Chapter 3 - The Velvet Trap
The scent of rain, sandalwood, and tobacco surrounded Nell as Rafe held her pinned against the window frame inside the alcove. Her back was pressed against the cold glass, his broad frame completely blocking her from view. She could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat against her shoulder.
Through the narrow slit in the velvet curtain, Nell saw Teddy Vain stride into the room, holding a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other.
Behind him stepped Bruno Santoro.
“He isn't in here,” Teddy grumbled, scanning the empty room. He walked over to Rafe’s desk, picking up a silver paperweight and tossing it lightly in his hand. “The kid spends too much time looking at papers and not enough time running the streets. He’s soft, Bruno.”
Bruno sat down heavily in Rafe’s leather armchair, puffing on his cigar. “Rafe isn't soft, Teddy. He’s calculating. He thinks six steps ahead, just like his mother did. Don't mistake patience for weakness.”
Teddy sneered, taking a deep sip of his scotch. “Patience won't stop the federal grand jury from issuing indictments next month. If Whitaker’s missing ledgers turn up in the hands of the prosecutor, we’re all going to state prison.”
Nell felt Rafe’s muscles tense against her. His hand rested firmly on her hip, anchor-like and reassuring, keeping her completely still.
“Whitaker’s dead,” Bruno said coldly, flicking ash onto the polished floor. “He was eliminated three weeks ago after he tried to reach out to the girl.”
A sharp, violent shock ran through Nell's entire body. Dead? Her father was dead?
A strangled gasp nearly escaped her lips, but Rafe’s hand moved instantly, his palm gently covering her mouth. His dark eyes stared down into hers, filled with a fierce, warning intensity. Don't move, his eyes pleaded. Don't make a sound.
Tears filled Nell's eyes, spilling over her lashes and running down onto Rafe's fingers. He didn't pull away. He held her close, leaning his forehead against hers in the dark alcove, sharing her silent, agonizing pain.
“Are you sure the girl doesn't have the micro-ledger?” Teddy asked, leaning against the desk. “I grabbed her wrist at the party to see if she’d break. She acted like an innocent little servant, but she has Arthur’s eyes.”
“She’s a housemaid,” Bruno scoffed, standing up from the chair. “If she had the ledger, she would have gone to the police by now. Let’s go. The boat from Montreal arrives at midnight.”
The two men exited the room, closing the door heavily behind them.
The moment the footsteps died down, Rafe pulled the curtain open. Nell dropped to her knees on the rug, her chest heaving as silent, ragged sobs broke from her throat.
“He’s gone,” she whispered, clutching the silver locket to her chest. “My dad is gone...”
Rafe knelt beside her on the floor. For a man whose name struck fear into the heart of the Boston underworld, his movements were remarkably tender as he gathered her into his arms, pulling her against his chest.
“He isn't dead, Nell,” Rafe said firmly into her hair.
Nell pulled back, her tear-stained eyes searching his face. “Bruno just said—”
“Bruno thinks he eliminated him,” Rafe said, his eyes burning with a dark, dangerous light. “Because I made sure Bruno’s hitmen targeted an empty safehouse in Maine. Your father is safe in a private clinic in Vermont, recovering under an assumed name.”
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Nell stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. “You... you saved him?”
“Arthur saved my life when I was eighteen,” Rafe said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I look after the people who are loyal to me. Always.”
