone rings. Only a handful of people have that number. Rafe. Chiara. Bradley. The men stationed at the real location.
I answer before the first ring finishes. “What?”
Static crackles for half a second.
Then Sal’s voice comes through. “Boss.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. “What happened?”
Tomasso’s eyes snap to mine.
“Marco stepped outside,” Sal says, his voice rough. “He said he needed air. We had eyes on him. I swear to God we had eyes on him.”
“Where is he?”
Silence.
My grip tightens on the phone. “Sal.”
“They came from the alley. Two vans. Maybe three. They hit fast.”
The world narrows until there is nothing but his voice and the wet street outside the windows.
“How many down?”
“Joey and Vince. I’m hit, but I’m standing.”
“And Marco?”
“They took him.”
The room seems to get smaller around me. We failed. Someone leaked the real location. Which means my mole is in my most inner circle. I feel sick.
Tomasso is staring at me now, face pale in a way I’ve never seen before.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say.
I text Bradley to meet me downstairs in two minutes. Tomasso reaches for his phone.
“Don’t,” I tell him.
He freezes. “I was calling Rafe.”
“I’ll call Rafe.”
His jaw tightens, but he lowers the phone.
I call Rafe as I walk to the elevator.
“They took Marco,” I say the second he answers.
“How?”
“Someone had the real location.”
“Fuck.”
“Get there.”
“I’m already moving.”
I hang up and look at Tomasso.
He looks back at me. “I didn’t know the real location.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re thinking it. It’s why you’ve been babysitting me all night.”
“I’m thinking about a lot of things.”
“Dominic.”
“Not now.”
He leans back, jaw clenched, and says nothing else.
Smart.
Sofia calls twice on the way there.
I don’t answer.
I can’t tell her this over the phone. I can’t listen to her voice break when there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I can’t do any of it right, so I do the only thing I can.
I let it ring, knowing it will cost me later.
When we reach the safe house, the street is already full of my men. Bradley stops hard at the curb, and I’m out before the car fully settles.
Blood runs dark on the pavement near the side entrance, smeared toward the alley.
Joey is covered with a tarp. Vince is a few yards away, one arm still visible beneath another sheet.
Sal is sitting against the wall with blood soaking the sleeve of his jacket, trying to wave off a man wrapping his arm.
“Where was Marco?” I ask.
Sal points with his good hand. “There.”
A half-crushed cigarette lies on the pavement. Rafe arrives seconds later. He takes in the scene fast, then comes to stand beside me.
“They had the real location,” I say. “Who had it?”
“It was a very short list.” He sighs, giving me a dark look.
Tomasso pulls up behind us and gets out of the car. Rafe glances at him, just briefly, but it’s enough for me to see the suspicion there. Tomasso sees it too. His face hardens.
Before I can say anything, my phone rings again. It’s Sofia. I stare at her name on the screen, debating if I want to have this conversation. I can’t keep anything else from her, though. It’s now or never.
“What the hell is going on?” she asks immediately. “Tomasso called me to tell me you were moving my dad into a safe house. How could you not tell me that?”
I glare at Tomasso before I turn away from the bodies and walk a few feet away to give our conversation some level of privacy.
“I didn’t want to mention it to you until I was sure it would work,” I tell her quietly. “No matter what, I need you to stay at the penthouse and trust me.”
“What happened?” she asks, her voice going up at least an octave. I don’t even have to tell her how badly tonight went for her to know.
“Everything is going to be okay, I promise you.”
“What the fuck happened to my dad?” she screeches. “You tell me right fucking now.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Tomasso way overstepped by calling her, but I’ll have to deal with him later. Right now, I have to tell the mother of my child that her father was kidnapped by a very dangerous man. This isn’t going to be pretty at all.
“I just need you to remember that I’m going to take care of this,” I tell her.
“Spit it out, Dominic,” she says, and I can hear the tears in her voice.
“Marco was taken,” I tell her. “Someone kidnapped him from the safe house.”
I hear the sob that rips through her chest. It’s so raw, I feel it tearing through my own heart.
“Sofia, baby,” I say gently, clutching the phone with both hands like it will somehow give her comfort. “He’s alive. We’re going to find him and we’re going to bring him home. Everything is going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” she sobs. “You told me you can’t guarantee anything. What if he dies?”
“I won’t let that happen,” I tell her. “I’m not going to rest until I bring him home.”
“I need to be there,” she says. “Give me the address.”
“Sofia, no,” I say with a frustrated groan. “You shouldn’t see this.”
“You can’t stop me,” she hisses.
“Chiara can,” I say. “She’ll keep you there until I get back. It’ll be better that way.”
“I’m coming,” she says, hanging up the phone.
I throw my phone for good measure. It makes me feel a little better, at least.
Nothing will stop Sofia, not even my anger. I go pick up my phone and find it oddly intact. I call Chiara.
“There’s no changing her mind,” she says when she picks up. “You might as well just send the address. I’ll come with her.”
“Fine,” I snap, hanging up so I can text it to her.
Thirty minutes later, their town car pulls up. By then the bodies are covered and moved closer to the alley, but the blood is still there. It clings to the pavement, seeps into the cracks, leaves a stain that will take professional-grade bleach to scrub out.
The car stops, and Sofia gets out before Bradley can open the door.
Chiara follows immediately, one hand hovering near Sofia’s back without touching.
Sofia stops when she sees the street. Her face drains of color.
She looks at the men first. The covered shapes.
Then the blood. Then the cigarette on the ground.
“What happened?”
I step toward her. She takes a sharp step back, shaking her head.
“How could you do this?” she asks in a harsh whisper. “How could you make a plan like this and not tell me?”
Chiara wraps an arm around her shoulder, soothingly rubbing her arm. “He’ll get your dad back,” she says quietly.
Sofia shrugs away from her, looking between the two of us.
“How can I trust you? Either of you? Did you know about this?” she asks, turning on Chiara.
“I only knew Dominic wanted me to keep you occupied tonight,” she replies. “I swear, Sofia, I wouldn’t have kept this from you.”
Sofia nods slowly before looking up at me.
“Don’t speak to me until my father is safe,” she says. “And if he’s dead, I want nothing to do with you ever again.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond.
She turns back to the car, Chiara hot on her heels, and climbs inside.
Chiara shoots me a dirty look before she shuts the door.
A second later, the car pulls away. I watch the woman I care about more than anyone else drive off, and I know we won’t survive if I can’t get her father back.