Chapter 9 - THE FRIEND WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Marco stood twenty feet away.
Gun in hand.
Rain dripping from his face.
Aleandro slowly rose.
“Drop it.”
Marco stared at him.
“What?”
“Drop the gun.”
“Aleandro—”
“Now.”
Marco lowered it carefully.
Elena’s heart raced.
“You think Marco is Raffaele?”
Aleandro said nothing.
Marco laughed in disbelief.
“That’s insane.”
“The priest said your name.”
“Then maybe he was warning you about me. That doesn’t mean I’m your dead brother.”
Aleandro stepped closer.
“Take off your shirt.”
Marco blinked.
“What?”
“Raffaele had a burn scar across his left shoulder from when we were kids.”
Marco stared at him.
Then slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
No burn scar.
Aleandro exhaled.
Marco’s eyes hardened.
“Feel better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Elena looked toward the dead priest.
“Then what did he mean?”
A bullet struck a headstone beside them.
Marco grabbed Elena and dragged her down.
“Shooter!”
Aleandro fired toward the trees.
Their guards returned fire.
“Back to the cars!”
They ran.
Marco shoved Elena into the SUV.
Aleandro jumped in after her.
The vehicle tore down the road.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Finally Marco said, “Maybe Santino wasn’t saying I’m Raffaele.”
Aleandro looked at him.
“Then what?”
“He might’ve been saying I know where Raffaele is.”
Silence.
Aleandro’s voice became dangerously calm.
“Do you?”
Marco stared through the windshield.
“Yes.”
Aleandro pulled his gun.
Elena grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t!”
“Move your hand.”
“No.”
“He lied to me.”
“So did everyone in your life. You gonna shoot all of them?”
Marco laughed bitterly.
“She has a point.”
Aleandro ignored him.
“Talk.”
Marco took a breath.
“My father worked for Raffaele.”
“You told me your father worked docks.”
“He did. For Raffaele.”
“How long have you known he survived?”
“Since I was sixteen.”
Aleandro went still.
“That’s twenty-five years.”
“Yes.”
“You stood beside me every day.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me search for him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he made me swear.”
Aleandro pressed the gun against Marco’s head.
Elena held her breath.
Marco didn’t flinch.
“He said if you ever learned the truth too early, you’d die.”
Aleandro’s voice cracked with anger.
“Where is he?”
Marco looked at Elena.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether Elena has the tape.”
Her hand moved instinctively toward her bag.
Marco noticed.
“So she does.”
Aleandro’s gun remained raised.
“What’s on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why does Raffaele want it?”
“Because Isabella recorded something twenty years ago.”
“What?”
Marco finally looked at Aleandro.
“A confession.”
“Whose?”
“Raffaele’s.”
Elena pulled out the cassette.
The old plastic case suddenly felt heavier than a brick.
Aleandro stared at it.
“Where can we play that?”
Marco answered immediately.
“My place.”
Aleandro laughed coldly.
“You think I’m walking into your house?”
“You want answers?”
“I want my brother.”
“Then listen to the tape.”
They drove to Marco’s apartment in Queens.
Inside, he pulled an old cassette player from a closet.
“Why do you own this?” Elena asked.
“My mother saves everything.”
Aleandro inserted the tape.
Pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Isabella’s voice.
Young.
Terrified.
“If anything happens to me, this recording must go to Aleandro.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Aleandro stopped breathing.
Another voice came through.
Male.
Calm.
Familiar.
“You should’ve stayed out of family business, Isabella.”
Aleandro whispered, “Raffaele.”
The tape continued.
Isabella spoke.
“You killed your own father’s men.”
“I did what was necessary.”
“You’re going to kill Vittorio too.”
A pause.
Then Raffaele laughed.
“Eventually.”
Aleandro’s face changed.
Then Isabella said something that made everyone freeze.
“And Aleandro?”
Raffaele’s reply came softly.
“My little brother won’t survive long enough to become a problem.”
The cassette clicked.
Then a live voice spoke from behind them.
“He almost didn’t.”
They turned.
A man stood in the apartment doorway.
Silver hair.
Dark coat.
A scar running across his left cheek.
May you like
Aleandro’s gun dropped slightly.
“Raffaele.”
