Chapter 21 - The Uninvited GuestThe autumn air had grown sharp, carrying the crisp, pine-scented promise of an early New England winter. Business at Celeste’s bookstore was thriving, and Roman had just returned from a long shift at the lumber yard, his clothes smelling faintly of sawdust and woodsmoke.
He parked his truck in the gravel driveway of their coastal home and stepped out.
That was when he saw him.
Leaning casually against the driver’s side door of a mud-splattered sedan parked near the property line was a man Roman hadn't laid eyes on since the day he left Chicago.
Marco Bellini looked exhausted. His tailored suit was wrinkled, his hair was windswept, and a dark bruise bloomed across his left jawline.
Roman’s body went completely rigid. Every instinct honed by two decades in the criminal underworld flared to life. He dropped his lunchbox, his hand instinctively curling into a fist.
"What are you doing here, Marco?" Roman asked, his voice dropping an octave into a cold, lethal register. "I told you to stay out of Maine. I told you we were done."
Marco pushed off the car, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender. He spat a small clot of blood onto the gravel.
"I didn't come to bring the Outfit back, Boss," Marco said, his voice ragged. "And I didn't come looking for trouble. Trouble found me."
Roman stepped forward, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed. He grabbed Marco by the lapel of his wrinkled jacket, slamming him lightly against the side of the car.
"Speak. Fast. Before I decide to finish what whoever punched you started."
"It's the Chicago police," Marco gasped, wincing. "Specifically, a corrupt task force led by Lieutenant Vance’s former second-in-command, Detective Gallo. They found an old, encrypted ledger we thought was wiped. They tracked my accounts to Boston, and they know I was your right-hand man."
Roman’s eyes narrowed into slits of dark fury. "Are they here?"
"Not yet," Marco said, panic leaking into his voice. "I lost them outside of Portland. But they’re hunting, Roman. They want to use me to get to you. And if they get to you... they get to Celeste and the girl."
Roman released his grip slowly, smoothing down Marco’s collar with cold, mechanical precision. The peaceful life he had spent three years building suddenly felt like a thin sheet of ice over a freezing ocean.
He looked toward the house, where the warm light of the kitchen windows shone through the gathering dusk, illuminating Celeste silhouette as she prepared dinner.
May you like
"You shouldn't have come here, Marco," Roman said quietly.
"Where else was I going to go, Boss?" Marco whispered. "You're the only man I know who can beat a ghost."
