Chapter 3 - THE LOCKBOX BENEATH THE OLD GARAGE
My father had kept a locked cabinet in our old garage.
I hadn't thought about it in years.
After he died, the landlord cleared almost everything out.
But one thing remained.
A metal toolbox bolted beneath the workbench.
Marco and I had never been able to open it.
Now, with Alessandro's mother's key in my hand, I suddenly understood why.
We drove to the South Side before midnight.
Alessandro brought Vincent Gallo and two security men.
I complained.
He ignored me.
Again.
“Do you ever listen to anyone?” I asked as we crossed the dark garage.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When they're right.”
“That must be convenient.”
His mouth twitched.
Vincent looked between us.
“You two argue like you've been married ten years.”
I nearly tripped.
Alessandro gave him a warning look.
Vincent smiled.
The toolbox sat exactly where I remembered.
Rusty.
Dust-covered.
Untouched.
I knelt in front of it.
The brass key slid perfectly into the lock.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then I turned it.
Click.
My hands started shaking.
Inside were old photographs, receipts, a revolver wrapped in cloth, and a leather-bound notebook.
Alessandro picked up one photograph.
It showed my father standing beside a beautiful dark-haired woman.
She was pregnant.
Alessandro stared.
“My mother.”
I looked at him.
“She was pregnant?”
His expression darkened.
“I didn't know.”
There was a date on the back.
Twenty-nine years earlier.
I did the math.
Alessandro looked thirty-eight.
The child in that photograph would have been about my age.
Vincent frowned.
“Alex…”
“I see it.”
We searched deeper.
I found an envelope addressed to my father.
Inside was a letter.
Giovanni,
If anything happens to me, take the child somewhere Vincent Moretti cannot find her.
I froze.
Alessandro reached for the letter.
“Let me see.”
I handed it to him.
He read the sentence twice.
Then his face went cold.
“My uncle.”
Vincent Gallo frowned.
“Your uncle Vincent?”
“Yes.”
I looked between them.
“Why would his mother be hiding a child?”
Alessandro didn't answer.
He kept reading.
He knows what I discovered. He knows the child can prove everything.
Another sentence.
Do not trust Salvatore.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Alessandro looked up.
“My mother knew Salvatore.”
The notebook contained names.
Dates.
Payments.
Shipping numbers.
And repeated references to something called Project Belladonna.
Vincent Gallo swore under his breath.
“What?”
He looked at Alessandro.
“I've heard that name.”
“Where?”
“Old family accounts.”
I felt cold.
“What is it?”
Alessandro closed the notebook.
“I don't know.”
Then one of his security men called from the garage entrance.
“Boss.”
We turned.
He was holding a small surveillance camera.
Someone had installed it above the door.
Recently.
Alessandro's expression changed.
“We've been watched.”
A car engine roared outside.
Vincent rushed toward the window.
“Black sedan.”
Alessandro grabbed my arm.
“Down.”
A gunshot shattered the glass.
I screamed.
He pulled me behind the workbench.
More shots cracked through the garage.
Vincent returned fire.
Alessandro covered me with his body.
For several seconds, everything was noise.
Then the sedan sped away.
Silence.
My breathing came fast.
Alessandro's face was inches from mine.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
Something changed between us.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something more dangerous.
Trust.
Then Vincent shouted.
“Alex.”
Alessandro stood.
I followed.
Vincent was holding the revolver we'd found in my father's toolbox.
On the grip was an engraved symbol.
A black rose.
Alessandro's face turned hard.
“What is it?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“That mark belonged to the man who killed my father.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
Alessandro stared at the gun.
May you like
Then said quietly,
“My uncle Vincent Moretti.”
