Chapter 6 - THE MAN IN MY WAREHOUSE
Arthur disappeared.
Patrick was detained.
Camille was charged.
Elias Grant began negotiating.
Arthur Velez vanished.
Nobody knew how.
His accounts froze.
Passport flagged.
Properties watched.
Yet he disappeared as if the city had swallowed him.
For twelve days, I heard nothing.
Then Jack called me from the safe house.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I remembered something.”
“What?”
“Mr. Arthur came over once.”
My body went still.
“When?”
“Before Camille started being mean.”
“How long before?”
“Maybe a week.”
“What did he do?”
“He talked to Mom’s picture.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“The one in your office.”
I tried to understand.
“He was alone?”
“I thought so.”
“Why were you there?”
“I wanted my game.”
“Did he see you?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
Jack closed his eyes.
“He said, ‘You should have left it alone.’”
Isabella.
Arthur had been angry at Isabella.
Long before Camille.
I went to my office and searched everything.
Desk.
Shelves.
Safe.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Isabella’s favorite framed photograph.
Jack as a baby.
Rosie newborn.
All four of us.
I removed it from the wall.
Behind the frame was a small handwritten note.
One word.
MARSEILLE.
Naomi stared.
“What does it mean?”
“A route.”
Romano Continental operated a storage facility outside Marseille.
Isabella had visited once with me.
Arthur handled the acquisition.
We pulled archived records.
A private account connected to the facility had sent money to Arthur for six years.
Not Sloane money.
Older.
I understood.
Arthur had been selling route information long before Patrick recruited him.
Isabella found it.
She confronted him.
Arthur did not kill her.
Her death was natural.
Medical records confirmed that again and again.
But he had been terrified she left evidence.
That was why he obsessed over the children’s trust after she died.
If I found her investigation, his betrayal ended.
Patrick offered him protection.
Money.
A larger scheme.
Arthur joined.
Nico located him through the Marseille funds.
A warehouse in Cicero.
Roman Continental property.
My property.
I went there before federal agents.
That was a mistake.
I knew it.
I went anyway.
Arthur stood inside the warehouse with a gun.
“You came alone.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Nico outside?”
“Probably.”
“I taught you better.”
“You taught me paperwork.”
“That saved your life more often than guns.”
True.
Arthur looked older.
Tired.
“I loved Isabella.”
The sentence almost made me hit him.
“Don’t.”
“As a friend.”
“Don’t.”
“She was brilliant.”
My fists clenched.
“She found Marseille.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to her.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“For ten years.”
Arthur lowered the gun slightly.
“You think loyalty pays retirement?”
I almost laughed.
“You made millions.”
“I watched you make hundreds.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The part where you convince yourself theft is justice.”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“You were going to die eventually, Roman.”
“So you chose Friday.”
“Patrick chose Friday.”
“And you helped.”
“Yes.”
“Camille hurt my children.”
Arthur looked away.
“Not my idea.”
“But you knew.”
“Yes.”
That answer nearly did it.
Nearly.
I crossed the distance.
Arthur raised the gun.
I slapped it aside.
We hit the floor.
He was older.
I was stronger.
Seconds later, he was on his back.
My hand around his throat.
His gun three feet away.
Arthur laughed breathlessly.
“There you are.”
I tightened my grip.
“You think they’re going to believe you changed?”
My hand tightened again.
“Your children know what you are.”
Jack.
Rosie.
Rosie covering her head over spilled milk.
Jack asking whether I believed him.
Isabella’s letter.
Our children do not need the most feared man in Chicago.
They need their father.
I released Arthur.
He gasped.
I stood.
He stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Something you never expected.”
Nico entered.
Federal agents behind him.
Arthur looked from them to me.
“You called them?”
“No.”
Nico smiled faintly.
“Housekeeper.”
Of course.
Naomi had placed a tracker in my coat.
I should have been angry.
I wasn’t.
Agent Park handcuffed Arthur.
He looked at me.
“You’re still Roman Romano.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to become innocent.”
That was true.
“I’m not trying to.”
He was led away.
I stood inside the warehouse alone.
For fifteen years, every serious betrayal ended with blood.
That night, Arthur Velez walked out alive.
May you like
It was the first victory nobody in my old world would understand.
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