Chapter 7: Not Your Property

Lorenzo did not move out of the gunman’s line of fire.

“You came for her,” he said. “You don’t need a gun pointed at the child.”

Dritan lifted two fingers. The barrel rose toward Lorenzo’s chest instead.

“There. Now we can behave reasonably.”

Behind us, Balthazar scraped a hoof against the flagstones. I kept my hand on his neck, though there was nothing steady about me for him to borrow.

Matteo stood beside the first pew. Mara had backed against the altar, her good hand clenched around the medical bag.

Dritan noticed it.

“You’ve been collecting souvenirs, Doctor.”

“They’re records,” she said.

“They’re mine.”

“You keep saying that about things that aren’t yours,” I said.

His eyes returned to me.

“You have your mother’s temper.”

I felt Lorenzo stiffen.

“You didn’t know my mother.”

“I know what happened when she thought she could leave this family.”

“Then say it clearly. Don’t stand there making threats and calling them stories.”

He looked at Lorenzo, enjoying the effect.

“She ran. People died. Your grandfather spent the rest of his life expecting a knock at his door. And now here you are, back where he never wanted you.”

“Because Danny sold you his letters.”

“Danny offered useful information.”

“Then you killed him.”

Dritan adjusted his cuff.

“Danny forgot the difference between being useful and being indispensable.”

The casualness of it made my skin crawl. A dead man reduced to an employee who had asked for too much.

“He brought me to the clinic for money,” I said. “You had my blood tested. Then you let me run.”

“You escaped.”

“But you didn’t hurry to catch me.”

His silence gave me room to think.

The threats had continued. Men had searched places I left days earlier. I’d thought I was lucky every time they missed me.

“You wanted me frightened enough to look for protection.”

“I expected you to be more difficult to trace,” he said. “Then Falcone’s people ran your face through half their contacts this morning. It saved us time.”

Raul had sent my photograph out. The doors opening. The guards turning inward.

My hiding place had become a trap because I trusted the walls more than the people holding the keys.

“You didn’t know I’d come here,” I said.

“No. But I couldn’t have chosen better.”

Lorenzo raised his pistol a fraction.

One of the gunmen shifted toward Mara.

“Put it down, Falcone,” Dritan said. “Yours and Vieri’s. Slowly.”

Lorenzo looked at Matteo. They lowered their weapons onto the nearest pew.

“The doctor needs treatment,” I said. “You can see she’s bleeding.”

“Then she shouldn’t have run.”

“Your men shot her.”

I moved between Mara and the gun aimed at her. Not far enough to make anyone nervous. Just enough that the man would have to change position if he wanted a clear shot.

Dritan watched me do it.

“You care about her now?”

“I care whether she lives to explain what you made her do.”

Mara’s breathing steadied behind me. I hadn’t forgiven her. But she was the only witness in this chapel who understood the clinic records, and I wasn’t going to let Dritan erase her while we argued about me.

Lorenzo’s eyes met mine for a moment. He understood.

I hated watching them surrender their weapons. I also knew which of us would be shot first if they refused.

“Kick them into the aisle.”

Matteo obeyed. A gunman collected both pistols, then patted down Lorenzo. Another moved toward me.

Balthazar bared his teeth.

The man stopped.

“She doesn’t have a gun,” Lorenzo said.

It was true. The revolver remained in the medical room. For once, being underestimated left me something to work with.

I stepped nearer the altar, bringing Balthazar with me. Dritan let me move as long as I stayed behind Lorenzo.

Beside the altar, a bell rope hung through a wooden opening in the ceiling. Behind Mara was a small side door leading toward the stable hill.

I’d seen it from the window. Its bolt was on our side.

“What do you want?” Lorenzo asked.

“Your cooperation. Certain routes. Certain people left alone. And Nora comes with me until you learn to keep your agreements.”

“No.”

“You haven’t heard the terms.”

“I heard enough,” I said.

Dritan turned his head.

“Your father is trying to save you.”

“By letting you lock me up?”

“You’ll be comfortable.”

“Danny said that too.”

I looked at Mara’s bag. Dritan followed my gaze, just as I hoped he would.

“Before you take her records,” I said, “ask what she’s already sent.”

Mara understood quickly.

“I made copies before I came here.”

“For Falcone,” Dritan said.

“For someone who doesn’t work for either of you.”

That answer was specific enough to make him pause.

I watched his nearest man glance at the doctor instead of the side door.

“Who?” Dritan asked.

“A lawyer,” Mara answered. “She has the names and the clinic accounts.”

“Names aren’t evidence.”

“Then why are you worried about the bag?” I asked.

He came toward me.

Lorenzo stepped across his path. A gun pressed against his ribs.

“Don’t,” Dritan told him. “You’ve already lost her once.”

My father went still.

I had not called him that in my head before. The word arrived without permission, and I couldn’t deal with it now.

“Leave him alone,” I said.

Dritan stopped near the altar.

“Come with me. Nobody else has to get hurt.”

I let go of Balthazar’s lead. It dropped loose on the floor.

The horse stayed beside me.

“You drugged me,” I said. “You had a doctor lie about my baby. You let Danny convince me that nobody would want me. And now you’re asking me to trust you.”

“I’m asking you to survive.”

“Then stop threatening to kill me.”

Behind him, Matteo moved his foot beneath the edge of the pew, testing the distance to the gunman holding the confiscated pistols.

Mara’s fingers closed around the side-door bolt.

Neither movement was enough. We needed the men looking somewhere else.

Dritan held out his hand.

“You’re making this unnecessarily difficult.”

I stepped backward until the bell rope brushed my shoulder.

“I’m not going back into a locked room.”

“You aren’t in a position to refuse.”

I seized the rope and pulled with both hands.

The bell crashed above us.

Balthazar startled sideways. The gunman nearest him stumbled into the pew, and Matteo moved.