Chapter 6 - Luca DisappearsDante doubled security that night.
That probably saved his life.
Dante’s hand had already moved beneath his jacket.
Mara saw it.
So did Adrian.
“Don’t,” Dante said.
Adrian slowly raised both hands.
“My father lied to you. That doesn’t mean I knew.”
Dante’s voice dropped.
“Your father was the last person who saw Thomas Bennett alive.”
“Yes.”
“And he told my family Thomas was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara stepped between them.
“Everybody stop.”
Dante’s eyes flashed.
“Mara.”
“No. I’m done watching men stare at each other like the answer is going to crawl out of someone’s gun.”
Adrian actually looked grateful.
Dante did not.
Mara held up the cassette.
“We have this.”
The bank had no cassette player.
Of course.
So the most feared man in Chicago, his bodyguard, Mara, and Mara’s mother drove to a twenty-four-hour electronics repair shop in Evanston because the owner apparently owed Dante a favor dating back fifteen years.
Mara chose not to ask.
An hour later, they sat inside the lake house study around an ancient tape recorder.
Elaine pressed play.
Static crackled.
Then Thomas Bennett’s voice filled the room.
Mara stopped breathing.
She had forgotten his voice.
Memory returned instantly.
Warm.
Low.
Always sounding slightly amused.
“If Elaine is hearing this, I’m sorry.”
Her mother covered her mouth.
“If Mara is hearing it…”
Thomas paused.
“I’m even more sorry.”
Mara’s eyes burned.
The recording continued.
Thomas described the Harbor Group.
Not a single organization.
A partnership.
Police officers.
Dock officials.
Businessmen.
Criminal crews.
They had discovered something more profitable than drugs or gambling.
Information.
Shipping schedules.
Witness identities.
Evidence transfers.
Government contracts.
They bought secrets and sold access.
Then Thomas said something that changed everything.
“The man organizing it calls himself Shepherd.”
Dante leaned forward.
“I don’t know Shepherd’s real name. I know he has someone inside Vittorio Moretti’s circle. Someone close enough to know when his family travels, where the money moves, and which men can be trusted.”
Static.
“I thought it was Michael Vale.”
Adrian went rigid.
His father.
“But I was wrong.”
Everyone looked at Adrian.
The recording continued.
“Michael found me two nights ago. He said he discovered Shepherd’s identity.”
Adrian whispered, “Jesus.”
“He wanted to help me expose him.”
Mara looked at Dante.
So Adrian’s father hadn’t been the traitor.
Thomas continued.
“Before Michael could give me the name, someone attacked us near Pier Nineteen. Michael was shot. I got him out.”
Adrian’s face crumpled.
“My father was shot?”
Dante turned.
“You told me he died from a heart attack.”
“That’s what I was told.”
The tape continued.
“If Michael survives, Shepherd will force him to say I died. That is the only way Shepherd can stop anyone from searching for me.”
Mara’s heartbeat accelerated.
“I’m going underground. I’m leaving the evidence somewhere Shepherd can’t reach.”
The tape clicked.
Then Thomas gave an address.
An abandoned storage facility near Calumet Harbor.
Dante stood immediately.
“We’re going.”
Mara stood too.
“No.”
“No?”
“You’re not turning this into an armed invasion.”
“If Shepherd still exists, that facility may be watched.”
“Then we go carefully.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“You were discharged from the hospital yesterday.”
“And apparently I’m the person my father left this for.”
Dante stared at her.
Mara stared back.
Bianca, standing in the doorway, sighed.
“Just save yourself ten minutes and say yes, Dante. She has the exact same look Luca gets when you tell him he can’t have ice cream.”
Dante glared at his sister.
Mara smiled.
They went after dark.
Adrian remained behind.
Dante claimed it was precaution.
Adrian called it suspicion.
Both were true.
The storage facility had closed fourteen years ago.
Rows of rusted units stood behind a sagging fence.
Dante brought two men.
Mara brought the key from the safe deposit box.
Unit 317.
The lock opened.
Inside: nothing.
Dust.
Concrete.
An old metal shelf.
Mara’s disappointment was immediate.
“Seventeen years for an empty room.”
Dante examined the floor.
“No.”
“What?”
“This shelf was moved.”
He pushed it aside.
Behind it was a rectangular patch in the concrete.
One of the guards found a pry bar.
Ten minutes later, they lifted a shallow metal panel.
Inside rested a waterproof case.
Mara’s hands shook.
She opened it.
Documents.
Photographs.
Ledger pages.
A flash drive that looked newer than seventeen years.
She frowned.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
Dante saw it too.
“Somebody updated the cache.”
“When?”
“Recently.”
At the bottom of the case was another photograph.
Mara pulled it out.
Her father.
Older.
Much older.
Gray at the temples.
Standing outside a diner.
A date stamp appeared in the corner.
Eight months ago.
Mara almost dropped it.
“He’s alive.”
Dante took the photograph.
Something raw crossed his face.
“He was alive eight months ago.”
A noise sounded outside.
Metal scraping concrete.
Dante instantly killed the flashlight.
“Behind me.”
Mara whispered, “Absolutely not.”
“Mara.”
A gunshot exploded.
The storage unit door sparked.
One guard returned fire.
Dante grabbed Mara around the waist and pulled her behind a concrete pillar.
More shots.
A vehicle engine roared outside.
Then silence.
Dante’s men cleared the entrance.
Whoever attacked them was gone.
One guard had been hit in the arm.
Nobody else was injured.
Mara’s heart pounded.
Dante crouched beside her.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
He touched her face, her shoulders, checking anyway.
“I said I’m okay.”
He looked at her.
Their faces were inches apart.
For one strange moment, everything else vanished.
Then one of Dante’s men called from outside.
“Boss.”
Dante stood.
On the hood of their SUV lay a burner phone.
It began ringing.
Dante answered on speaker.
A distorted male voice filled the night.
“Dante Moretti.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Who is this?”
“You brought the girl.”
Mara’s blood chilled.
Dante looked around the dark property.
Someone was watching.
The voice continued.
“Thomas always said she was brave.”
Mara stepped closer.
“Where is my father?”
Silence.
Then a laugh.
“Still asking the wrong question.”
“What’s the right one?”
“Why did he come back?”
The call ended.
A text arrived immediately.
A photograph.
Thomas Bennett sitting at a table.
Today’s newspaper lay in front of him.
Alive.
Beside the photograph were six words.
BRING DANTE IF YOU WANT HIM BACK.
Mara looked at Dante.
The truth landed between them.
Her father hadn’t simply resurfaced.
He had been captured.
May you like
And whoever held him didn’t want money.
They wanted Dante Moretti.
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