Chapter 8 - THE VELVET COAT
“Sofia, put the gun down,” Dante said. His voice was frighteningly calm.
“No!” she screamed, her hands trembling. “Lorenzo has Lily! He has Nora’s mother! He told me he’d make the trade if I brought him the ledger. He knew you’d figure out the coordinates!”
“Lorenzo is a liar,” Dante said, taking a slow step toward her. “He won't give you Lily. He’ll kill you both the second he has this book.”
“I have to try!” Sofia sobbed. “I slipped the ledger out of the box while you were hugging your father. I’m taking the town car. Don't follow me.”
She backed away into the snow, the gun still raised.
She disappeared into the storm. A moment later, we heard the town car peel away.
“She took the only car,” my father said, clutching his chest.
“Not the only one,” Dante said. He pulled out his phone. “Marco’s men are neutralized. My syndicate is fully mobilized. We’re ending this tonight.”
Within ten minutes, three black SUVs arrived at the cemetery gates.
We piled in.
“Where is Lorenzo making the trade?” Dante asked my father.
“Pier 42,” my father said. “The shipping docks. He’s putting Elena and the little girl on a freighter to Canada tonight if he doesn't get the book.”
We sped toward the docks. The snow had finally stopped, leaving the city dead and silent.
We arrived at Pier 42. A massive cargo ship was moored at the end of the dock.
Dante’s men fanned out, moving like ghosts through the shipping containers.
We crept toward the loading ramp.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.
We rushed forward, weapons drawn.
We found Sofia pinned against a crate, Lorenzo holding her by the hair, a gun to her temple.
On her knees nearby was my mother. She looked terrified, but unhurt. Next to her was a little girl in a pink coat, crying silently.
Lorenzo smiled, holding the leather-bound ledger in his hand.
“Thank you for the delivery, Sofia,” Lorenzo sneered. “But I think I’ll keep the girl anyway as insurance.”
“Let them go, Lorenzo,” Dante said, stepping out of the shadows, thirty armed men appearing behind him, completely surrounding the pier.
Lorenzo laughed. “You think guns scare me? I have the book, Dante! I have the names of every judge, every politician, every cop your family ever bought! I own New York now!”
Lorenzo opened the heavy leather cover of the ledger to gloat.
He stared at the first page.
His smile vanished.
He flipped to the next page. Then the next.
His face turned purple with rage.
“What is this?” Lorenzo screamed.
I looked at my father. He was smiling.
“It’s a ledger,” my father said loudly. “Just not the one you wanted.”
Lorenzo ripped a page out. It wasn't full of financial records or blackmail.
It was full of fabric swatches. Silk, velvet, polyester.
“It’s my mother’s old tailoring catalog,” I realized, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
“Where is the real book, Arturo?” Lorenzo bellowed, pointing his gun at my mother.
My mother finally spoke. Her voice was strong, carrying over the freezing water.
“He didn't bury the book, you idiot,” my mother said. “I sewed it into the lining of a coat.”
Lorenzo froze.
May you like
Dante slowly looked down at the heavy black overcoat he was wearing.
The same coat I had refused to hand him at the penthouse.
