Chapter 2 - The Man Who Owned the Street
Norah pushed the lighter toward him.
“Take it.”
Dante didn't touch it.
“Keep it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You'll need it.”
“For what? Setting fire to my terrible life?”
Dante almost smiled.
“Open the bottom.”
Norah examined the lighter.
“There is no bottom.”
“Push the plate.”
She did.
Click.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside was a microSD card.
Norah stared at him.
“You put this in my bag?”
“Yes.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“While people were hunting you?”
“Yes.”
Norah leaned closer.
“You're insane.”
“Frequently alleged.”
She stood.
“I’m leaving.”
Dante's guard stepped toward her.
Dante immediately raised one hand.
The guard stopped.
“Let her go.”
Norah hesitated.
“You're really letting me walk away?”
“You aren't my prisoner.”
“Good.”
“But someone searched your apartment last night.”
Norah froze.
Dante watched the color leave her face.
“What?”
“Fourth floor. Apartment 4C.”
Her chair scraped backward.
“How do you know where I live?”
“I had someone watching the building.”
“You had me followed?”
“I had you protected.”
“Those are not the same thing?”
“In my world, they're often identical.”
Norah grabbed the lighter.
“My apartment looked normal.”
“They were careful.”
“How do you know someone went inside?”
Dante nodded toward one of his men.
The guard placed a photograph on the table.
Norah's door.
The lock showed tiny scratches.
Dante said, “Professional entry.”
“Why?”
“The card.”
“What's on it?”
“Records.”
“What kind?”
“Enough to destroy several powerful men.”
Norah stared at him.
“Who are you?”
Silence.
Chloe dropped a spoon behind the counter.
The sound seemed deafening.
Finally Dante said:
“Dante Caruso.”
Norah waited.
Nothing.
“Am I supposed to recognize that?”
One of the guards actually coughed to hide a laugh.
Dante stared at him.
The man immediately became fascinated with the wall.
Norah pulled out her phone.
Dante reached across the table.
“Don't.”
Too late.
She typed the name.
Her face changed.
Dante Caruso.
Construction companies.
Nightclubs.
Restaurants.
Real estate.
And dozens of articles using phrases like alleged organized crime connections.
Norah slowly lowered the phone.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“You're that Dante Caruso.”
“Apparently.”
“You're a mafia boss.”
“I own legitimate businesses.”
“And?”
“And newspapers need headlines.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No.”
Norah looked around at the guards.
“I shared coffee with a mob boss.”
“You spilled most of yours.”
“Not helping.”
Dante leaned back.
“I need the card kept somewhere my enemies won't search.”
“Why me?”
“Because nobody knows you.”
“They know me now!”
“That wasn't supposed to happen.”
Norah laughed once.
“No kidding.”
Dante's expression hardened.
“I can move you somewhere safe.”
“I have a job.”
“I can compensate you.”
“I don't want your money.”
“You just told a man with considerably more money than you that money won't solve your problem.”
“Yes.”
“Interesting strategy.”
“My strategy is staying alive.”
Dante became quiet.
“So is mine.”
That changed the conversation.
Norah looked at the bruises covering his face.
“What happened yesterday?”
Dante glanced at his men.
“Leave us.”
They obeyed.
Norah noticed that.
Instantly.
No questions.
No hesitation.
When they were alone, Dante spoke.
“Someone gave my route to an enemy crew.”
“Someone close to you?”
“Very.”
“How close?”
“He knew where my car would be. How many men were with me. Which route we'd take.”
Norah swallowed.
“Did your men survive?”
“One didn't.”
His answer was short.
No emotional speech.
That made it worse.
“I'm sorry.”
Dante nodded once.
“The card contains financial records I've been collecting because I suspected someone inside my organization was stealing.”
“And you think the thief ordered the attack?”
“I think the thief is scared of what I know.”
Norah looked down at the lighter.
“Then why don't we give this to the police?”
Dante laughed.
It was the first time she'd heard it.
There was no humor in it.
“One detective named on that card wears a badge.”
Norah's stomach tightened.
“So what happens now?”
“I identify the traitor.”
“And me?”
“You stay somewhere secure until it's over.”
“No.”
“Norah.”
“No. I have work.”
“You're worried about going to work?”
“Some of us get fired for disappearing.”
“You almost got killed yesterday.”
“And rent is still due Friday.”
Dante stared at her.
Norah stared back.
Finally he pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying the company you work for.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Don't you dare.”
He stopped.
Again, that almost-smile.
“What?”
“You're the strangest woman I've met in years.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
His phone rang.
Dante answered.
“Speak.”
His expression changed.
Norah watched his eyes become ice.
“When?”
Silence.
“Keep him there.”
He disconnected.
“What happened?”
Dante stood.
“One of the three men from yesterday just walked into my office.”
“Why?”
“He says he wants to defect.”
May you like
Dante buttoned his jacket.
“And he knows who ordered my murder.”
