Chapter 7 - The Ledger Beneath the Bed
The ledger was sealed beneath the frame of Gabriel's hospital bed.
Not a book.
A waterproof memory card inside a steel capsule.
Gabriel had stolen it from Salvatore years earlier and spent months copying information from paper records before he was captured.
Names.
Dates.
Accounts.
Murders.
Bribes.
Judges.
Police officers.
Union officials.
Businessmen.
Everything.
Michael held the card as if it were radioactive.
"This could dismantle half the network."
Roman looked at him.
"Including mine?"
Michael did not soften the answer.
"Maybe."
Roman nodded.
"Good."
Everyone stared.
Michael frowned.
"What?"
Roman looked at Gabriel.
"My father built a prison and called it family. Salvatore maintained it. If my name belongs in your case, put it there."
Michael studied him.
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
I believed him.
Maybe because he looked tired.
Not physically.
Tired in the way people look when they finally stop defending a life they never chose.
Gabriel reached for Roman's hand.
"Don't destroy yourself to prove you're different from Dad."
Roman looked at him.
"I'm not."
"Then prove it another way."
Before Roman could answer, Luca entered.
"Police are coming."
Michael stood.
"I called my supervisor."
Luca looked uneasy.
"Which one?"
"Deputy Chief Ellen Price."
Gabriel's face changed.
"Price?"
Michael turned.
"You know her?"
"Her father was Judge Harold Price."
Michael nodded.
"So?"
Gabriel pushed himself upright.
"Judge Price took money from Salvatore."
My stomach tightened.
"Michael."
He stared at his phone.
"I told her where we are."
Roman was already moving.
"How long?"
"Seven minutes."
"Then we have maybe two."
Luca gave orders.
The clinic became motion.
Gabriel could barely walk.
Roman lifted him without asking.
Gabriel complained.
Roman ignored him.
Michael copied the memory card onto an encrypted drive.
I grabbed the steel capsule.
We moved through a back corridor toward the loading area.
Sirens sounded.
Too soon.
Roman looked at Michael.
"Your supervisor didn't send police."
Michael's face hardened.
"She sent Salvatore's people with badges."
The first shots hit the front entrance.
We exited through a laundry door.
Two SUVs waited.
Roman put Gabriel and Michael in the first.
I started toward it.
Roman caught my hand.
"Second vehicle."
"No."
"If they identify Gabriel—"
"They'll follow him."
"Exactly. We split."
I understood.
Roman and I entered the second SUV.
For five minutes, both vehicles traveled together.
Then Luca's car turned north.
Ours went east.
Two unmarked police vehicles followed us.
Roman watched through the rear window.
"Not real cops."
"How can you tell?"
"No plates."
"That's comforting."
He almost smiled.
Then the first bullet struck the rear glass.
I ducked.
Roman pulled me down.
Our driver accelerated.
Chicago blurred outside.
Another vehicle appeared ahead.
Blocked intersection.
Trap.
The driver swerved into an alley.
We hit trash cans.
A mirror shattered.
Roman drew a pistol.
I stared.
"You had that the whole time?"
"Yes."
"During the diner?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't pull it?"
"Too many civilians."
That answer mattered.
The pursuing car entered the alley.
Roman lowered his window two inches and fired at its front tire.
The shot was deafening.
The vehicle fishtailed and slammed into a dumpster.
We escaped.
Twenty minutes later, we reached a Bellucci-owned hotel downtown through an underground entrance.
Michael called from a secure line.
They were safe.
Gabriel was being moved to a private medical floor.
Roman sat in the hotel suite and cleaned the cut above his eyebrow.
I took the antiseptic from him.
"You're terrible at that."
"I've done it before."
"That explains the scars."
I stood between his knees and dabbed the wound.
He watched me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"You're standing very close."
I stepped back.
His hand lightly caught my wrist.
"Don't."
My heart kicked.
"Don't what?"
"Move away because I said something true."
The room went quiet.
This was absurd.
We had known each other barely two days.
Someone had tried to kill us three times.
His criminal empire was under investigation by the man I had just discovered had once been my foster brother.
His supposedly dead brother was alive.
And I was thinking about Roman Bellucci's mouth.
"This is a terrible idea," I whispered.
"Probably."
"You agree too quickly."
"I've had a difficult week."
"It's Wednesday."
That made him laugh.
A real laugh.
Warm.
Unexpected.
Then he sobered.
"My life is dangerous."
"I noticed."
"I don't know what happens when Michael uses that ledger."
"Neither do I."
"I may lose everything."
"Maybe you should."
His brows rose.
"Your criminal empire," I clarified.
"Not everything."
His eyes held mine.
"What would be left?"
I thought about the diner.
Clarence.
Gabriel.
Michael.
The way Roman had knelt beside an old man without hesitation.
The way he had covered my body during gunfire.
The way he listened when the truth hurt.
"Maybe the part worth keeping."
He stood.
We were suddenly too close.
His hand touched the side of my face.
He gave me time to step away.
I didn't.
Roman kissed me.
It wasn't gentle at first.
It was two days of fear and anger and impossible truths colliding.
Then it changed.
Slowed.
His forehead rested against mine.
"I've wanted to do that since you called my instructions bad."
"That was several instructions ago."
"You've ignored all of them."
"You're welcome."
His phone rang.
Of course it did.
Roman closed his eyes.
I laughed.
"Answer it."
He did.
Luca's voice came through.
"Boss. We found Salvatore."
Roman straightened.
"Where?"
"Bellucci headquarters."
Roman went still.
"My office?"
"He's there now."
"Why?"
A pause.
Then Luca said, "He has the board."
Roman's face hardened.
Bellucci Development had twelve senior partners.
Seven were family.
Salvatore had called an emergency meeting.
By the time we arrived, the building was surrounded.
Not by police.
By Roman's own people.
Some loyal to him.
Some not.
Inside the boardroom, Salvatore sat at the head of the table.
Sixty-eight years old.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
Gold ring.
Black wolf.
I recognized it from my childhood before I consciously remembered why.
My knees weakened.
Roman felt it.
He looked at me.
"That's him?"
I nodded.
"That's the man who came to our house."
Salvatore smiled.
"Thomas's little girl."
Roman stepped in front of me.
Salvatore sighed.
"Always protecting strays."
Roman's voice was ice.
"You poisoned my mother."
"I followed Carlo's wishes."
"You took Gabriel."
"He was weak."
"You murdered Thomas."
"He was inconvenient."
My hands clenched.
Roman did not move.
That restraint scared Salvatore more than shouting would have.
"You won't kill me here," Salvatore said.
"No."
Roman looked toward Michael.
I had not seen him enter.
He wore a dark suit.
Badge at his belt.
Two federal agents beside him.
Roman continued.
"I'm going to let a prosecutor do something worse."
Salvatore's smile vanished.
Michael placed handcuffs on the table.
"Salvatore Bellucci, you're under arrest for conspiracy, kidnapping, attempted murder, obstruction of justice, and multiple federal racketeering offenses."
Salvatore laughed.
"On what evidence?"
Michael held up a drive.
"Enough."
For one second, I thought it was over.
Then one of the board members pulled a gun.
Roman shouted.
The shot fired.
Michael jerked backward.
I screamed.
The room exploded into chaos.
Agents tackled the shooter.
Roman drew his weapon.
Salvatore ran toward the side door.
I dropped beside Michael.
Blood spread across his shirt.
"Michael!"
He gasped.
"Vest."
I nearly cried from relief.
Then Roman shouted from the hallway.
Salvatore had disappeared.
Luca ran after him.
Thirty seconds later, the building's fire alarm began screaming.
Roman looked upward.
Smoke slid beneath the ceiling.
Salvatore had not come to win the board.
May you like
He had come to burn the building.
And with it, every paper record that could prove what the Bellucci family had done.
