Chapter 4 - The Safehouse on 8th Street
The rain fell in blinding white sheets as my beat-up dark blue Volvo tore through the narrow alleys of South Brooklyn.
In the backseat, the four girls were squeezed together beneath my heavy wool coat. Mia had fallen asleep from pure exhaustion, her little head resting on Chloe’s lap, while Lily and Maya stared out the tinted windows at the passing streetlights.
Rosa sat in the passenger seat, her hands clutched tightly in her lap, staring straight ahead at the swishing windshield wipers.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice hollow.
"An old property on 8th Street," I replied, keeping my eyes glued to the rearview mirror. "It belonged to my brother before he died. It’s registered under a shell company that hasn't been active since 2018. Falcone doesn't know about it."
"And then what?" Rosa turned to face me, her eyes bright with angry tears. "We hide in an attic forever? My kids have school, Leo! I have a life! You just shot a man in the middle of my diner!"
"I saved your life, Rosa," I said firmly, turning down a dark, unlit residential alleyway. "Jimmy wasn't going to let you walk out of that room. Once Falcone knows a witness can identify his men, he cleans the slate. You know how this city works."
Rosa sank back into her seat, biting her lip so hard a bead of blood appeared. "I should have moved to Ohio when my sister asked me to two years ago," she whispered to the windshield. "I stayed because I thought Brooklyn was home."
"Brooklyn is home," I said quietly, pulling the car to a stop behind a three-story brick row house with dark windows and a rusted iron gate. "We’re just going to take it back."
I killed the engine and looked back at the four girls. Chloe was staring at me with an expression that was far too old for a nine-year-old child.
"Mr. Leo?" Chloe asked quietly.
"Yeah, Chloe?"
"The man outside my school... he had a tattoo of a bird on his hand."
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. A hawk tattoo on the right hand. That wasn't a Falcone enforcer. That was Viktor Kozlov—a Russian distributor who had been operating out of the Red Hook docks for the past three years.
If Kozlov was involved, this wasn't just a local extortion attempt by Falcone. Falcone was building a coalition with the Russian syndicate to control the entire Brooklyn waterfront, and they were using my old territory as the bargaining chip.
"Did he touch you, Chloe?" I asked, my voice deadly soft.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "He just asked if my mommy was lonely. I told him my dad was coming back from a long business trip and he carried a heavy briefcase."
A faint, dry smile touched my lips despite the situation. "Smart girl."
"I took his picture," Chloe added, pulling a small, cracked smartphone from her coat pocket. "With my friend's phone. I sent it to my email."
I looked at Rosa, whose jaw had dropped in complete astonishment.
"I told you she was too smart for her own good," Rosa murmured, though a trace of motherly pride broke through her tired voice.
I turned in my seat, reaching out to tap Chloe gently on the chin. "When this is over, Chloe, I’m buying you the biggest ice cream sundae in New York."
I turned back to Rosa, my eyes cold and focused once more. "Stay inside the house. The fridge is stocked with canned goods and water. The windows are reinforced bulletproof glass. I’m going to make a phone call."
May you like
"Where are you going, Leo?" Rosa asked, her hand catching my sleeve as I opened the driver's door.
"I'm going to see an old friend," I said, looking down at her hand on my arm. "It's time Falcone remembered why he let me retire in the first place."
