Chapter 22
The drive to the South Side was suffocating. Tessa sat inside the heavy bullet-resistant SUV surrounded by armed men. Her old neighborhood looked different from behind thick tinted glass. Gray. Hopeless. They stopped in front of the peeling brick tenement. Gabe and Thomas got out first. Their eyes searched rooftops, alleyways, parked vehicles. “Clear.” Gabe spoke into the radio clipped to his clothing. Then he opened Tessa’s door. “Quick and quiet. Let’s go.” They climbed 3 flights of stairs. The building smelled of stale cigarettes, boiled cabbage, and damp carpeting. Tessa felt her chest tighten. She hated the place. It was a monument to the worst years of her life. Gabe kicked open the fragile apartment door with his gun drawn. He cleared the tiny living room. The kitchen. “Clear.” Tessa rushed inside. She went directly to the bedroom. The mattress was gone. She had sold it months earlier to cover a heating bill.
She dropped to her knees inside the closet, pried up the loose floorboard, and reached into the cavity beneath. Her fingertips touched cool wood. Then thick paper. She pulled out the jewelry box and the manila envelope. “I have it.” She held both against her chest. “We can go.” She turned. Thomas stood in the bedroom doorway. Except he was not standing. He was falling. His body struck the cheap linoleum floor. Blood spread from the back of his neck. Behind him stood a man in a dark hoodie holding a suppressed pistol. The Morettis had not surrendered. They had laid a trap. They knew Zo’s men were stretched thin. They had watched the apartment, hoping to catch someone. Instead, they had caught something far more valuable. Tessa screamed. The gunman raised the weapon. Before he could fire, Gabe slammed into him from the hallway. The 2 men crashed into the drywall. Plaster splintered. The pistol discharged with a muffled sound, burying a bullet in the ceiling.
