Chapter 4 - The Price on Eleanor Hayes
The next morning, I learned someone had put fifty thousand dollars on my location.
Not my death.
My location.
“That’s worse,” I said.
Dante looked up from his coffee.
“How?”
“Because apparently I'm worth more alive.”
“You're taking this remarkably well.”
“I’m not.”
I pushed away my untouched breakfast.
“I’m terrified.”
Dante’s expression softened.
“But being terrified doesn't make the problem disappear.”
“No.”
“So tell me how I help.”
“You stay here.”
I glared.
“Something useful.”
His mouth twitched.
Vincent entered carrying a folder.
“We found something.”
Inside were photographs.
Marco entering a private clinic.
Anthony Bellini meeting him outside.
Another man appeared in several images.
I pointed.
“Who is that?”
Dante frowned.
“Robert Kane.”
“Should I know him?”
“My security director.”
Silence.
Dante slowly looked toward Vincent.
Vincent swore.
“He knows every security protocol we have.”
“Which means this house isn't safe,” I said.
Dante was already standing.
“We move.”
The lights went out.
I froze.
Dante grabbed my wrist.
“Behind me.”
Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered.
Vincent reached the doorway.
Dante stopped him.
“Service stairs.”
We moved through a hidden passage behind the library.
“Your house has secret hallways?” I whispered.
“My grandfather was paranoid.”
“I'm beginning to respect him.”
Despite everything, Dante smiled.
We reached the garage.
Two loyal guards waited beside a vehicle.
Then Dante stopped.
“What?”
He stared at the SUV.
“Don't touch it.”
One guard frowned.
Dante crouched beside the rear tire.
A thin wire ran beneath the chassis.
We backed away.
My pulse hammered.
“Was that—”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Your security director is thorough.”
Dante looked at me.
“You're still making jokes?”
“It's either that or scream.”
He took my face gently between his hands.
The movement surprised both of us.
“Listen to me.”
His voice was quiet.
“Nobody is touching you.”
For a moment, the garage disappeared.
I saw only him.
“You can't promise that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“How?”
His eyes darkened.
“Because I'm Dante Russo.”
Then Vincent interrupted.
“We need to move.”
Dante released me.
We escaped through an old maintenance tunnel beneath the property.
Our destination was an apartment above an abandoned theater Dante owned downtown.
No guards.
No staff.
Just Dante, Vincent, and me.
That evening, Vincent left to meet loyal men.
Dante stood at the window.
I noticed blood on his knuckles.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Your hand says otherwise.”
He looked down.
“It’s a scratch.”
I found a first-aid kit.
“Sit.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Was that an order?”
“Yes.”
To my surprise, he obeyed.
I cleaned his hand.
“You're good at this,” he said.
“Four years caring for my father.”
“I remember.”
I looked up.
“You remember everything I say?”
“About you?”
His gaze held mine.
“Yes.”
My hand stopped.
Dante leaned closer.
Then his phone buzzed.
Vincent.
The moment vanished.
Dante answered.
“What did you find?”
He listened.
His face hardened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“We'll be there.”
He hung up.
“Anthony Bellini wants a meeting.”
“With you?”
Dante looked at me.
“No.”
May you like
“With you.”
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