Chapter 10 - THE DEAL
My rule was simple.
No more secrets.
Dominic hated it immediately.
“I can’t tell you everything.”
“Then I walk.”
“We’re trying to keep you alive.”
“And secrets have done a great job of that so far.”
He had no answer.
We spent the afternoon turning Dad’s evidence over to someone Dominic trusted in the federal government.
Not the local police.
Not Chicago PD.
A federal prosecutor named Elena Ruiz.
She met us in a church basement.
Apparently crime families and federal prosecutors both loved dramatic locations.
Elena was in her forties, tired eyes, gray suit, no patience.
“You expect me to believe this?”
Dominic placed the drives on the table.
“You asked for evidence against Salvatore for fifteen years.”
“I asked for evidence. Not a bedtime story.”
I pushed Dad’s recorder toward her.
“Then listen.”
She did.
Her expression changed.
“This voice can be authenticated?”
“Yes,” Dominic said.
Elena looked at me.
“You understand that if we move on this, your name becomes part of the case.”
“My name has already been part of this case for eight years. I just didn’t know it.”
She nodded slowly.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“Everybody says that until they find out what it costs.”
“I’m already paying.”
That shut her up.
The plan was dangerous.
Salvatore wanted the original drives.
We would give him copies.
Federal agents would surround the meeting site.
Dominic would wear a transmitter.
I would stay outside.
That last part lasted about five seconds.
“No.”
Elena stared at me.
“No?”
“He asked for me.”
“You’re a civilian.”
“He’ll leave if I’m not there.”
Dominic cut in.
“She’s right.”
Elena looked between us.
“You two have a death wish?”
“No,” I said. “Just bad luck.”
At 11:42 p.m., we reached an abandoned private club near the lake.
Rain again.
Of course.
Dominic checked his weapon.
I wore a small microphone under my jacket.
“You stay beside me.”
“You stay beside me.”
He looked at me.
“That isn’t how protection works.”
“I’m not paying you.”
For the first time, he laughed.
A real laugh.
Short.
Surprised.
Then his face became serious again.
“If anything happens—”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
He stepped closer.
“If anything happens, you run. You don’t fight. You don’t come back for me.”
I stared at him.
“Did my father tell you the same thing?”
His face changed.
“He told me to run.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then stop asking me to be better than you.”
We entered.
Salvatore sat alone at a long table.
Seventy years old.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
He looked more like someone’s wealthy grandfather than a murderer.
That made me hate him more.
“Avery.”
“Salvatore.”
He smiled.
“You have your father’s eyes.”
“You have his blood on your hands.”
Dominic put the bag on the table.
“The drives.”
Salvatore opened it.
Then sighed.
“You insult me.”
He removed one.
“Copies.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Salvatore smiled.
“Do you think I survived fifty years by trusting family?”
Doors slammed behind us.
Men appeared from both sides.
Armed.
Too many.
Dominic glanced toward the windows.
No federal agents.
Salvatore smiled wider.
“Your prosecutor won’t be coming.”
My heart dropped.
“What did you do?”
“I made a phone call.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“To who?”
Salvatore looked at me.
“That’s the problem with corruption.”
He lifted his glass.
“Eventually, everyone has a price.”
Then someone stepped from the shadows behind him.
Elena Ruiz.
May you like
She held a gun.
And it was pointed directly at me.
