Chương 5
“With what?”
“His tablet.”
“Where is it?”
Sofia’s eyes flicked toward the door again. “Nico had it.”
Matteo considered what Marco could be hiding. Skimming. Bribes. Off-book shipments. Those were ordinary sins in their circles. Not reasons to beat a daughter and accelerate a wedding.
“What was in the records that involved me?”
She hesitated.
“Sofia.”
She flinched at her name.
Matteo lowered his voice. “What involved me?”
“A payment to someone in your company. Initials only. E.R.”
Rizzo’s first name was Emilio, but no one called him that. Enzo Moretti was E.M. Matteo’s cousin Edward ran one of the trucking divisions.
“What else?”
“A shipment listed for Thursday. It was marked as medical equipment, but the storage code belonged to Pier Nine.”
Matteo’s pulse slowed.
Pier Nine was Moretti territory under the new agreement. Security would be reduced Thursday during a shift change Marco’s men now had legitimate access to.
“What was in the shipment?”
“I don’t know. There was a word beside it. Pulizia.”
Cleaning.
Not sanitation.
In Marco’s vocabulary, pulizia meant bodies, destroyed records, operations erased so thoroughly that no one could identify where they began.
Matteo rose.
Sofia recoiled toward the bedroom.
He stopped.
“I’m not angry at you.”
She looked unconvinced.
“Did your father know you saw the ledgers?”
“He found us in the office.”
“Nico?”
“He distracted them so I could get out.”
“How?”
“He started a fire in the laundry room.”
Despite everything, Matteo almost smiled. “That sounds like Nico.”
Sofia’s lips moved faintly. “He used too much lighter fluid.”
The moment vanished as quickly as it came.
“When was this?”
“Eleven days ago.”
The oldest bruises.
Matteo crossed to the window because remaining still had become difficult. “Your father kept you at the house after that.”
“In my room.”
“Locked?”
She nodded.
“How did you get to the wedding?”
“Two women dressed me. My father said Nico would be released after the marriage was completed.”
Matteo looked at her reflection in the glass.
“And if it wasn’t?”
“He said Nico would have an accident before sunrise.”
The city blurred for a second, though Matteo’s eyes remained open.
He had walked into that suite intending to perform a duty. Not lovingly. Not gently, perhaps. Efficiently. He had believed her silence was understanding. He had mistaken terror for compliance because the mistake made his evening simpler.
He turned back.
“Did you know about the shipment before you agreed to marry me?”
“I never agreed.”
The sentence was not loud.
It struck harder than an accusation.
Matteo’s gaze dropped to his wedding ring.
Sofia continued, each word careful. “I stood where they put me. I said what the priest told me to say. That’s not the same.”
“No,” he said after a moment. “It isn’t.”
She seemed startled by the answer.
“Do you know where your father keeps Nico?”
“He has houses.”
“Which ones?”
“He moves people.”
“People?”
“Anyone he needs quiet.”
Matteo did not ask how she knew. The bruises supplied enough of an answer.
He picked up his phone and called Rizzo.
“I need every property tied to Marco searched discreetly.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Now.”
“Looking for?”
“Nico DeLuca.”
Rizzo’s silence sharpened. “That’s an extraction.”
“It’s information.”
“That’s what we call an extraction before we admit we’re doing one.”
“Find him.”
“If Marco catches us on his property, the treaty is gone.”
“The treaty is already gone.”
“You said nothing happens tonight.”
“I changed my mind.”
Rizzo muttered, “A quality everyone admires in a leader.”
Matteo ended the call.
Sofia had gone pale.
“He’ll know,” she said.
“Not immediately.”
“You don’t know his people.”
“I know people like his.”
“No.” Her voice gained strength for the first time. “You know men who work for him. You don’t know people who are afraid of him.”
The distinction silenced him.
“He’ll call the housekeeper first,” she said. “Then the drivers. Then the men at the warehouses. He’ll ask one question three different ways. If their answers don’t match, he’ll know someone spoke.”
“What do you suggest?”
She seemed unprepared to be asked.
Matteo waited.
“My grandmother’s old house,” she said. “In Queens. He doesn’t list it under his name. It belongs to a church foundation.”
“Address?”
“I don’t know the number.”
“Street?”
“Forty-Sixth Road, near the elevated tracks. There’s a green awning and a statue of Saint Jude with one hand missing.”
Matteo called Rizzo again.
This time, Sofia gave the directions herself.
Her voice shook at first, then steadied as she described the rear entrance, the basement windows, and the neighboring mechanic’s yard where security cameras pointed toward the alley.
Rizzo listened without interrupting.
“Anything else?” he asked.
Sofia closed her eyes. “The third stair from the bottom creaks.”
“Good to know.”
“And there may be a dog.”
“What kind?”
“Small.”
Rizzo sounded offended. “Those are the worst kind.”
A breath escaped Sofia. Not quite a laugh, but close enough that Matteo noticed.
After the call, the suite became quiet again.
Sofia sat on the edge of the sofa. Matteo remained across from her.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“We wait.”
“I’m not good at that.”
“Neither am I.”
The clock on the wall made a faint ticking sound neither of them had noticed before.
Matteo removed his cuff links and set them on the table. One rolled in a slow circle before falling flat. Sofia watched it.
“I’ll sleep out here,” he said.
She looked toward the bedroom. “Can the door stay open?”
“Yes.”
“And the light?”
“Whichever lights you want.”
She stood, then paused.
“Did you believe him?”
“Your father?”
“When he said I was dramatic.”
Matteo considered lying. A kind answer would have been quick.
“For a second,” he said.
Her face closed.
“I’ve known Marco for twenty years. He lies best when he uses part of the truth. You may be dramatic.”
She stared at him.
May you like
“I don’t know you,” Matteo continued. “You may throw plates. You may scream at people. You may be impossible.”
“I don’t throw plates.”
