Chapter 4 - Midnight at the Warehouse
Vincent didn't go alone.
He simply wanted Patrick Doyle to believe he had.
And despite every argument from Adrian, Marco, Dana, two nurses, and probably common sense itself, neither did I.
“You are staying in the car,” Adrian told me.
“No.”
“Emily.”
“Patrick Doyle dragged my mother into this.”
“Which is precisely why—”
Vincent interrupted.
“She's coming.”
Adrian stared at his father.
“You've lost your mind.”
Vincent adjusted his coat.
“She threatened to end me over coffee. Doyle doesn't stand a chance.”
“That is not a security strategy.”
“It has worked surprisingly well so far.”
I almost smiled.
The abandoned warehouse stood beside the Chicago River.
Doyle waited inside with several men.
Vincent entered first.
Adrian and I watched from a protected position with Marco's team nearby.
Patrick Doyle was older than I expected.
Silver hair.
Expensive suit.
The appearance of a banker.
“Vincent.”
“Patrick.”
“You came.”
“You threatened a sick woman. I became curious.”
Doyle smiled.
“You've gotten sentimental.”
“No. I've gotten impatient.”
Doyle tossed photographs onto a table.
Pictures of me.
Adrian.
The hospital.
The diner.
“You have weaknesses now.”
Vincent glanced at them.
“My son isn't a weakness.”
“The waitress is.”
“No.”
Doyle smiled.
“Then why are you here?”
Vincent leaned closer.
“Because you made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“You assumed caring about someone makes a man weaker.”
Doyle's smile faded.
Vincent continued.
“It gives him a reason to stop negotiating.”
Marco's people moved.
Doors closed.
Doyle suddenly realized the warehouse was surrounded.
Nobody fired a shot.
Nobody needed to.
Vincent had brought federal investigators.
Doyle stared at him.
“You brought cops?”
“Financial-crimes investigators,” Vincent corrected. “Your accounts were sloppy.”
Doyle looked stunned.
Adrian whispered beside me.
“He's been building this case for months.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
Vincent had turned Doyle's trap into his own.
Records of extortion, bribery, fraudulent contracts, and threats had already been delivered to investigators.
Doyle's face twisted.
“You think this makes you legitimate?”
Vincent's expression remained calm.
“No. It makes you arrested.”
Agents moved forward.
Doyle shouted.
“You're finished, Moretti!”
Vincent didn't even look back.
Then Doyle saw me.
His eyes widened.
“You.”
Adrian immediately stepped in front of me.
But I moved beside him.
Doyle laughed.
“All this because of a waitress?”
I answered before Vincent could.
“No.”
Doyle stared at me.
“All this because you were stupid enough to threaten someone's mother.”
Vincent looked over his shoulder.
For the first time, I saw genuine approval in his eyes.
Doyle was taken away.
Outside, freezing rain fell across the river.
Adrian turned toward Vincent.
“You could've told me about the investigation.”
“You would've interfered.”
“I would have helped.”
“You're impatient.”
“I learned from you.”
Vincent sighed.
“Unfortunately.”
Then Adrian looked at me.
“You should be at the hospital.”
“So should you.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother wants to meet the nobody with nice shoulders.”
Vincent looked confused.
Adrian groaned.
“I'll explain later.”
Vincent smiled.
“Oh, I'm definitely coming.”
“No.”
“Absolutely.”
I laughed.
And after two days of fear, hospital corridors, death threats, and Moretti family arguments, laughing felt unexpectedly good.
But when we reached the hospital, Dr. Patel was waiting.
His expression wiped the smile from my face.
“Emily.”
I stopped.
“What happened?”
“Your mother experienced respiratory failure.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“For now?”
Dr. Patel hesitated.
“We need to perform the procedure immediately.”
I looked through the glass toward her room.
Then Vincent stood beside me.
“Do it.”
Dr. Patel looked at me.
I nodded.
“Save my mother.”
The doors closed behind her bed.
May you like
And for the first time since Vincent Moretti threw that coffee cup, there was nothing any of us could do but wait.
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