Chapter 2 - The Debt That Never Existed
Frankie considered several responses.
Most involved walking away.
One involved introducing Gabriel Costa’s expensive Italian shoe to the heel of her work boot.
Instead, she looked directly into his eyes and repeated the insult.
Slowly.
“Purpu mortu.”
Dead octopus.
One of the guards near the wall made a sound suspiciously close to a cough.
Gabriel’s mouth twitched.
Frankie added, “And I meant it more the second time.”
He laughed again.
It made him look younger.
That irritated her almost as much as everything else.
“Are we finished?” she asked.
“Not remotely.”
Gabriel turned away and crossed back toward his desk.
The change in him was immediate.
The amusement disappeared.
He opened a black leather folder, removed three pages, and slid them across the polished wood.
“Your brother signed this forty-eight hours ago.”
Frankie refused to approach.
“I don’t care what Leo signed.”
“You should.”
Something in Gabriel’s tone made her move.
She stopped on the opposite side of the desk and looked down.
The first page appeared to be an acknowledgment of debt.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
Leonardo Moretti.
His signature.
The second page listed the garage as collateral.
Frankie’s jaw tightened.
“I already told you he can’t pledge property he doesn’t own.”
“I know.”
Her head came up.
Gabriel was watching her.
Frankie glanced at the document again.
“You know?”
“I knew before you came upstairs.”
The anger returned instantly.
“Then what is this? Entertainment?”
“No.”
“Because if you dragged me across the city so you could enjoy watching the mechanic beg—”
“I didn’t send for you.”
That stopped her.
Frankie frowned.
“Leo said your people told him to bring the deed.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Which people?”
“He didn’t give me names.”
“Describe them.”
“I wasn’t there.”
Gabriel reached for the phone on his desk.
“Matteo.”
One of the guards stepped forward.
“Yes?”
“Bring Leonardo Moretti here.”
Frankie moved around the desk before she could think better of it.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“You don’t give orders in this room, Francesca.”
“And you don’t drag my brother anywhere.”
“He used my name to put a lien on your property.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Those conditions can coexist.”
Despite herself, Frankie almost smiled.
Almost.
Gabriel saw it.
That annoyed her too.
She folded her arms.
“Leo’s at the garage.”
Gabriel told Matteo to send two men.
Frankie stepped between them.
“No.”
The guard looked at Gabriel.
Frankie noticed that.
Nobody acted without Gabriel’s permission.
Nobody except her, apparently.
Gabriel came closer.
“Your brother may know who forged my authorization.”
“Forged?”
He tapped the third page.
Frankie looked.
At the bottom was a signature she hadn’t noticed.
Gabriel A. Costa.
Stamped beneath it was the seal of Costa Capital Holdings.
Gabriel picked up the page.
“This isn’t my signature.”
A chill moved through her.
“You’re saying someone pretended to be you?”
“I’m saying someone used a debt your brother genuinely accumulated, attached my name to it, and tried to acquire your garage.”
Frankie’s irritation gave way to suspicion.
“Why?”
“That is the first interesting question you’ve asked me.”
“The first?”
“The octopus question had limited investigative value.”
She glared at him.
Gabriel looked almost pleased.
“Why my garage?” she demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“You own half the waterfront.”
“Closer to fourteen percent.”
“Oh, forgive me.”
“My accountants appreciate accuracy.”
Frankie leaned over the desk.
“My father’s garage is a forty-year-old brick building between a laundromat and a closed furniture warehouse. The roof leaks. The office bathroom only flushes if you kick the pipe. Why would anyone use your name to steal it?”
Gabriel said nothing.
That silence worried her more than an answer would have.
His gaze moved toward the document.
Then to the city beyond the penthouse windows.
“Because,” he finally said, “perhaps they don’t want the building.”
Frankie’s stomach tightened.
“What do they want?”
Before Gabriel could answer, Matteo’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
Gabriel noticed instantly.
“What?”
Matteo turned the phone so Gabriel could see.
“The garage alarm.”
Frankie reached instinctively for her pocket.
Her phone was already ringing.
Leo.
She answered.
“Leo?”
All she heard was breathing.
Then a crash.
“Leo?”
A voice she didn’t recognize whispered something in the background.
Leo suddenly shouted.
“Frankie, don’t come back here!”
The call disconnected.
She was already moving.
Gabriel caught her arm before she reached the elevator.
Frankie spun.
“Take your hand off me.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“My brother is there.”
“And whoever is with him expects you to react exactly like this.”
She jerked free.
“Then they know me pretty well.”
Gabriel pressed a button beneath his desk.
Somewhere beyond the penthouse, an alarm chirped.
The guards moved immediately.
Frankie stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure you survive your own personality.”
“I survived twenty-nine years before meeting you.”
“Yes. Miraculous.”
The private elevator opened.
Four more men stood inside.
Frankie started toward it.
Gabriel caught up.
“You stay behind me when we arrive.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“Neither was mine.”
They stared at each other.
Matteo stepped inside the elevator and looked upward like a man seeking divine intervention.
Gabriel lowered his voice.
“Francesca.”
“Gabriel.”
“You are remarkably difficult.”
“You’re a dead octopus.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
Gabriel almost smiled.
Then the elevator doors shut.
Twenty-one minutes later, three black SUVs turned onto Frankie’s block.
Police sirens sounded somewhere distant.
The front window of Moretti Auto Repair was shattered.
The bay door stood halfway open.
Frankie’s heart slammed against her ribs.
She shoved open the SUV door before the vehicle fully stopped.
“Frankie!”
Gabriel followed.
She ran across the pavement.
Inside, one hydraulic lift had been lowered. Tools covered the floor. The office door hung crooked from one hinge.
“Leo!”
No answer.
Frankie sprinted toward the back.
Gabriel’s men fanned out behind her.
Then Matteo called, “Here.”
Leo lay beside an overturned toolbox.
Alive.
Frankie dropped beside him.
“Leo.”
His eyes fluttered.
Blood darkened one sleeve, but the wound looked shallow.
He tried to sit.
“Don’t.”
“They were looking for something.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel crouched opposite her.
Leo saw him and went pale.
“You.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened.
“Who told you I wanted the garage?”
Leo swallowed.
“A guy named Russo.”
Every person wearing a Costa suit became still.
Gabriel’s face revealed nothing.
But Frankie saw Matteo’s reaction.
That was enough.
“Who is Russo?” she asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
Frankie stood.
“Who is he?”
Gabriel rose more slowly.
“My uncle.”
Silence.
Leo closed his eyes.
Frankie looked from Gabriel to the wrecked garage.
“Your uncle did this?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you think he could have.”
Gabriel didn’t deny it.
A terrible realization began forming.
If Gabriel’s own family was behind this, Frankie had walked into something much larger than a gambling debt.
Leo gripped her wrist.
“They kept asking about Dad.”
Frankie looked down.
“What about him?”
“They wanted to know where he hid it.”
“Hid what?”
Leo shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel’s gaze sharpened.
“What exactly did they say?”
Leo struggled to remember.
“One of them said… ‘The old man had the ledger. The daughter must know where it is.’”
Frankie’s breathing stopped.
“My father didn’t have any ledger.”
Gabriel looked toward the dark office.
Frankie followed his stare.
That office had belonged to their father.
His desk was still inside.
So were old invoices, photographs, tax documents, repair manuals, and boxes Frankie had never opened because grief had made some things easier to leave untouched.
Gabriel walked toward it.
Frankie blocked him.
“You’re not searching my father’s things.”
“If Russo believes there’s a ledger—”
“I don’t care what Russo believes.”
“You should.”
“He’s your problem.”
Gabriel looked at the shattered window.
Then at Leo.
Then back at her.
“He became your problem the moment he sent men into this building.”
Frankie hated that he was right.
She hated even more that he looked like a man who knew exactly how dangerous the next part was.
Gabriel stepped closer.
“There is something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“My uncle doesn’t bluff.”
Frankie held his gaze.
“Neither do I.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Then Matteo called from the office.
“Boss.”
The tone made everyone turn.
He stood behind Frankie’s father’s desk.
One of the wooden panels beneath the bottom drawer had been ripped loose during the search.
Behind it was a narrow steel compartment.
Frankie stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Gabriel approached.
Inside the compartment sat a small brass key.
And an old photograph.
Matteo picked up the picture.
Frankie reached for it first.
Her father stood outside the garage nearly twenty-five years earlier.
Beside him was a much younger Gabriel’s father.
And beside both men stood a third figure.
Vittorio Russo.
On the back, written in her father’s handwriting, were six words.
Frankie read them aloud.
“If Gabriel comes, tell him everything.”
She slowly looked up.
May you like
Gabriel Costa had gone completely still.
And for the first time since Frankie met him, the most feared man in the city looked genuinely afraid.
