Chapter 4 - THE APARTMENTElena wanted to go.
Powerful men usually did.
“That phone was stolen.”
His voice returned to its old confidence.
Camille stared at him.
“Dad—”
“Be quiet.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“You sent that message?”
“No.”
“It says Dad.”
“Anyone can name a contact.”
Lorenzo almost admired the speed.
Almost.
Elena took Lena’s hand.
“We’re leaving.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
She was right.
Whatever happened next did not belong in a ballroom full of people holding champagne and recording everything on their phones.
And there was another problem.
Someone had threatened Lena.
The girl saw too much.
That meant she had seen something before running into Lorenzo.
He crouched.
“Lena.”
She looked at him.
“What did you see?”
Elena stiffened.
“Not here.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Agreed.”
He looked at Matteo.
“Bring the car around.”
Victor laughed bitterly.
“You think you can simply walk out with evidence belonging to my daughter?”
Lorenzo glanced at the phone.
“Evidence?”
Victor realized his mistake.
Nobody spoke.
Adrian did.
“You just called it evidence.”
Victor’s mouth tightened.
Camille looked close to panic.
Lorenzo handed the phone to Matteo.
“Keep it safe.”
Camille stepped forward.
“That’s theft.”
Matteo slipped it into an evidence pouch from his security kit.
“No,” Lorenzo said. “That’s preservation.”
“You’re not law enforcement.”
“Correct.”
The way he said it made several guests move farther away.
Elena hated that.
He could see it.
She remembered the injured young man behind a nightclub.
Not the man who now made rooms go silent.
He turned to her.
“My car is outside.”
“I have my own.”
“Someone threatened your daughter.”
“I know.”
“They may be outside.”
Elena’s face changed.
She looked at Lena.
That decided it.
Ten minutes later, Elena and Lena were inside Lorenzo’s armored SUV.
Lorenzo sat opposite them.
Matteo drove.
Another vehicle followed.
Elena stared out the window.
“You frightened everyone.”
“I didn’t say anything frightening.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“You still argue the same way.”
She turned.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything about that night.”
“I thought you were just some idiot who got stabbed in a fight.”
“I was an idiot.”
“And now?”
“More expensive suits.”
Despite herself, Elena gave a tiny laugh.
It disappeared quickly.
Lena watched them.
“Did Mommy save you?”
Lorenzo nodded.
“She did.”
“How?”
“He was hurt,” Elena said.
“Bad?”
“Pretty bad.”
Lorenzo leaned toward Lena.
“Your mother was very brave.”
Lena looked proud.
Then frightened again.
“Mommy is always brave.”
Elena squeezed her hand.
Lorenzo waited several minutes before asking again.
“What did you see tonight?”
Elena looked at her daughter.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
Lena whispered, “I want to.”
She looked at Lorenzo.
“I was looking for Mommy because the bride lady told her to go to the storage room.”
“What storage room?”
“Behind the kitchen.”
Elena frowned.
“I never went there.”
Lena continued.
“I heard the bride talking to the old man.”
“Victor?”
She nodded.
“What did they say?”
Lena concentrated.
“The old man said… ‘We should have fixed this years ago.’”
Elena went still.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“And Camille?”
“She said, ‘I didn’t know she had a kid.’”
Elena’s face drained of color.
Lena’s voice became smaller.
“Then the old man said something about making you go away again.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Lorenzo’s eyes hardened.
“What else?”
“The bride said she could get Mommy outside after the party.”
Elena whispered, “Oh God.”
“And then?”
“There was another man.”
Lorenzo and Matteo exchanged a look through the mirror.
“What man?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he look like?”
“Gray coat. Bald here.”
She touched the top of her head.
“Big scar near his ear.”
Matteo’s eyes shifted again.
Lorenzo recognized the description.
Frank Deluca.
Former Chicago police detective.
Currently private security consultant.
Occasionally employed by people who needed problems to vanish.
Elena saw Lorenzo’s expression.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I’ll tell you after I confirm.”
“No more secrets.”
He looked at her.
“That’s fair.”
They arrived at Lorenzo’s home twenty minutes later.
It was not the mansion Elena expected.
At least, not from the outside.
Lorenzo lived in an old stone house near the lake, surrounded by trees and a high security fence.
Inside, it was warm.
Books.
Dark wood.
Family photographs.
Lena spotted a golden retriever sleeping near the stairs.
The dog opened one eye.
Then both.
A moment later, Lena forgot her fear long enough to kneel beside him.
“What’s his name?”
“Roman.”
The dog rolled onto his back.
Lena scratched his stomach.
Elena watched.
Some tension left her shoulders.
Lorenzo noticed.
“Kitchen?”
She nodded.
Matteo took the recovered phone downstairs to have it copied.
Lorenzo made tea.
Elena stared.
“You make tea?”
“I know how to boil water.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He handed her a cup.
“Still no sugar?”
She looked at him in surprise.
“You remember that?”
“Yes.”
She wrapped both hands around the mug.
“What happened to you, Lorenzo?”
It was not accusation.
That made it worse.
He leaned against the counter.
“My father died.”
“I heard.”
“My older brother took over. Then he died.”
“I heard that too.”
“So there was nobody else.”
“There’s always somebody else.”
“Not in my family.”
She looked down.
“You chose it.”
“Yes.”
He did not insult her with excuses.
“I chose it.”
Before she could respond, Matteo entered.
“We cloned the phone.”
Lorenzo straightened.
“And?”
“There are deleted messages.”
Camille had apparently believed deletion meant destruction.
It did not.
Matteo placed a tablet on the counter.
Elena read the first recovered message.
Her hand began shaking.
It was from Victor.
ELENA MARQUEZ IS BACK IN CHICAGO. CONFIRM WHETHER SHE STILL HAS THE LEDGER.
Another:
CAMILLE, DO NOT CONFRONT HER IN PUBLIC.
Another:
DELuca WILL HANDLE HER AFTER THE RECEPTION.
Then one from Camille:
WHAT ABOUT THE CHILD?
Victor replied:
SHE’S SEVEN. SHE WON’T MATTER.
Elena pushed away from the counter.
Lorenzo caught the mug before it fell.
Lena was still in the other room with Roman.
Thank God.
Elena whispered, “They were going to hurt us.”
“Yes.”
“I came back because my mother has cancer.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
“I took this catering job because the hospital bills wiped me out.”
Her voice broke.
“And by accident I end up serving champagne at Camille Ashford’s wedding.”
“Not accident,” Matteo said.
Elena looked at him.
“What?”
Matteo turned the tablet.
One recovered email showed Camille’s assistant had personally requested Elena be assigned to the reception.
Elena stared.
“They brought me there.”
Lorenzo’s expression became dangerous.
“Why?”
Matteo scrolled.
The next message answered.
MAKE SURE SHE ENTERS THROUGH THE SERVICE GARAGE. DELUCA WILL BE WAITING AFTER MIDNIGHT.
Elena sat down.
Lorenzo looked toward the doorway where Lena was laughing softly as Roman licked her hand.
A seven-year-old child had accidentally saved her mother by getting frightened, running through the wrong door, and crashing into the one man Victor Ashford had not planned for.
Lorenzo looked at Matteo.
“Find Deluca.”
Matteo nodded.
Elena stood.
“No killing.”
Both men looked at her.
“I mean it.”
Lorenzo’s face remained unreadable.
“If you’re helping us, you do it my way.”
“You’re giving me rules?”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo glanced toward Lena.
Then back at Elena.
“What are they?”
“We go to the police.”
“The police protected Ashford eight years ago.”
“Then we find better police.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“But I will not save my daughter from one dangerous man by handing our lives to another.”
The words hit their mark.
Lorenzo stared at her for a long time.
Finally, he nodded.
“No killing.”
Elena released a breath.
Matteo’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his face changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Deluca’s car.”
“Where?”
“Two blocks from Elena’s apartment.”
Elena went pale.
May you like
Matteo continued.
“And somebody’s inside her building.”
