Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN SIMON REFUSED TO TRADE
“I’m going.”
“No.”
Natasha folded her arms.
Simon stood across from her in his office.
“They have a nine-year-old child.”
“And I'm not trading one innocent person for another.”
“We're not trading. We're setting a trap.”
“No.”
“Simon—”
“No.”
His voice cracked through the room.
Natasha stared.
“You hired me because I was the only person who could help your sons.”
“Yes.”
“Then trust me when I tell you I can help her.”
“This isn't therapy.”
“No. It's courage.”
Simon looked away.
That frightened Natasha.
Simon Gambino always had an answer.
Now he had none.
“I lost Vanessa because I didn't listen,” he finally said. “I'm not losing you because I did.”
Natasha's anger disappeared.
“Simon.”
He looked at her.
“I love your sons.”
His eyes changed.
“And somewhere between you terrifying restaurant managers and failing spectacularly at tapping three gentle beats…”
He almost smiled.
“…I fell in love with their father too.”
Simon went completely still.
Natasha had imagined saying those words differently.
Not surrounded by guns.
Not while a child was being held hostage.
But life rarely waited for perfect timing.
Simon crossed the room.
He cupped her face with both hands.
“Say it again.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Natasha.”
“You heard me.”
He kissed her.
Not violently.
Not possessively.
Almost carefully.
As if the most dangerous man in New York was afraid she might disappear if he held her too tightly.
When they separated, Natasha touched his chest.
“We bring that little girl home.”
Simon closed his eyes.
Then nodded.
The exchange was arranged at an abandoned Crestwood medical facility outside Manhattan.
Natasha wore a tracking device.
Simon placed a tiny transmitter inside the button of her coat.
Anthony begged to go.
Simon refused.
“You're her father,” Simon told him. “So you're going to do the hardest thing a father can do.”
“What?”
“Trust someone else to bring her back.”
Natasha entered the building alone.
Richard Crestwood waited inside.
He was seventy, silver-haired and impeccably dressed.
He looked like a philanthropist.
That was what made him terrifying.
Anthony's daughter, Lily, sat beside him.
Alive.
Vale stood nearby.
Crestwood smiled.
“Daniel's little girl.”
Natasha looked at Lily.
“Let her go.”
“The files.”
“I have them.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
Crestwood sighed.
“Your father was equally difficult.”
“You killed him.”
“I solved a problem.”
Simon heard every word through the transmitter.
So did the federal investigators Marcus had anonymously alerted.
That had been Natasha's condition.
No private execution.
No disappearance.
Evidence.
Witnesses.
Consequences.
Crestwood continued talking because powerful men often mistook cruelty for intelligence.
He admitted ordering Daniel's death.
He admitted manipulating Vanessa's treatment.
He admitted using Vale to alter pediatric records.
Then Vale realized what Natasha was doing.
“She’s wired.”
Chaos erupted.
Crestwood grabbed Lily.
Vale lunged toward Natasha.
The doors exploded inward.
Simon entered with Marcus and armed security as federal agents stormed another entrance.
Vale reached for Natasha.
Simon hit him before he got there.
Lily ran.
Natasha caught her.
“Your dad sent me.”
“Daddy?”
“He’s waiting.”
The girl clung to her.
Crestwood was arrested.
Vale followed.
For the first time in years, Natasha watched Leonard Vale being taken away and felt no guilt.
Only relief.
Outside, Anthony fell to his knees when Lily ran into his arms.
Simon stood several feet away.
Natasha approached him.
“It’s over.”
“No.”
She frowned.
Simon looked toward the arriving investigators.
“Crestwood talked about someone else.”
“Who?”
“He called him the architect.”
Natasha's stomach tightened.
Then Marcus approached holding a recovered phone.
“There’s one number Crestwood called every week.”
Simon looked at the screen.
The number belonged to someone they all knew.
Someone who had been inside the Gambino penthouse.
Someone who had access to the twins.
Natasha whispered:
“Who?”
May you like
Marcus raised his eyes.
“The twins’ pediatrician.”
