Chapter 5 - The Man at Dominic’s Right HandDominic had trusted Owen Mercer for twelve years.
That was longer than most marriages survived.
Owen had taken a bullet outside Providence for him.
Had carried Michael home drunk when he was nineteen.
Had stood beside Dominic at their father’s funeral.
Had found the men who scarred Dominic’s face and delivered them alive.
So when Michael said, “It’s Owen,” Dominic’s first reaction was disbelief.
His second was calculation.
A third gunshot came from below.
Michael pulled him toward a narrow iron ladder.
“There’s another exit.”
Dominic did not move.
“Proof.”
“You want proof while people are shooting?”
“I want a reason not to kill you for saying his name.”
Michael reached into his coat and tossed Dominic a flash drive.
“Financial records. Voice messages. Photographs. Owen has been working with someone called Atlas for almost five years.”
“Who is Atlas?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic studied his brother.
Michael looked older.
Thinner.
A pale burn scar covered part of his neck.
“Why fake your death?”
“Because the crash wasn’t an accident.”
Below them, footsteps thundered.
Michael opened a hidden panel.
“Move.”
They descended into a service shaft.
Ten minutes later they emerged near rocks beneath the cliff.
A fishing boat waited offshore.
Michael had planned everything.
That irritated Dominic almost as much as being lied to.
They reached a safe property in Rockport before dawn.
Owen was not with them.
Two guards claimed they had become separated during the shooting.
Dominic said nothing.
He called Owen.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Michael watched.
“He knows.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Dom.”
“Don’t.”
Michael sat down.
For several seconds the brothers simply stared at one another.
Then Dominic punched him again.
Michael wiped blood from his lip.
“Better?”
“No.”
“Good. I probably deserve another.”
“You deserve twenty-four months of them.”
“I know.”
Dominic leaned against a table.
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“And Sofia?”
Michael nodded.
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“Protected.”
“By whom?”
“People who owed Raymond Bell.”
Dominic laughed without humor.
“So the daughter of the man my father destroyed is being protected from me by people who hate my family.”
“Basically.”
“Fantastic.”
Michael rubbed his jaw.
“Sofia wanted to contact you.”
“Then why didn’t she?”
“Because every attempt created a body.”
That silenced him.
Michael explained.
After Clara’s birth, Sofia suffered complications. While she recovered, Michael moved the baby to Elena.
Then Sofia’s hospital room was attacked.
Michael got her out.
Days later, he discovered someone inside Dominic’s operation had provided her location.
“So you suspected Owen.”
“Not immediately.”
“Then who?”
“Patrick.”
Dominic nodded.
“As did Sofia.”
“Patrick had dirty financial connections. But I eventually realized someone was using his accounts.”
“Owen.”
“Yes.”
Dominic inserted the flash drive into an isolated laptop.
Documents appeared.
Transfers.
Security schedules.
Private correspondence.
A photograph of Owen meeting a man outside a hotel.
Dominic enlarged it.
The second man wore sunglasses.
Older.
Gray hair.
Dominic recognized him.
Judge Samuel Harrow.
A federal judge.
One of Dominic’s father’s oldest enemies.
“That’s impossible.”
Michael shook his head.
“No. What’s impossible is how long we missed it.”
Harrow had prosecuted organized-crime cases before becoming a judge. Publicly, he had built a career fighting families like the Rourkes.
Privately, according to Michael, Harrow had once worked with Raymond Bell.
“He knows about the ledger,” Dominic said.
“Yes.”
“And he wants it because?”
“It doesn’t just incriminate your father.”
Michael turned the computer.
“It incriminates Harrow.”
Payments made decades earlier.
Protection arrangements.
Bribes.
Political favors.
The clean judge had built his reputation on dirt.
Dominic stared.
“Atlas.”
Michael nodded.
“Harrow.”
The pieces aligned.
But one still did not.
“Why Owen?”
“Money.”
“That’s not enough.”
“You always think loyalty is personal.”
“It is.”
“No, Dom. To you it is. To Owen, loyalty was employment.”
Dominic hated the sentence because it sounded possible.
His phone buzzed.
Elena.
He answered immediately.
“Are you safe?”
Her voice shook.
“Yes. But someone cut the power fifteen minutes ago.”
Dominic’s heart stopped.
“Where is Clara?”
“With me.”
“Get to the safe room.”
“Mrs. Callahan already moved us.”
Dominic stood.
“I’m coming back.”
Michael grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
“My daughter is there.”
“And if Owen planned this, he expects you to run home.”
Dominic looked ready to tear his brother’s hand off.
Michael released him.
“Elena has better protection inside that house than anywhere else in Massachusetts. Think.”
Dominic forced himself to.
“You have Sofia’s location.”
Michael nodded slowly.
“If Owen knows you found me, he may move against her too.”
“Then we split.”
“No.”
Dominic gave him a look.
Michael sighed.
“Still impossible.”
“I’m going home. You get Sofia.”
“Dom—”
“Bring her to someplace nobody in my organization knows.”
Michael thought.
“Saint Agnes.”
Dominic frowned.
“The convent?”
“Mom used to take us there.”
“No one knows?”
“Patrick does.”
“Then not there.”
Michael smiled.
“You really have changed.”
“No. I’ve finally become suspicious enough.”
Dominic drove back toward Boston.
Halfway there Elena called again.
He answered.
No voice.
Only breathing.
“Elena?”
A man spoke.
“Mr. Rourke.”
Dominic recognized him.
Owen.
Something inside him went quiet.
“Where is she?”
“At your house.”
“Put Elena on.”
A pause.
Then Elena cried, “Dominic, don’t—”
The line muffled.
Owen returned.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not yet.”
“I tried to keep it from becoming personal.”
“You held my daughter.”
Silence.
Dominic’s voice became almost gentle.
“You ate at my table.”
“Dom—”
“You called my mother Mrs. Rourke. You carried Michael upstairs when he broke his ankle. You stood beside me at his grave.”
“I had debts.”
“So you sold a baby.”
“No. I sold information.”
“Same thing.”
Owen breathed heavily.
“Harrow wants the ledger.”
“I don’t have it.”
“He thinks Clara is the key.”
“She’s fourteen months old.”
“The medal.”
Dominic touched his pocket.
So Owen knew.
“Bring it to Rourke House.”
“You’re inside my house.”
“Yes.”
“You think that gives you control?”
“I have Elena.”
Dominic gripped the steering wheel.
“And Clara?”
“She’s safe.”
“If she cries because of you, Owen, there is nowhere on this earth far enough.”
Owen lowered his voice.
“Bring the medal.”
The call ended.
Dominic drove faster.
At the mansion, the gates stood open.
Too open.
He entered alone.
The foyer was empty.
Blood marked the floor.
Not much.
Enough.
“Elena?”
No answer.
He walked into his office.
Owen stood by the window.
Clara sat in Elena’s arms on the sofa.
A gun pressed against Elena’s side.
Dominic’s gaze settled on it.
Owen looked exhausted.
Not triumphant.
“You came alone.”
“I said I would.”
“No, I told you to.”
“Difference?”
Owen almost smiled.
Dominic removed the medal.
“This?”
Clara saw him.
Her face brightened.
“Papa!”
Owen closed his eyes briefly.
Dominic noticed.
“You don’t want to do this.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“I know you could have killed Elena already.”
“That’s not who I am.”
“Then put down the gun.”
Owen’s eyes flashed.
“Harrow owns me.”
“Nobody owns you.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Owen stared at Clara.
“My son.”
Dominic’s anger shifted.
“What?”
“He’s alive.”
“I thought Liam died.”
“So did I.”
Owen’s wife and son had supposedly died in a house fire six years earlier.
“Harrow staged it,” Owen whispered. “He has kept Liam hidden ever since. Every job. Every leak. Every location I gave him—I did it because he promised my son would live.”
Elena stared.
Dominic lowered the medal slightly.
“Owen.”
“I saw him twice.”
“Then Harrow showed you what he wanted you to see.”
Owen’s face cracked.
“Don’t.”
“You helped fake Michael’s death without knowing it. You helped move Sofia. You think a man like Harrow kept every promise to you?”
“Shut up.”
Clara began crying.
Elena rocked her.
Dominic slowly extended the medal.
“Take it.”
Owen looked surprised.
“Dominic.”
“Take it and get your son.”
Elena stared at him.
Owen stepped forward.
Then a laser-red dot appeared on Owen’s chest.
Dominic saw it.
“Owen!”
The window exploded.
Dominic lunged.
A bullet tore through Owen’s shoulder.
Elena screamed.
Dominic shielded Clara and Elena behind the desk.
A second shot hit the wall.
Outside, tires squealed.
The shooter fled.
Owen lay bleeding on the carpet.
Dominic pressed his hand over the wound.
“Stay awake.”
Owen gasped.
“Harrow.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He grabbed Dominic’s sleeve.
“He wanted me dead because I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Owen coughed.
“The ledger isn’t about money.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“What is it?”
“It’s a list of children.”
Dominic froze.
“What children?”
Owen’s eyes filled with horror.
“Kids Harrow took from people he needed to control.”
Dominic thought of Owen’s son.
Then Sofia.
Then Clara.
A pattern emerged.
Harrow did not merely buy loyalty.
He manufactured it.
Dominic’s phone rang.
Michael.
He answered.
His brother sounded breathless.
“Dom, Sofia’s gone.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Harrow?”
“Yes.”
“Any message?”
Michael went silent.
Then said, “One.”
“What?”
“He wants Clara.”
Dominic looked toward his daughter.
May you like
Michael continued.
“And he says if we don’t bring her by midnight, Sofia dies for real this time.”
Related Stories
