Chapter 9 - What Marco Wanted From Antonio

The old Russo warehouse stood beside the river.

Empty.

Cold.

One light burned inside.

Damian entered with Veronica.

Marco waited beside a metal table.

Sixty-one.

Silver hair.

Dark suit.

The man who had attended Damian’s school ceremonies.

The man who taught him how to negotiate.

The man Damian had called Uncle every day of his life.

Marco looked at the bag.

“Put it down.”

Damian did.

“Where is Antonio?”

Marco smiled.

“Still impatient.”

Veronica looked around.

“My mother?”

“Not here.”

“Is she alive?”

Marco’s smile faded.

“She was eleven months ago.”

Damian stepped forward.

“My father.”

Marco stared at him.

“Antonio survived the crash.”

Damian’s breathing changed.

“How?”

“I needed him alive.”

“Why?”

“Because he knew account codes I didn’t.”

Veronica looked sick.

“You held him prisoner.”

Marco shrugged.

“For a time.”

“How long?”

“Years.”

Damian’s voice dropped.

“How many?”

“Twelve.”

Silence.

Elena had lost her husband.

Damian had lost his father.

Not to death.

To a locked room.

Damian stared at Marco.

“And after twelve years?”

“He became ill.”

“What happened?”

“I moved him to Saint Marlow.”

Veronica froze.

“With my mother.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Marco looked at her.

“They were both liabilities.”

Damian asked:

“Where is Antonio now?”

Marco’s expression changed.

Damian saw it.

“He’s dead.”

Marco said nothing.

“When?”

“Three months ago.”

Damian stopped moving.

Three months.

His father had been alive this year.

While Damian planned an engagement party.

While Marco sat at his table.

While Veronica read Elena’s letters.

Damian’s voice was barely audible.

“How?”

“Stroke.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Did you keep him from me?”

“Yes.”

That answer hurt more.

Damian looked away once.

Then back.

“Why let the photograph exist?”

Marco laughed.

“Rebecca took it.”

“She was more alert than the doctors realized.”

Veronica’s face hardened.

“You drugged her too.”

“Yes.”

She stepped toward him.

Damian stopped her with one hand.

Marco looked at Damian.

“Give me the bag.”

“No.”

“Then Elena dies.”

Damian froze.

Marco smiled.

“She should have stayed in New Mexico.”

A door opened behind him.

Elena entered.

Walter beside her.

Marco’s face changed.

Damian shouted:

“Mother!”

Elena held up her phone.

“You threatened the wrong woman.”

Marco stared.

Walter smiled faintly.

“Everything since Damian entered this warehouse has been recorded.”

Marco reached inside his jacket.

Damian moved first.

He struck Marco’s wrist.

A pistol fell.

Veronica kicked it beneath the table.

Marco grabbed Damian.

The two men hit the floor.

Damian could have killed him.

Everyone knew it.

Marco knew it.

Damian’s fist stopped inches from his face.

Marco laughed through blood on his lip.

“You’re weak.”

Damian looked at him.

“No.”

He stood.

“You raised me to think violence proves control.”

Federal agents entered from both sides of the warehouse.

Walter had not only sent them to Arizona.

He had sent a second team here.

Marco looked around.

For the first time, afraid.

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Damian said:

“You were wrong.”