Chapter 11 - The Blood on Matteo's Hands
The first thing I noticed was the blood.
Not mine.
Matteo's.
It covered the cuff of his white shirt where he'd been pressing against my wounded arm.
"You're ruining another expensive outfit," I whispered.
He didn't smile.
"Keep talking."
"That usually annoys you."
"Today I'm making an exception."
We were back inside the armored SUV.
Leo drove while speaking into his earpiece.
Two vehicles followed us.
Somewhere behind those vehicles, the man who had shot me was being taken to a secure location.
I wanted to know who he was.
I wanted to know why he'd called me the target.
But every time I tried to speak, Matteo told me to concentrate on breathing.
It was getting old.
"Matteo."
"Yes?"
"If you tell me to breathe one more time, I'm going to stop out of spite."
His mouth twitched.
"That would be inconvenient."
"Then answer my questions."
He checked the cloth wrapped around my arm.
"The bullet grazed you. You're bleeding, but not heavily."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
He looked toward Leo.
"How far?"
"Four minutes."
"Call Dr. Patel again."
"Already did."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do you have an entire medical team on speed dial?"
"Yes."
"Of course you do."
Then I remembered something.
"The box."
Matteo looked at me.
"What about it?"
"The gunman demanded it."
"Yes."
"But the message said I did exactly what they wanted."
His expression tightened.
"Which means they expected you to throw it."
"Why?"
"We'll find out."
I stared at him.
"You're very confident for someone who keeps getting surprised."
He looked directly at me.
"Confidence and certainty aren't the same thing."
That shut me up.
For approximately five seconds.
Then I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"Was Leo supposed to die?"
Matteo went still.
I swallowed.
"The shooter distracted him. Separated us. Then came for me."
"Yes."
"So they knew our plan."
"Yes."
"Someone is listening to us."
The silence that followed was worse than an answer.
Matteo glanced toward the dashboard.
"Leo."
"Working on it."
I looked from one man to the other.
"What does that mean?"
Matteo took a slow breath.
"It means whoever is organizing this has access to information they shouldn't have."
"Your information?"
"Possibly."
"Your people?"
He didn't answer.
I thought about Jimmy.
His missing sister.
The fake medical transfer.
The police captain.
Every new detail seemed to open another door, and behind every door was someone holding a gun.
"How many people are involved?" I whispered.
Matteo looked out the window.
"Too many."
We arrived at a private medical clinic shortly after sunrise.
Dr. Anika Patel was a short woman with dark hair, tired eyes, and the kind of expression that made grown men sit down when she told them to.
She took one look at my arm.
Then at Matteo.
"Again?"
I blinked.
"Again?"
Matteo sighed.
"Anika."
"Last month it was a knife wound. Before that, broken ribs."
She snapped on gloves.
"Do you collect injured people?"
"Apparently."
I lifted my uninjured hand.
"For the record, he didn't shoot me."
Dr. Patel examined the wound.
"Good. I'd hate to revise my opinion of him upward."
I laughed.
Then winced.
She cleaned and dressed the graze while Matteo waited near the door.
He didn't leave.
Even when Leo called.
Even when his phone rang three more times.
At one point, Dr. Patel glanced over her shoulder.
"Matteo, hovering doesn't improve healing."
"I'm not hovering."
"You're standing three feet away like you're preparing to arrest the bandages."
I grinned.
He looked at me.
"Don't."
"Didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
Dr. Patel finished.
"The wound is superficial. No major damage, but you'll need follow-up care. Watch for worsening pain, redness, fever, or numbness."
I nodded.
"Can I go to work tomorrow?"
Both of them stared at me.
"What?"
Matteo's expression was almost offended.
"You were shot."
"Grazed."
"Clara."
"Rent doesn't disappear because somebody tries to murder you."
His face changed.
There it was.
The difference between us.
For him, danger was a problem to solve.
For me, danger was a problem I had to survive without missing my electricity payment.
Dr. Patel looked away tactfully.
Matteo approached.
"You're not going back to the Velvet Room."
I felt my temper rise.
"That's not your decision."
"No."
He paused.
"But the club is now part of a homicide investigation, your manager helped arrange an attack, and someone has access to your schedule."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Hated how reasonable that sounded.
He continued.
"You need time to recover."
"Time doesn't pay bills."
"I can help."
"No."
"Clara."
"I'm serious."
He studied my face.
Then nodded.
"All right."
That surprised me.
"All right?"
"I won't make financial decisions for you."
I blinked.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Matteo Conti?"
For a moment, he smiled.
Then his phone rang.
Leo.
Matteo answered.
"What?"
His expression darkened.
"Where?"
A pause.
"Is she alive?"
My heart stopped.
"Matteo?"
He held up one finger.
"Secure the location. Don't move anything until I get there."
He ended the call.
I stood.
"Mom?"
He looked at me.
"No."
I swallowed.
"Then who?"
"Jimmy's sister."
My chest tightened.
"Rosa?"
He nodded.
"Leo found her."
"Where?"
"At an abandoned insurance office in Revere."
"Is she okay?"
"She's alive."
Relief washed through me.
Then I saw his expression.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Matteo exhaled.
"She was left there with a warning."
"What warning?"
He hesitated.
"Written on the wall."
I stared.
"What did it say?"
He looked me straight in the eye.
"The daughter was never supposed to live."
My mouth went dry.
Then he said something even worse.
"Clara, Rosa says the people who held her weren't working for Daniel Bennett."
I swallowed.
"Then who?"
Matteo's expression turned cold.
"She says they were taking orders from my uncle."
I frowned.
"Your uncle?"
He nodded.
"Vittorio Conti."
I stared at him.
"Your father's brother?"
"Yes."
"And where is he?"
Matteo looked toward the window.
"He's been sitting on my executive council for eleven years."
May you like
A pause.
"And until this morning, he was the only family member I still trusted."
