Chapter 3 – THE NAME MY COUSIN USED

There are men who become dangerous when they are angry.

Matteo became dangerous when he smiled.

We had grown up together.

His father and mine were brothers.

As boys, we fought over baseball gloves, bicycles, the front seat of my father’s Cadillac, and which of us could hold our breath longer beneath the swimming pool.

At thirteen, Matteo broke my nose.

At fourteen, I broke his wrist.

At sixteen, he helped me carry my father into this same house after a bullet passed through his shoulder.

By twenty-five, we were burying men together.

By thirty, Matteo knew almost every secret worth knowing about the Duca family.

My mistake was believing shared secrets created loyalty.

Sometimes they only created opportunity.

The security monitor showed him walking toward the carriage-house door beneath a black umbrella.

Pike followed.

A second man remained near the SUV.

“Tomas,” I said.

He stopped.

“Do not confront him.”

“You want to let him inside?”

“Yes.”

“Roman.”

“He expects the house to be asleep.”

“It isn’t.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

Tomas looked toward Grace.

Toward Elena.

Toward the children.

Then back at me.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Move them.”

“To where?”

“The east guest suite.”

“That’s not secure.”

“It is tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because Matteo has never slept in it.”

He understood.

Every secure room in my house was potentially compromised because Matteo knew which rooms I considered secure.

So I chose one nobody important had ever used.

A floral guest room my mother had decorated twenty years earlier and nobody had bothered changing.

“Take Keller with them.”

Grace immediately said, “No.”

I looked at her.

“No?”

“I’m not leaving you to decide what happens without me.”

“You were drugged less than an hour ago.”

“And I was threatened in front of my daughters less than an hour before that.”

Her legs were shaking.

Her eyes were not.

“I want to hear what he says.”

“You need a doctor.”

“I have one.”

Keller sighed from behind her.

“Unfortunately, she’s correct.”

I gave him a look.

He raised both hands.

“Medically. Not strategically.”

Grace said, “My daughters go somewhere safe. I stay.”

Mia looked frightened.

“Mama.”

Grace knelt slowly.

It clearly hurt.

She took Mia’s face between her hands.

“You stay with Lily.”

“But—”

“You were brave enough tonight.”

That sentence nearly broke something in all of us.

Mia whispered, “I wasn’t scared.”

Grace kissed her forehead.

“Yes, you were.”

Mia looked down.

“And you were brave anyway.”

I turned away.

Courage had been explained to me differently as a boy.

My father said courage meant making sure the other man was more afraid than you were.

Grace Harper gave her daughter a better definition in one sentence.

Tomas moved Elena, Mia, Lily, and Keller to the east suite.

Grace refused to go.

I stopped arguing because I had learned long ago that forcing a person to leave a confrontation concerning their own life was simply another form of control.

Instead, I told her to stay in my private sitting room and lock the door.

“If Matteo enters—”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No.”

I checked the pistol at my waist.

“But he doesn’t know what I know either.”

I returned to the study.

The hidden door remained open.

The room beyond it looked obscene now.

Not because of blood.

Not because of the restraint.

Because I remembered hiding there with my mother.

I remembered her perfume.

Her hand on my hair.

Her whisper in the darkness.

It had once been the safest place in the world.

Matteo had turned it into a cage.

I closed the bookcase.

Then I moved to my desk.

On my phone, I watched the carriage-house camera.

Matteo disappeared through the lower door at 3:04.

Pike followed him.

The second man stayed outside.

I muted the monitor.

Then I waited.

The hidden passage was narrow.

From the carriage house, it climbed behind the pantry, crossed a maintenance crawlspace, then reached the study wall through a second mechanism.

It should take approximately four minutes.

At 3:08, I heard the faint scrape behind the bookcase.

At 3:09, the hidden panel clicked.

I remained seated behind my desk.

The wall opened.

Darren Pike entered first.

His face changed when he saw me.

Matteo appeared behind him.

His smile vanished.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then I looked at my watch.

“You’re early for breakfast.”

Matteo recovered quickly.

He always did.

“Roman.”

He glanced at Pike.

Then back at me.

“What are you doing up?”

“I live here.”

Pike’s right hand shifted toward his jacket.

I looked at it.

“Darren.”

He stopped.

“If you put your hand inside that coat, this becomes a different conversation.”

His hand lowered.

Matteo stepped fully into the study.

“Why was the passage open?”

“Was it?”

He studied me.

This was the dangerous part.

Not guns.

Not shouting.

Thinking.

Matteo was trying to determine exactly how much I knew.

I was doing the same.

“You told me to use the front entrance,” he said.

“I did.”

“So naturally I became curious.”

“Naturally.”

His eyes moved around the study.

The vacuum cleaner remained near the desk.

The bucket was still there.

One of Mia’s wet cloths lay on the floor.

Matteo noticed.

His jaw tightened.

“Staff working late?”

I leaned back.

“You tell me.”

He smiled faintly.

“I don’t supervise the maids.”

“You supervised one tonight.”

Silence.

Pike looked at Matteo.

Matteo’s expression did not move.

“Did I?”

“Grace Harper.”

“Grace.”

He pretended to think.

“Right.”

Eight years in my house.

He knew exactly who Grace was.

“I heard she fainted.”

There.

One sentence.

One mistake.

I had not told him Grace was in the infirmary.

Nobody had.

Tomas had locked internal communications.

“How did you hear that?”

Matteo shrugged.

“Someone called me.”

“Who?”

“Don’t remember.”

“You’ve been awake all night and don’t remember who called you?”

“Long night.”

“For all of us.”

His eyes dropped to the desk.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because Grace didn’t faint.”

Matteo said nothing.

“She was drugged.”

Pike shifted.

Matteo’s eyes sharpened.

“By who?”

“Interesting question.”

“You think I had something to do with a maid getting sick?”

“I think you already knew she was sick.”

“Roman.”

He gave a small laugh.

“You dragged me across town at three in the morning for this?”

“I didn’t drag you anywhere.”

“You told me breakfast at five.”

“And yet here you are at three.”

His face hardened.

Only slightly.

“I was nearby.”

“In the rear carriage passage?”

“I wanted to check something.”

“What?”

He looked at the bookcase.

That told me more than his answer could.

I stood.

Pike moved again.

I ignored him.

“Go ahead, Matteo.”

“What?”

“Check.”

He stared at me.

“The thing you came to check.”

Neither man moved.

I walked around the desk.

“You entered my house through a hidden passage at three in the morning with an armed driver.”

I stopped three feet from him.

“Check whatever was important enough to bring you here.”

Matteo’s smile returned.

But it did not reach his eyes.

“You already opened it.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

He looked toward the bookcase.

“Nothing.”

That word carried too much hope.

I heard it.

So did he.

He knew he had made another mistake.

I stepped closer.

“What were you expecting to find?”

His gaze settled on mine.

“There are things stored back there.”

“No.”

“There used to be.”

“No.”

A long silence.

“Who told you the room was empty?”

Matteo’s jaw flexed.

Pike looked toward the hidden exit.

Bad choice.

I saw it.

Matteo saw me see it.

“Darren,” I said.

He froze.

“You can leave.”

Matteo turned sharply.

Pike looked between us.

“Boss?”

“Leave through the study door.”

“Roman,” Matteo said.

“This is family business.”

I looked at Pike.

“And he isn’t family.”

Pike hesitated.

Then glanced at Matteo.

That glance answered another question.

His loyalty belonged to Matteo.

Not me.

“Darren.”

My voice lowered.

“You have two choices. Walk out that door, surrender your weapon to Tomas, and answer questions later.”

I paused.

“Or stay.”

He swallowed.

“What happens if I stay?”

“You become part of the answer.”

Pike looked at Matteo.

Matteo said quietly, “Don’t move.”

There it was.

Direct.

No ambiguity.

Pike’s hand went inside his coat.

I drew first.

My pistol pointed at his chest before his fingers touched his grip.

He stopped breathing.

Matteo swore.

“Darren.”

I kept my voice calm.

“Use your left hand. Remove the gun with two fingers. Put it on the floor.”

Pike stared at me.

Then obeyed.

“Kick it away.”

He did.

The study door opened behind us.

Tomas entered.

Pike’s shoulders sagged.

Matteo looked at me with open disgust.

“You planned this.”

“No.”

I nodded toward the hidden room.

“You did.”

Tomas removed Pike.

Matteo stayed.

The door closed.

Now it was just us.

Two cousins in the room where we had hidden during childhood wars.

I had expected anger.

Instead, Matteo laughed.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“How weak you look.”

I said nothing.

He walked toward the windows.

“The old men talk.”

“Old men always talk.”

“They say you’ve changed.”

“Have I?”

“You negotiate too much.”

“You steal too much.”

He stopped.

There.

A hit.

“You think this is about money?”

“It began with money.”

“You have no idea what it takes to keep these people afraid of us.”

I looked at him.

“Us?”

“The Ducas.”

He pointed around the room.

“This house. The docks. The routes. The unions. Every idiot who pays on time because he remembers your father.”

“Leave my father out of it.”

“Why? He built it.”

“He built many things.”

My eyes shifted briefly toward the bookcase.

“So did my grandfather.”

Matteo saw where I looked.

His mouth hardened.

“You found her.”

Not a question.

I let the silence answer.

He exhaled.

“She talked.”

“Yes.”

“Of course she did.”

He rubbed his face.

“She doesn’t understand what she found.”

“Two million dollars.”

His eyes narrowed.

“So she showed you.”

“She didn’t have to.”

“Roman—”

“You charged the Moretti routes twice.”

“I moved money.”

“You stole it.”

“I moved money where it was needed.”

“Into accounts you controlled.”

“For operations you refused to approve.”

“Then they were not operations.”

He laughed again.

“This. This is what I mean.”

“What?”

“You sound like an accountant.”

“And you sound like a thief.”

His face changed.

We had insulted each other a thousand times over our lives.

This was different.

Because this time I meant it.

“I was protecting this family.”

“By kidnapping Elena?”

“By preventing Carlo from making an accusation he couldn’t take back.”

“You sent him a message using my name.”

“I used the weight of your name.”

“Without permission.”

“You should be thanking me.”

I stared at him.

“For what?”

“He was going to walk into that meeting and accuse you of stealing from him.”

“He would have accused you.”

“He didn’t know that.”

“So you kidnapped his sister.”

Matteo spread his hands.

“She was never supposed to be hurt.”

“She was tied to a pipe.”

“For a few hours.”

“You struck her.”

“I didn’t.”

“Your men did.”

He said nothing.

“You drugged Grace.”

“She interfered.”

“She heard a woman crying inside a wall in the house where she worked.”

“She should have walked away.”

I felt my pulse in my jaw.

“She tried to help.”

“She’s a maid.”

I moved before I consciously decided to.

One second Matteo was standing near my desk.

The next, my hand had closed around the front of his shirt and slammed him against the bookcase.

The shelves shook.

Several books fell.

He stared at me.

I had not hit him.

Yet.

“Say that again.”

His breathing quickened.

“Roman.”

“Say it.”

His eyes flicked toward my hand.

Then back to my face.

“You’re proving my point.”

“What point?”

“You’re angry because a maid got scared.”

“No.”

I leaned closer.

“I am angry because you hurt a woman who trusted my house to be safe.”

He laughed under his breath.

“Safe?”

The word was cruel.

“Listen to yourself.”

I released him.

He adjusted his shirt.

“You are Roman Duca.”

“I’m aware.”

“People are afraid when we enter rooms.”

“I’m aware of that too.”

“They should be.”

“Adults who choose this life?”

I nodded.

“Perhaps.”

I thought of Mia.

“Children?”

Matteo rolled his eyes.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

That was the moment something inside me broke cleanly.

Not violently.

Cleanly.

There are relationships that die all at once.

Not after the betrayal.

Not after the proof.

After one sentence that reveals the person standing in front of you does not understand why what they did matters.

“You threatened Grace’s daughter.”

“I scared a kid.”

“You made a six-year-old believe her mother would be homeless if she didn’t clean my office.”

“She was supposed to stay occupied while we moved the Moretti woman.”

For the first time, he had said we.

I kept my face still.

“Who is we?”

He realized it too late.

“Don’t.”

“Who?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No.”

I stepped closer.

“Tell me.”

He shook his head.

“You don’t get to interrogate me like some soldier.”

“Tonight you’re fortunate I’m only asking questions.”

His nostrils flared.

“You think Tomas will save you?”

Interesting.

I said nothing.

Matteo watched my face.

Then smiled.

“The problem with trusting men who aren’t family, cousin, is that sooner or later someone makes them a better offer.”

My hand moved toward my weapon.

At that exact moment, the lights went out.

Complete darkness.

Somewhere below us, a door slammed.

Then a woman screamed.

Grace.

I turned toward the study door.

Behind me, Matteo moved.

The pistol struck the side of my head before I could fully turn.

Pain exploded behind my eye.

I fell against the desk.

Matteo grabbed for my gun.

I caught his wrist.

We hit the floor together.

He drove his shoulder into my chest.

I twisted.

The pistol skidded beneath the desk.

Footsteps thundered in the hallway.

Not one person.

Several.

Matteo punched me.

I tasted blood.

Then he whispered beside my ear.

“You should have stayed in Providence.”

I drove my elbow into his ribs.

He grunted.

We separated.

Emergency lights flickered on.

Red.

Dim.

Enough.

Matteo was already moving toward the hidden passage.

I lunged.

Caught the back of his jacket.

The fabric tore.

He disappeared behind the bookcase.

I followed.

The passage swallowed us.

Ahead, I heard him running.

Below, another scream.

Then Mia’s voice.

“Mama!”

Everything in me stopped.

Matteo had not come alone.

Pike had been a distraction.

Whatever he had prepared, he had prepared before our conversation.

I ran toward the stairs hidden inside the wall.

And as I reached the first landing, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

One message.

Unknown number.

WE HAVE THE GIRL.

For the first time that night, I stopped feeling cold.

I became afraid.