Chapter 2 - The Name Everyone Feared
The footsteps stopped outside apartment 3B.
Harper stood frozen beside the kitchen counter.
Adrian raised one finger to his lips.
The transformation in him was disturbing.
Minutes earlier, he had barely been able to stand.
Now his pain seemed irrelevant.
He moved beside the doorway and positioned himself where whoever entered would not immediately see him.
Harper's pulse hammered.
Someone knocked.
“Ms. Lane?”
Different voice.
Calm.
Professional.
Harper looked at Adrian.
He shook his head.
The knocking came again.
“Boston Police.”
Harper almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
Adrian had begged her not to call the police.
Now the police were apparently standing outside.
“How do I know you're police?” Harper called.
A badge appeared briefly through the gap beneath the chained door after she cracked it open.
Detective Paul Mercer.
Harper looked at Adrian.
His expression had become darker.
“Open it,” he whispered.
That surprised her.
She opened the door.
Mercer was in his forties, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, and dressed in a charcoal overcoat.
His partner remained several steps behind him.
“Harper Lane?”
“Yes.”
“We're investigating an incident from last night.”
“What incident?”
Mercer studied her face.
“Were you home around two?”
Harper hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Did you see anyone unusual?”
Before Harper could answer, Adrian stepped into view.
Mercer's hand moved instinctively toward his weapon.
Adrian said, “Don't.”
Mercer stared.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Detective.”
Harper looked between them.
They knew each other.
Mercer entered slowly.
“What happened to you?”
“Bad night.”
“Your family has half the city looking for you.”
Adrian's expression sharpened.
“My family doesn't know I'm here.”
Mercer looked toward Harper.
“They do now.”
Adrian crossed the room and glanced outside.
The SUVs were gone.
“Who sent you?”
Mercer frowned.
“Nobody sent me. A shooting was reported near the harbor around midnight. We found two vehicles, shell casings, and enough blood to assume somebody didn't walk away comfortably.”
“Bodies?”
“None.”
That answer seemed to trouble Adrian.
Mercer continued.
“Then dispatch received an anonymous call saying Adrian Moretti might be injured somewhere in South Boston.”
Adrian looked at Harper.
She immediately understood.
Someone wanted the police to find him.
Why?
Mercer noticed Adrian's bandage.
“You need a hospital.”
“No hospital.”
“Still stubborn.”
“Still alive.”
Mercer sighed.
“Adrian, whatever happened last night, you need to tell me.”
“I can't.”
“You mean you won't.”
“Same result.”
Mercer glanced at Harper again.
“Ms. Lane, can I speak to you privately?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
Harper folded her arms.
“You can speak here.”
Mercer hesitated.
Then he lowered his voice.
“You need to understand who you've brought into your apartment.”
“I Googled him.”
“That isn't what I mean.”
Adrian interrupted.
“Enough.”
Mercer ignored him.
“The Moretti organization has been part of Boston's organized-crime investigations for decades. Adrian's father, Vittorio Moretti, built legitimate businesses alongside operations law enforcement has investigated for years.”
“Allegedly,” Adrian said.
Mercer looked irritated.
“Yes. Allegedly.”
Harper stared at Adrian.
“Your father?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
Mercer added, “And since then, people have been fighting over what he left behind.”
Adrian looked at him sharply.
Harper caught it.
“You think last night was connected?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Mercer did.
“Almost certainly.”
Harper felt suddenly cold.
The man beneath her mailboxes hadn't been randomly attacked.
Someone had tried to kill him.
And whoever had done it knew where he was now.
Mercer gave Harper his card.
“If anything happens, call me.”
Adrian laughed quietly.
Mercer looked at him.
“What?”
“You still think your department is clean?”
The detective's expression hardened.
“You have evidence otherwise?”
“If I had evidence, you wouldn't be standing here.”
Mercer moved closer.
“Then give me something I can use.”
Adrian said nothing.
Mercer left ten minutes later.
The moment the door closed, Harper turned.
“You need to go.”
Adrian nodded.
“I know.”
She hadn't expected agreement.
“You're not arguing?”
“You've already done more than you should have.”
He collected his coat.
It was still damp.
Harper watched him struggle to put it on.
“You can't even lift your left arm properly.”
“I'll survive.”
“That's what stubborn men say immediately before collapsing.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Are you always like this?”
“Only when armed criminals bleed on my furniture.”
Another faint smile.
Then his phone rang.
Harper hadn't known he had one.
Adrian removed a small device from an interior pocket of his coat.
He looked at the screen.
His face hardened.
“Who is it?”
“My brother.”
“The one who sent somebody here?”
“Maybe.”
He answered.
“Marco.”
Harper couldn't hear the other side.
Adrian's expression remained blank.
Then Marco apparently said something unexpected.
Adrian looked toward Harper.
“No.”
Pause.
“No one else.”
Another pause.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“How do you know where I am?”
Silence.
Then he ended the call.
Harper waited.
“What did he say?”
“He wants me home.”
“And?”
“He knew your name.”
Harper's stomach dropped.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“That isn't comforting.”
“It wasn't intended to be.”
Adrian looked through the blinds.
A dark sedan sat across the street.
“Pack a bag.”
Harper stared.
“What?”
“You can't stay here.”
“You're leaving.”
“So are you.”
“No.”
“Harper.”
“This is my apartment.”
“Your address is compromised.”
“I have work.”
Adrian stared at her as though she had announced she needed to water flowers during a hurricane.
“You're worried about your shift?”
“Yes. Some of us get fired when we don't show up.”
“I'll pay you.”
That offended her more than it should have.
“I don't want your money.”
“Then consider staying alive your compensation.”
Harper stepped closer.
“You don't get to enter my life bleeding, bring six cars to my street, and then start giving me orders.”
Adrian's eyes softened slightly.
“You're right.”
Harper hadn't expected that either.
He continued.
“But somebody tried to kill me last night. Somebody else knew exactly where you took me. Until I understand how, you're connected.”
“I didn't ask to be.”
“I know.”
Those two words contained genuine regret.
Harper looked toward the window.
The sedan remained.
“What happens if I stay?”
Adrian answered without drama.
“I don't know.”
That frightened her.
Harper packed.
Two jeans.
Sweaters.
Toothbrush.
Phone charger.
Her nursing-school photograph of her mother.
Twenty minutes later, they left through the building's rear entrance.
A black sedan waited in the alley.
Harper stopped.
“You said those weren't your people.”
“These are.”
A huge man stepped from the driver's side.
He had a shaved head and an expression like concrete.
When he saw Adrian, genuine relief crossed his face.
“Boss.”
Harper looked at Adrian.
“Boss?”
Adrian ignored her.
The driver opened the rear door.
“Mr. Moretti, we thought you were dead.”
“Who knew about the harbor meeting?”
“Marco. Luca. Me. Three security men.”
“Where's Luca?”
The driver's expression changed.
“Missing.”
Adrian became silent.
Harper climbed into the vehicle.
The driver introduced himself as Gabriel Russo.
He drove north.
Boston disappeared behind them.
Harper watched Adrian.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“That phrase usually means somewhere terrifying.”
“It isn't terrifying.”
Thirty minutes later, iron gates opened before a massive estate overlooking the water.
Harper stared.
“You live here?”
“My father did.”
The mansion looked like something from another century—gray stone, tall windows, acres of winter gardens.
Men guarded every entrance.
Inside, Harper expected luxury.
She wasn't prepared for the silence.
Portraits lined the hallway.
Generations of Morettis watched her from gilded frames.
Then a man descended the staircase.
He looked enough like Adrian that Harper immediately knew.
Marco Moretti.
Younger.
Immaculately dressed.
Handsome.
His smile was warm.
Too warm.
“Brother.”
Adrian didn't move.
Marco hugged him anyway.
“You're alive.”
“Apparently.”
Marco looked at Harper.
“And this must be Harper.”
She didn't return his smile.
“How do you know my name?”
Marco paused.
“Police chatter.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“Interesting.”
Marco shrugged.
“Everyone has been looking for you.”
A woman appeared behind him.
Elegant.
Blonde.
Early thirties.
Her eyes filled with relief when she saw Adrian.
She rushed forward.
“Adrian.”
She kissed his cheek.
Harper looked away.
The woman noticed.
“I'm Sofia.”
“Harper.”
Sofia took Adrian's hand.
“I thought we'd lost you.”
Adrian gently withdrew it.
“What happened at the harbor?”
Sofia's expression changed.
“I don't know.”
“Where is Luca?”
“No one knows.”
Marco poured himself a drink.
“You were ambushed. Isn't that enough for today?”
“No.”
Adrian turned toward Gabriel.
“Check every camera from the harbor to South Boston.”
Gabriel nodded.
Marco sighed.
“You've been shot. Rest.”
“Grazed.”
“You disappeared for ten hours.”
“And someone found me within eight.”
Silence.
Adrian looked directly at Marco.
“That's what interests me.”
Marco's smile vanished.
Before he could respond, another guard entered.
He handed Adrian a padded envelope.
“This arrived at the gate.”
“No return address?”
“None.”
Adrian opened it.
A photograph slid onto the table.
Harper stepped closer.
The image showed her apartment building.
Taken the previous night.
In the photograph, Harper was dragging Adrian through the entrance.
Someone had been watching them from across the street.
On the back were six handwritten words.
SHE SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU THERE.
Harper felt the blood drain from her face.
Adrian slowly lifted his eyes.
Marco stared at the photograph.
Sofia covered her mouth.
Then Gabriel's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed immediately.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Luca.”
Adrian waited.
Gabriel swallowed.
“He's alive.”
Relief flashed across Adrian's face.
But Gabriel wasn't finished.
“He says he knows who ordered the ambush.”
Every person in the room became still.
“Where is he?” Adrian asked.
“Massachusetts General.”
“Who did he name?”
Gabriel looked across the room.
Directly at Marco.
May you like
Then he said:
“Your brother.”
