“Maybe someone had shown him your picture.”
I went still.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, the nursery door opened.
Enzo entered carrying a thin folder.
“We found Greg.”
My heart jumped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you sound disappointed?”
“I don’t.”
“You definitely do.”
He handed Luca the folder.
“Gregory Wallace. Real name Gregory Bell.”
Luca’s face changed.
“You’re sure?”
“Prints confirmed.”
“Who is Gregory Bell?” I asked.
Neither man answered immediately.
I hated when they did that.
“Who?”
Luca handed me a photograph.
A much younger Greg stood beside another man.
My adoptive father.
Thomas Hayes.
I nearly dropped the page.
“They knew each other.”
Enzo nodded.
“They both worked for Salvatore.”
The next photograph showed Greg outside my childhood home.
I was perhaps six years old, visible through a window behind him.
My stomach twisted.
“He knew me.”
“He watched you,” Luca said.
“All these years?”
“Possibly.”
I thought of Aurelia.
Greg giving me extra shifts when I needed rent.
Greg quietly covering the cost when I broke a tray of crystal glasses.
Greg insisting I take Table Twelve.
Wait.
“You said he knew who Luca was.”
“Everyone did,” Enzo said.
“No. He gave me that table.”
Silence.
“He could have assigned anyone.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“He put you in front of me.”
My pulse thundered.
“Why?”
Enzo’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his face tightened.
“Greg is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“The car transporting him was hit.”
Luca stood.
“By whom?”
“We lost two men.”
My mouth went dry.
“Is Greg dead?”
Enzo looked at me.
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
“Taken.”
A second phone rang from Luca’s pocket.
Unknown number.
Every man in the room froze.
Luca answered.
“Speak.”
A voice came through.
Distorted.
Mechanical.
“Bring Avery Hayes to Pier Nineteen tomorrow at midnight.”
Luca’s expression became stone.
“No.”
The voice continued.
“Bring the girl, or Gregory Bell dies.”
I almost laughed.
“You expect him to trade me for my manager?”
The voice paused.
Then said:
“Ask Avery why Gregory Bell has been paying her rent for eleven years.”
My blood turned to ice.
The call ended.
I had never wondered why my rent remained suspiciously low.
I should have.
The building changed owners twice.
The neighborhood improved.
Other tenants complained constantly about increases.
Mine barely moved.
I had assumed luck.
Luck, I learned that night, was often just a word people used when they didn’t know who was manipulating them.
Enzo found the payments.
Greg had been sending money through shell companies since I turned sixteen.
School fees.
Medical bills.
My first car.
Even the deposit on my apartment.
Small amounts.
Invisible amounts.
Enough to help without being noticed.
“He’s been protecting me,” I said.
“Or controlling you,” Luca answered.
“Why would he save me and set me up?”
“That’s what we need to know.”
I looked at him.
“We’re going tomorrow.”
“No.”
“They want me.”
“Exactly.”
“And Greg dies if I don’t go.”
“That is not your responsibility.”
“He watched me grow up.”
“That does not make him innocent.”
“It doesn’t make him disposable either.”
Luca’s eyes darkened.
“This isn’t your world.”
“It became my world the minute somebody shot at my head.”
He stepped closer.
“You have no idea what these people will do.”
“No. I have a pretty good idea. They already killed Elena.”
