Chapter 14: Secrets Unraveling (Luca Moretti POV)
Chapter 14: Secrets Unraveling (Luca Moretti POV)
I’m behind the counter at The Black Rose, stacking glasses in neat rows, the clink of glass steadying my nerves. Nico’s leaning on a bar stool, flipping through Gia’s burner phone, his thumb scrolling through call logs. The bar’s quiet, just the hum of the fridge and a faint drip from the sink, but my mind’s racing after that stash house explosion and Tommy’s text. I set a glass down, wiping my hands on a rag, and glance at Nico. “You’ve gotta confront her,” I say, keeping my voice low. “That phone, Nico, it’s proof she’s hiding something.”
He tosses the rag he’s holding onto the counter, the cloth landing with a soft thud. “She’s my sister, Luca,” he says, his voice tight. “I can’t just accuse her without knowing more.”
I grab another glass, polishing it even though it’s clean. “She had a photo of us,” I say, my fingers tightening on the rag. “Now a burner phone? Come on, Nico. She’s not on your side.”
He rubs his keychain cross, the metal glinting in his hand, and stands, pacing to the plywood-covered window. “I’ll talk to her,” he mutters, kicking a stray bottle cap that skitters across the floor. “But I need time. She’s family.”
I stack the last glass, my jaw clenching. “Time’s what we don’t have,” I say, tossing the rag into the sink. “Tommy’s out there, the O’Connors are hitting us, what if she’s feeding them info?”
Nico stops pacing, turning to me. “You think I don’t know that?” he snaps, then softens, stepping closer. “I’m handling it, Luca. Just… stay out of it for now.”
I cross my arms, biting back a retort. “Fine,” I say, but I’m not fine. I grab a crate of bottles from under the counter, restocking the bar to keep my hands busy. Nico watches, his fingers still on that cross, then grabs his jacket from a hook.
“I’m meeting Marco at the gym,” he says, zipping up. “Check those ledger numbers. You good here?”
“Yeah,” I say, setting a bottle of whiskey on the shelf. “Lock up when you leave.”
He nods, pulling me into a quick hug, his lips brushing my forehead. “Stay sharp,” he says, then heads out, the door clicking shut behind him. I slide the bolt, the metal scraping, and lean on the counter, humming a nervous tune, some old song my mom used to sing. Nico’s too close to Gia to see it, but I’m not. If she’s double-crossing him, I need proof.
I finish restocking, the bottles clinking as I line them up, and grab a broom, sweeping dust from the floor. A delivery truck rumbles past outside, its brakes squealing, and I check the clock, 3:15 p.m. The bar’s empty, my shift’s slow, and my mind’s stuck on that burner phone. Gia’s bag’s still on the stool where Nico left it, and I hesitate, then shake my head. I’m not digging through her stuff, that’s too obvious. But the office… maybe there’s something there, something Nico missed.
I set the broom against the wall and head to the back, unlocking the office door with a key from the register. The room’s small, cluttered with a desk, a filing cabinet, and a stack of crates. I flip on the light, the bulb buzzing, and start with the desk, pulling open the top drawer. It’s a mess, pens, paperclips, a half-eaten granola bar. I dig deeper, finding a stack of receipts bound with a rubber band. I slip the band off, flipping through them, my fingers pausing on cash deposit slips. The amounts, $5,000, $10,000, don’t match the bar’s books, which I’ve seen while doing inventory.
I hum louder, my heart racing, and tuck the receipts into my jacket pocket, zipping it up. This could be it, the missing money Nico’s chasing, maybe tied to Gia or Raf. I’m about to check the filing cabinet when I hear a floorboard creak outside. I freeze, shoving the drawer shut, and grab a stapler from the desk, holding it like a weapon. The door’s still closed, and I ease toward it, my sneakers silent on the floor.
I crack the door open, peeking out, and see Marco at the bar, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. I exhale, setting the stapler down, and step out, locking the office behind me. “Hey,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
Marco nods, twisting the bottle cap off. “Just checking in,” he says, taking a sip. “Nico’s at the gym, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing a rag to wipe the counter, keeping my hands busy. “You seen Gia today?”
He shrugs, leaning on a stool. “Not since yesterday. Why?”
I hesitate, then decide to test the water. “Just wondering,” I say, polishing a spot on the counter. “She’s been… off. You notice anything?”
Marco sets the bottle down, his eyes narrowing. “Like what?”
I shrug, stacking a few coasters. “Dunno. Just a feeling.”
He watches me for a second, then grabs his jacket. “Tell Nico to call me,” he says, heading for the door. “And don’t go poking around, kid. It’s not safe.”
I nod, but my mind’s already back on those receipts. As soon as he’s gone, I lock the door again, sliding the bolt, and head to the bar, grabbing a notebook to jot down the deposit amounts from memory, $5,000 on the 10th, $10,000 on the 15th. I’m halfway through when I hear a clatter in the alley, like a can tipping over. I set the pen down, grabbing Nico’s knife from my pocket, and ease toward the back door, cracking it open. A stray cat darts past, knocking over another can, and I laugh, shaking my head.
I close the door, locking it, and head back to the counter, pocketing the notebook. I’m restocking straws, humming again, when I decide to check the office one more time, maybe there’s more in the filing cabinet. I unlock the door, stepping inside, and start with the top drawer, flipping through folders labeled Invoices and Payroll. Nothing stands out, but I grab a few more receipts, tucking them with the others.
I’m closing the drawer, my fingers brushing a paperclip, when I hear the office door creak open behind me. I spin around, the knife in my hand, but it’s Raf, twirling his own blade between his fingers, a smirk on his face. “You shouldn’t be here, kid,” he says, stepping inside and shutting the door with a soft click.