Chapter 6 - A Cold Welcome
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The private basement parking garage of the hospital was cold and smelled of damp exhaust fumes.
Marco stood beside a black Mercedes-Benz, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit with a silk handkerchief in his breast pocket.
He was checking his gold wristwatch when the elevator doors chimed and Vincent stepped out into the concrete expanse.
Vincent walked with measured, unhurried steps, his hands buried deep inside his long wool coat.
Behind him walked four of his most loyal enforcers, their faces expressionless, their hands resting inside their jackets.
Marco looked up and forced a wide, sympathetic smile onto his face.
“Vincent! Dio mio, brother, I heard the news the second I woke up.”
Marco stepped forward with his arms outstretched to embrace him.
“How is the little secretary?”
“The streets are talking crazy, saying she was nearly slaughtered near Chelsea Piers.”
Vincent did not return the embrace; he stopped two feet away, his eyes dead and unblinking.
Marco’s smile wavered slightly, his arms dropping awkwardly back to his sides.
“Vincent? What is it?”
“You smell like expensive cologne, Marco,” Vincent said quietly.
“And expensive cigars.”
Marco let out a nervous chuckle.
“I was out late closing the casino accounts in Queens, you know how it is.”
“I do know how it is,” Vincent agreed, tilting his head.
“Tell me something, brother.”
“How did you know she was attacked near Chelsea Piers?”
Silence descended over the subterranean garage, heavy and suffocating.
Marco blinked, a micro-expression of panic flashing across his eyes before he quickly composed himself.
“What do you mean? Word travels fast in this city.”
“Word didn't travel that fast,” Vincent said, taking a slow step forward.
“The police report didn't mention Chelsea Piers.”
“I personally instructed Ray Reynolds to withhold the location from the media.”
“Only three people in this city knew where she was found.”
“The detective, me, and the bastards who left her there to bleed to death.”
Marco backed up until his spine hit the door of his Mercedes.
“Vincent, listen to me, you’re stressed out, you’re tired—”
Vincent’s hand whipped out from his coat with blinding speed.
His fingers clamped around Marco’s throat like an iron shackle, slamming him hard against the car window.
The glass spiderwebbed behind Marco’s head.
Marco gasped for air, his hands clawing desperately at Vincent’s wrist, but Vincent’s grip was unbreakable.
“You took twenty-five years of brotherhood and traded it for a slice of Moretti’s harbor territory,” Vincent hissed into his face.
“Did you really think she was just an ordinary girl?”
“Did you think you could break her bones and throw her in the trash without me burning this city to ashes?”
Marco struggled to speak, his face turning an alarming shade of dark purple.
“She... she had no business... meddling...” Marco choked out.
“She is the only person in my entire life who never lied to me!” Vincent roared, slamming him against the car once more.
“You gave her to Moretti’s animals to be beaten!”
“You let them stab her!”
From the shadows behind the concrete pillars, two men in maintenance uniforms suddenly raised silenced pistols toward Vincent.
They were Marco’s hidden shooters.
Before they could pull their triggers, Dominic’s men fired from the flanks.
Two muffled cracks echoed through the garage.
The two shooters collapsed onto the oil-stained concrete without making a sound.
Marco’s eyes bulged with pure terror as he realized he was completely cornered.
“Please, Vincent... we grew up together... our families...” Marco wheezed, tears of oxygen deprivation streaming down his cheeks.
Vincent pulled the antique golden key from his pocket and pressed the sharp brass tip against Marco’s cheek.
“You know what this key opens, don't you?”
Marco shuddered, recognizing the emblem.
“Salvatore Moretti gave it to you as a down payment for my head,” Vincent said, dragging the brass key down Marco’s skin until a bead of blood appeared.
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“Now you’re going to give me the codes to his private estate.”
“And then, Marco, you and I are going to have a very long conversation about loyalty.”
