Chapter 2 - The Name Roman Was Never Supposed to Hear
Elise shoved fresh gauze against Roman's ribs.
“You're going to explain.”
Roman's eyes remained on her.
“Not here.”
“You knew my father.”
“I knew his name.”
“You said it like you knew him.”
“Elise—”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“My father was killed when I was fifteen. My mother spent the next seventeen years refusing to tell me why. Every time I asked, she said knowing wouldn't bring him back.”
Roman swallowed.
“What were you told?”
“That he died in a robbery.”
Roman looked away.
Elise caught it.
“That wasn't true.”
Roman said nothing.
“Roman.”
Upstairs, a door opened.
“Elise?”
An older woman's voice.
Elise's face changed.
“Mom, stay upstairs.”
“What happened?”
“Stay—”
Margaret Keene appeared on the fire escape landing.
Sixty-three.
Silver threaded through dark hair.
Cardigan pulled around her shoulders.
Then she looked down into the alley.
At Roman.
The color vanished from her face.
“Oh my God.”
Roman stared back.
“Mrs. Keene.”
Margaret gripped the railing.
“You.”
Elise looked between them.
“You know him.”
Margaret descended slowly.
Roman tried to stand.
Elise forced him down.
“Don't move.”
Margaret stepped into the alley.
“Roman Marcelli.”
Elise stopped breathing.
She knew the name.
Everyone in South Philadelphia knew the name.
Her gaze snapped to him.
“Marcelli?”
Roman met her eyes.
“Yes.”
She stepped backward.
“You're that Roman Marcelli?”
“Yes.”
Elise's face hardened.
“You let my son touch you.”
“I didn't exactly arrange the meeting.”
“Mom, take Noah upstairs.”
Margaret didn't move.
Instead she stared at Roman with something deeper than fear.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Roman gave a humorless smile.
“Tonight, a lot of people agree with you.”
Margaret's voice shook.
“Who did this?”
“Carter Voss.”
A metal tray slipped from Elise's hand.
It struck the pavement.
Margaret whispered, “Carter?”
Roman saw it.
Recognition.
Not casual recognition.
Fear.
“You know him too,” Roman said.
Margaret backed away.
“No.”
“You just said his name.”
“I've heard it.”
“You've done more than hear it.”
Elise stepped between them.
“Someone needs to tell me what is happening.”
Margaret looked at her daughter.
“Get upstairs.”
“I am thirty-two years old.”
“Elise—”
“My father is dead. A crime boss is bleeding behind your building. You know him, and apparently you know the man who shot him.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Please.”
“No more please.”
A vehicle turned onto the street.
Roman's attention snapped toward the alley entrance.
Headlights crossed the wet brick.
“Kill the lights.”
Elise didn't move.
Roman grabbed her sleeve.
“Now.”
Margaret reached up and switched off the security light.
The alley fell dark.
A black SUV rolled slowly past the entrance.
Roman recognized it.
Voss Security.
“They're looking for me.”
Elise whispered, “Then you need to leave.”
“I can't walk.”
“I didn't say walk.”
She looked at her mother.
“Open the basement.”
Margaret stared at her.
“Elise—”
“Unless you want armed men finding him beside Noah's bedroom window.”
That ended the argument.
Five minutes later, Roman was lying on an old prep table in the bakery basement.
The room still smelled faintly of flour and cinnamon despite years of closure.
Elise worked beneath a portable lamp.
Margaret stood by the stairs.
“Bullet didn't hit your lung,” Elise said. “You're lucky.”
“Luck and I are currently negotiating.”
“I can't remove the bullet safely here.”
“Stop the bleeding. I'll handle the rest.”
“With what? Organized-crime insurance?”
Roman almost smiled.
Margaret didn't.
“Who else survived?”
Roman looked at her.
“Two men I know of.”
“Names?”
“Why?”
“Answer.”
“Marco Bell. Dominic Rizzo.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Roman saw her reaction.
“What?”
“Dominic.”
“You know him too.”
Margaret turned toward the stairs.
Roman's voice hardened.
“Mrs. Keene.”
She stopped.
“Seventeen years ago, my brother Anthony was blamed for Daniel Keene's murder.”
Elise stared at Roman.
“What?”
Roman continued.
“Anthony said he didn't do it. My father didn't believe him. Neither did Daniel's family.”
Margaret whispered, “Stop.”
“My brother disappeared three days later.”
“Stop.”
“Two months later, his car was found in the Delaware River.”
Elise looked at her mother.
“You told me Dad was robbed.”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Roman answered quietly.
“From my family.”
Margaret turned on him.
“No. From both families.”
Silence.
Elise stared at her.
“Both?”
Margaret took a shaky breath.
“Your father wasn't killed in a robbery.”
“I know that now.”
“He was meeting Anthony Marcelli.”
Roman pushed himself upright despite Elise's protest.
“Why?”
Margaret looked directly at him.
“Because Daniel and Anthony had discovered someone stealing from both families.”
Roman's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Margaret shook her head.
“They never told me.”
“You know something.”
“I know Daniel called me that night. He said if anything happened to him, I should take Elise and leave Philadelphia.”
Roman's voice turned cold.
“Then what?”
“Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on our door.”
Margaret began trembling.
Elise moved closer.
“Mom?”
“It was Carter Voss.”
Roman stopped.
Margaret continued.
“He was twenty-two. Barely more than a kid. He told me Anthony Marcelli had killed Daniel.”
Roman's eyes hardened.
“He lied.”
“I believed him.”
“How do you know?”
Margaret looked at him.
“Because three weeks later I found Daniel's pocket recorder hidden inside Noah's old nursery wall.”
Elise frowned.
“Noah wasn't born—”
“The room used to be yours.”
Margaret swallowed.
“And on that recording was your father, Anthony Marcelli…”
Roman whispered, “And?”
May you like
“And Carter Voss.”
---
