Chapter 3
THREE
VANESSA
A FEW HOURS EARLIER
Uncle Kevin and Aunt Lucy left my apartment an hour ago.
Before they left, they told me everything about my father, including the fact that I have an older brother.
They’re both upset they kept so much from me, but I understand.
My father forced them into silence. He wanted to be the one to tell me himself.
Now that I know he’s gone, I don’t know what to do with that.
I sit alone for the next hour, staring at the Manila envelope Kevin left on my coffee table. It has my name written on the front. He swears he never opened it.
Finally, I pick it up and open it. Inside is a letter addressed to me.
He really thought he was going to die at any point.
Vanessa—
I realize that this letter needed to be written, just in case. I have pushed it off for too long, and now you’re almost finished with college. Before you come to New York, you need to understand what you’re stepping into.
I planned to tell you everything myself once you arrived. I never imagined I wouldn’t be able to. That is the only reason this letter exists.
I made your Uncle Kevin promise he wouldn’t give this to you unless he knew, without question, that I was gone.
I wish more than anything that I could tell you all of this in person.
I wish I could have been there for everything I missed.
Your cross-country competitions. Cheer and volleyball practices. All of it.
I wanted to be there. But after your mother died, I couldn’t live inside the fantasy we had created anymore. I needed to come home to New York, but protect you at the same time. So I sent your Uncle Kevin and Aunt Lucy to take care of you. To be the parents you needed when I couldn’t be.
You and I made a deal when you were sixteen that after college you would come to New York and eventually work with me. This letter is me asking you, after my death, to help in whatever way you can—or want. You already know pieces of who I am and what I do, but there is more you need to understand.
There is someone just as important to me as you are, and I need you to be strong enough to care for him the way you’ve always cared for me.
Your older brother Gino is set to take my place. My plan was for you two to meet after you moved to New York, to become close, and work together. If that has already happened, I hope you’ve found the bond I always wanted for you. If it hasn’t, then I need you to find him. Help him.
I made many enemies in my lifetime. Once I am gone, they will come for both of you.
Together, you will be a force to be reckoned with. Everything I hoped my two children would become. Be who I know you are capable of being. Be strong. Be independent. Be someone your brother can rely on.
Love,
Dad
I start crying again. He’s gone, and even now he’s asking me to be the strong one. He was always asking for something, wasn’t he?
Now anger takes over. Hot and relentless. I want to find this Gino guy and punch him. I won’t, obviously, but what the hell, Dad? Taking care of my brother too? Jesus Christ.
I change and grab my cross-body bag, phone, and keys and decide to meet this brother of mine. I found the address to his house in more documents in the Manila envelope.
If this is the life my father left me, then it’s time I face it. And it starts with my brother.
I take the subway as close as I can get, but the house is still about seven miles from the nearest stop. I decide to walk. Half a mile in, the weight of everything hits me again—my father, the brother I didn’t even know existed—and before I realize it, I break into a run.
I push myself as hard as I can, lungs burning, legs screaming, until my phone’s GPS tells me I’m a quarter mile away. Then I slow to a walk, forcing myself to steady my breathing.
The house is massive, straight out of a magazine. A stunning mid-century modern place that looks more like art than a home. Black SUVs with tinted windows line the driveway, confirmation enough of what this place really is.
A mafia house.
Clearly, no one expects visitors if they’re comfortable letting someone walk right up. I move forward carefully, as quiet as I can manage, every step measured. Just in case someone’s posted nearby. Just in case someone’s waiting to take down anyone foolish enough to approach.
I walk up to the door and ring the doorbell. Inside, I hear chairs scrape across the floor—but no one answers.
Great. They probably think I’m a door-to-door salesperson. Like they would be out here.
I ring the bell two more times, then start knocking. After what feels like an eternity, the door finally swings open.
All I see is two guns pointed at me.
I raise my hands instantly. A beat passes, then the guns lower.
“Uh… can I help you?” a man asks, staring right at me.
We have the same green eyes. His hair is nearly jet black, but there’s no mistaking it. One look tells me exactly who he is.
“Hi, my name is Vanessa Esposito, and I think I’m your sister,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
That was definitely not what I was planning on saying.
“What?” he snaps, his voice rising.
“Holy shit,” the guy next to him mutters.
Wait, I look closer. Recognition hits me all at once.
That’s the guy from the hospital.
“Mateo?” I say.
“How the hell do you know him? Hold on—let me ask you,” he says, turning on Mateo. “How the fuck do you know her? Please, dear God, tell me you didn’t give her my address.”
I’m about to answer when Mateo cuts in. “No, man. She was a nurse at the hospital we went to last night. The one Alonso was taken to.”
Gino looks between the two of us. “Do nurses do house calls now?”
“Uh, no. My Uncle Kevin and Aunt Lucy told me about you this morning. I just found out my dad died two years ago,” I rush out.
“Great. So what family are you from?” Gino says.
Mateo and an Asian woman standing behind him go quiet, just staring.
“Family?” I ask. “What does that even mean?”
“Are you Russian? You’ve got red hair, so I doubt it. Irish, maybe?”
“Umm… no. I don’t think so. I mean—maybe? Here. My dad wrote me this letter and gave me some other documents. You should probably look at them so I don’t have to keep explaining this in circles.”
I hand him the Manila envelope. Inside are the letter and a copy of Dad’s will, the one that names me a partial owner of his businesses. He grabs it from my hand and walks away.
“Hi, I’m Juliet. That’s Gino. It’s obvious you already know Mateo,” the woman standing behind Mateo says.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “Come in. Gino just hates surprises.”
From down the hall, Gino lets out a low, irritated grumble.
Juliet leads me over to the kitchen. Mateo follows, then takes a seat across from Gino. After Gino reads something, he hands it to Mateo.
Juliet hands me a sandwich and gestures for me to sit. The only open chair is between Gino and Mateo. Of course it is.
I sit, sandwich untouched, my appetite gone as I glance between the two of them.
“If you really are my sister, there would be documentation somewhere. Dad always kept records,” Gino blurts out, making me jump.
“I grew up in Salt Lake. I went to college at Carter State. Maybe he made payments for my schooling or paid for the house we lived in.” I pause, thinking it through. “Actually, that wouldn’t make sense. He probably just gave the money to Uncle Kevin and Aunt Lucy.”
“Gino, don’t shoot me for this, but I think she’s telling the truth,” Mateo says before Gino can ask another question.
“Why would I shoot you?”
Mateo exhales. “After we took Alonso to the hospital, she was the nurse who asked us all those questions. I noticed her last name, Esposito, and did a little digging when I got back to my place because she looked like Antonio. I found her Facebook page, and there are photos of her with Kevin and Lucy everywhere.”
“Yep. Definitely want to shoot you,” he responds with a smirk.
“What?” Mateo and I blurt out at the same time.
“I’m messing with you.” Gino exhales. “Vanessa, this all looks legit. I’ve been looking into the large payments Dad was making to Kevin up until his death. Those payments were in addition to his salary. He labeled them VE, so it makes sense.”
I stare at him, gawking. “When did you figure this out?” I ask.
“Like an hour ago,” Gino says, shrugging.
I snort. Yep. We’re related.
“Dude, why didn’t you say anything to me?” Mateo asks.
“I just said I found out like an hour ago something was going on. Do you listen, like ever?” He shakes his head, then looks back at me. “Anyway—Vanessa. Dad said you were going to work for him. Did he ever mention what that would be?”
Before I can respond, the front door flies open and two men run in, both shot and bleeding.
“What the fuck!” Gino yells.
“Those Irish fucks are right behind us,” the less injured of the two says.
“Why the hell would you come here?” Gino snaps.
“We were already on our way when they opened fire. They hit us both, so we ran.”
Gino doesn’t hesitate. “Juliet, you and Vanessa get downstairs to the safe room.” Then he turns back to the two men. “There’s no doctor here, so hopefully you both hold on long enough for us to get one.”
Juliet grabs my arm and yanks me down just as bullets shatter the kitchen window.
“Come on, Vanessa,” she says, pulling hard.
“Wait—I can help,” I shout over the noise. “It’s not like I didn’t go to school for this or spend the last two years working in an ER,” I add, heavy with sarcasm.
Juliet snorts and glances at Gino. “Oh yeah. She’s definitely your sister. Sarcasm and all.”
“Do you have a first aid kit or a medical bag?” I ask, looking at Gino.
“Downstairs,” Gino says. “Take Ryan with you and patch him up. Drew, you good?”
“Good as I can be,” Drew responds.
Juliet and I all but drag Ryan down to the basement. He’s unconscious now, dead weight between us. We rush into the safe room, and Juliet slams the door behind us, locking it.
The fluorescent lights flick on instantly, flooding the room. Cots line one wall. Medical supplies are neatly stocked along another. A bank of video screens shows camera feeds from throughout the house.
I move Ryan onto one of the cots while Juliet double-checks the lock. Once it seals, everything outside goes quiet.
I get to work immediately, assessing Ryan’s injuries. He’s been shot in the arm and the side. Sweat mats his brown hair, and the rise and fall of his chest—his muscles tensing with each breath—tells me he’s still breathing.
Luckily none of his injuries look to be a death sentence. I open the medical bag and see the basics I’ll need to stitch him up.
“There’s more medical stuff over here if you need it,” Juliet says, heading toward a cabinet.
“Thanks. I think I’ve got enough. But could you help me with something?”
“Sure.”
“Before I ask—do you have any issues with blood? Or needles?”
She snorts softly. “No. Trust me, I see plenty of blood.”
“First, I need to assess how bad these are,” I say. “Then we can patch him up. Luckily, none of it looks too severe.”
I clean the injuries with iodine from the medical bag. Ryan stirs when I touch him, a small movement that tells me he still has feeling. That’s a good sign.
Once the wounds are clean, it’s clear they’re both flesh wounds. I stitch them carefully and cover them with gauze. Juliet helps, double-checking my work. He shouldn’t scar too badly—both are grazes.
When we’re done, Juliet and I sit in a quiet calm for a few minutes.
Finally, I break it. There’s a question I’ve been dying to ask.
“So, how long have you and Gino been dating?”
“W-what? Gino and I aren’t together,” Juliet stammers.
Shit. This is awkward.
“Oh, sorry. I just thought…”
“Don’t worry, you’re not the first.” She snorts.
“What do you mean?”
“Gino and I have been since college, but I’m his housekeeper, so definitely not girlfriend material for him.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t dress like a housekeeper.”
Juliet lets out a quiet laugh. “I know. They were very similar—your dad and Gino. Well, sort of. Your dad was always angry. Gino isn’t.” She hesitates. “I heard your father was furious after Cara died. And then it got even worse after he came back.”
“Who’s Cara? And what do you mean, came back?”
Juliet takes a breath. “Umm, that’s probably something Gino should tell you.”
The door suddenly flies open.
Gino, Mateo, and Drew rush in, all three of them looking like crap. Their hair is disheveled, covered in dirt, and breathing hard. The air shifts instantly.
Gino stalks straight toward me and yanks me to my feet, his grip firm, his expression murderous.
“Did you tell anyone where you were going today?” he demands.
“No,” I say, still in shock. “I didn’t.”
“Come on.” He drags me out of the room and into the hallway as Drew slams the safe-room door shut behind us, leaving Juliet inside.
Well. This is how I die.
Killed by the man I think is my own brother.
Dead.
By the time we reach the second floor, I’m shoved into what looks like an office and forced down into a chair. Drew steps forward with zip ties, securing my wrists, then my legs.
I am royally fucked.
They leave without a word, and the door slams shut behind them.