Chapter 10 - The Day Luca DeLuca SurrenderedThe newspapers called it the DeLuca Collapse.
Empty.
Closet open.
Her clothes gone.
He called her.
Straight to voicemail.
Marco stood behind him.
“Security footage shows she left twelve minutes ago.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why did nobody stop her?”
“You told her she wasn’t a prisoner.”
Luca closed his eyes.
He had.
Damn her for listening.
“Track her phone.”
“She turned location services off.”
Daniel appeared in the hallway.
“What happened?”
Luca looked at him.
“Emily left.”
Daniel shrugged.
“Yeah.”
“You knew?”
“She told me.”
“And you let her?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“Pretty sure she’s twenty-eight.”
Luca stared at him.
Daniel’s expression changed.
“You told her to go, didn’t you?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“No, that’s extremely relevant.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
“She said she needed to make a choice without you making it for her.”
Luca swore.
Daniel folded his arms.
“You’re bad at relationships.”
“We are not in a relationship.”
“Sure.”
“Daniel.”
“Fine. She went to the shop.”
Luca stopped.
“Carter Auto?”
“She wanted Mom’s music box.”
The recording.
Luca was moving before Daniel finished.
Carter Auto remained damaged from the attack.
Yellow police tape covered the entrance.
Emily slipped beneath it.
The shop smelled like smoke.
She walked directly toward her father’s office.
Her mother’s music box had sat on the bookshelf for years.
Small wooden case.
Painted roses.
Emily lifted it.
The melody began.
Moon River.
Her mother’s favorite.
Emily turned the box over.
Nothing.
She removed the velvet lining.
Still nothing.
“Come on, Dad.”
Then she remembered.
Where your mother still sings.
Not the music box.
Her mother had sung while painting the old sign above the office.
Emily looked up.
A wooden sign hung crookedly.
ROBERT & MARY CARTER
She pulled it down.
Behind it was a tiny cassette recorder.
Emily laughed through tears.
“Dad.”
The tape remained inside.
She pressed play.
Static.
Then voices.
Victor Moretti.
Peter DeLuca.
And another man.
They discussed Frank’s murder.
Dates.
Payment.
Route.
Police response.
Everything.
Emily stopped the tape.
Proof.
Real proof.
Behind her, someone clapped.
Slowly.
She turned.
Vincent Moretti stood in the garage entrance.
Blood darkened one sleeve.
He pointed a pistol at her.
“Your father really was clever.”
Emily’s heart hammered.
“How did you find me?”
“I didn’t.”
He smiled.
“I found the thing you’d eventually come for.”
She glanced toward the exits.
Two men blocked them.
Vincent walked closer.
“Give me the tape.”
“No.”
“I’m tired, Emily.”
“So am I.”
“I’ve spent six months chasing that recording.”
“Then this must be frustrating.”
His eyes hardened.
“You think Luca’s coming?”
Emily said nothing.
Vincent laughed.
“He pushed you away.”
“He tried.”
“Men like Luca don’t love women. They collect them.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“No.”
Emily held the recorder tighter.
“You’re describing yourself.”
Vincent raised the gun.
“You have ten seconds.”
Emily’s fear returned.
Not weakness.
Information.
Fear told her she had no chance fighting three armed men.
So she needed time.
“You kill me, you lose the tape.”
“It’s in your hand.”
“Is it?”
Vincent frowned.
Emily smiled.
“My father made copies.”
A lie.
Vincent hesitated.
“Where?”
“Safe place.”
“What safe place?”
“Let me leave.”
He laughed.
“You’re terrible at negotiating.”
“I learned from Luca.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
A vehicle roared outside.
Vincent spun.
Black SUV.
Luca.
Emily almost smiled.
Then Vincent grabbed her.
His arm locked around her throat.
The pistol pressed against her temple.
Luca entered with Marco and six men.
He saw Emily.
Relief flashed across his face so quickly nobody else might have caught it.
She did.
“Let her go.”
Vincent laughed.
“This feels familiar.”
Luca lowered his weapon.
“You want the tape.”
“Correct.”
“I’ll trade.”
Emily frowned.
“Luca.”
Vincent grinned.
“For?”
“Your life.”
“My life?”
“Walk away.”
Marco looked at Luca.
Vincent laughed.
“You’re going to let me disappear?”
“Yes.”
“For one cassette?”
“For her.”
Emily’s heart stopped.
Vincent considered.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Your men won’t follow?”
“No.”
“And federal prosecutors?”
“They’ll know what I know. But I won’t hunt you.”
Vincent’s grip loosened slightly.
“Drop your gun.”
Luca did.
“Luca!”
He looked at Emily.
“Trust me.”
She did.
Vincent kicked the gun away.
“Tape.”
Emily held it.
“No.”
Vincent pressed the pistol harder.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“Emily.”
She understood.
He was buying her survival.
But she had spent too much of her life allowing violent men to determine the available choices.
“No.”
Vincent shouted, “Give me the tape!”
Emily slammed her heel onto his foot and dropped her weight.
Vincent fired.
The bullet went into the ceiling.
Luca moved.
Marco fired first, hitting one guard.
Luca tackled Vincent.
Emily rolled across the floor.
The tape skidded beneath a workbench.
Vincent and Luca crashed into a tool chest.
Vincent swung the pistol.
Luca blocked him.
Punch.
Elbow.
Knee.
Vincent grabbed a screwdriver and drove it toward Luca’s neck.
Luca caught his wrist.
Emily saw the second gun.
Hidden at Vincent’s ankle.
He reached.
“Luca!”
Emily grabbed the tire iron she had used during the first attack.
She swung.
It struck Vincent’s wrist.
The gun fell.
Luca kicked it away.
Marco’s men secured the remaining attackers.
Vincent lay on the floor.
Luca stood over him.
For seventeen years, Luca had imagined what he would do if he ever found the man responsible for his father’s murder.
Now the son of that man lay beneath him.
And Luca felt something unexpected.
Nothing.
Killing Vincent would not bring Frank back.
Would not erase Emily’s bruises.
Would not restore Anthony’s loyalty.
Would not give him back the years spent becoming a man his father had tried to save him from.
Luca stepped away.
“Take him.”
Vincent stared.
“That’s it?”
Luca looked down.
“That’s it.”
“You’re letting the government handle me?”
“Yes.”
Vincent laughed wildly.
“You’ve gone soft.”
Luca glanced toward Emily.
“No.”
He walked toward her.
“I finally learned the difference between strength and cruelty.”
Vincent was dragged away.
Emily retrieved the cassette.
For several seconds, she and Luca stood facing one another.
“You followed me.”
“Yes.”
“I told Daniel not to tell you.”
“He lasted approximately four minutes.”
“Traitor.”
“He likes me.”
“He likes your refrigerator.”
“Also true.”
Emily smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“You told Moretti you’d let him go.”
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“Yes.”
“You would’ve lost the evidence.”
“Yes.”
“You would’ve let the man responsible for everything disappear.”
Luca stepped closer.
“For you, yes.”
“Why?”
He seemed almost irritated by the question.
“Because I love you.”
Silence.
Even Marco looked away.
Emily stared at Luca.
“You…”
“Yes.”
“That’s terrible timing.”
“I’m aware.”
“You told me to leave three hours ago.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You are genuinely terrible at relationships.”
“So Daniel says.”
Emily laughed.
Then tears came unexpectedly.
Luca’s expression softened.
“Emily?”
She stepped into him.
His arms closed around her.
Carefully.
Always carefully.
She pressed her face against his chest.
“I hate you a little.”
“Fair.”
“You’re controlling.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Terrifying.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“Arrogant.”
“Emily.”
“And I love you too.”
Luca became completely still.
She looked up.
“I’m still angry.”
“I can live with that.”
“Good.”
He touched her cheek.
“Can I kiss you?”
The question nearly broke her heart.
Because months earlier, men had touched her whenever they wanted.
Luca DeLuca, feared by half of Manhattan, waited for permission.
Emily whispered, “Yes.”
He kissed her.
Slowly.
No possession.
No demand.
Just warmth.
When they separated, Marco cleared his throat.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not,” Luca said.
“Absolutely not.”
Marco held up his phone.
“Federal agents are ten minutes out.”
Luca’s expression became serious.
Emily squeezed his hand.
“What happens now?”
He looked at the cassette.
“Now we tell the truth.”
“And after?”
“I don’t know.”
She leaned against him.
“For once, neither do I.”
Luca looked down at her.
May you like
Oddly, the uncertainty did not frighten him.
Not anymore.
