Chapter 6 - THE BURNED LEDGER
The voice belonged to Lorenzo, the head of the Chicago syndicate.
Floodlights snapped on, blinding us.
We were surrounded. Twelve men with rifles stood on the catwalks above the warehouse floor.
Dante immediately pushed me behind him, shielding my body with his. Sofia screamed and dropped to the concrete.
“I’m disappointed, Dante,” Lorenzo’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Marco promised me the ledger and a dead New York boss. Instead, Marco is tied up in a police van, and you’re standing in my warehouse.”
Dante didn’t raise his gun. It was useless against twelve rifles.
“You don't have the ledger, Lorenzo,” Dante called out, his voice echoing off the corrugated steel. “Because Arturo Vargas has it in Queens.”
“I know,” Lorenzo said. “My men are at the dry cleaning shop right now. They’re tearing it apart. Arturo is a stubborn man. He wouldn't tell us where the real book is.”
My blood ran cold. “Where is my father?” I yelled.
“Nora, don't—” Dante warned.
“Ah, the coat-check girl,” Lorenzo chuckled. “Arturo’s little girl. Your father put up a good fight. But unfortunately, he’s not going to be answering any more questions.”
A heavy thud echoed as something was tossed from the catwalk.
It landed ten feet away from us.
It was a gold pocket watch. My father’s watch.
The glass face was shattered. It was covered in fresh blood.
I fell to my knees, a cry tearing from my throat. Ten years of waiting. Ten years of hoping he would walk back through the door. Only to lose him the night I found out he was a hero.
Dante knelt beside me. He didn't offer empty comforts. He just picked up the bloody watch.
He wiped the blood from the back casing with his thumb.
Dante paused. He tilted the watch toward the harsh floodlights.
“Nora,” he whispered.
I looked up through my tears.
Engraved on the back of the gold casing was a series of coordinates.
“He didn't give them the location,” Dante murmured, so only I could hear. “He gave them a decoy. He sent Lorenzo’s men to the shop. But the ledger isn't there.”
“Where is it?” I breathed.
“I don't know yet. But Lorenzo is distracted.” Dante stood up, his posture shifting into something lethal.
He looked up at the catwalks. “You made a mistake, Lorenzo!”
“And what is that?”
“You brought twelve men to kill a New York boss,” Dante said. “You should have brought fifty.”
Dante reached into his pocket and pressed a small silver remote.
The explosive charges Marco had rigged to Dante’s car—the ones my father had tried to warn us about with the ticket—detonated outside the warehouse doors.
The shockwave blew the steel doors completely off their hinges, knocking the gunmen off their feet.
May you like
Thick, choking gray smoke flooded the warehouse.
Dante grabbed my hand. “Run!”
