Chapter 4 – THE WIFE OF THE TRAITOR
I stumbled backward, hitting the rusted metal of the storage locker.
“No,” I breathed. “No, that’s impossible. My mother was a single woman. She said my father died before I was born.”
“He died to her,” Anthony said, staring at the photograph. “Frank was ordered to kill you to wipe out our bloodline. But Margaret… she must have found out. She took you and ran, changing her name to protect you from her own husband.”
Tears blinded me. Margaret Bennett wasn’t just a stranger who took pity on a baby. She was a woman who sacrificed her marriage, her safety, and her identity to save the life of a child she was supposed to bury.
“She’s a hero,” Vincent whispered, tucking the tiny white dress inside his coat. “And Frank is going to kill her for it.”
Suddenly, the screech of tires echoed across the empty pier.
Three black SUVs boxed us in. The blinding high beams pinned us against the storage lockers.
Doors slammed open. Ten men with automatic weapons stepped out, surrounding us.
At the front of the pack walked Luciano, a short, vicious man in a camel-hair coat. Beside him was Frank, holding a heavy revolver.
“Vinnie,” Luciano smiled, spreading his arms. “You didn’t bring the deeds.”
“I brought something better,” Vincent lied, stepping in front of me and Anthony. “I brought access to the offshore accounts. Ten times what the ports are worth.”
Luciano laughed. “I don’t want your money, Vinnie. I want your legacy. I want you to watch it end.”
Frank raised his revolver, pointing it directly at me.
“She should have died twenty-three years ago,” Frank sneered. “Margaret ruined my life for this brat.”
“Where are they, Frank?” I screamed, stepping out from behind Vincent. “Where is my mother?!”
“Margaret is tied to a chair in a warehouse across town, right next to Elena,” Frank spat. “And as soon as Luciano gives the order, they both get a bullet.”
Anthony slowly moved his hand toward the gun holstered inside his jacket, but four men racked their rifles, aiming at his chest.
“Don’t do it, kid,” Luciano warned.
“Luciano, wait,” Vincent said, his voice echoing in the fog. “You kill us, the FBI raids your clubs by morning. I have a dead-man’s switch. The ledger.”
Luciano frowned. “What ledger?”
“The one Elena kept,” Vincent lied smoothly, bluffing for his life. “The one documenting every bribe you’ve paid to the mayor and the police commissioner. You kill us, it goes to the feds.”
Frank burst out laughing. “He’s bluffing! Elena didn’t have a ledger. I tore her apartment apart!”
“Did you?” Anthony challenged.
As Frank turned to argue with Anthony, I noticed one of Luciano’s goons pulling a burner phone from his pocket. The screen lit up in the fog. He looked at it, his eyes widening.
He leaned forward and whispered something into Luciano’s ear.
Luciano’s smug smile vanished. He looked at Frank, then at Vincent.
“Change of plans,” Luciano barked. “Grab the girl. Leave the men.”
Two massive guards lunged forward. Anthony tried to draw his gun, but a rifle butt caught him in the jaw, sending him crashing to the pavement. Vincent was thrown against the locker.
Someone grabbed my arms, pinning them behind my back.
“Claire!” Anthony yelled, spitting blood.
Luciano walked up to me, his breath smelling of stale cigars. “Seems your grandmother did hide something. And my men at the warehouse just found out you’re the only one who knows where it is.”
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