Chapter 5 - RED HOOK
Nico refused to take me.
I went anyway.
That sentence probably summarized our marriage.
“You’re staying here.”
“I know where the studio is.”
“Give Carlo the address.”
“There are six converted warehouses on that block.”
“Then tell him which one.”
“I can identify it when I see it.”
“You have photographs.”
“I have memory.”
Nico stood in the garage wearing a black coat over a dark sweater, his expression carved from granite.
Around us, men loaded equipment into two SUVs.
I had never seen so many people move so quickly without shouting.
“I’m not risking you too.”
“Paige was taken because of me.”
“She was taken because of your father.”
“My father is not the one in that video.”
“Evelyn.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
I opened the passenger door of the nearest SUV.
He closed it.
I opened it again.
He closed it again.
Carlo suddenly became extremely interested in checking a tire.
“Nico.”
“No.”
“If you try to physically lock me upstairs, I will break a window.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Second floor.”
“I’ll use curtains.”
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Finally Carlo coughed.
Nico turned on him.
“What?”
Carlo lifted both hands.
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“She might actually be useful.”
“Thank you, Carlo.”
“I didn’t ask for a vote.”
Carlo shrugged.
“You pay me for security advice.”
Nico looked like he wanted to fire everyone.
Ten minutes later, I was in the SUV wearing a bulletproof vest under my coat.
I hated the vest.
Mostly because it made everything real.
We drove south through Manhattan and into Brooklyn.
The city outside looked normal.
People walked dogs.
Couples carried coffee.
A man argued with a delivery driver on Atlantic Avenue.
Meanwhile I was sitting beside my husband while three cars full of armed men drove toward a warehouse where my best friend might be tied to a chair.
“How did this become my life?” I whispered.
Nico looked at me.
“You can still stay in the car.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
I turned.
His face was tired.
For the first time, I noticed a faint scar near his left eyebrow.
“You blame yourself.”
“For what?”
“Paige.”
He looked away.
“I promised you she’d have protection.”
“The guard was hit by a car. Unless you usually issue armored tanks for roommates, I’m not sure what else you could have done.”
His jaw flexed.
“You were screaming at me thirty minutes ago.”
“I contain multitudes.”
A small breath of laughter escaped him.
It vanished quickly.
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“If we find her, you stay behind me.”
“I’m not carrying a gun, so that seems reasonable.”
“If I tell you to run, you run.”
“Depends where.”
He looked at me.
I sighed.
“Fine.”
“Say it.”
“I’ll run.”
“Without arguing.”
“Now you’re becoming unrealistic.”
The first SUV stopped three blocks from the studio.
We got out.
The air smelled like rain and the harbor.
Red Hook had changed over the years—coffee shops and galleries beside warehouses that remembered when the neighborhood belonged mostly to shipping yards.
Paige’s boyfriend, Josh, rented a studio in an old furniture factory.
I pointed.
“That one.”
Carlo lifted binoculars.
“Front entrance. Side loading door. Four visible cameras.”
Nico looked at me.
“Does Josh have another entrance?”
“Roof access from the building next door.”
“How do you know?”
“Paige locked herself out after a party.”
“You climbed across a roof?”
“She did. I held her shoes.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Your life gives me anxiety.”
“Your employees carry guns.”
“Exactly.”
A man approached from the second SUV.
“Thermal shows three people on the second floor. Maybe four.”
My heart jumped.
“Paige?”
“Can’t tell.”
Nico turned to Carlo.
“Two teams. Quiet.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“What do I do?”
“Stay with Marco.”
“No.”
His gaze snapped to mine.
I lowered my voice.
“I’m not trying to be difficult. But if Paige hears strangers, she may panic. Let me get close enough to call her name.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She needs to know it’s us.”
He hesitated.
Carlo said, “She has a point.”
Nico glared at him.
Carlo looked almost apologetic.
“Security advice.”
Five minutes later, I was crouched behind a concrete wall with Marco, a man built like a refrigerator who had been assigned the apparently humiliating task of keeping me alive.
We heard nothing.
That was worse than gunfire would have been.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Nico.
WAIT.
I typed back: I KNOW.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Even during a rescue, my husband had opinions.
A minute passed.
Then two.
Then a soft crack sounded inside the warehouse.
Marco stiffened.
Another sound.
A shout.
Then chaos.
I stood.
Marco pushed me down.
“Stay.”
“That sounded like Paige.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I glared at him.
Then someone screamed.
It was absolutely Paige.
I moved.
Marco swore and followed.
The side door was open.
Inside, the warehouse smelled like dust and oil.
We climbed the stairs.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
At the top, Nico stepped into the hall.
His eyes widened when he saw me.
“What part of wait—”
“Where is she?”
A door opened behind him.
Paige stumbled out.
“Evie?”
I ran.
She hit me hard enough to nearly knock both of us down.
For several seconds, neither of us could speak.
She was crying.
I was crying.
I didn’t care who saw.
“You idiot,” she sobbed.
“Me?”
“You got married without telling me.”
I laughed into her hair.
“You were kidnapped and that’s your complaint?”
“I have priorities.”
Nico looked away.
Maybe to give us privacy.
Maybe because emotional women frightened mafia bosses.
Then Paige stiffened.
“There’s another guy.”
Nico turned.
“What?”
“They took someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. He was downstairs. I heard them talking.”
Nico looked at Carlo.
Carlo moved instantly.
I pulled back from Paige.
“Did they hurt you?”
“No. Just scared me.”
“Did you see faces?”
“One.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
She swallowed.
“He had a tattoo on his neck. Like a crown.”
Nico went still.
Carlo, halfway down the hall, stopped.
“What?” I asked.
Nico looked at him.
Carlo answered.
“Petrov doesn’t use a crown.”
“Who does?”
Neither man spoke.
I stepped closer.
“Who?”
Nico’s voice went flat.
“My uncle.”
The words hit strangely.
“Your uncle?”
“Salvatore Caruso.”
Paige wiped her face.
“The guy said something about Sal.”
Nico’s expression emptied.
I remembered Sofia saying reputations were lazy.
I wondered what else they had missed.
A shout came from downstairs.
Then a gunshot.
Nico grabbed my arm and pushed Paige and me behind him.
“Stay here.”
This time I did.
He disappeared down the stairs.
The building went quiet.
Too quiet.
Paige gripped my hand.
“What the hell did you marry into?”
“My father’s bad decisions.”
“That tracks.”
Another minute passed.
Then Carlo returned.
His face was grim.
“The second prisoner is alive.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
He looked at Nico, who had come up behind him.
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“My father’s former accountant.”
I stared.
“Your father’s?”
“Yes.”
“Why would your uncle kidnap him?”
Nico didn’t answer.
We went downstairs.
The man sat on the floor beside a concrete pillar.
He was maybe sixty-five, thin, gray-haired, with a bruise across one cheek.
When he saw Nico, he laughed weakly.
“Vittorio’s boy.”
Nico crouched in front of him.
“Mr. Bellini.”
“You finally figured it out?”
“Figured what out?”
The old man looked around.
“Where’s Sal?”
“Not here.”
“Then we don’t have long.”
Nico’s voice sharpened.
“What did you figure out?”
Bellini looked at me.
His eyes moved to my wedding ring.
“Hart’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
He laughed again.
“God has a sense of humor.”
I was tired of men speaking in riddles.
“Apparently. Explain it.”
Nico almost smiled despite everything.
Bellini coughed.
“Your father’s drive.”
My stomach dropped.
“What about it?”
“It isn’t evidence against Petrov.”
My blood chilled.
Nico went completely still.
Bellini looked at him.
“Not primarily.”
“Then what is it?”
The old man’s face changed.
“Evidence against your family.”
No one spoke.
Nico stood slowly.
“That’s impossible.”
“Your father knew someone inside Caruso operations was helping Petrov.”
“My uncle.”
Bellini nodded.
“Salvatore wanted the ports. Petrov wanted political access. James Hart’s projects gave both.”
I looked at Nico.
His face had gone white.
“Vittorio found out,” Bellini continued. “That’s why he died.”
Nico took one step forward.
“You’re saying Sal killed my father.”
“I’m saying your father discovered Sal’s deal. Then your father got sick very quickly.”
Nico’s hands curled into fists.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The week after the funeral.”
“That was you?”
Bellini smiled sadly.
“I sent the envelope.”
“What envelope?”
“Ask Sofia.”
Nico froze.
The room seemed to contract.
“What does Sofia have to do with this?”
Bellini’s gaze shifted toward the door.
“More than you think.”
A phone rang.
Not mine.
Not Nico’s.
Bellini’s.
Everyone stared at the cheap phone lying beside him.
The screen showed UNKNOWN.
Nico picked it up.
Answered.
Said nothing.
A man’s voice came through the speaker.
“Nephew.”
Nico’s face became stone.
“Sal.”
“So you found my accountant.”
Carlo looked around instantly, searching for cameras.
Salvatore laughed.
“Relax. I’m not watching.”
Nico’s voice was ice.
“You took the girl.”
“I borrowed her.”
Paige muttered something obscene.
Sal continued.
“I needed Evelyn to understand this isn’t her father’s war anymore.”
My stomach dropped.
Nico stepped in front of me as if Sal could somehow see through the phone.
“You come near my wife—”
“Your wife is the reason you’re alive.”
Silence.
Then Salvatore said the sentence that changed everything again.
“Ask James Hart why he insisted you marry her.”
Nico’s eyes shifted to mine.
Sal laughed softly.
“He didn’t offer you his daughter to buy protection.”
A pause.
“He offered her because she has the only legal claim to something you need.”
My mouth went dry.
“What?” I whispered.
Salvatore heard me.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
His voice became almost kind.
“Ask your father who really owns Pier Seventeen.”
The call ended.
No one moved.
I looked at Nico.
“What is Pier Seventeen?”
May you like
His expression told me he knew.
And that I was going to hate the answer.
