Chapter 7 - The Shadows Move
Three days passed in peaceful solitude.
Adriana spent her mornings walking in the courtyard garden, wrapped in warm blankets, watching the winter birds peck at seeds Mrs. Gable left on the wall. Her health improved rapidly; the color returned to her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes faded, and her baby moved with energetic vigor.
The house in Marblehead was ready. Leo had driven up two days ago to ensure the security systems were active, the pantry was stocked, and a local nurse was hired to assist Adriana after the delivery.
She was scheduled to leave on Monday morning.
On Sunday evening, Damon sat in the back of his dark sedan parked outside a quiet cafe in the North End.
Leo sat in the driver’s seat, adjusting his side mirror. “Damon, my team spotted a grey van trailing our route from the harbor twice today.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed in the dark interior of the car. “Whose van?”
“It belongs to a shipping firm linked to the Rossi syndicate out of Montreal,” Leo reported grimly. “It seems Victor Rossi’s younger brother, Gabriel, didn't like the way his family was pushed out of Boston six months ago.”
Damon’s hand tightened around his phone. “Gabriel Rossi is in Boston?”
“We think he arrived two days ago,” Leo said. “He knows Victor is dead. He’s been asking questions about St. Cordova. And he knows about the incident with Celeste Marquetti.”
Damon’s blood ran cold. The Marquetti incident had made public noise. It had drawn attention to the pregnant woman Damon had personally carried out of the restaurant.
“Did Gabriel find the house on Beacon Hill?” Damon asked, his voice chillingly calm.
“Not yet,” Leo replied. “We’ve been running counter-surveillance on every vehicle entering the street. But if Adriana stays in the city another two days, he will connect the dots. He knows Eli Voss was your right hand. He’ll guess who she is.”
Damon looked out the window at the brick streets of the North End. His mind processed the tactical variables with terrifying speed.
Gabriel Rossi wanted revenge for his brother’s death. He couldn't hit Damon directly—Damon’s private security was an impenetrable wall. But a pregnant widow living in a townhouse was a soft, devastating target.
“Move the Marblehead departure to tonight,” Damon ordered flatly.
“Tonight?” Leo asked. “It’s snowing hard up north, boss.”
“I don't care if it’s a blizzard,” Damon snapped. “Get the car ready. We take her out of the city through the secondary route along Route 1. No police escorts, no flashing lights. Just two cars.”
“Understood,” Leo said, starting the engine.
May you like
Damon pulled out his encrypted phone and dialed the townhouse. Mrs. Gable answered on the first ring.
“Mrs. Gable,” Damon said. “Tell Adriana to pack her small bag. We are moving her to Marblehead in twenty minutes.”
