Chapter 2
611 Words
Losing Rico took twenty minutes.
Joey drove us through three different routes in Lower Manhattan.
At the seventh traffic light, Finn switched me into a flower delivery
truck.
Those two had been assigned to me by my brother Damian.
My shadows.
Three years ago, my brothers promised not to step foot in Brooklyn.
They never promised they'd leave me alone in a wolf's den.
At ten o'clock sharp, we arrived at Pier Nine.
Red Hook.
The ocean smelled of rust and salt.
Shipping containers stretched beneath the floodlights like giant steel
tombstones.
Eddie Falco crouched behind a crane.
Not even fifty years old.
Already bent like a seventy-year-old man.
After the explosion, he and his daughter had spent years running.
Running from debt.
Running from enemies.
Running from ghosts.
We spent three years hunting him.
Caleb's men searched every dockworker registry on the East Coast.
Only last month did his daughter's medical records finally surface in a
small New Jersey clinic.
"You brought the money?"
His voice shook.
"I did."
I slid the bag toward him.
"Now tell me what happened three years ago."
He swallowed hard.
"A week before the explosion, somebody approached me."
"They gave me two hundred grand."
"They handed me a statement and told me to memorize every word."
"That I'd witnessed Lawrence men loading explosives."
"That the detonator carried a Lawrence Shipping barcode."
His voice cracked.
"But I wasn't even at Pier Nine that night."
"I was at the hospital."
"My daughter was in the ICU."
My nails dug into my palm.
Three years.
Three years my family carried a blood debt.
Three years my father stood before the Commission defending our name.
Three years after Noah took a bullet because of that accusation.
All because of one lie.
Bought for two hundred thousand dollars.
And me.
My marriage.
My life.
Every day spent in the Romano house being treated like a murderer.
All of it.
Worth two hundred thousand dollars.
"Who paid you?"
"Never saw his face."
"The cap covered everything."
Eddie pulled a waterproof pouch from his coat.
"But I kept insurance."
"I recorded our last phone call."
"My daughter was still in that hospital bed."
"I knew they might kill me afterward."
"Smart man."
I took the pouch.
"And tonight, that insurance policy becomes the reason you and your
daughter stay alive."
Suddenly Finn whistled.
A warning.
Headlights swept across the container yard.
"Down!"
Gunfire exploded through the night.
Bullets sparked against steel.
Joey shoved me behind cover.
Finn returned fire with short, efficient bursts.
Lawrence soldiers never wasted ammunition.
In the chaos, Eddie took a round through the shoulder.
Screaming, he shoved the waterproof pouch into my hands.
"Go!"
"They're here to clean up loose ends!"
Three minutes.
Three brutally efficient minutes.
Finn dropped two shooters.
The rest fled.
We loaded Eddie into the vehicle and raced toward a safe house Caleb had
prepared years ago.
While a doctor treated him, I sat in the car and pressed play.
Static crackled.
Then a distorted voice emerged.
【The statement has to be perfect. Put Lawrence labels on the
explosives. Make all of New York believe they did it.】
【Do it right, and your daughter's medical bills are covered forever.】
【Screw it up... and you know how the Romano family deals with
failures.】
The Romano family.
Ice spread through my veins.
At the end of the recording, just before the call disconnected, two
sharp metallic clicks sounded.
Click.
Click.
Joey's face changed instantly.
"That sound..."
He stared at me.
"Everyone in Brooklyn knows it."
"The old brass Zippo passed down by Romano senior."
"The one Matteo carries now."
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