Chapter 3 - The Photograph
I went to work anyway.
Of course I did.
Rent was due Monday.
Fear did not come with paid leave.
At 8:03 the next morning, Tommy nearly dropped the register drawer when I walked through the door.
“What are you doing here?”
“Working.”
“There are two men outside.”
I looked through the window.
Black SUV.
Nico leaned against it drinking coffee.
Another Caruso guard stood beside him.
I closed my eyes.
“Unbelievable.”
Nico lifted his cup toward me through the glass.
I marched outside.
“You cannot stand outside my workplace like federal agents.”
“We’re considerably better dressed.”
“Dante sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him to stop.”
“No.”
“Nico.”
“Clare.”
I stared at him.
He drank his coffee.
“You’re irritating.”
“I’m told that often.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Go home.”
Dante.
I turned toward the surrounding buildings.
“Are you watching me?”
“Nico told me.”
“Of course he did.”
“You were instructed not to work today.”
“Employees don’t generally take instructions from random men they ate pasta with once.”
Silence.
Then Dante said, “Random?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. Explain it.”
“Are you seriously offended by that part?”
“Apparently.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then Dante’s voice hardened.
“The man last night works for Victor Sanzaro.”
“Who?”
“A rival.”
“What does he want?”
“My territory.”
“That sounds medieval.”
“My businesses, Clare.”
“Then say businesses.”
“He cannot hurt me easily.”
The implication arrived before he finished.
“So he hurts people around you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not around you.”
Another pause.
“You were.”
Two words.
That was enough.
My smile disappeared.
“What should I do?”
“Go home. Nico stays with you.”
“I’m not letting Nico into my apartment.”
From outside, Nico mouthed, Thank God.
I nearly laughed.
Dante heard the change in my breathing.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Clare.”
“Nico agrees.”
“I dislike both of you.”
The call ended.
I worked anyway.
Nothing happened until 2:17.
A delivery driver entered carrying flowers.
Red roses.
Too many.
“For Clare Murphy.”
Every instinct screamed.
I did not touch them.
“Nico!”
He was inside in seconds.
The driver froze.
Nico examined the arrangement.
A card rested among the roses.
He removed it with a napkin.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed me the card.
Pretty girl. Dangerous company.
My stomach dropped.
Nico immediately called Dante.
Twenty minutes later, the diner door opened.
Dante entered.
No expensive overcoat.
No relaxed elegance.
Just fury contained inside a charcoal suit.
He walked directly toward me.
“You should have stayed home.”
“That’s what you say?”
His eyes flashed.
“What would you prefer?”
“Maybe ask whether I’m okay.”
He stopped.
Something changed.
“Are you?”
The anger disappeared from his voice.
I swallowed.
“No.”
His hand lifted.
For one strange second, I thought he might touch my face.
He stopped himself.
“Come with me.”
“I have four hours left.”
Dante looked toward Tommy.
“She’s finished.”
Tommy nodded so quickly I worried about his neck.
“Absolutely.”
“Hey!”
Dante took my coat from the hook and held it open.
I glared at him.
He waited.
I put it on.
Ten minutes later, I was inside his armored SUV.
“You cannot control my life.”
“No.”
“You’re doing an impressive imitation.”
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
“I was perfectly safe before you appeared.”
That landed.
Dante looked toward the window.
“Yes.”
His quiet agreement took the fight out of me.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I stared.
“For what?”
“For making you visible.”
For once, Dante Caruso looked like a man carrying guilt instead of power.
“Where are we going?”
“My home.”
“No.”
“It has security.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Clare.”
“Dante.”
Nico coughed from the front seat.
Dante glared at him through the mirror.
Nico suddenly became fascinated by traffic.
Dante rubbed his jaw.
“Where would you feel safe?”
The question surprised me.
“My apartment.”
“Then your apartment.”
When we reached Queens, Dante came upstairs.
My apartment had never looked smaller.
One bedroom.
Secondhand furniture.
A radiator that sounded possessed.
Dante stood inside wearing a suit worth more than everything I owned combined.
“This is where you live?”
“Try not to sound traumatized.”
“I’m not.”
The radiator clanged violently.
Dante looked toward it.
“It does that.”
“It sounds like someone trapped inside the wall.”
“We’ve developed an understanding.”
He walked toward a framed photograph.
My mother and me.
He studied it silently.
“You resemble her.”
“Everyone says that.”
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
The past tense hurt.
Dante turned.
“Why nursing?”
“My mom’s nurses.”
I sat on the couch.
“When she was dying, everyone else looked at her like a diagnosis. Her nurses still treated her like herself.”
Dante remained silent.
“I wanted to become that person for someone.”
“You still can.”
“Someday.”
He looked as though he wanted to say something.
Instead, his phone rang.
Italian poured from him when he answered.
Fast.
Cold.
Dangerous.
I understood none of it except one name.
Victor.
When he finished, his expression had changed.
“They found the photographer.”
“And?”
“He talked.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he say?”
Dante walked toward the window.
“Sanzaro has photographs of us.”
“So?”
“He intends to use you.”
“For leverage?”
“Yes.”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“What happens now?”
“I remove the leverage.”
I stood.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at me.
“It means I disappear from your life.”
The words hurt unexpectedly.
“That’s your solution?”
“The safest one.”
“And the roses?”
“Security remains until Sanzaro loses interest.”
“You’re deciding everything again.”
“I am choosing the option that keeps you breathing.”
“And if I don’t want you to disappear?”
Dante went still.
I immediately wished I could retrieve the sentence.
His eyes locked onto mine.
“Clare.”
“What?”
“Do not say things you don’t mean.”
My pulse jumped.
“I meant it.”
He crossed the room slowly.
Stopped inches away.
“Three days ago you didn’t know my name.”
“I know.”
“Being near me is dangerous.”
“I noticed.”
“You should want me gone.”
“Probably.”
“But?”
I looked at him.
“But I don’t.”
Something raw crossed his face.
His hand rose.
This time he touched me.
Just his knuckles against my cheek.
Barely there.
Then someone fired through my apartment window.
Glass exploded across the room.
Dante threw me to the floor.
His body covered mine.
Nico burst through the door with his weapon drawn.
Another shot struck the wall.
Dante lifted his head.
May you like
The softness was gone.
“Now,” he whispered, “you understand.”
