Chapter 5 - The House With No Guns
Jonathan took Meline somewhere no one expected.
Not the Moretti estate.
Not a guarded apartment.
Not a hotel.
He took her to Teresa Moretti's house.
His mother's home sat on a quiet residential street beneath old maple trees.
No gates.
No stone lions.
No visible cameras.
The only obvious defense was Teresa herself.
When Meline entered, Teresa looked at her stomach.
Then at Jonathan.
Then back at Meline.
"My kitchen," she said, "has rules."
Jonathan sighed.
"Ma—"
"Nobody asked you."
Meline almost smiled.
Teresa continued.
"No weapons at the table. No business during dinner. Nobody raises a voice."
She looked at Jonathan.
"Especially him."
Meline removed her coat.
"I think I can live with that."
Teresa nodded.
"Good."
Jonathan whispered to Rocco, "Put men outside."
Meline heard him.
"No."
Jonathan closed his eyes.
"Meline."
"No armed men outside a sixty-eight-year-old woman's home."
Teresa interrupted.
"Seventy."
Jonathan blinked.
"You were sixty-eight last month."
"I've aged since this morning."
Rocco coughed to hide a laugh.
Teresa pointed toward the street.
"Two men. Park normally. If either stands on my lawn, I call the police myself."
Jonathan surrendered.
"Fine."
That evening, for the first time since the wedding, nobody discussed conspiracies.
Teresa cooked pasta.
Meline ate two servings.
Jonathan ate one and pretended not to watch her.
At nine, Meline fell asleep on the couch.
Teresa draped a blanket over her.
Jonathan stood nearby.
His mother looked at him.
"Come."
They moved into the kitchen.
Teresa poured tea.
"You look like your father when he knew he'd done something stupid."
"I did more than one."
"Yes."
Jonathan sat.
Teresa watched him.
"Do you love her?"
He looked toward the living room.
"Yes."
"Then why did you throw her away?"
"I believed she betrayed me."
Teresa's expression hardened.
"That isn't what I asked."
Jonathan said nothing.
His mother sat opposite him.
"You threw her away because she became frightening."
"She wasn't frightening."
"Not physically."
Teresa pointed at him.
"She could hurt you."
Jonathan looked down.
"You'd already lost Luca. Your father. Half the men you trusted when you were young. Then someone placed papers in front of you and told you Meline was another betrayal."
"Yes."
"So you discarded her before she could choose to leave."
Jonathan hated how accurately his mother described him.
Teresa sipped tea.
"That is cowardice, Jonathan."
He almost laughed.
Few people would dare.
"Thank you."
"You are welcome."
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
She leaned forward.
"Do not confuse protecting Meline with earning her back."
Jonathan's face changed.
"They are separate."
"I know."
"Do you?"
He looked toward the living room again.
"I want to."
"Good."
At midnight, Meline woke.
Jonathan was sitting in an armchair across the room.
"You've been there all night?"
"It's midnight."
"Feels later."
She sat up.
"Baby moving?"
"Yes."
His shoulders relaxed.
Meline noticed.
"You don't have to look terrified every time I breathe."
"I'll work on it."
She smiled faintly.
Then her expression changed.
"What happens after this?"
"What?"
"When you find Marco or whoever is doing this."
Jonathan knew what she meant.
Violence.
He had built his life in a world where betrayal had one traditional answer.
"I don't know."
Meline nodded.
"That's what scares me."
"Someone threatened our child."
"Yes."
"I can't ignore that."
"I didn't ask you to."
"Then what?"
She folded the blanket.
"I don't want our child born into a war you keep feeding."
Jonathan stared.
"I didn't start this."
"No."
She looked at him.
"But you're very good at continuing things."
That stayed with him.
The following morning, Agent Rebecca Shaw arrived.
No federal entourage.
Just one woman in a dark coat carrying a thick folder.
Rocco searched her.
She tolerated it.
Teresa gave her coffee.
Rebecca sat at the kitchen table.
"Three years ago, Luca Moretti contacted me."
Jonathan's expression tightened.
"Why?"
"He believed organized theft was happening through several New England ports."
"Drugs?"
"No."
"Weapons?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"High-value commercial cargo. Pharmaceuticals. Electronics. Medical equipment."
Jonathan frowned.
"Why use mafia organizations?"
"Cover."
Rebecca opened the folder.
"Someone copied legitimate authorization codes from Moretti and Bianke companies."
"Atlantic Meridian."
Rebecca looked surprised.
"You know the name."
"Now."
She spread photographs across the table.
Warehouses.
Trucks.
Invoices.
"Atlantic Meridian steals cargo, then manipulates shipping disruptions so its own subcontractors receive emergency replacement contracts."
"Double profit."
"Exactly."
Meline joined them.
"Peter Lang?"
Rebecca's face darkened.
"He was my financial source."
"He's dead."
"I know."
"Marco?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"Marco Vitali was on our suspect list."
Jonathan's jaw tightened.
"Was?"
"Still is."
"Who else?"
Rebecca looked at Teresa.
Then Meline.
Then Jonathan.
"Salvatore Bianke."
Vivien's father.
Jonathan said nothing.
Rebecca continued.
"And one person from your side."
"Marco."
"No."
Jonathan stared.
Rebecca placed a photograph on the table.
Rocco Delveio.
Jonathan's oldest friend.
Standing outside a warehouse with Peter Lang.
Dated six months earlier.
Rocco, who had been in the next room, stepped through the doorway.
Nobody spoke.
Jonathan looked at the picture.
Then at the man he had trusted for twenty years.
Rocco's face went pale.
"Jonathan."
Meline stood.
Rebecca's hand moved near her jacket.
Jonathan did not.
He stared at Rocco.
"Explain."
Rocco looked at the photograph.
Then laughed once.
"Finally."
Jonathan's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Finally what?"
"Finally somebody found it."
Jonathan stood.
Meline moved between them.
"No."
He looked at her.
"Move."
"No."
Rocco raised both hands.
"I'm not Atlantic Meridian."
"Then why were you meeting Peter?"
Rocco looked at Rebecca.
"Because Luca asked me to."
Jonathan froze.
"What?"
Rocco's voice cracked.
"Your brother didn't investigate alone."
Jonathan stared.
"For three years?"
"I promised him."
"He's dead."
"I know."
"You watched me go to war with the Biankes."
"I tried to stop you."
"You never told me."
"Luca made me swear."
Jonathan crossed the kitchen.
He stopped inches from Rocco.
"Why?"
Rocco looked at him with tears in his eyes.
"Because Luca knew exactly what you'd do."
Same answer.
Again.
Luca had trusted Jonathan's strength.
And feared his impulsiveness.
Rocco swallowed.
"He told me if he died, I was to keep investigating quietly until I knew who was behind Atlantic Meridian."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Jonathan stepped back.
Rocco continued.
"But Peter found something before he died."
"What?"
"A beneficiary."
"Of Atlantic Meridian?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Rocco looked toward Vivien's photograph on the folder.
"Not Salvatore."
Jonathan waited.
Rocco said the name.
May you like
"Vivien Bianke."
The woman Jonathan nearly married.
