Chapter 2 - Luca Knew the Name I Buried Years Ago
I did not chase Luca blindly.
That is how frightened people turn one disaster into two.
The remaining attackers had lost their advantage once hotel security alarms activated and guests began flooding the lower floors.
I helped Damien into the service corridor.
His wound looked worse than it was.
A round had grazed high across his shoulder.
Painful.
Messy.
Not immediately life-threatening.
“What about Luca?” he demanded.
“Gone.”
“You said you’d get the case.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“When you stop bleeding.”
He stared at me.
The expression would have been almost funny under different circumstances.
Damien Moretti was not accustomed to being spoken to like an inconvenient patient.
An ambulance crew reached us minutes later.
I rode with him.
He asked no questions until the emergency physician confirmed there was no major vascular damage.
Then the room emptied.
Damien looked at me from the hospital bed.
“Start talking.”
I stood near the window.
“What do you want first?”
“The part where my wife moves like a trained protection officer.”
Fair.
I removed the damaged earring still hanging from one ear.
“My name before Vanessa Moretti was Vanessa Hale.”
“I know your maiden name.”
“No.”
I met his eyes.
“You know my mother’s name.”
His expression changed.
“My birth name was Vanessa Calder.”
He went still.
That name still existed in a few sealed files.
Most people never connected it to me.
Apparently Luca had.
Damien whispered:
“Calder.”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed.
“As in Marcus Calder?”
“My father.”
That landed.
Marcus Calder had run executive protection and threat assessment for politicians, foreign executives, and several people who operated close enough to organized crime to know Damien’s family.
He died when I was nineteen.
Afterward, I entered the Army.
Then spent six years in protective intelligence and another four working private security overseas.
Damien stared at me.
“You told me you worked logistics.”
“I did.”
“For armed protection teams.”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe you booked cars and hotels.”
“I also booked cars and hotels.”
His expression hardened.
“That isn’t funny.”
“No.”
He looked away.
“You lied to me.”
The accusation hurt because it was true.
“I hid part of myself.”
“That is a sophisticated way to say lied.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Before he could continue, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
Luca.
CALDER. YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED RETIRED.
A second followed.
TELL DAMIEN THE CASE IS WORTH MORE THAN HIS LIFE.
I showed the screen to my husband.
Damien’s anger disappeared.
“What exactly did he steal?”
May you like
I looked at him.
“That depends on whether you finally want to tell me what was really inside that briefcase.”
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