They found Leo’s first clue in the photograph.
Not Gabriel’s security team.
Frankie.
She enlarged the image on a monitor inside Gabriel’s private operations room and ignored thirty minutes of men discussing phone triangulation.
“Stop.”
Everyone turned.
Frankie pointed at the wall behind Leo.
A faded orange stripe ran horizontally through the photograph.
“So?”
Gabriel stood behind her chair.
“Old industrial paint.”
Frankie nodded.
“More than that. Look at the bolts.”
Nobody understood.
She enlarged the metal column.
“Square-headed anchor bolts. Nobody has used these around the newer port warehouses in decades.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“You’ve seen them?”
“My dad used to service forklifts at the abandoned Fulton cold-storage buildings.”
Gabriel immediately turned.
“Antonio.”
His cousin was standing near the door.
Frankie watched him.
Antonio looked perfectly calm.
“Yes?”
“Pull ownership records.”
Antonio nodded.
Too smoothly.
He left.
Frankie turned to Gabriel.
“You trust him?”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“I trust evidence.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
Gabriel understood exactly what she was asking.
Forty minutes later, they learned the Fulton property had been purchased two years earlier by a shell corporation called Meridian Storage LLC.
The same company had once shared an accountant with the fake parts supplier Frankie had discovered.
Gabriel looked at her.
“Good noise.”
She grabbed her jacket.
“We’re going.”
“No.”
Her expression hardened.
“Do not start.”
“It may be a trap.”
“My brother is inside.”
“Which makes you emotionally compromised.”
Frankie walked directly toward him.
“If somebody took your brother, could anyone in this building keep you behind a desk?”
The room went silent.
Gabriel stared down at her.
“No.”
“Then don’t ask me to do something you wouldn’t.”
Something passed between them.
Respect.
Fear.
Understanding.
Finally Gabriel nodded.
“You stay beside me.”
“I don’t take orders well.”
“I’ve noticed.”
They drove to Fulton in three black SUVs.
Rain had begun again.
Chicago looked metallic under the storm.
The cold-storage complex had been abandoned for fifteen years.
Broken windows.
Faded loading docks.
Rusting signs.
Gabriel’s men moved first.
Frankie followed despite repeated looks from them.
Gabriel remained beside her.
Inside, everything smelled like damp concrete and dust.
Then Frankie heard it.
A tapping sound.
Three taps.
Pause.
Three taps.
“Leo.”
She moved toward a side corridor.
Gabriel caught her shoulder.
“Slow.”
They found him inside an old freezer room.
Alive.
Bound to a chair.
Frankie ran forward.
“Leo!”
His eyes widened.
“No!”
Gabriel grabbed Frankie around the waist.
A wire crossed the floor.
Thin.
Nearly invisible.
Frankie froze.
Gabriel’s mouth was beside her ear.
“Pressure trigger.”
Her heart hammered.
Leo began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“Shut up,” Frankie whispered.
“Frankie—”
“Shut up until I get you out.”
Gabriel’s bomb technician arrived.
It wasn’t a large explosive.
Enough to kill anyone standing near the doorway.
Enough to make a rescue fatal.
Twenty-three minutes later, Leo was free.
Frankie slapped him.
Then hugged him so hard he gasped.
“You idiot.”
“I know.”
“You absolute idiot.”
“I know.”
She buried her face against his shoulder.
Only when she looked up did she notice Gabriel standing several feet away.
Watching.
His expression was unreadable.
Outside, while medics examined Leo, Gabriel questioned him.
“Who took you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they ask?”
Leo swallowed.
“They wanted to know what Frankie found.”
Frankie frowned.
“How would I know anything?”
“They think Costa tells you things.”
She and Gabriel exchanged a look.
Leo continued.
“One guy kept saying the mechanic should have stayed under the hood.”
“Did you hear names?”
“No.”
“Accents?”
“Chicago. Maybe Italian-American. One sounded older.”
Frankie sat beside him.
“Anything else?”
Leo hesitated.
“One guy took a call.”
Gabriel leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
“Not much. He said, ‘Tell A.C. the route is clean.’”
Nobody moved.
A.C.
Antonio Costa.
Gabriel’s cousin.
Leo noticed the reaction.
“Does that mean something?”
Gabriel stood.
“No.”
Frankie knew immediately that it meant everything.
Back at the penthouse, Gabriel dismissed everyone.
Frankie remained.
“You’re not confronting Antonio.”
Gabriel poured two glasses of water.
“You’re giving me orders again.”
“I’m telling you not to be stupid.”
He handed her a glass.
“My cousin may have ordered your brother kidnapped.”
“Which means if he thinks we suspect him, he runs.”
Gabriel looked toward the city.
“My father died protecting Antonio’s father.”
Frankie said nothing.
“Antonio and I shared a bedroom for three years after his mother died. We built the harbor operation together.”
“Then this hurts.”
His mouth tightened.
“That is not relevant.”
“That’s a lie.”
He turned.
Frankie stepped closer.
“You think because you’re Gabriel Costa, betrayal is supposed to feel like accounting?”
His eyes darkened.
“Careful.”
“No.”
She didn’t raise her voice.
“That warning works on everyone else. Stop using it on me.”
He stared at her for a long time.
Then he did something Frankie never expected.
He sat.
Not behind the desk.
On the edge of it.
For the first time he looked tired.
“My father trusted the wrong man once,” Gabriel said.
“He died because of it.”
Frankie’s anger softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“Antonio saved you?”
Gabriel nodded.
“The shooting that killed my father. Antonio dragged me behind a car.”
“Then maybe he isn’t involved.”
“Maybe.”
But they both knew otherwise.
Frankie placed her glass down.
“What happens if he is?”
Gabriel’s face became the mafia king’s again.
“He answers for it.”
The answer should have frightened her.
Instead, Frankie saw the thing underneath it.
Grief.
A man preparing to destroy someone he loved because the alternative was allowing more people to die.
She reached toward him.
Stopped.
Then touched his hand.
Gabriel looked down.
Frankie immediately regretted it.
Not because he pulled away.
Because he didn’t.
His fingers turned beneath hers.
Slowly.
Their palms met.
No jokes.
No insults.
No guards.
Gabriel looked at her.
“Francesca.”
Her pulse jumped.
“I told you to call me Frankie.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone gets Frankie.”
His voice lowered.
“I want something nobody else gets.”
Her breathing changed.
“That is an extremely arrogant sentence.”
“I know.”
“You should apologize.”
“I won’t.”
She almost smiled.
Gabriel lifted his other hand.
This time he waited before touching her face.
Frankie saw the question.
She didn’t move away.
His thumb brushed the faint streak of grease near her jaw.
“You always have this somewhere.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“I like it.”
“That may be the first stupid thing you’ve said.”
He leaned closer.
Frankie’s heart hammered.
Then his phone rang.
They both froze.
Frankie closed her eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Gabriel actually laughed.
He answered.
The amusement vanished immediately.
“What?”
He listened.
Then stood.
Frankie knew.
Something bad.
“What happened?”
Gabriel ended the call.
“Moretti Auto is on fire.”
For one second, she could not understand the words.
Then she ran.
---