Chapter 2 - The Ashes of Sadie
Nora stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
The man tied to the chair was Agent Miller.
He was the retired FBI operative who had helped her forge the Sadie identity three years ago.
He was the only person in the world who knew where she was hiding.
"Who did this?" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.
"The people you stole from," Roman replied calmly.
He picked up the bottle of Cabernet and opened it himself with fluid, practiced motions.
"I did not steal anything," she hissed, her fear momentarily eclipsed by anger.
"I left with the clothes on my back."
Roman poured a measure of dark red wine into the crystal glass.
"You left with a ledger in your memory, Nora."
"Your father’s ledger."
"And the Chicago syndicate believes you have finally decided to cash it in."
Nora’s breath hitched in her throat.
Her father had been dead for four years.
He had been a mid-level accountant for the mob, a man who moved numbers in the dark.
She had never touched his work.
"I do not know anything about a ledger," she pleaded.
Roman took a slow sip of his wine.
"I know that," he said quietly.
"But Chicago does not care about the truth."
"They only care about loose ends, and Agent Miller just gave them your exact address before he died."
Panic threatened to crush her chest entirely.
The safe little life of Sadie the waitress was gone, burned to ash in a matter of hours.
"Why are you here, Roman?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"If they want me dead, you should have let them finish the job."
Roman’s eyes darkened, turning as cold as the November wind outside.
"What belongs to me, stays with me," he stated.
"No one touches you without my permission."
He reached across the table and wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.
The gesture was shockingly gentle for a man with blood on his hands.
"We are leaving now," Roman announced, sliding out of the booth.
"I am not going anywhere with you," Nora backed away.
"I would rather take my chances."
Tommy stepped forward, his massive frame blocking her escape route.
"Boss," Tommy interrupted, his deep voice rumbling.
"We have a problem."
Tommy was staring past Nora, looking straight at the front entrance of the restaurant.
Nora turned her head.
Three men in heavy dark winter coats had just pushed through the brass doors.
They were not dressed for a high-end dinner.
Their hands were buried deep inside their oversized pockets.
One of them locked eyes with Roman across the room.
The man smiled, revealing a row of crooked teeth.
Roman did not hesitate.
He grabbed Nora by the waist and violently threw her to the floor.
"Get down!" he roared.
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The beautiful glass windows at the front of Lombardi’s exploded inward.
Deafening automatic gunfire ripped through the elegant dining room.
