Chapter 4 - The Shadows of Queens
The rain fell in dark, relentless sheets over the city as night descended upon Long Island.
Inside the Rossi estate, Hunter sat in the third-floor nursery, gently rocking Leo in a wooden glider chair. The mansion was eerily quiet. Lorenzo had left three hours ago with a motorcade of six black armored SUVs, leaving Marco and twenty elite enforcers behind to secure the perimeter.
Leo was nursing peacefully, his tiny hand resting against Hunter’s chest.
Hunter looked out the high arched window, watching the rain strike the glass. Despite the safety of the estate, a deep, unsettling feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.
Suddenly, her cell phone—an old, cracked prepaid phone she kept in her maid's apron—vibrated violently in her pocket.
Hunter set Leo gently into his crib, ensuring he was secure, and pulled out the phone.
The screen displayed an unknown number from Queens.
With a trembling hand, she answered it. "Hello?"
"Well, well, well," a rough, slurred voice rasped through the speaker. "Look who finally picked up."
Hunter’s blood ran cold. The phone almost slipped from her fingers.
It was Tommy Vance.
"Tommy..." Hunter whispered, horror paralyzing her breath. "How did you get this number?"
"I have my ways, babe," Tommy sneered, the sound of heavy rain and cheap bar music echoing behind his voice. "I went to your apartment in Queens. Your landlord said some slick guys in expensive suits came and paid off your back rent, and you quit your job at the cleaning agency. Where are you, Hunter?"
"Leave me alone, Tommy," Hunter pleaded, tears of anger swelling in her eyes. "You killed my baby! You shoved me down the stairs! I have nothing left for you!"
"You owe me, Hunter!" Tommy roared through the phone, his drunken rage boiling over. "The loan sharks are breaking my fingers! They gave me until midnight to come up with twenty grand! You're going to give me the money, or I swear to God, I'll track down whoever those rich guys were and tell them you're a thief!"
"I don't have twenty grand, Tommy!" Hunter sobbed softly, hiding her face in her hands.
"Liars!" Tommy spat. "I know you're staying at some rich mansion on Long Island! I followed one of those black SUVs from your apartment building three days ago! I know where you are, Hunter. I'm standing outside the iron gates right now."
Hunter froze.
She ran to the nursery window, looking down through the rain toward the long, winding driveway leading to the massive iron front gates half a mile away.
Through the fog and heavy rain, she saw the faint headlights of an old, rusted sedan parked on the shoulder of the private coastal road.
"Tommy, get away from here!" Hunter warned, sheer panic seizing her heart. "There are guards! They have guns! They will kill you!"
"Let them try!" Tommy shouted back. "Unless you come down to the gate in five minutes with twenty thousand dollars, I'm going to crash my car through the gate and make a scene! Let's see how much your rich boss likes having the cops called to his palace!"
CLICK.
The line went dead.
Hunter dropped the phone onto the rug, her hands shaking violently.
Tommy was an idiot—a desperate, violent alcoholic who didn't understand the level of danger he was waltzing into. If he crashed his car into the Rossi gates, Marco’s men wouldn't call the police. They would drag Tommy into the basement and put a bullet through his head.
And when Lorenzo returned and found out that Hunter’s abusive ex-boyfriend had brought danger to his estate, he might realize that Hunter was a liability to his son.
Hunter looked at Leo, sleeping peacefully in his crib.
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"I won't let him ruin this," Hunter whispered through her teeth.
She pulled her heavy rain jacket over her maid's dress, slipped a small torch into her pocket, and quietly hurried down the service staircase into the dark, rainy night.
