Chapter 9 - The Morning After
The pounding wasn't the rhythmic knock of an ally. It was heavy, erratic, and accompanied by the metallic scratch of a radio.
Rico was on his feet in a fraction of a second, his Glock drawn and leveled before Clara could even draw breath. He gestured sharply for Julian and Clara to stay back behind the concrete console.
“Boss! Boss, open up!”
It was Dante’s voice, but it sounded strained, breathless, and laced with an urgency that made the hair on the back of Clara’s neck stand up.
Rico moved to the heavy steel door, pulling it open just enough to see his head of security. Dante was leaning against the concrete wall, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his face slick with sweat.
“What is it, Dante?” Rico demanded.
“It’s not the Falcones,” Dante wheezed, shaking his head. “The state police. And federal marshals. They didn't wait for sunrise. They’ve got the entire estate surrounded. Warrant signed by a federal judge ten minutes ago. They’re breaching the front doors right now.”
Julian gasped, grabbing his head in his hands. “We’re finished. If they find us here—hiding in a mob safehouse after a shootout—we’re all going down as accomplices to a criminal enterprise!”
Rico didn't panic. His mind moved with terrifying, ice-cold precision. He looked down at Leo, who was beginning to stir, blinking sleepily at the bright red emergency lights. Then Rico looked at Clara.
“They want me,” Rico said, his voice dropping an octave. “They don't have probable cause to hold you or your father. You were victims of a kidnapping during the raid, forced to come here under duress. That’s our story.”
“And you?” Clara asked, her heart sinking. “What happens to you?”
“I turn myself in,” Rico said calmly, sliding his pistol back into its shoulder holster. “Let Miller and his federal goons search the grounds. They won't find the Falcone bodies—Dante and the cleanup crew already took care of that before the perimeter lights tripped. They’ll try to pin the raid on me, but without a body or a smoking gun linking me to tonight, my lawyers will tear their case to shreds in forty-eight hours.”
“And Leo?” Clara asked, her voice cracking. “What happens to Leo while you’re in holding?”
Rico looked down at his son, a profound, agonizing sorrow flashing across his rugged face. For six months, he had failed to reach the boy. But tonight, because of Clara, Leo had slept peacefully for the first time.
“Temporary emergency custody will go to the state child services unless...” Rico paused, his eyes shifting slowly from Clara to her father, Julian Vance.
Julian recoiled. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. Do not look at me, Moretti. I am an officer of the court—I am not stepping into the middle of a mafia custody battle!”
“Julian,” Clara said, her voice dropping into a sharp, lethal command that sounded eerily like Rico’s. “Listen to me. If you let Child Services take Leo tonight, they will put him in a sterile, loveless state facility where he will regress and scream himself into oblivion. You are a federal appellate lawyer. You have the power to file an emergency guardianship petition by morning.”
Julian stared at his daughter, the shock of her transformation washing over him. The scared girl who had run away from home three years ago was gone. In her place stood a woman forged in fire.
“If I do this,” Julian whispered, rubbing his temples, “your mother is going to disown me, and the bar association is going to give me an ulcer.”
“Do it,” Rico commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Outside in the grand foyer, the heavy oak double doors of the mansion finally splintered inward under the weight of a federal battering ram, followed by the booming shouts of Agent Miller’s voice echoing through the halls.
May you like
“Federal warrants! Nobody move! Secure the perimeter!”
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