Chapter 7 - The Last Santoro War
Victor expected an army.
Nick brought three men.
Anthony.
Marco Bell, his security chief.
And Father Michael Russo, Anthony's seventy-year-old uncle.
Anthony stared at the priest.
“You brought Father Mike?”
Nick adjusted his jacket.
“He knows every back entrance in that club.”
Father Michael shrugged.
“I was not always a priest.”
Nobody asked.
The social club had once belonged to Nick’s grandfather.
Nick had celebrated his tenth birthday downstairs.
His father had taught him cards at the corner table.
Victor believed the building belonged to him now.
He had forgotten that Nick knew its bones.
Father Michael unlocked a cellar entrance beneath the neighboring church.
A narrow tunnel led beneath the block.
“You people are insane,” Anthony whispered.
Father Michael glanced back.
“Your grandmother used this tunnel to smuggle whiskey during Prohibition.”
“My grandmother?”
“Wonderful woman.”
They emerged behind the club's basement pantry.
Upstairs, Rachel sat beside Teresa.
Victor's men had tied their wrists.
Teresa looked annoyed rather than frightened.
“You're too skinny.”
Rachel blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You work too much.”
“Mrs. Santoro, we've been kidnapped.”
“That doesn't mean you should skip meals.”
Rachel almost laughed.
Victor stood near the window making phone calls.
His organization was collapsing faster than he realized.
The ledger had reached federal investigators.
Bank accounts were being frozen.
Two corrupt officials had already hired attorneys.
Victor still believed controlling Nick would solve everything.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Rachel watched him.
Victor hung up.
Another phone rang.
Then another.
For the first time, panic appeared.
Rachel smiled.
“Bad day?”
Victor struck the table beside her.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“I think it's over.”
He grabbed her chin.
Teresa surged forward.
“Take your hands off her.”
Victor turned.
“You were always dramatic, Teresa.”
“And you were always jealous of your brother.”
His face hardened.
That landed.
Teresa continued.
“Carlo didn't have to demand loyalty. People gave it to him.”
“Carlo was weak.”
“No. He was loved.”
Victor slapped her.
Rachel exploded from her chair.
The chair tipped.
She kicked Victor hard in the shin.
He cursed.
One guard grabbed Rachel.
Then the lights went out.
Gunfire erupted downstairs.
Victor drew his pistol.
“Move!”
He hauled Rachel upright and pressed the weapon against her side.
Teresa screamed her name.
Victor dragged Rachel through the rear corridor.
Nick reached the main room seconds later.
“Ma!”
“Victor took her.”
“Where?”
“Roof.”
Nick ran.
Rachel stumbled up the final staircase.
Victor shoved open the rooftop door.
Cold wind tore across the building.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Victor looked around.
Nowhere left to go.
Rachel realized it before he did.
“You lost.”
“Shut up.”
“The police are coming.”
“Those aren't police.”
“Federal agents.”
That stopped him.
She smiled.
“My father's evidence wasn't just in the ledger.”
Victor’s grip tightened.
“You're lying.”
“Maybe.”
The rooftop door opened.
Nick stepped through.
Alone.
His gun remained lowered.
Victor pressed his pistol against Rachel's neck.
“Drop it.”
Nick did.
The gun hit the roof.
Rachel looked at him.
“No.”
Nick ignored her.
Victor laughed.
“The great Nicholas Santoro.”
“You wanted me.”
“I wanted loyalty.”
“You murdered your brother.”
“I built what he was too weak to protect.”
“You built nothing.”
Victor's face twisted.
Nick continued.
“You hid behind my father's name. Then mine.”
“Without me, you'd be nobody.”
“Maybe.”
Nick looked at Rachel.
“But I'd rather be nobody than you.”
Victor’s finger tightened.
Rachel moved.
She slammed the heel of her shoe onto Victor's foot and threw her head backward.
His gun fired.
Nick charged.
The bullet went into the air.
Nick hit Victor hard enough to send both men crashing into the rooftop gravel.
The pistol skidded away.
Victor struck Nick.
Nick hit him back.
Years of betrayal exploded in every blow.
Victor reached for the gun.
Rachel kicked it away.
Nick pinned his uncle against the roof.
His hands closed around Victor's throat.
Victor laughed through broken breath.
“Do it.”
Nick squeezed harder.
“Become me.”
Rachel saw the change in Nick’s face.
The temptation.
The rage.
“Nick.”
He didn't hear.
She stepped closer.
“Nick.”
His eyes shifted toward her.
“Don't give him the ending he wants.”
Nick looked down at Victor.
Then slowly released him.
Victor coughed.
Nick stood.
Sirens grew louder.
Victor laughed weakly.
“You think prison changes anything?”
Nick wiped blood from his mouth.
“No.”
He looked toward the approaching lights.
“But living long enough to watch everything you built disappear might.”
Federal agents flooded the rooftop minutes later.
Victor was arrested.
So were six of his men.
Rachel stood beside Nick as agents led his uncle away.
Victor stopped.
“You'll always be a Santoro.”
Nick met his eyes.
“Yes.”
Victor smiled.
Then Nick added:
“But you're the last one who gets to decide what that means.”
Victor was taken downstairs.
Rachel looked at Nick.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Still human, then.”
Nick laughed quietly.
Then he looked at her.
Blood ran from a cut near her eyebrow.
He touched it carefully.
“You're hurt.”
“Your uncle has terrible hospitality.”
His hand lingered against her cheek.
“You scared me.”
“I noticed.”
“You never do that again.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“Are you giving me orders?”
Nick sighed.
“No.”
“Good.”
She leaned closer.
“Because I have one for you.”
“What?”
“Kiss me before another federal agent interrupts us.”
Nick obeyed.
Unfortunately, Anthony opened the rooftop door three seconds later.
“Oh, come on.”
Rachel laughed against Nick’s mouth.
For the first time since the diner, Nick forgot to watch the exits.
May you like
But downstairs, an agent was opening Daniel Adams's ledger.
And one name on the final page would prove Victor Santoro had never been working alone.
