Chapter 3 - THE GUARD WHO TURNED AROUND
Nobody moved.
Rain hammered the roof of the SUV.
Frank’s pistol remained steady.
Its muzzle pointed directly at Dominic’s chest.
Sadie sat pressed against the door.
Dominic looked almost bored.
Sadie knew he wasn’t.
His right hand had shifted less than an inch toward his coat.
Frank noticed.
“Don’t.”
Dominic stopped.
“Frank.”
“Boss.”
“You’ve been with me nine years.”
“Ten in March.”
“Then you know what happens if you miss.”
Frank swallowed.
“I won’t.”
Sadie’s heart pounded so violently she felt sick.
The driver had gone still.
Both hands remained on the wheel.
Dominic’s eyes never left Frank.
“What did Vincent offer you?”
Frank gave a bitter laugh.
“Vincent?”
“Yes.”
“You still think Vincent is the problem?”
“Your gun suggests somebody is.”
Frank shook his head.
“Vincent called because he figured it out too late.”
“Figured out what?”
Frank looked toward Sadie.
“That the waitress needed to die with you.”
Sadie stopped breathing.
Dominic’s voice changed.
“Leave her out of this.”
Frank almost smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The problem.”
“You’re pointing a gun at me and analyzing my personality?”
“You notice people.”
Frank looked at Sadie.
“You noticed her hand tonight.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“So?”
“That used to be your weakness.”
“People?”
“Giving a damn.”
Dominic’s eyes became colder.
“That is a strange complaint from a man I paid to protect people.”
Frank’s face twitched.
The SUV slowed.
Dominic glanced at the driver.
“Keep moving.”
Frank snapped, “Stop the car.”
The driver did not.
Frank shifted his pistol.
Sadie saw it.
Not toward Dominic.
Toward the driver.
She reacted without thinking.
Again.
Her burned hand grabbed the insulated coffee cup resting in the center console.
She hurled it.
Cold coffee hit Frank directly in the eyes.
He fired.
The bullet punched through the roof.
Dominic moved.
His hand snapped around Frank’s wrist.
The pistol discharged again into the dashboard.
The driver swerved.
Sadie screamed.
Dominic slammed Frank’s arm against the headrest.
Once.
Twice.
The weapon dropped.
The driver grabbed it.
The SUV skidded to a stop beneath an overpass.
Frank tried to reach a knife.
Dominic hit him once.
Hard.
Frank collapsed against the door.
Silence.
Sadie stared.
Dominic’s breathing was controlled.
His eyes were not.
He looked at Sadie.
“You threw coffee at a gun.”
“It was right there.”
“You have terrible survival instincts.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The driver almost laughed.
Dominic pointed toward Frank.
“Zip ties.”
The driver restrained him.
Frank regained consciousness thirty seconds later.
Blood ran from his nose.
Dominic crouched.
“Who?”
Frank spat onto the floor.
Dominic did not react.
“Who gave the order?”
Frank laughed weakly.
“You really don’t know.”
“No.”
“That’s why you’re already dead.”
Dominic’s face became still.
Frank continued.
“Vincent figured it out. That’s why he called you.”
“Where is he?”
“Probably bleeding somewhere.”
Dominic’s jaw flexed.
“What happened?”
“Your killer at Lombardi’s wasn’t supposed to survive.”
Sadie leaned forward.
Frank looked at her.
“Neither were you.”
A cold wave moved through her.
Dominic spoke.
“Name.”
Frank shook his head.
Dominic’s patience vanished.
He grabbed Frank’s collar.
“Name.”
Frank laughed.
“Ask Anthony.”
Dominic froze.
The driver looked into the mirror.
Sadie said, “Who’s Anthony?”
Nobody answered.
Dominic slowly released Frank.
His voice was almost inaudible.
“My brother.”
Sadie stared.
Dominic Russo had one younger brother.
Anthony Russo.
She knew the name because Anthony’s face occasionally appeared in society pages.
Thirty-four.
Attorney.
Philanthropist.
President of the Russo Family Foundation.
The clean brother.
The one reporters described when they wanted to prove the Russo family had legitimate interests.
Dominic looked at Frank.
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
“Anthony doesn’t touch operations.”
Frank smiled through blood.
“That’s what made him perfect.”
Dominic stood.
He turned toward the driver.
“Take us to Saint Matthew’s.”
Sadie frowned.
“A church?”
“Basement clinic.”
Of course mafia families had church basement clinics.
Ten minutes later, they entered through a rear door.
A doctor treated Sadie’s hand while two men guarded Frank.
Dominic paced.
His phone rang.
One of his men.
They had found Vincent.
Alive.
Barely.
He had been discovered inside a parking garage near Rittenhouse Square.
Two bullets.
One in the abdomen.
One in the shoulder.
The valet ticket had come from his car.
Dominic stared at the wall.
Someone had attacked Vincent.
Taken items from him.
Then planted them on the assassin.
Sadie had been right.
Someone wanted Dominic to blame his oldest friend.
“Where’s Anthony?” Dominic asked.
The man on the phone hesitated.
“Charity gala.”
“Now?”
“At the Franklin Museum.”
Dominic checked the time.
Anthony Russo was giving a speech to four hundred donors while his brother survived an assassination attempt.
A perfect public alibi.
Sadie looked at Dominic.
“You’re going there.”
“Yes.”
“You think he did this?”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“No.”
“You keep saying that about people.”
He looked at her.
She immediately regretted it.
Then something unexpected happened.
Dominic nodded.
“You’re right.”
Sadie blinked.
He sat across from her.
“Tell me what you saw tonight.”
“I already did.”
“Not the attack.”
“What?”
“Everything.”
She stared.
“Dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because you notice things.”
Sadie thought back.
Dominic’s table.
Four men.
Dominic.
Three guards originally.
Then Vincent arrived.
He stayed eleven minutes.
After that, Frank took a phone call.
One of the other guards left for the restroom.
A busboy refilled water.
Carl argued with a bartender.
The front doors—
Sadie stopped.
“What?”
Dominic leaned forward.
“The reservation.”
“What reservation?”
“You didn’t have one.”
Dominic frowned.
“I always do.”
“No.”
Sadie shook her head.
“Carl was panicking because your table wasn’t on the book.”
Dominic became very still.
“I told Vincent I was coming.”
“Did anyone else know?”
“My driver.”
“Frank?”
“He was with me.”
Sadie’s stomach tightened.
“Then the killer knew exactly where you’d be even though the restaurant didn’t.”
Dominic looked toward the restrained guard.
Frank smiled faintly.
“Keep going, waitress.”
Sadie ignored him.
“Vincent arrived after you.”
“Yes.”
“So somebody called him too.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“He said he received a message from me.”
“Was it from you?”
“No.”
Sadie leaned back.
“Then somebody brought everyone to the same place.”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“Me. Vincent. Frank.”
“And the assassin.”
The doctor finished bandaging Sadie’s hand.
She suddenly remembered one more thing.
“Your brother.”
Dominic looked up sharply.
“He wasn’t there.”
“No.”
“But somebody called the restaurant.”
“When?”
“Maybe twenty minutes before the attack.”
“How do you know?”
“Carl answered.”
She closed her eyes, reconstructing.
“He said, ‘Mr. Russo is already here.’ Then whoever was calling asked something else.”
“What?”
“Carl looked toward your table and counted.”
Dominic stood.
“Counted what?”
“People.”
Sadie’s throat tightened.
“He said, ‘Four now.’”
The room went silent.
Dominic called Carl.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
His eyes hardened.
“Find him.”
Two men left immediately.
Sadie looked toward Frank.
He no longer looked amused.
Dominic noticed too.
“Carl knows who called.”
Frank said nothing.
Then Dominic’s phone rang.
A video message.
Unknown number.
He opened it.
Carl appeared tied to a chair.
His face was swollen.
Behind him stood a man in a dark suit.
Only the lower half of his face was visible.
A voice spoke.
“Dominic.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
Sadie watched recognition enter his eyes before the camera even tilted upward.
Anthony Russo stepped fully into frame.
He looked nothing like a frightened younger brother.
He looked calm.
Clean.
Perfectly dressed.
“Stop digging,” Anthony said.
“Or the waitress is next.”
The video ended.
Sadie looked at Dominic.
His face had become completely blank.
That frightened her more than anger.
May you like
“My brother,” he whispered.
For the first time, there was no denial left.
