Chapter 2 - The Husband Who Wasn't Dead by Accident
Dominic got us out through the restaurant kitchen.
I barely remember the route.
Metal doors.
Steam.
Waiters shouting.
Lily clutching Mr. Buttons against her chest.
And Dominic holding one hand against my back while his other stayed near his weapon.
We reached a black SUV.
The doors opened.
I stopped.
“I’m not getting in.”
Dominic turned.
“You want to stay on the street?”
“My daughter is with me.”
“I know.”
“You are a stranger.”
“I know.”
“You say my husband saved your life, and now men are shooting at me.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like a reason to run from you, not into your car.”
For the first time, something almost like respect crossed his face.
“Fair.”
He looked toward the street.
“But if you stay here, you won't make it home.”
A second vehicle sped around the corner.
Dominic's security team raised their weapons.
I got into the SUV.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I trusted the fear in his eyes.
He climbed in beside me.
Lily sat between us.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Lily broke the silence.
“Mr. Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“Are you a bad guy?”
He looked at her.
“Sometimes.”
I almost laughed.
Lily thought about this.
“My mommy says bad people lie.”
“She’s right.”
“Do you lie?”
Dominic glanced at me.
“I used to.”
Lily nodded.
“That's okay.”
He blinked.
“Why?”
“Because Mommy forgives people.”
I looked at my daughter.
I had no idea where she got that from.
Dominic leaned back.
“She's smarter than most adults.”
“I know.”
We drove to a private townhouse in Midtown.
Not a mansion.
Not flashy.
Security was everywhere.
Dominic opened the door himself.
Lily looked around.
“Do you live here?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you have a kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Can we make pancakes?”
Dominic looked at me.
I shook my head.
“She gets hungry when she's nervous.”
“I can make pancakes.”
“You can cook?”
“Yes.”
I blinked.
The most feared man in New York could apparently make pancakes.
Life had become absurd.
An hour later, Lily slept on a sofa beneath a blanket.
Mr. Buttons rested against her cheek.
Dominic stood by the window.
I crossed my arms.
“Tell me about Evan.”
He remained silent.
“Now.”
He turned.
“Your husband worked for my father.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Your husband was an accountant.”
“I know.”
“You thought he worked for a shipping company.”
“He did.”
“Not only.”
I felt sick.
“He managed money for several private clients.”
“Illegal clients?”
Dominic's face hardened.
“Yes.”
I stared.
“No.”
“He wanted out.”
“That isn't possible.”
“Why?”
“Because Evan hated criminals.”
Dominic nodded.
“He did.”
He walked toward the table.
“That's why he became dangerous.”
He explained.
Evan discovered millions of dollars moving through shell companies.
At first he thought it was ordinary organized crime.
Then he found something else.
Payments to judges.
Police.
Politicians.
Hospital administrators.
People who controlled records.
People who could erase people.
“Why didn't he go to the police?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Because the police were being paid.”
My stomach dropped.
“He told my father he was done.”
“And your father?”
“Killed him.”
I stepped backward.
“Your father murdered my husband?”
“No.”
Dominic paused.
“My father ordered it.”
He looked away.
“But someone changed the order.”
“Changed it?”
“My father wanted Evan scared.”
“What happened?”
“Evan was supposed to disappear.”
“And instead?”
“He found evidence that my father was being betrayed by someone inside the organization.”
“Who?”
Dominic looked at Lily asleep on the sofa.
“Your husband's closest friend.”
The room went cold.
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
My breath caught.
Daniel Mercer.
Evan's best friend.
He had stood beside me at the funeral.
He had helped me with Lily.
He had visited every Christmas.
“He's been checking on us.”
Dominic nodded.
“He wasn't checking on you.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He was watching you.”
I grabbed the back of a chair.
“No.”
Dominic approached slowly.
“I need you to hear me.”
“Why didn't you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn't know whether Evan had told you anything.”
“He didn't.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if they knew you had his information, you'd already be dead.”
My blood ran cold.
I whispered,
“What information?”
“The location of the account records.”
I looked at Lily.
She slept peacefully.
“Where are they?”
Dominic stared at me.
“I don't know.”
“Then why am I alive?”
“Because someone believes you know.”
I shook my head.
“I don't.”
Dominic nodded.
“I believe you.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He reached into his pocket.
He placed something on the table.
A wedding photograph.
Evan and me.
But the photograph wasn't ours.
It had been taken three days before his death.
At the bottom, in handwriting I didn't recognize, were four words.
She doesn't remember.
I stared.
“What is this?”
“Your husband gave it to me.”
I looked up.
“He never met you?”
“He did.”
“When?”
Dominic's eyes darkened.
“The night before he died.”
Silence.
“He told me one thing.”
“What?”
Dominic stepped closer.
“If they come for my wife, protect her.”
My throat tightened.
“You knew me.”
“I had seen you.”
“How?”
“From his photographs.”
He paused.
“Evan loved you.”
The words nearly broke me.
Then Dominic said,
“He also knew his own family was going to be the danger.”
I looked toward Lily.
She shifted in her sleep.
And suddenly the years I had spent mourning Evan felt different.
Maybe I hadn't known my husband at all.
Maybe the man I loved had been living an entire life beneath the life I knew.
And maybe the blind date I thought my daughter had ruined had actually been the meeting that saved us.
May you like
Because Dominic Moretti wasn't looking at me like a stranger.
He was looking at me like a promise.
