Chapter 2 - Shadows on the Waterfront
Antoine’s expression hardened into something chillingly blank. The air in the study grew so still that the distant rumble of thunder outside sounded like distant artillery fire. He didn't raise his voice, but every muscle in his frame tensed.
"How long?" Antoine asked.
"Ten minutes," Donovan replied, stepping closer to the desk. "Frank, the manager at Bayou Grace, didn't talk. But a patron—one of the councilman's aides—saw the triplets react to Miss Marsh. Word travels fast when people realize the ghost of Bayou Grace has finally been seen in public with an ordinary waitress holding his children."
Della felt her heart hammer against her ribs. The name Rossi wasn't just a rumor whispered in the back booths of the diner; it was the name of the rival syndicate that controlled the eastern docks, a violent faction that had been warring with Antoine’s shipping empire for control of the port distribution channels. If they realized Antoine had a soft spot—if they realized three infants and an ordinary waitress held the key to the most feared man in Louisiana—she wouldn't just lose her job at Bayou Grace; she wouldn't survive the night.
"They know about her?" Antoine asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Della.
"Not her name yet," Donovan said, shaking his head. "My guys intercepted the initial chatter before it reached the higher-ups. But it won't take long. They know the triplets were at the diner. They know you were there. And they know a woman in an apron made them speak."
Antoine slammed his hand down on the mahogany desk. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room. "Move the safehouse detail to double rotation. Bring the boys and their nanny to the Uptown estate immediately. I want every approach covered."
"And Miss Marsh?" Donovan asked, his gaze shifting back to Della with cold, professional appraisal. "We can't just send her back to her apartment. If the Rossis trace her license plate or her shift schedule, she becomes the primary target."
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Della stood up abruptly, backing away from the desk until her legs hit the back of the leather chair. "No. Absolutely not. I am not getting involved in a mob war. I came here because your kids grabbed my fingers, Mr. Maro, but I have a life. I have bills. I have my own apartment."
"You don't have an apartment anymore if the Rossis decide to use you to break me," Antoine said, stepping around the desk and closing the distance between them with terrifying speed. He wasn't threatening her; he was stating a brutal, unvarnished fact. "You think you can walk out those front gates, take the streetcar back to Tremé, and pretend none of this happened? The moment you made those children say 'Mama,' your life stopped belonging just to you."
