Chapter 5 - THE TORN DRAWING AND THE BOATHOUSE
The phone slipped from my sweaty fingers, clattering against the glass counter of the pawn shop.
Luca snatched it up instantly, his dark eyes blazing.
“Vanessa, if you touch one hair on that little girl’s head—”
“Don’t threaten me, Luca,” Vanessa’s voice purred through the speaker. “You’re not the one holding all the cards anymore. Your guards were remarkably easy to buy off. Marco works for me now.”
My knees gave out. I would have collapsed if Luca hadn’t thrown his arm around my waist, holding me upright.
Marco, the head of security. The man who had supposedly locked Vanessa in the cellar.
The man who was guarding my apartment right now.
“Where is my mother?” Luca demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
“Oh, Eleanor is here too,” Vanessa laughed softly. “She’s being terribly uncooperative. But the little girl? Molly is just precious. She’s drawing me a picture right now. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
I heard Molly’s small, terrified voice in the background.
“Mommy? I want to go home.”
A raw, animalistic sob tore from my throat. “Molly! Mommy’s coming, baby! Don’t be scared!”
“The old boathouse, Luca,” Vanessa snapped, her tone suddenly vicious. “At the edge of the Romano estate. You have one hour. If you bring anyone else, I’ll drop them both in the river.”
The line went dead.
Luca shoved the phone into his pocket and grabbed my arm, hauling me toward the door.
“Move, Rachel. Now.”
We scrambled into the SUV. Luca slammed the gearshift and floored the accelerator. The heavy truck fishtailed on the wet pavement before launching forward, running a red light.
“She’s going to kill her,” I sobbed, rocking back and forth in the passenger seat. “She killed David, and now she’s going to kill my baby.”
“Look at me,” Luca barked, reaching over and gripping my shoulder hard. “Look at me, Rachel.”
I turned my tear-streaked face to him.
“She is not going to touch your daughter,” Luca said, his voice absolute. “I failed your husband because I was blind to the snakes in my own house. I will not fail you. Do you understand?”
I nodded frantically, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
“But the boathouse,” I stammered. “It’s on Romano territory. It’s a fortress. How do we get in if we can’t bring your men?”
Luca’s expression turned remarkably calm—the terrifying calm of a predator cornered in a cage.
“I don’t need my men. I know the Romano estate better than Vanessa does. We were engaged for two years. She thinks she holds the home-field advantage. She’s wrong.”
The drive took forty agonizing minutes.
The sun was fully up now, casting a grey, overcast light over the city as we crossed the bridge toward the sprawling, heavily wooded Romano property on the outskirts of town.
Luca didn’t take the main road.
Instead, he veered the SUV off the asphalt and drove down a muddy, overgrown logging trail that plunged deep into the dense forest surrounding the estate.
Branches scraped against the armored windows like skeleton fingers.
Finally, he killed the engine.
Through the trees, the dark, churning waters of the river were visible.
Sitting on stilts above the water was the massive, decaying wooden structure of the old Romano boathouse.
Two black SUVs were parked out front. Four armed men in dark suits stood smoking on the wooden dock.
Luca reached into the backseat and pulled out a heavy duffel bag.
He unzipped it, revealing a small arsenal. He strapped a holster over his shoulder, slid a heavy pistol into it, and tucked two extra magazines into his belt.
Then, he pulled out a smaller, silver handgun.
He held it out to me.
I stared at the weapon, my hands trembling. “I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
“Flick this switch down. Point. Squeeze,” Luca said grimly. “Don’t aim for the legs. Aim for the center of mass. You are a mother protecting her cub, Rachel. You don’t need training. You need instinct.”
I took the cold, heavy metal in my hand.
The weight of it grounded me.
My husband was murdered by these people. My daughter was inside.
I flicked the safety down.
“Follow me,” Luca whispered, opening his door silently.
We crept through the thick brush, keeping low. The smell of rotting wood and river mud filled my nose.
Luca didn’t head for the front dock where the guards were.
Instead, he waded straight into the freezing, waist-deep water under the boathouse.
I gasped as the icy river soaked through my jeans, but I followed him without hesitation.
We waded through the dark, murky water beneath the floorboards.
Directly above our heads, I could hear footsteps.
And then, I heard Vanessa’s voice.
“He’s late,” she spat. “Silas, get the boat ready. We’re taking them out to deep water.”
Silas.
The brother. The hitman who beat my husband to death.
My grip on the silver gun tightened until my knuckles turned white.
“Vanessa,” Eleanor’s weary voice drifted down through the floorboards. “You’ve lost. Luca knows everything. Even if you kill us, you will never be safe.”
“Shut up, old woman!” Silas barked. I heard the sickening sound of a backhand slap, followed by Eleanor groaning.
Molly screamed. “Leave her alone!”
Tears blurred my vision. I moved to scramble up the wooden pylons, but Luca grabbed my arm, shaking his head.
He pointed upward to a trapdoor cut into the floorboards above us—used for dropping fishing nets directly into the water.
Luca waded silently until he was directly under the trapdoor.
He reached up, testing the latch. It was unlocked.
He looked at me, holding up three fingers.
Three.
I braced myself, aiming the silver gun upward.
Two.
Luca drew his own weapon.
One.
With a massive surge of strength, Luca kicked the wooden trapdoor upward. It flew open with a deafening crack, slamming backward onto the floor above.
Before the men inside could even register the sound, Luca hoisted himself up through the hole like a shadow.
Two suppressed gunshots coughed in rapid succession. Pft. Pft.
Two heavy bodies hit the floor.
I scrambled up the pylon, hauling myself through the trapdoor just as chaos erupted inside the boathouse.
Silas was diving behind a stack of wooden crates, firing wildly at Luca. The bullets shredded the wood around us.
I rolled onto the floor, wiping the dirty river water from my eyes.
I looked across the cavernous room.
Eleanor was tied to a chair. Molly was huddled beside her, crying, her hands zip-tied in front of her.
And standing directly behind them, holding a gun to my daughter’s head, was Vanessa Romano.
But Vanessa wasn’t looking at Luca.
She was staring directly at me, her eyes wide with shock.
May you like
Because hanging from my neck, gleaming against my wet shirt, was the heavy silver rosary that belonged to the man she had tried to murder six years ago.
And Vanessa realized in that second that her secrets were finally dragged into the light.
