Chapter 2 - The Second Name on the Kill List|
For several seconds, Emma Carter couldn't breathe.
She stood in her tiny kitchen with Dominic Salvatore's voice pressed against her ear, watching her six-year-old daughter color a picture of three smiling butterflies.
"What do you mean the explosion wasn't meant to kill only you?"
Dominic remained silent for a moment.
Then he said something that made the blood drain from her face.
"Your name was connected to the attack, Emma."
Emma gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.
"That's impossible."
"I wish it were."
"I didn't even know you existed until that night."
"I believe you."
"Then why would anyone want me dead?"
"That's what I've spent the last twenty-one days trying to understand."
Emma turned toward the window.
Across the street, a silver sedan sat beside a broken streetlight.
Its engine was running.
She had noticed the same vehicle outside her apartment the previous evening.
At the time, she had assumed it belonged to someone visiting a neighbor.
Now she wasn't so certain.
"Dominic, what exactly did you find?"
"A message was intercepted yesterday from someone connected to the bombing."
"What kind of message?"
"It contained two photographs."
Emma swallowed.
"One was of me, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"And the other?"
"You and your daughter."
The kitchen suddenly felt terribly cold.
Emma looked at Lily, who was humming softly while choosing between purple and yellow crayons.
For six years, Emma had done everything possible to keep her daughter safe.
She had worked double shifts, skipped meals, and learned to repair almost everything in their apartment herself.
She had survived winters without reliable heat and birthdays when she couldn't afford presents.
But none of those struggles had prepared her for a stranger placing Lily's photograph on a kill list.
"Who sent it?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then you need to find out."
"I intend to."
Emma's voice sharpened.
"No, Dominic, you don't understand."
"I understand more than you think."
"My daughter has nothing to do with whatever business you're involved in."
"You're right."
"Then keep your business away from her."
He accepted her anger without arguing.
"Emma, I need you to listen carefully."
Before he could continue, Lily coughed.
The little girl put down her crayon and leaned against the kitchen table.
"Mommy, my head hurts again."
Emma immediately crossed the room.
Lily's forehead was burning.
"I'm taking her to the hospital," Emma said.
"I'll have a vehicle downstairs."
"I can call a taxi."
"You can, but the silver sedan outside your building concerns me."
Emma stopped moving.
"How do you know about that car?"
"One of my security people saw it."
"You've been watching my building?"
"Only since last night, when I learned someone might be watching you."
Emma's stomach tightened.
She hated the idea of strangers monitoring her home.
She hated even more that someone dangerous might already know where Lily slept.
"If we use your car, you follow my rules," she said.
"Tell me."
"No threats, no guns near my daughter, and no decisions about her without asking me."
"Agreed."
"And if you have evidence of a crime, you bring it to the police."
Another silence followed.
Then Dominic answered.
"Agreed."
Within fifteen minutes, Emma was carrying Lily down the narrow apartment stairs.
Mrs. Peterson stood on the landing wearing her faded blue cardigan.
"Call me the moment you know she's all right," the elderly woman insisted.
"I will."
"And Emma?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful of that man."
Emma glanced toward the black SUV waiting outside.
"I plan to."
At the hospital, Lily was examined by a pediatric physician.
After testing and monitoring, the doctor explained that Lily had a respiratory infection that needed treatment and close follow-up.
Her fever gradually began to respond to the care she received.
Emma finally felt her shoulders relax.
Dominic had remained in the waiting room without demanding special treatment or interrupting the medical staff.
When Emma returned, she found him sitting beneath a flickering fluorescent light, holding a paper cup of coffee he hadn't touched.
"How is she?"
"Better."
He exhaled.
"Good."
Emma sat beside him.
"Now tell me the truth."
Dominic looked down at his hands.
"The man who died in my car was named Thomas Grant."
"I'm sorry."
"He worked for me for eleven years."
"Did he have a family?"
"A wife and two sons."
Emma's expression softened.
Dominic continued.
"Thomas was supposed to deliver something to me that night."
"What?"
"Information about a betrayal inside my organization."
"Who was betraying you?"
"That's what he was trying to tell me."
Emma stared at him.
"And you think it involves me?"
"I know someone believes you possess something important."
"I don't possess anything important."
"Someone disagrees."
Emma shook her head.
"My most valuable possession is a television that only works if you hit the side."
Dominic almost smiled.
But the expression vanished when his phone vibrated.
He read the message without speaking.
Then he stood.
"Emma, I need to make a call."
Something about his sudden change in posture frightened her.
"What's happened?"
"Someone entered your apartment building while you were here."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
He showed her a photograph taken by the security camera near her hallway.
A man in a gray coat stood outside her door.
His face was hidden beneath a baseball cap.
In his hand was a small white envelope.
Emma stared at the image.
"Did he go inside?"
"No."
"Then what did he want?"
Dominic enlarged the photograph.
Written across the envelope were four words.
ASK HER ABOUT NICHOLAS.
Emma felt the room tilt.
For seven years, she had tried to forget that name.
Nicholas Reed had been the first man she ever loved.
He had also been the man who disappeared after discovering she was pregnant.
Until that moment, Emma had believed he was simply another coward who hadn't wanted to become a father.
But now someone connected to a Mafia assassination was asking about him.
Dominic noticed her expression.
"You know Nicholas?"
Emma's eyes filled with tears.
She looked toward the hospital room where Lily was sleeping.
Then she whispered the truth.
May you like
"Nicholas is my daughter's father."
And for the first time since meeting her, Dominic Salvatore looked genuinely afraid.
