The Apartment on West 174th
Chapter 02 - The Apartment on West 174th
Victor’s driver ignored every traffic law between Midtown and Washington Heights.
Lena sat in the back seat with both hands locked around her phone.
Daniel was not answering.
Neither was her mother.
Victor sat beside her.
Dmitri was in front, calling men Lena could not see.
“Two minutes,” he said.
Lena whispered, “Too long.”
Victor heard.
He did not offer comfort.
Good.
Comfort from a stranger would have made her angry.
Instead, he asked, “Who knows where you live?”
“My job.”
“Friends?”
“I don’t have many.”
“Boyfriend?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“Daniel’s school?”
“Obviously.”
“Your mother’s doctors.”
“Yes.”
“Anyone connected to Leon?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I clean hotel rooms for a living. I don’t socialize with organized crime.”
Victor looked out the window.
“Until tonight.”
She almost laughed.
The SUV stopped.
Lena was out before Dmitri.
The apartment door stood open.
Her heart stopped.
“Daniel!”
Victor caught her around the waist before she ran inside.
“Wait.”
“Let me go!”
“Dmitri.”
Security entered.
Lena fought Victor’s grip.
“Daniel!”
Then a figure appeared in the hallway.
Her brother.
Barefoot.
White-faced.
Holding a kitchen knife with both hands.
Lena broke free.
Daniel dropped the knife and ran into her.
She held him so tightly he made a sound of protest.
Victor turned away.
“Mom?”
Daniel pointed toward the bedroom.
Lena ran.
Rosa Hart lay propped against pillows, oxygen line in place, breathing hard but conscious.
“Oh, baby.”
Lena nearly collapsed.
“What happened?”
Rosa asked.
“Men.”
Daniel’s phone spoke from behind her.
They asked for Lena.
Victor appeared at the doorway.
Rosa stared.
Then looked at Lena.
“You brought a man home.”
Lena laughed through tears.
“Not the time, Mama.”
Victor inclined his head.
“Mrs. Hart.”
Rosa looked him over.
“You look expensive.”
Dmitri coughed.
Victor almost smiled.
The apartment had been searched.
Not destroyed.
This was colder.
Drawers opened.
Papers removed.
Mattress lifted.
Someone had known exactly what they wanted.
Lena’s medical bills sat scattered across the kitchen table.
Her purse had been emptied.
Daniel’s school backpack opened.
Victor noticed something near the floor.
A photograph.
He picked it up.
Lena and Daniel as children.
Their father stood behind them.
Victor froze.
Lena noticed.
“What?”
He looked at the man in the photograph.
“Who is this?”
“My father.”
“Name?”
“Samuel Hart.”
Victor’s expression changed.
Dmitri saw it too.
Lena’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
Victor handed the photo to Dmitri.
Dmitri swore softly.
“What?”
Lena repeated.
Victor looked at her.
“Your father worked for mine.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He drove city buses.”
“Before that.”
Lena laughed.
“You’re wrong.”
“I don’t forget faces.”
“He died when I was twelve.”
“How?”
“Construction accident.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“What company?”
Lena stopped.
She knew the answer.
Had seen it on the settlement papers her mother kept in a folder.
“Romano Development.”
Silence.
Rosa closed her eyes.
Lena turned.
“Mama?”
Her mother would not look at her.
That hurt more than Victor’s answer.
“You knew.”
Rosa’s voice came weakly.
“Not everything.”
“What did Dad do?”
“He worked security.”
“For the Romanos?”
Rosa nodded.
Lena stared at Victor.
He said nothing.
Good.
There was nothing safe to say.
Dmitri searched the room.
“Boss.”
He held up a small envelope found beneath the kitchen sink.
Inside were old newspaper clippings.
A shipping manifest.
And a key.
Lena stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Rosa began crying.
Lena looked at her.
“Mama.”
“Your father gave it to me.”
“When?”
“The week before he died.”
Lena sat.
“What did he say?”
Rosa looked toward Victor.
“That if a Romano ever came asking questions, I was to burn it.”
Victor took the sentence without reacting.
Lena did not.
“You kept it.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because he died before I understood what it meant.”
Victor crouched beside the table.
He did not touch the papers.
“Samuel Hart worked for my father during the dock war.”
Lena looked at him.
“War?”
“Territory conflict.”
“People died.”
“Yes.”
“My father killed people?”
Victor’s answer came carefully.
“I don’t know.”
She almost laughed.
“Convenient.”
“True.”
Dmitri unfolded the shipping manifest.
His face changed.
“What?”
Victor asked.
“This route number.”
Victor looked.
Then swore.
Lena had never heard him swear.
“What is it?”
Victor took the page.
“Route Seven.”
“So?”
“It disappeared from the Romano books fifteen years ago.”
“Why?”
“My father said it was shut down.”
Dmitri said, “It wasn’t.”
Lena stared.
“What moved through it?”
Neither answered.
That told her enough.
Victor looked at the key.
A number was engraved into the metal.
214.
“Storage?”
Dmitri nodded.
“Probably.”
Rosa spoke from the bedroom.
“Samuel had a locker.”
Lena turned.
“Where?”
“Queens.”
Victor stood.
“Address?”
Rosa gave it.
Dmitri was already calling someone.
Lena held up a hand.
“No.”
Victor looked at her.
“You’re not going without me.”
“This concerns my family.”
“Exactly.”
“And yours.”
His jaw tightened.
Lena stood.
“I punched you in front of three hundred people to keep you alive.”
“I remember.”
“Then don’t start deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
For several seconds, they stared at each other.
Dmitri quietly looked away.
Victor nodded.
“Fine.”
Lena almost missed the surprise of winning.
Then Daniel’s phone spoke.
There is something else.
Everyone turned.
Daniel held up his tablet.
Security footage from the building hallway.
Their cheap camera system stored twelve hours locally.
At 8:14 p.m., two men entered.
One wore a baseball cap.
The other did not.
Lena leaned closer.
She knew him.
“Marcus.”
Victor looked at her.
“The banquet server?”
“Yes.”
The older man who showed her the gold tags.
The man who told her Leon brought Victor’s special champagne.
Dmitri’s expression hardened.
“He’s gone.”
Lena stared at the frozen image.
Marcus had worked at the Grandeur for nineteen years.
He brought cookies at Christmas.
Covered shifts.
Sent flowers when Rosa entered the hospital.
“Why would he—”
Victor’s phone rang.
Dmitri answered instead.
Listened.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“They found Marcus.”
“Where?”
“In the hotel laundry room.”
Lena’s stomach dropped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Dmitri paused.
“Barely.”
Victor looked at Lena.
May you like
“And he keeps asking for her.”
**The kind old server who taught Lena how to carry champagne apparently knew why someone wanted Victor dead—and why Samuel Hart’s daughter had been chosen to take the blame.**
