Chapter 3 - THE SECRET NORAH NEVER TOLD HIM
Roman reached the lavatory as Elias Ward stumbled out.
Blood ran from his nose.
A flight attendant screamed.
Roman grabbed him before he collapsed.
“Who did this?”
Ward laughed weakly.
“You still think you’re the biggest problem in the room.”
Roman shoved him against the wall.
“Who sent you?”
“Vincent.”
Roman’s grip tightened.
Passengers stared.
Ward lowered his voice.
“Not to kill her.”
Roman went still.
“To protect her.”
The answer made no sense.
“From whom?”
Ward looked toward Norah.
“From you, originally.”
Roman’s eyes became lethal.
Ward continued quickly.
“Then things changed.”
“What changed?”
“Vincent found out why she ran.”
Roman glanced toward row 2.
Norah was holding the note.
Her face was white.
Roman dragged Ward into the empty galley.
“Start talking.”
Ward wiped blood from his mouth.
“A year ago, Norah contacted a lawyer.”
Roman froze.
“She was planning to leave you legally. She’d discovered she was pregnant. She wanted protection.”
Roman’s voice became quiet.
“How do you know?”
“Because Vincent intercepted the call.”
Everything inside Roman stilled.
Ward explained.
Vincent had secretly been using Roman’s organization to move narcotics through legitimate freight companies.
Roman had forbidden drugs years earlier.
Not from morality.
From experience.
His younger brother had died at nineteen after taking a contaminated pill.
Anyone violating that rule knew the penalty.
Norah had accidentally found shipping invoices hidden in Roman’s study.
She had not understood what they meant.
Vincent assumed she did.
“So he frightened her,” Roman said.
Ward nodded.
“He sent photographs.”
Norah had received pictures of Roman leaving warehouses after violent meetings.
Pictures of bodies.
Pictures of their penthouse.
Then a photograph of the positive pregnancy test she had thrown into a bathroom trash can.
Someone had written across it:
IF ROMAN KNOWS, HIS ENEMIES KNOW.
Roman’s stomach turned.
“He made her believe the children would become targets.”
“They would have.”
“Because of him.”
“Because of your life.”
Roman almost hit him.
Almost.
But the distinction mattered.
Ward saw it.
“That’s the part you hate, isn’t it? Vincent manipulated her, but he didn’t have to invent the danger. You supplied that yourself.”
Roman released him.
Back at row 2, Norah watched Roman approach.
“What happened?”
He sat beside her.
“Tell me about the photographs.”
Her face changed.
Roman had his answer.
“You knew?”
“I suspected someone was watching.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The night before I left.”
Roman frowned.
She laughed bitterly.
“You don’t remember.”
“I remember everything you say.”
“No. You remember everything your enemies say.”
The words cut.
Norah looked toward the dark window.
“I called you eleven times.”
Roman remembered the police raid.
His phone had been taken temporarily by one of his men.
Vincent.
“I received one call.”
“And what did you tell me?”
Roman remembered.
“I said I was busy.”
“You told me to lock the doors and stop worrying.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was standing in the nursery I had secretly started planning, holding a photograph of myself leaving my obstetrician’s office.”
Roman closed his eyes.
“I thought if I stayed, our babies would grow up surrounded by guns.”
“Why Denver?”
“My sister.”
Roman looked up.
“You don’t have a sister.”
“Yes, I do.”
He stared.
Norah gave a humorless smile.
“There were things about me you never bothered learning either.”
Her half sister, Claire, lived outside Denver under their mother’s maiden name.
Norah had spent the pregnancy there.
Then Claire died six weeks earlier.
Car accident.
Roman’s instincts sharpened.
“What road?”
“Roman.”
“What road?”
She told him.
He immediately messaged Carlo.
Twenty seconds later, his phone rang.
Roman listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Norah whispered.
Roman disconnected.
“Claire’s accident wasn’t an accident.”
The air left Norah’s lungs.
“No.”
“The brake line was cut.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“No, the police said ice—”
“They reopened the investigation yesterday.”
Norah covered her mouth.
Luca stirred.
Roman reached toward him, then stopped.
Norah noticed.
This time, she took Roman’s hand herself.
She placed it beneath Luca’s head.
Roman stared at her.
“Support his neck.”
His enormous hand trembled.
Roman DeLuca’s hand actually trembled.
Luca blinked up at him.
Then wrapped tiny fingers around his father’s thumb.
Roman’s face broke.
Not dramatically.
Just one breath catching somewhere behind his ribs.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Norah did not know whether he meant the baby, Claire, or her.
Perhaps all three.
The captain announced that worsening weather made Denver impossible.
They would divert to Omaha.
Roman looked toward Ward.
The former detective was watching the cabin nervously.
Then Ward shouted.
“Roman!”
A man two rows behind Norah stood abruptly.
His hand disappeared inside his jacket.
Roman moved before anyone else understood.
He threw himself across Norah and the twins.
A sharp metallic object flashed.
Passengers screamed.
Roman drove the attacker into the aisle.
The weapon clattered beneath a seat.
Not a gun.
A syringe.
Ward grabbed it using a napkin.
Roman pinned the man against the floor.
“What’s in it?”
The attacker smiled.
“You were supposed to stay in New York.”
Roman punched him once.
The smile disappeared.
“What’s in it?”
The man spat blood.
“You’re already too late.”
“For what?”
“Denver.”
Roman looked at Norah.
The attacker laughed.
“Vincent doesn’t want your territory.”
May you like
His bloody grin widened.
“He wants your name.”
