Chapter 5 - THE FATHER WHO SHOULD HAVE BEEN DEADAdrian stared at the words until the room disappeared around him.
ASK YOUR FATHER, ADRIAN.
Mason was the first to speak.
“Your father died seventeen years ago.”
Claire looked at Adrian.
“Did you see his body?”
Adrian turned toward her.
She lifted both hands.
“I’m asking for obvious reasons.”
He almost laughed.
Almost.
“Yes.”
He had seen Luca Moretti in a casket.
Unlike Claire, Adrian had insisted on seeing everything.
Gunshot wound beneath the chin.
Wax-colored skin.
His father’s heavy gold ring still on one finger.
Dead.
Absolutely dead.
Or so he had believed.
“Who knew your mother used that lipstick?” Claire asked.
Adrian looked at the message.
“Sofia wore red.”
“That brand?”
Mason moved closer to the broken tube on the floor.
Adrian picked it up using a handkerchief.
The metal case was engraved with the initials S.M.
His heart stopped.
“This belonged to her.”
Mason frowned.
“You sure?”
“I gave it to her.”
Adrian had been fourteen.
He had saved money for three months.
Bought it from a boutique on Newbury Street because Sofia once stopped outside the window.
She had laughed when he gave it to her.
Called him her little gentleman.
It disappeared after she died.
Daniel leaned against the doorway.
“Someone has been holding onto that for twenty-five years.”
Claire said quietly, “Or Sofia never died.”
Adrian looked at her.
“No.”
“You said—”
“I saw what was left after the explosion.”
The room fell silent.
That was different from seeing a body.
Adrian’s mother had been inside a car destroyed by fire.
Identification came through dental records.
Claire saw understanding enter his eyes.
“So nobody actually saw her face.”
Adrian’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice said:
“Kane Street. One hour. Bring the drive and Claire Bennett.”
The line died.
Claire stared at him.
“No.”
Adrian had not spoken.
“I’m not going.”
“Correct.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“Yes.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Kane Street is your safe house.”
“It was.”
Mason’s face hardened.
“If they named it, it’s compromised.”
Adrian looked toward the window.
“This isn’t an invitation.”
“No,” Mason said. “It’s a trap.”
“Exactly.”
Claire looked at Adrian.
“And you like traps?”
“I like knowing where enemies expect me to stand.”
He picked up another phone.
“Mason, move staff through the north exit. Daniel stays with Claire.”
“No,” Claire said.
All three men looked at her.
“I’m not luggage.”
“No one said—”
“You keep deciding where I go, who stays with me, what I know.”
Adrian’s patience shortened.
“Someone just bombed my club.”
“And someone nearly killed me before I ever met you.”
“I noticed.”
“I survived without you.”
“Barely.”
She slapped him.
Silence.
Mason looked at the ceiling.
Daniel suddenly became fascinated by a broken lamp.
Adrian turned his face back toward Claire.
She looked shocked at herself.
Good.
At least fear had not entirely taught her to disappear.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Good.”
He lowered his voice.
“Now listen. I don’t think you’re weak. I think someone has spent two years punishing you whenever you made choices he didn’t like. I’m not going to continue the pattern. But tonight there are armed men trying to find you. If I tell you to stay behind cover, it’s because bullets don’t respect independence.”
Claire’s anger softened.
“Then ask.”
“What?”
“Ask me to stay.”
Adrian stared.
No one had required that of him in years.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Will you stay with Daniel while I deal with this?”
She looked at her brother.
“No.”
Daniel winced.
Claire continued.
“I’ll stay with Mason.”
Mason gave Adrian an almost-smug glance.
Adrian ignored him.
“Fine.”
One hour later, Kane Street appeared abandoned.
An old brick townhouse between shuttered commercial buildings.
Adrian approached through the neighboring property with two security teams.
Claire remained three blocks away in an armored SUV with Mason.
Daniel insisted on accompanying Adrian.
“I know Mercer’s habits.”
Adrian allowed it.
Barely.
The townhouse door was unlocked.
Inside, lights glowed.
A record player turned in the sitting room.
Sofia Moretti’s favorite song played softly.
Adrian stopped.
Daniel whispered, “You recognize it.”
“Yes.”
On the dining table sat two wine glasses.
One empty.
One filled.
Beside them was an old photograph.
Luca and Sofia Moretti on their wedding day.
A knife had been driven through Luca’s face.
Adrian walked farther.
“Come out.”
No answer.
He entered the kitchen.
Nothing.
Upstairs.
Bedroom.
Bathroom.
Empty.
Then Daniel shouted from below.
“Adrian!”
He ran down.
The basement door stood open.
Adrian never used that basement.
He had purchased Kane Street only eight years earlier.
Yet someone had placed a child’s wooden chair in the center.
Adrian recognized it.
His chair.
From his childhood kitchen.
He approached slowly.
On the seat was a cassette recorder.
Daniel looked at him.
“Don’t touch it.”
Adrian pressed play.
Static.
Then a woman’s voice.
Sofia.
“If you are hearing this, Adrian, then everything I feared has survived longer than I did.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Daniel stared.
The tape continued.
“Your father became involved with men who believed Boston belonged to them. Vincent Mercer’s father. Judge Easton. Others.”
Claire’s father? No.
Gabriel’s father.
Adrian’s mind raced.
Sofia continued.
“They called themselves the Harbor Circle.”
Daniel whispered, “That name was in the ledgers.”
“They bought policemen, judges, unions, shipping contracts. When Luca tried to leave, they threatened you.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
His father had never tried to leave anything.
Or perhaps that was another lie.
“I made copies of their records. I gave them to the only person I trusted.”
The tape clicked.
Then Sofia said:
“Salvatore.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
His uncle.
The man who raised him.
“I believed my brother-in-law would protect Adrian.”
A long pause.
“I was wrong.”
Footsteps sounded upstairs.
Daniel raised his gun.
Adrian switched off the recorder.
Three men appeared at the basement door.
Gunfire exploded.
Adrian shoved Daniel behind the furnace.
Bullets shredded the wooden chair.
Adrian returned fire.
One attacker fell.
Another retreated.
Daniel fired twice.
Silence.
Then a third man charged.
Adrian struck him hard enough to send him against the wall.
The pistol skidded away.
Adrian pinned him.
“Who sent you?”
The man smiled through broken teeth.
“Your mother.”
Adrian froze.
The attacker used the hesitation.
He pulled a blade.
Daniel fired.
The man dropped.
Adrian stared at the body.
“You shot him.”
“He was going to stab you.”
“He said my mother.”
“And he may have been lying.”
Adrian picked up the cassette recorder.
“We leave.”
Outside, Mason’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We’ve got trouble.”
Adrian ran.
Three blocks away, the armored SUV’s rear door hung open.
Two Moretti guards lay unconscious.
Mason was on his knees beside another vehicle, blood running from his forehead.
Adrian grabbed him.
“Claire?”
Mason looked furious.
“They took her.”
Daniel’s face went white.
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“Who?”
Mason held out a phone.
A video was already playing.
Claire sat tied to a chair.
No visible new injuries.
A man stepped into frame.
Vincent Mercer.
Sixty-two.
Silver-haired.
Immaculate suit.
He smiled into the camera.
“Adrian. I’m disappointed.”
Adrian watched without blinking.
Mercer stood behind Claire.
“You seem to have become sentimental.”
Claire glared at him.
Mercer continued.
“Bring me Daniel Bennett and the drive by dawn.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“Or Gabriel finishes what he started.”
The video shifted.
Gabriel Easton entered the frame.
His injuries from the Marlowe were gone beneath a clean shirt.
He had never been Mercer’s prisoner.
It had all been staged.
Claire realized it too.
Her face changed.
Gabriel smiled and touched her shoulder.
She recoiled.
Adrian felt rage move through his body like ice.
Mercer looked directly into the camera.
“One more thing, Adrian.”
He lifted a photograph.
A recent photograph.
Taken only days earlier.
An older woman stood on a church staircase in Italy.
Gray hair.
Same eyes as Adrian.
Same unmistakable face.
Sofia Moretti.
Alive.
May you like
Mercer smiled.
“Your mother sends her love.”
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