Chapter 5 – THE SPY IN THE MASTER BED
The heat from the roaring fireplace suddenly felt suffocating.
Lorenzo stared at the silver viper broach pinned to the bloody fabric of Nora’s uniform, the metal gleaming maliciously in the firelight.
The Viper Syndicate.
The men who had firebombed his warehouses in Brooklyn. The family that had brutally murdered two of his capos just last month.
They hadn’t breached his walls with guns. They had breached his walls with a pregnant twenty-three-year-old girl.
Lorenzo’s eyes darted to the bed.
Nora was still fast asleep, her breathing shallow and exhausted, holding the tiny, fragile life he had just saved with his own hands.
A dark, violent rage ignited in his chest.
He had delivered her baby. He had shot his own housekeeper for hurting her. His father had just named her family, gifting her the sacred Capo ring and three million dollars.
And it was all a lie.
Lorenzo drew his heavy silver pistol, the mechanical click of the safety disengaging sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
He walked slowly toward the bed, the gun aimed directly at the sleeping girl’s head.
His training, his instincts, the cold ruthlessness that had kept his empire intact—all of it demanded he pull the trigger right now. You don’t hesitate with Vipers. You eliminate them.
He stood at the edge of the mattress, the barrel of the gun inches from Nora’s pale face.
But as he tightened his finger on the trigger, the tiny bundle of blankets against Nora’s chest shifted.
Lily let out a soft, mewling cry, reaching a tiny, fragile hand out of the cashmere swaddle.
Lorenzo froze.
He looked at the infant. He remembered the terrifying silence in the kitchen, the absolute desperation in Nora’s eyes when she begged him to save her daughter.
Spies didn’t weep like that. Assassins didn’t sacrifice their own bodies to protect a cover identity.
There was a piece of this puzzle missing.
Lorenzo slowly lowered his weapon.
He grabbed the stack of bearer bonds and the velvet box with the Capo ring off the bedside table, shoving them back into his pocket. She hadn’t earned his father’s legacy yet.
He turned and walked out of the master suite, leaving the guards stationed at the door.
“Nobody goes in. Nobody comes out,” Lorenzo ordered the men coldly.
He marched down the hall and stormed back into his study, slamming the heavy mahogany doors shut.
He walked directly to the massive oak desk, grabbing his encrypted satellite phone.
“Marco,” Lorenzo barked the moment his underboss picked up.
“Boss,” Marco’s voice replied, sounding surprised to hear from him during the blizzard. “I thought the storm cut you off.”
“It did. I’m on satellite,” Lorenzo snapped. “I need a full background run on a maid working at the estate. Her name is Nora. Twenty-three years old. Pregnant.”
“A maid?” Marco asked, confused. “Boss, why are we running background checks on domestic staff in the middle of a blizzard?”
“Because she’s wearing a Viper broach,” Lorenzo growled.
Silence hung heavy on the line.
“I’m on it,” Marco said, all trace of confusion gone, replaced by lethal efficiency. “Give me twenty minutes.”
Lorenzo poured himself a generous glass of scotch, ignoring the blood drying on his shirt sleeves. He paced the length of the study, staring out the window at the howling snowstorm.
If the Vipers knew about this estate, they knew about his father. They knew the location of the Moretti family’s most vulnerable asset.
Twenty minutes later, the satellite phone buzzed on the desk.
Lorenzo snatched it up. “Talk.”
“Boss, the girl’s name is Nora Vance,” Marco reported, his voice tight. “She’s not a made woman for the Vipers. She’s a civilian.”
“Then why does she have their crest?”
“Because of her boyfriend,” Marco explained. “The father of the baby. A low-level enforcer named Brody Higgins. He works for the Vipers.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. “The story among the staff is that Brody abandoned her because of gambling debts.”
“That’s half true,” Marco said. “Brody did abandon her. But not because of debts. He abandoned her because the Viper boss, Antonio Russo, ordered him to plant her in your estate as a sleeper agent. Brody left her destitute so she would take the lowest-paying maid job without raising suspicion.”
Lorenzo gripped the phone tighter. “Does she know she’s a spy?”
“No,” Marco said. “Our intel says Nora thought Brody was just a degenerate gambler. She doesn’t know who he really works for. Russo used her desperation. He told Brody to pin that silver broach on her coat before she left, claiming it was a family heirloom to pawn if she ever got truly desperate.”
“Why?” Lorenzo asked, piecing the ruthless strategy together.
“It’s a tracker, boss,” Marco said, his voice grave. “The broach has a micro-GPS transmitter inside. The Vipers didn’t send Nora to kill you. They sent her so they could find the exact coordinates of the estate.”
Lorenzo’s blood ran completely cold.
They weren’t using Nora to gather intel. They were using her as a homing beacon.
“Marco,” Lorenzo said quietly.
“Yes, boss?”
“The blizzard has the roads blocked, but what about the airspace?”
“It’s clear below the storm clouds, but nobody is flying commercial,” Marco replied.
“The Vipers aren’t commercial,” Lorenzo stated, walking back toward the window.
He stared out at the dark, snow-covered tree line surrounding the 20,000-square-foot fortress.
“Get the men in New York ready,” Lorenzo ordered, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Because Russo isn’t waiting for the storm to clear.”
Before Marco could reply, the distant, heavy thrum of helicopter blades echoed through the thick glass windows of the study.
Not one helicopter.
Three.
They were coming in low beneath the blizzard clouds, their searchlights cutting through the driving snow, painting the white grounds of the estate in aggressive, sweeping beams of light.
The Vipers had found them.
Lorenzo hung up the phone.
He walked over to his desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a fully loaded submachine gun.
He racked the slide, the metallic clack echoing in the quiet study.
The war had just arrived at his front door.
