Chapter 5 - The Trap at Midnight
“You're not using me as bait.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
“I'm using myself.”
I stared at Giovanni.
“That might actually be worse.”
Franco spread photographs across the study desk.
The address belonged to an abandoned printing warehouse in Brooklyn.
Luca pointed at the floor plan.
“One entrance.”
“Three,” Franco corrected.
“Two are welded shut.”
“Were.”
Giovanni looked at me.
“You stay here.”
“No.”
“Lauren.”
“They asked for me.”
“Which is precisely why you're staying here.”
I leaned forward.
“If you show up without me, they know you're refusing the trade before you even walk through the door.”
“That is my problem.”
“No. Apparently I'm your problem.”
His eyes flashed.
“You are not a problem.”
The room went quiet.
Giovanni lowered his voice.
“You are an employee who was dragged into something that should never have reached you.”
“Then let me help end it.”
“No.”
Franco interrupted.
“She has a point.”
Giovanni slowly turned.
Franco raised both hands.
“I didn't say bring her inside. Put her in the armored vehicle. Let them see the car arrive with her.”
Giovanni hated the idea.
I could see it.
But at 11:42 p.m., I was sitting in the back of an armored SUV wearing a bullet-resistant vest beneath my coat.
Giovanni sat opposite me.
“You stay in this vehicle.”
“Yes.”
“No matter what happens.”
“Yes.”
“You're lying.”
“Probably.”
His mouth almost moved into a smile.
Almost.
Then his expression hardened.
“Lauren.”
“I'll stay.”
“Thank you.”
The convoy stopped.
Giovanni opened the door.
I caught his wrist.
He looked down at my hand.
“Bring Peter back.”
“I intend to.”
“And Carlo?”
His eyes turned cold.
“We'll see.”
He disappeared into the rain.
Through the tinted window, I watched him approach the warehouse alone.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
My phone rang.
Giovanni.
I answered immediately.
“Giovanni?”
Static.
Then another voice.
“Hello, Lauren.”
My blood turned cold.
The caller from earlier.
“You're watching the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“Then watch carefully.”
A gunshot cracked inside.
I flinched.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing yet.”
Another sound.
Glass breaking.
Then Giovanni's voice, distant.
“Franco, now!”
The warehouse erupted.
Two side doors burst open.
Moretti men moved inside.
A black sedan suddenly accelerated from behind the building.
Franco's voice came through the driver's radio.
“Stop that car!”
Our SUV lurched forward.
The sedan struck a barrier and spun.
Men surrounded it.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out with his hands raised.
I recognized him.
Not from the alley.
From the townhouse.
He had been there dozens of times.
Quiet.
Gray-haired.
Always carrying documents.
I had served him coffee.
Luca's face appeared in my memory.
Moretti businesses.
Accounting.
Eleven years.
Peter Lang.
But Peter was supposedly the hostage.
The man raised his hands.
Then Giovanni emerged from the warehouse.
Beside him walked another man.
Bruised.
Bound wrists.
Same face.
Almost.
I stared.
“Twins?”
Franco opened my door.
“Peter has a brother.”
The gray-haired man beside the sedan smiled.
“Paul Lang,” Franco said.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Peter handled Moretti accounts.
Paul knew enough about his brother's life to impersonate him from a distance.
Giovanni approached.
Paul looked at me.
“There she is.”
Giovanni stepped between us.
“You don't look at her.”
Paul laughed.
“That is why you'll lose eventually.”
“Why?”
“You care about people who don't matter.”
Giovanni's expression changed.
I opened the SUV door.
“Lauren, stay inside.”
I ignored him.
Paul looked directly at me.
“Forty-seven thousand dollars.”
My body went still.
Giovanni turned.
Paul smiled.
“Medical debt. Late payments. Barely enough money to survive.”
“How do you know that?”
“Peter had access to employment files.”
Peter shouted from behind Giovanni.
“I never gave him that!”
Paul ignored him.
“You were perfect, Lauren. Vulnerable. Alone. Predictable.”
“No,” I said.
His smile faded slightly.
“You got one thing wrong.”
“What?”
“I came back to work.”
Paul's expression hardened.
“You expected me to hide.”
Giovanni looked at me.
I continued.
“You expected him to panic and move everyone around because I disappeared.”
Franco slowly understood.
“But she came back.”
“And Giovanni found her inside the house,” Luca said.
I looked at Paul.
“You couldn't control what happened after that.”
Paul's smile vanished.
Police sirens sounded in the distance.
He looked toward Giovanni.
“You called the police?”
Giovanni shook his head.
“I didn't.”
Peter raised his bound hands.
“I did.”
Paul's face went white.
Peter stared at his brother.
“You used my access. My name. My life.”
“You owed me.”
“I owed you nothing.”
Paul lunged.
He never reached him.
Franco dropped him to the pavement.
Seconds later, officers flooded the lot.
I looked at Giovanni.
“You involved the police?”
“When someone attacks civilians, yes.”
“That doesn't sound very mafia-boss-like.”
He glanced at me.
“You watch too many movies.”
For the first time since the alley, I laughed.
Then pain shot through my ribs.
Giovanni immediately reached for me.
“Don't.”
“I'm laughing.”
“You're injured.”
“Still laughing.”
His hand remained beneath my elbow.
May you like
This time, I didn't pull away.
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