Chapter 2 - THE TRAITOR AT MY TABLE
Niko Bellini was dragged into my warehouse forty-one minutes after I gave the order.
He came in fighting.
That was his first mistake.
Two of Marco’s men had his arms pinned behind him, while another had already removed the gun from his waistband.
“Dominic!” Niko shouted. “What the hell is this?”
I remained seated at the far end of the empty warehouse.
Rain hammered the metal roof.
Miss Rose lay on the table in front of me.
Her pink dress was still damp.
Niko saw the doll.
His face changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I had spent twenty years surviving because I noticed fractions of seconds.
Marco shoved him into a chair.
I said nothing.
Niko looked between us.
“What happened?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Little Meadows Nursery.”
His jaw tightened.
“Elena?”
“And Sofia.”
That was the child’s name.
Sofia Alvarez.
Three years old.
Thirty-four inches tall.
Afraid of thunder but not of me.
She called strawberries “strawbabies.”
She had once informed a room full of armed men that nobody was allowed to talk during her cartoon because “the bunny has feelings.”
Now she was somewhere in Red Hook with men who had threatened to cut pieces from her body.
I leaned forward.
“You reviewed Elena’s route.”
Niko swallowed.
“So did security.”
“You changed it yesterday.”
“For safety.”
“You sent her directly into an ambush.”
His eyes flashed.
“That’s insane.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me why a Colombo crew knew exactly which taxi she would be in.”
“I don’t know.”
“Four people had that route.”
“I wasn’t the only one.”
“Correct.”
I nodded toward Marco.
Marco placed four photographs on the table.
Myself.
Marco.
Niko.
And my older uncle, Salvatore Moretti.
Niko stared at the photographs.
“What is this?”
“The four people who knew.”
He laughed nervously.
“So you brought me here because I’m the easiest one to accuse?”
“You’re here because your phone contacted a prepaid number connected to a Colombo warehouse six times this month.”
Niko went still.
Marco had found that thirty minutes earlier.
Niko recovered quickly.
“Business.”
“What business?”
“Information.”
“For whom?”
Niko hesitated.
That was enough.
I stood.
The warehouse changed when I stood.
Men became quieter.
Niko became paler.
I walked toward him.
“Twelve years.”
He said nothing.
“Twelve years you ate my food.”
“I know.”
“You were there when Luca died.”
His eyes dropped.
My younger brother had been murdered seven years earlier.
Niko had carried one side of the coffin.
“You called my mother Mama Rosa even though she wasn’t yours.”
“I know.”
“You stood in my house while Sofia climbed into your lap and put stickers on your tie.”
Something in his face cracked.
“Dominic—”
“Where are they?”
“I swear to God, I don’t know.”
I hit him.
Once.
Hard enough to send the chair sideways.
Marco caught it before Niko hit the floor.
Blood appeared at the corner of Niko’s mouth.
I grabbed his collar.
“Where are my girls?”
“I didn’t know they were going to take the kid!”
The warehouse became silent.
Niko realized what he had said.
I released him.
Marco whispered:
“Jesus Christ.”
Niko closed his eyes.
I sat again.
“Start talking.”
He breathed through his nose.
“I gave them the route.”
“Why?”
“They said they only wanted Elena.”
My stomach turned.
“Why Elena?”
“Leverage.”
“For territory?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed kidnapping a woman I employ wouldn’t involve her daughter?”
“They said Sofia would be at nursery.”
“She was.”
Niko looked confused.
“What?”
“They took Elena after drop-off?”
I stared at him.
“No.”
Understanding hit him.
“They went back for the child.”
“Yes.”
Niko swore.
I believed his surprise.
That did not save him.
“Who contacted you?”
“A Colombo intermediary.”
“Name.”
“Raffaele Costa.”
Marco knew him.
A Colombo captain.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
I leaned forward.
“You’re running out of useful answers.”
Niko began sweating.
“He meets through different locations. Bars. Garages. Sometimes a church in Bensonhurst.”
“How much?”
Niko looked ashamed.
“Three hundred thousand.”
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
“Three hundred thousand dollars.”
“I had debts.”
“You could have come to me.”
“You would’ve asked questions.”
“Yes.”
“That was the problem.”
“Gambling?”
He looked away.
Of course.
He had sold a woman and a child because bookmakers frightened him more than loyalty mattered.
“Did Salvatore know?”
Niko’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“My uncle.”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
I studied him.
He looked genuinely confused.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He covered the microphone.
“We found Costa.”
“Where?”
“Dead.”
Of course.
“Location?”
“Inside one of Colombo’s abandoned garages.”
“Cause?”
“Two bullets. Close range.”
Someone was closing doors behind them.
I turned back to Niko.
“When did you last speak to Costa?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“That everything would happen today.”
“Anything else?”
Niko hesitated.
“He said somebody powerful wanted you pushed into a war.”
I looked at Marco.
“Somebody?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Niko swallowed.
“He said Colombo wasn’t the only family that would benefit if you lost Red Hook.”
A chill moved through me.
There were five major families operating across New York.
The Morettis.
Colombos.
Bellandis.
Vescovis.
And Riccis.
But only one man had spent the past decade insisting Moretti territory had grown too large.
My uncle Salvatore.
Not because he hated me.
Because he believed I had made the family soft.
I had reduced drugs.
Stopped trafficking women.
Cut ties with several violent crews.
Salvatore called it sentimentality.
Then Sofia arrived.
And for three months, my uncle watched me become something he despised even more.
Human.
Marco must have been thinking the same thing.
“You said only four people knew the route.”
“Yes.”
“And Niko gave it to Colombo.”
“Yes.”
“But somebody knew Colombo would attack.”
“Maybe.”
Niko stared at us.
“I didn’t talk to Salvatore.”
I believed him.
That terrified me more.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
I answered.
“Dominic.”
Elena.
My heart stopped.
“Where are you?”
Her breathing was ragged.
Somewhere in the background, a child was crying.
Sofia.
I closed my eyes.
“Elena, listen to me. Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay.”
“Sofia?”
“She’s scared.”
“Mama!”
The little voice nearly destroyed me.
“Dommy?”
Nobody in the warehouse moved.
I had told Sofia not to call me Dommy.
She did anyway.
“Sofia.”
“Miss Rose gone.”
My throat closed.
“I have her.”
A sob.
“You found her?”
“Yes.”
“You keep her safe?”
“I’m keeping her safe.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The line shifted.
A man took the phone.
Vincent Colombo.
“Touching.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“I’ll give you Red Hook.”
Marco stared at me.
Niko did too.
Vincent laughed.
“That easy?”
“You have Elena and Sofia.”
“So the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That Dominic Moretti finally grew a heart.”
My fingers tightened.
“You have twenty-four hours,” I said.
“I gave you forty-eight.”
“I’m changing the terms.”
He laughed.
“You don’t control this conversation.”
“I control Red Hook. You want it transferred cleanly? Then you follow my schedule.”
Silence.
Good.
He was listening.
“Tomorrow. Midnight. Pier Thirty-Eight.”
Vincent considered it.
“Come alone.”
“I will.”
“If I see a single Moretti soldier—”
“You won’t.”
The line went dead.
Marco stepped toward me.
“You’re not actually surrendering Red Hook.”
“No.”
“You said—”
“I needed him to believe desperation made me stupid.”
Niko looked at me.
“What are you going to do?”
I reached for Miss Rose.
“Exactly what he expects.”
Marco frowned.
“Which is?”
“Walk into Pier Thirty-Eight alone.”
He stared.
“That’s suicide.”
“No.”
I placed the doll inside my coat again.
“It’s bait.”
Then the warehouse door opened.
One of my guards entered.
He looked shaken.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Your uncle Salvatore is here.”
Marco and I exchanged a glance.
Salvatore entered wearing a dark overcoat.
Silver hair.
Seventy years old.
He had been my father’s older brother and the man who taught me how to hold a gun before I was old enough to drive.
He looked at Niko.
Then at me.
“What did he do?”
I said nothing.
Salvatore glanced at the blood on Niko’s face.
“Dominic.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I called Marco.”
Marco frowned.
“No, you didn’t.”
Silence.
Salvatore looked at him.
Marco repeated:
“You didn’t call me.”
My uncle’s eyes hardened.
A fraction of a second.
There it was.
I stood.
“You knew.”
Salvatore laughed softly.
“Knew what?”
“That Niko would be here.”
“Everybody knows you grabbed him.”
“No.”
I walked closer.
“My men were told not to speak.”
Salvatore stared at me.
I saw calculation behind his eyes.
Then he smiled.
“You’re becoming paranoid.”
“Probably.”
I moved until we were a few feet apart.
“How did you know?”
“Dominic—”
“Answer.”
He looked toward Niko.
And Niko finally understood.
“You.”
Salvatore’s face remained expressionless.
Niko surged against the guards.
“You set me up!”
Salvatore barely looked at him.
“You set yourself up when you started betting money you didn’t have.”
My blood went cold.
Niko stared.
“How did you know?”
Salvatore smiled.
That was his mistake.
Marco drew his gun.
Three guards followed.
Salvatore’s men outside immediately reacted, but my warehouse doors closed before they could enter.
My uncle looked at me.
“You’re pointing guns at family?”
“You betrayed mine.”
His eyes hardened.
“Elena is a maid.”
I stepped forward.
“Sofia is a child.”
“She is not Moretti blood.”
The room became silent.
I had wondered whether I was wrong.
Whether Salvatore had merely heard something through the streets.
Then he gave himself away.
I smiled.
“You just told me everything.”
For the first time, uncertainty appeared in his eyes.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“No.”
I took out my phone.
“I’m finally seeing the right enemy.”
Salvatore looked toward the door.
“Vincent has the woman and girl.”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you should focus on him.”
“I am.”
I dialed Marco’s lieutenant.
“Seal the warehouse.”
May you like
Then I looked into my uncle’s eyes.
“And nobody leaves.”
