Chapter 3 - The Secretary Who Knew Too MuchThe first thing Dominic heard when Gemma answered his second call was breaking glass.
Then her father's voice.
“Get away from my daughter!”
Dominic crossed his office in four strides.
“Gemma!”
A muffled struggle.
A sharp cry.
Then Gemma whispered, “Kitchen. We're in the kitchen.”
“Stay there.”
Dominic called his security chief, Marcus Bell, on another phone.
“Hayes residence. Two intruders. Get the nearest team there now. Call the police and medical services.”
Marcus didn't ask questions.
Dominic heard keys striking a keyboard.
“Six minutes.”
“You have four.”
Dominic ended the call and returned to Gemma.
“Are they inside?”
“Yes.”
Her voice shook.
“They broke the front lock. Dad pushed the table against the kitchen door.”
A loud crash followed.
Dominic's grip tightened around the phone.
“Keep talking to me.”
“Why are they here?”
“I don't know yet.”
“That's not good enough.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It isn't.”
Something struck the kitchen door.
Thomas coughed violently.
Gemma cried out, “Dad, sit down!”
Dominic heard another impact.
Then a stranger shouted from the hallway.
“We don't want the old man. Give us the laptop.”
Gemma stared at the computer sitting on the kitchen counter.
She had brought it home without realizing that she had slipped it into her bag.
The same laptop Dominic had told her to leave.
“Mr. Falcone,” she whispered, “they want my computer.”
“Do not give them anything until the police arrive.”
“They're breaking the door.”
Dominic looked at the clock.
“Marcus is coming.”
A splintering sound erupted through the phone.
Gemma screamed.
Then someone shouted from outside the apartment.
“Police! Hands where we can see them!”
For three seconds, there was chaos.
Footsteps.
A man's furious curse.
A crash from the living room.
Then silence.
“Gemma?”
She was crying now.
Not loudly.
Just the frightened, involuntary breathing of someone whose body had finally reached its limit.
“I'm here.”
“Your father?”
“He's conscious. He's having chest pain.”
“Help is coming.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
He had spent years believing fear made people useful.
Hearing it in Gemma's voice made him understand how wrong he had been.
By the time Dominic reached St. Catherine's Medical Center, Thomas Hayes was undergoing emergency cardiac evaluation.
Gemma sat in a waiting area wearing the same gray trousers from the previous night's meeting.
A small cut marked her cheek.
Her hands trembled around a paper cup.
She stood when she saw Dominic.
He stopped several feet away.
“Are you hurt?”
“I'm fine.”
“You're bleeding.”
“It's a scratch.”
He looked toward the treatment rooms.
“Your father?”
“They're running tests.”
She swallowed.
“One of the men got away. The police arrested the other.”
Dominic nodded.
Marcus had already briefed him.
The arrested man carried false identification and had refused to explain who hired him.
The second escaped through the building's rear stairwell before officers secured the exits.
Dominic sat beside Gemma.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then she asked, “What happened to your brother?”
The question struck harder than he expected.
Dominic looked at her.
“Who told you about him?”
“The man at my apartment.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“That you needed to stop looking for him.”
Dominic leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“My brother's name was Adrian.”
Gemma waited.
“He was twenty-two when he disappeared. He worked in the financial side of my father's business. He believed someone inside the organization was stealing money.”
“Did he find out who?”
“He told me he had evidence.”
“What happened?”
“His car was found beside the Hudson River. His phone was inside. There was blood on the driver's seat.”
Gemma's expression softened.
“Was his body found?”
“No.”
“Then why did everyone say he was dead?”
Dominic looked at the hospital floor.
“Because my father told them to.”
An hour later, Thomas was stabilized.
The cardiologist explained that the stress had aggravated his condition, but he had not suffered a major heart attack.
He still needed the scheduled procedure.
Gemma nodded through the explanation, trying not to think about the unpaid hospital deposit.
After the doctor left, Dominic approached the billing desk.
Gemma followed him.
“Please don't.”
He turned.
“Don't what?”
“Pay for it.”
“Your father needs treatment.”
“And I will find a way.”
“Gemma—”
“No.”
The firmness in her voice surprised both of them.
She lowered it.
“I know you want to help. But I can't owe you something like that.”
Dominic studied her.
“Why?”
“Because I've spent two years watching what happens when people owe Dominic Falcone favors.”
He looked away.
For the first time, he couldn't argue.
“Then it won't be a favor.”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I'm arranging an independent compensation review. You worked excessive hours during an emergency. If the company owes you overtime or other compensation, you'll receive it through payroll. No conditions.”
“And if it doesn't?”
“Then I won't pretend it does.”
She stared at him.
That answer mattered more than an offer of money.
Later that afternoon, Gemma sat beside her father's hospital bed.
Thomas watched her for several minutes.
Then he asked, “Does your boss know?”
“Know what?”
Thomas looked toward the closed door.
“About the photograph.”
Gemma frowned.
“Dad?”
He reached toward the bedside drawer and removed a battered brown envelope.
“I should have told you years ago.”
Inside was a photograph taken outside a shipping warehouse.
Four men stood beside a black sedan.
Gemma recognized one immediately.
A younger Dominic Falcone.
Beside him stood a smiling young man with similar dark eyes.
Adrian.
The third man was Thomas Hayes.
And the fourth was Dante.
Gemma stared at her father.
“Why are you in this picture?”
May you like
Thomas's face crumpled.
“Because fourteen years ago, sweetheart, I helped Adrian Falcone disappear.”
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