The hospital plunged into darkness.
For half a second, nobody moved.
Then Dominic crossed the room with frightening speed.
"Down."
He pushed my mother's chair behind the hospital bed while Danny locked the brakes on his wheelchair.
Outside, footsteps pounded through the hallway.
I heard a nurse shout.
Then something crashed.
Dominic stood beside the door, gun raised.
"Whoever comes through that door," he whispered, "stay behind me."
I almost laughed.
Twenty-four hours earlier, I had been serving this man pancakes.
Now he was preparing for a shootout beside my hospital bed.
A red emergency light flickered on.
The handle turned.
Dominic aimed.
The door opened.
"Boss."
A broad-shouldered man stepped inside.
Dominic lowered the weapon slightly.
"Marco."
"They cut power to this floor. Security found a maintenance worker unconscious downstairs."
"Children?"
"Safe."
Dominic exhaled.
It was the first time I'd seen genuine fear leave his face.
"Move them."
"Already done."
Marco glanced at me.
"The stairwell is secure. We need to leave."
I looked at my IV.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Dominic gave me a look.
"That's not a request."
"I was shot twelve hours ago."
"And someone just entered the hospital looking for either my children, you, or both."
That ended the argument.
Within ten minutes, a terrified doctor had signed emergency discharge papers while Dominic's people surrounded the floor.
Mom protested.
Danny complained.
I demanded explanations.
Nobody cared.
They put me in a wheelchair.
Apparently being a hero didn't earn me walking privileges.
When we reached the underground garage, three black SUVs were waiting.
Gia broke away from a bodyguard the moment she saw me.
"Emily!"
She ran toward my wheelchair.
Dominic caught her gently around the waist.
"Careful."
"But she's okay!"
"I'm okay," I promised.
Nico approached more cautiously.
He stared at the bandage beneath my hospital gown.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
His eyes filled with guilt.
"It was because of us."
My chest tightened.
"No."
I leaned closer.
"It happened because bad men made a bad choice. None of this is because of you."
He nodded.
Gia reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I made this."
It was a drawing.
Four stick figures.
Dominic, Gia, Nico...
And me.
I had an enormous blue cape.
"What am I?"
"A superhero."
Dominic looked away.
Maybe because he was embarrassed.
Maybe because his eyes had changed.
I folded the drawing carefully.
"I'll keep it forever."
We were taken to a townhouse in Brooklyn Heights that looked normal from the outside and like a fortress inside.
Bulletproof windows.
Security cameras.
Electronic locks.
Armed guards.
Dominic called it a safe house.
My mother called it insanity.
Danny called it awesome.
By noon, Mom had been taken to her chemotherapy appointment under armed escort, which was probably the strangest sentence I'd ever thought.
I sat at the kitchen table with Dominic.
The letter from my father lay between us.
"Start talking."
Dominic leaned back.
"Daniel Mercer and your father were partners for seven years."
"I know."
"What you don't know is that Mercer was present during the investigation into Vincent."
My stomach tightened.
"You're saying Mercer was involved?"
"I'm saying there were leaks. Every time your father got close to Vincent's network, evidence disappeared."
"And Dad trusted Mercer."
"According to that letter."
I picked it up again.
Trust Daniel.
"What does 'the truth is buried where justice watches the water' mean?"
Dominic looked toward the window.
"I've been thinking about that."
"Any ideas?"
"Your father liked monuments?"
I almost smiled.
"He dragged us to every historical monument in New York."
Danny rolled his chair into the kitchen.
"Because apparently children love plaques."
I looked at him.
"How much did you hear?"
"Everything after 'organized crime conspiracy.'"
"You should rest."
"So should you."
Fair point.
Danny looked at the letter.
"'Where justice watches the water.' Could be the courthouse near Foley Square."
"No water," I said.
"Statue of Liberty?"
Dominic shook his head.
"Too obvious."
Then I remembered.
"Dad used to take us to Brooklyn Bridge Park."
Danny frowned.
"He took you. I was seven."
"There was an old courthouse plaque near the promenade."
Dominic stood.
"Show me."
"No."
He looked at me.
"I'm coming."
"You can't walk properly."
"My shoulder is injured, not my legs."
"You nearly died yesterday."
"And my father left me that clue."
Dominic stared at me for a long moment.
"You always this difficult?"
"Ask my family."
"She is," Danny offered.
Two hours later, Dominic and I stood near the waterfront while Marco and four guards watched the area.
The rain had stopped.
Manhattan rose across the East River.
I remembered walking here with Dad.
He would buy coffee.
I would complain about being bored.
He would point to buildings and tell me stories about crimes he'd solved.
Then a memory surfaced.
A bronze plaque.
A judge.
Justice watching the water.
"This way."
I led Dominic toward an older section of the promenade.
The plaque was still there.
Judge Samuel Whitmore.
A nineteenth-century judge who'd fought political corruption.
Beneath the plaque, water glittered in the distance.
Dominic examined the stone base.
"Buried."
Marco produced tools.
Ten minutes later, he found a loose brick.
Behind it sat a rusted metal box wrapped in waterproof plastic.
My heartbeat thundered.
Dominic handed it to me.
Inside was a small notebook.
A flash drive.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed my father standing beside another man.
Dominic's father.
Between them was Daniel Mercer.
I turned the picture over.
Dad had written one sentence.
One of us is lying.
"Emily."
Dominic was staring at the notebook.
Rows of dates.
Money transfers.
Police badge numbers.
Names.
Then I saw one entry.
MERCER — $200,000.
My stomach turned.
"No."
Dominic said nothing.
"He was Dad's best friend."
"He may still have been corrupt."
I flipped pages.
More payments.
More names.
And then—
THOMAS CHEN — $50,000.
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Dominic moved closer.
I shoved the notebook away.
"No."
My father's name was in the ledger.
Money beside it.
"That's impossible."
Dominic studied the entry.
"Maybe."
"You think my father was dirty?"
"I didn't say that."
"It's exactly what you're thinking."
"No."
His voice remained calm.
"I'm thinking someone wanted him to look dirty."
A shot cracked through the air.
Dominic tackled me behind a stone wall.
Marco shouted.
Another shot.
People screamed and ran.
Dominic covered my body with his.
Ironically, less than twenty-four hours after I'd shielded his children, he was now shielding me.
"Sniper," Marco yelled.
Dominic's hand pressed against the back of my head.
"Stay down."
A black SUV screeched toward us.
His men rushed us inside.
As we sped away, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A text.
I opened it.
There was a photograph of my mother entering the oncology center.
My blood turned cold.
Another message appeared.
STOP DIGGING INTO YOUR FATHER'S DEATH.
Then another.
OR THIS TIME, YOUR FAMILY WON'T SURVIVE.
Dominic read over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
Something frightening settled into his eyes.
"Call the hospital," I whispered.
Marco did.
Mom was safe.
For now.
Dominic took my phone.
"They made a mistake."
"What mistake?"
"They threatened your family."
"So?"
His gaze met mine.
"And now I'm involved."
I shouldn't have felt safer after hearing Brooklyn's most feared man say that.
But I did.
That night, we returned to the safe house.
Gia and Nico were asleep upstairs.
Danny had convinced one of Dominic's hackers to let him examine a copy of the flash drive.
I sat across from Dominic in the living room.
"What happens if Mercer really killed Dad?"
"We prove it."
"And then?"
"Then you decide what justice means."
I studied him.
"That's a strange thing for you to say."
"Because I'm a criminal?"
"Because people say you're worse than that."
He smiled without humor.
"People say many things."
"Are they wrong?"
Dominic looked toward the stairs where his children slept.
"Not about everything."
I expected him to defend himself.
He didn't.
"My father raised me in a world where fear was currency," he said. "I became good at spending it."
"And now?"
"Now I have two children who watch everything I do."
His voice softened.
"They make a man reconsider what he wants remembered about him."
Before I could answer, Danny rolled into the room.
His face had gone pale.
"I cracked part of the flash drive."
I stood.
"What did you find?"
"Videos."
He turned the laptop toward us.
Security footage.
Old.
Grainy.
Dated twelve years earlier.
Dad appeared on screen.
My breath caught.
He entered a warehouse.
Seconds later, Daniel Mercer walked in.
They argued.
No audio.
Then another man appeared.
Vincent Valentine.
Dad reached for his gun.
Mercer struck him from behind.
I stopped breathing.
Vincent grabbed Dad.
Mercer took Dad's weapon.
The footage ended.
My eyes filled with tears.
"Keep going."
Danny clicked another file.
Audio this time.
Dad's voice.
Weak.
Angry.
"You won't get away with this, Daniel."
Then Mercer's voice.
Calm.
"I already have."
I covered my mouth.
Dominic stood beside me.
The recording continued.
"If you touch my family—"
"They'll believe you died in a robbery."
"You were my partner."
A pause.
Then Mercer said:
"That's why nobody will ever suspect me."
The recording ended.
I couldn't move.
Twelve years of questions collapsed into one terrible answer.
My father's best friend had betrayed him.
But Danny wasn't finished.
"There's another file."
He clicked.
A list appeared.
Recent transactions.
One was dated three weeks ago.
The recipient:
D. MERCER.
The amount:
$500,000.
And beside it:
VALENTINE TWINS — CONTRACT.
Dominic went completely still.
Daniel Mercer hadn't only helped murder my father.
He had ordered the attack on Gia and Nico.
And now he knew we were looking for him.
---