Chapter 6 - The Message
The concrete floor of the private garage was cold and damp.
A man in dark tactical gear was zip-tied to a heavy wooden chair, his face bruised and bleeding from Arthur's interrogation.
I stepped into the bright halogen light, my handmade leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the stone. I stood over him, my hands buried in the pockets of my dark coat.
"You're in New York," I said quietly to the man.
The hitman spat a mouthful of blood onto the concrete, glaring up at me with sneering bravado. "Leo knows she's here, Hale! You can't keep her hidden forever! Hand over the girl and the mother, and Leo will give you ten percent of the Moretti trust!"
I didn't answer. I slowly pulled my hands from my pockets.
I turned to Arthur. "Give me the phone."
Arthur handed me the satellite phone pulled from the hitman's jacket. I tapped the redial button and placed the phone on speaker, holding it between my fingers.
The line rang twice before a deep, arrogant voice with a thick Chicago accent answered.
"Did you get them?" Leo Moretti demanded through the speaker. "Is the kid dead?"
"Leo," I spoke into the phone, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
There was a sudden, heavy pause on the line. The ambient sound of a fireplace and clinking glasses on Leo's end instantly went quiet.
"Hale...?" Leo’s voice lost its arrogance, turning sharp and cautious. "What is this? Why are you holding my phone?"
"You sent three amateurs onto my property, Leo," I said softly. "You threatened a four-year-old child who eats breakfast at my table every morning."
"Listen to me, Daniel," Leo stammered, trying to regain his composure. "This is an internal Moretti matter! The girl holds eighty million dollars that belongs to my family! Hand her over, and we can make a deal—"
"If you ever say her name again," I interrupted, my voice dropping into a register so dark it made the hitman bound to the chair tremble, "I will sell every asset you own in Chicago, I will dismantle your family brick by brick, and I will personally put you in the ground beside Marco."
"You wouldn't dare start a war over a maid!" Leo shouted.
May you like
"She isn't my maid," I said quietly. "She's under my roof. And you have twenty-four hours to pack your bags and leave the country before I come to Chicago."
I crushed the satellite phone in my bare palm, tossing the shattered plastic onto the floor.
