Chapter 3 - THE BURNED COAT
The sound of shattering glass was completely drowned out by the roaring in my ears.
"Stay down!" Marcus roared, pulling his weapon from his shoulder holster.
I huddled beneath the sticky diner table, my arms wrapped protectively around my stomach.
Dust and plaster rained down on my hair as a second volley of bullets ripped through the diner’s facade.
"Are they Matteo's men?" I gasped, my voice trembling.
"No," Marcus fired twice over the edge of the booth. "Morettis. Matteo must have tracked your charter flight. He knows you're in Chicago, and he knows his enemies will use you as leverage."
A heavy silence suddenly fell over the diner.
The shooting stopped.
"Marcus," a cruel, amplified voice echoed from the parking lot. "Send the girl out. We don't want you. We just want Rossi's wife and the bastard she's carrying."
My breath hitched.
They knew about the baby.
"We have to go out the back," Marcus whispered, his eyes darting toward the kitchen swinging doors. "When I say move, you run. Don't look back."
"I'm not leaving you," I said, gripping his sleeve.
"You are carrying your father's only grandchild," Marcus said fiercely, pressing the silver pocket watch into my palm. "Hide the watch. Keep the microfilm safe. Go!"
Marcus stood up, laying down covering fire.
I scrambled from beneath the booth, my heavy winter coat catching on the torn leather.
I didn't stop to untangle it.
I slipped out of the coat, leaving it behind, and ran toward the kitchen.
I burst through the back exit into the freezing Chicago alleyway.
The rain was turning into sleet, biting into my skin through my thin sweater.
I ran.
I ran until my lungs burned and my legs felt like lead.
I didn't stop until I found a narrow gap between two abandoned brick warehouses, sliding into the darkness just as a Moretti SUV slowly rolled past the mouth of the alley.
I pressed my hands against my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing.
The baby kicked violently against my ribs, a sharp reminder of exactly what was at stake.
I pulled out the burner phone I had purchased in Boston.
I only had one number saved.
I stared at the screen for a long time.
My father's murderer.
My husband.
The man who had lied to me for three years.
But he was also the only man powerful enough to stop the Morettis from putting a bullet in my stomach.
I dialed the number.
Matteo answered on the first ring.
He didn't say hello.
He didn't ask how I was.
His voice was a lethal, vibrating growl of absolute panic.
"Where are you?"
"Matteo," my voice cracked.
"Norah." I could hear the sheer terror in his voice. "Norah, are you hurt? Is the baby okay?"
"The Morettis found me," I whispered, sliding down the brick wall to sit on the cold ground. "They shot up the diner. I got away, but they're looking for me."
"I am ten minutes away," Matteo said, the sound of a roaring engine echoing through his end of the phone. "Tell me exactly where you are."
"I'm near the rail yards," I said. "South side."
"Stay hidden. Do not move. I am coming for you."
"Matteo."
"I swear to God, Norah, if they touch a single hair on your head, I will burn this entire city to the ground."
"Why did you do it?" I asked, the question tearing out of my chest.
Silence on the line.
"Norah, we can talk about this when you are safe—"
"Did you kill him?" I sobbed, clutching the silver watch tight in my hand. "Did you order the hit on my father?"
The silence that followed was heavier than the freezing rain.
"Who told you that?" Matteo's voice dropped to a terrifyingly calm register.
"It doesn't matter who told me. Is it true?"
Matteo sighed, a ragged, broken sound.
"Norah... it's complicated."
That was all I needed to hear.
It was a confession.
"Don't come for me," I said, my voice suddenly turning to ice.
"Norah, do not hang up this phone. You cannot survive the Morettis alone."
"I'd rather take my chances with them than go back to a monster."
I ended the call.
I pulled the battery out of the burner phone and threw it into a nearby dumpster.
I was completely alone.
Ten minutes later, Matteo's armored SUV screeched to a halt outside the shattered remains of the diner.
Matteo stepped out into the rain, his gun drawn.
The Morettis were gone.
The police hadn't arrived yet.
He walked through the broken glass doors, his eyes scanning the carnage.
Blood stained the linoleum floor near the front counter.
Marcus's body lay still beside a tipped-over stool.
Matteo felt his heart stop.
He walked mechanically toward the back booths, his eyes searching for her.
He prayed he wouldn't find her.
He prayed she was still running.
Then he saw it.
Tangled in the springs of a destroyed booth was Norah's heavy winter coat.
It was covered in dust and plaster.
Matteo reached out with a trembling hand and pulled the coat free.
He brought the fabric to his face.
He could smell her. Vanilla and sweet almond.
But underneath the perfume, he smelled something else.
Gunpowder.
And blood.
"Boss," Arthur stepped into the diner, his face pale. "We checked the alley. She's gone. But the Morettis left a message."
Matteo looked up, his eyes dead and hollow.
"What message?"
Arthur pointed to the wall near the kitchen doors.
Written in red spray paint, hastily scrawled across the plaster, were five words.
WE HAVE YOUR PREGNANT WIFE.
Matteo stared at the wall.
He looked down at Norah's coat in his hands.
And then, Matteo Rossi did something none of his men had ever seen him do.
He fell to his knees in the broken glass and wept.
May you like
Because he knew the Morettis wouldn't just kill her.
They would make him listen.
