Chapter 3 - THE MAN WITH NICO’S CODE
Marco killed the lights.
The townhouse went dark.
Eden’s heart slammed.
Nico’s hand closed around her wrist.
“Stay behind me.”
“I hate that sentence.”
“Tonight I don’t care.”
Fair.
Footsteps sounded in foyer.
One.
Maybe two.
Marco moved toward side hall.
Nico drew his gun.
Eden whispered:
“Back stairs.”
He looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“I noticed when we came in.”
Of course she did.
Waitressing trained people to map rooms.
Exits.
Tables.
Danger.
Nico nodded.
They moved.
At the top of stairs, a voice came from below.
“Nico.”
He froze.
Marco did too.
The voice was familiar to them.
Not Eden.
Nico whispered:
“Uncle.”
A man stepped into dim emergency light.
Late fifties.
Silver hair.
No gun visible.
Arthur Ferraro.
Nico’s father’s younger brother.
Publicly retired from family business.
Privately, according to Chicago rumor, the man who taught Nico how to survive.
Nico did not lower weapon.
“Why did you use my code?”
Arthur looked offended.
“You gave it to me.”
“Four years ago.”
“Still works.”
“That changes tonight.”
Eden almost smiled.
Wrong time.
Arthur looked at her.
“Waitress.”
“Eden.”
“Right.”
He looked back to Nico.
“You were hit.”
“Attempted.”
“Gallo?”
“Maybe.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Marco spoke:
“Marcus Vale had an employee badge under Evan Walsh.”
Arthur’s face changed.
Tiny.
Eden saw.
Nico saw her see it.
“Know the name?” Nico asked.
“No.”
Lie.
Too quick.
Eden’s skin prickled.
Arthur looked at her.
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
Arthur stared.
Interesting.
Nico stepped closer.
“How did you know?”
Silence.
Arthur had made mistake.
Nico’s voice went colder.
“I said how did you know?”
Arthur exhaled.
“Because I saw him last month.”
Eden stopped.
“What?”
“Where?”
“Indiana.”
“Why?”
“He contacted me.”
Eden nearly crossed room.
Nico caught her arm.
Not force.
Reminder.
Arthur continued.
“He said someone was rebuilding your father’s old crew.”
Nico’s face hardened.
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Evan asked me not to.”
Eden laughed bitterly.
“Of course. Everyone loves secrets.”
Arthur ignored.
“He thought whoever moved against Ferraro would use his old death record.”
“Why?”
“To hide transport.”
Nico frowned.
“Transport of what?”
“People.”
The room cooled.
Human trafficking?
Witnesses?
Eden thought of Evan’s betting crew.
Illegal sports books sometimes connected to debt collection.
Debt collection to everything worse.
Arthur said:
“Your father had a program.”
Nico stared.
“What program?”
“Not ours.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your father shut it down.”
Marco looked confused.
Arthur continued.
“A network moved indebted people through logistics routes. False IDs. Work camps. Private security contracts.”
Eden felt sick.
“Slavery.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Yes.”
Nico’s face changed.
“And Evan?”
“He found records.”
Three years ago.
Then he “died.”
Eden whispered:
“He was running bets.”
“He was laundering payments.”
She stared.
“No.”
“For who?”
“Not Ferraro.”
“Then?”
“Rinaldi accounts.”
Gallo.
Rival family.
Everything circled.
Nico lowered gun slightly.
“Who ran network?”
Arthur looked away.
“My brother.”
Nico’s father.
No.
Arthur immediately added:
“Before he tried to end it.”
Convenient.
Nico laughed darkly.
“Everyone becomes innocent after death.”
Arthur accepted.
“He was not innocent.”
Good.
“But he realized the network would eventually destroy us.”
“What did he do?”
“Moved names into private ledger.”
“Where?”
“Unknown.”
“Who knew?”
“Marcus Vale.”
Dead shooter.
“And?”
“Me.”
Nico stared.
“Anyone else?”
Arthur’s silence said yes.
“Name.”
“Your mother.”
Nico went still.
Eden knew almost nothing about Nico’s mother.
Chicago society pages said Sofia Ferraro died in Switzerland five years ago.
Cancer.
Apparently this family had dead-parent problems too.
“What did she know?”
Arthur’s face softened.
“Everything.”
“Then why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because your father made her promise.”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“Dead men have too much authority.”
Eden whispered:
“Agreed.”
He glanced at her.
Arthur said:
“Sofia believed one person inside Ferraro still ran pieces of network.”
“Who?”
“She never proved it.”
“Suspect?”
Arthur looked at Marco.
Eden’s blood froze.
Marco did not move.
Nico said:
“Careful.”
Arthur nodded.
“Marco’s father.”
Marco’s face emptied.
“My father died fifteen years ago.”
“He was logistics chief.”
“So?”
“He designed routes.”
Marco stepped closer.
“My father designed legal routes.”
“No.”
Nico raised hand.
“Enough.”
He looked at Arthur.
“Why come tonight?”
“Because your gate alarm went off.”
“Private code.”
“Yes.”
“Who told you where I was?”
Arthur hesitated.
Nico’s eyes sharpened.
“Exactly.”
Arthur looked toward Eden.
“Evan.”
Her brother knew Nico’s safe house.
How?
Eden’s head spun.
“Where is my brother?”
Arthur said:
“On his way.”
Nico laughed once.
“No.”
“He said he needed to talk.”
“Not here.”
“He already knows location.”
“Apparently.”
Marco’s phone buzzed.
Camera alert.
Gate.
A man stood outside.
Hood.
Rain.
Eden stared at monitor.
Even after three years, she knew his posture.
Evan.
Alive.
Nico looked at her.
“Your choice.”
Important.
He did not open gate.
Did not refuse.
Her choice.
Eden swallowed.
“Let him in.”
Marco opened outer gate remotely.
Evan entered.
Thinner.
Beard.
Scar along jaw.
But him.
Eden ran.
Nico let her.
Evan barely got through foyer before Eden hit him.
Not hugged.
Hit.
Hard.
Open palm.
His head snapped sideways.
Everyone froze.
Evan touched cheek.
“Hi.”
“You died.”
“I know.”
“You died.”
“I know.”
“Mom buried you.”
His face broke.
“I know.”
“She died thinking you were dead.”
Evan closed eyes.
“I know.”
Eden hit him again.
Then hugged him.
He held her.
Both crying.
Nico looked away.
Giving privacy.
That mattered.
Eden stepped back.
“Why?”
Evan looked toward Nico.
“Because I found a list.”
“What list?”
“People being moved through Ferraro shipping.”
Nico’s face hardened.
“Current?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
Evan said:
“Your consigliere.”
Silence.
Nico’s right-hand adviser.
Thomas Bellini.
A man who had worked beside Nico since his father died.
Nico stared.
“Proof?”
Evan pulled a flash drive from pocket.
“Enough to get me killed.”
Arthur said:
“Bellini?”
“Yes.”
Marco looked at Nico.
“He knew restaurant meeting.”
“He arranged it.”
Nico whispered.
The truce.
Gallo.
Shooters.
Bellini knew.
Evan continued:
“Gallo was bait too.”
“What?”
Eden frowned.
“You said hit wasn’t Gallo.”
“He didn’t know.”
“So why did he leave table?”
“Bellini texted him that his daughter was in danger.”
Nico’s eyes narrowed.
“Did he believe?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Gallo now?”
“Missing.”
Great.
Another hostage.
Evan handed flash drive to Nico.
“Bellini wants both families blaming each other.”
“Why?”
“War.”
“Why?”
“War clears routes.”
Nico understood.
“People disappear during war.”
“Yes.”
Eden felt sick.
Human cargo hidden inside conflict.
Nico turned to Marco.
“Bellini’s location.”
Marco checked.
“Home.”
“Send team.”
Evan said:
“No.”
Nico looked at him.
“He’s expecting that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me.”
Silence.
Evan pulled up sleeve.
A fresh burn mark on forearm.
Eden stopped breathing.
“What happened?”
“He had me for two days.”
Nico’s face became murderous.
Evan continued:
“He let me escape.”
“Why?”
“To bring message.”
“What message?”
Evan looked at Eden.
Then Nico.
“Bellini says Eden is the key.”
Eden laughed in disbelief.
“To what?”
Her brother’s expression changed.
“Mom’s debt.”
The medical debt.
The inheritance of stones.
“No.”
Evan nodded.
“Mom didn’t owe hospitals.”
Eden stopped.
“What?”
“She owed Ferraro.”
Nico’s face changed.
“No.”
Evan looked at him.
“Your father paid for her treatment.”
Eden stared.
Her mother’s cancer.
Bills.
Collections.
Years of debt.
“Why?”
Evan whispered:
“Because Mom worked for Sofia Ferraro.”
Nico went absolutely still.
Eden looked at him.
Their mothers knew each other.
Of course.
Evan continued:
“And before she died, Mom hid the one ledger Bellini cannot find.”
Nico stared.
“Where?”
Evan looked at Eden.
“Inside something she left only to you.”
Eden’s mind raced.
Their mother left almost nothing.
A ring.
A recipe box.
A sewing machine.
A debt folder.
Then she remembered.
One thing she never opened.
Her mother’s old waitress apron, folded inside a sealed garment bag because Eden could not bear to smell her perfume.
Evan said:
“The ledger is sewn into the lining.”
The townhouse alarm screamed.
Marco checked screen.
Three cars outside.
Ferraro plates.
Bellini’s men.
Nico looked at Eden.
Then at Evan.
“Where is apron?”
Eden’s blood ran cold.
“My apartment.”
And Bellini knew exactly where she lived.
Before anyone left the townhouse, Eden stopped beside the front window.
Rain streaked the glass.
Evan stood across the room talking quietly with Marco.
Alive.
Still impossible.
Nico came near but did not crowd her.
“You’re staring.”
“I keep expecting him to disappear.”
“He probably expects that too.”
Eden looked at Nico.
“You believe him?”
“Not automatically.”
“Good.”
“But I believe his fear.”
She frowned.
“How do you tell?”
“Men lie with words. Fear usually leaks elsewhere.”
“Sounds healthy.”
“It is not.”
Eden looked at Evan again.
“What if he becomes another person I have to forgive because he ‘protected’ me?”
“You do not have to forgive.”
She turned.
Nico’s answer had come too fast to be rehearsed.
He continued:
“You can understand why someone did something and still decide it hurt too much.”
Eden swallowed.
“My mother always said forgiveness was good for you.”
“Your mother never met my family.”
That made her laugh.
Then Nico added:
“And forgiveness is not the same as access.”
That stayed with her.
When Evan approached, Eden did not hug him again.
Not yet.
She simply said:
“You are going to tell me everything.”
Evan nodded.
“No disappearing.”
“Yes.”
“No deciding what I can handle.”
“Yes.”
“And if you lie—”
“I know.”
Eden raised an eyebrow.
“No. Say it.”
Evan almost smiled.
“You walk.”
“Correct.”
Nico looked away, hiding a smile.
For the first time that night, Eden felt something resembling control.
May you like
Not over men.
Over her own door.
