Chapter 2 - Twenty-Seven Missing Years
“You’re telling me somebody kidnapped your parents?”
Peter didn’t answer immediately.
Sam did.
“No.”
Peter turned.
Sam gripped the edge of the table.
“We left.”
“Why?”
“To keep you alive.”
Peter stared at his father.
Rose sat silently beside him.
“Twenty-seven years,” Peter said. “You let me think you were dead for twenty-seven years.”
Sam’s face hardened.
“You were sixteen.”
“I buried two empty coffins.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
Peter stepped closer.
“You know what that did to me?”
“Peter,” Rose whispered.
He stopped.
Rose touched his arm.
“We thought you would be safer.”
Peter looked away.
I pulled the blinds over the front windows.
“Maybe everyone can finish the family reunion after someone explains why my son is supposedly in danger.”
Peter turned to one of his men.
“Vincent.”
The broad-shouldered man locked the front door.
“Marco, kitchen exit.”
Another man disappeared toward the back.
I stared at Peter.
“You’re locking us in?”
“I’m keeping them out.”
“That distinction matters to you?”
“Yes.”
“Not much to me.”
Sam almost smiled.
Peter noticed.
“What?”
His father shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Papa.”
“She reminds me of your mother.”
Rose looked offended.
“I’m much nicer.”
Despite everything, Sam laughed.
Peter stared at them.
For one brief second, the feared man disappeared.
He was just their son.
Then Vincent approached.
“Black sedan moved.”
“Where?”
“Alley.”
Peter immediately looked at me.
“Where’s the rear exit?”
“Kitchen.”
“Basement?”
“Yes.”
“Street access?”
“Loading door.”
Peter turned.
“Marco.”
“I’m on it.”
I grabbed Peter’s sleeve.
“Stop ordering people around in my restaurant.”
His gaze dropped to my hand.
I released him.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
Peter almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Sam spoke.
“His name was Frank Bellini.”
Peter went still.
“Bellini?”
Sam nodded.
“He worked for your grandfather.”
Peter slowly sat across from him.
“What happened?”
Sam looked toward Rose.
She answered.
“Your father saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.”
Sam continued.
“Bellini was stealing money. Millions. He had cops, union men, politicians. I found the books.”
“You could’ve come to Grandpa.”
“I tried.”
Sam looked directly at him.
“Bellini had already reached him.”
Peter’s jaw tightened.
“He threatened you?”
“He threatened you.”
Peter became completely still.
Sam leaned forward.
“He gave me a choice. Disappear, or bury my son.”
Rose whispered, “So we disappeared.”
Peter looked at his mother.
“You never contacted me.”
“We tried once,” she said.
“When?”
“Your eighteenth birthday.”
Peter frowned.
“We sent a letter through someone we trusted.”
“I never got it.”
Sam’s expression darkened.
“Then Bellini intercepted it.”
I looked between them.
“Who is Bellini now?”
Peter answered.
“Dead.”
I exhaled.
“Great.”
“His son isn’t.”
Of course.
“What’s his name?”
“Anthony Bellini.”
Peter walked toward the window.
“He controls what’s left of his father’s organization.”
Vincent returned.
“And he’s been trying to take Castiglione territory for three years.”
I folded my arms.
“Territory?”
Peter looked at me.
“Businesses.”
“Sure.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
I pointed toward Leo.
“I don’t care what you call it. Why does any of this involve us?”
Peter looked toward Sam.
“Because Bellini has spent twenty-seven years believing they were dead.”
Sam nodded.
“And now?”
Peter looked toward the dark windows.
“Now he knows they aren’t.”
A loud bang came from the kitchen.
I jumped.
Peter’s men moved instantly.
“Stay here.”
He headed toward the kitchen.
I followed.
He turned.
“Emma.”
“My son is here.”
“Exactly why you stay.”
“Exactly why I don’t.”
We reached the kitchen.
Marco stood beside the rear door.
Someone had pushed an envelope underneath it.
Peter crouched.
“Don’t touch it.”
He pulled on gloves.
Opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My stomach dropped.
It was Leo.
Taken earlier that afternoon.
He was walking beside me outside his elementary school.
Words were written across the bottom.
Peter read them silently.
“What does it say?”
He didn’t answer.
“Peter.”
He handed me the photograph.
THE WAITRESS SHOULD HAVE MINDED HER BUSINESS.
My knees weakened.
Peter caught my elbow.
I pulled away.
“Who took this?”
“Bellini.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because this is what he does.”
I looked toward the dining room.
Leo was still sleeping.
He had no idea.
I looked back at Peter.
“What do we do?”
His voice became quiet.
May you like
“Now you let me protect you.”
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