Chapter 3 - THE DEBT HER FATHER NEVER MENTIONEDSonia stopped breathing.
“My father?”
Vinnie laughed nervously.
“Tell her, Moretti.”
Dante’s gaze shifted toward Sonia.
For the first time since revealing himself, uncertainty entered his expression.
That frightened her more than anger would have.
“What does he mean?”
“Sonia—”
“What does he mean?”
Dante looked at his men.
“Take Vincent downstairs.”
“No!”
Vinnie struggled as two men seized him.
“You think keeping her ignorant protects her?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Move.”
Vinnie shouted while being dragged toward the kitchen.
“Ask Robert Mitchell what happened on Pier 17!”
The door slammed.
Sonia stared at Dante.
“My father worked at the docks.”
“I know.”
Those two words changed everything.
“You know my father?”
Dante said nothing.
Sonia grabbed her coat.
He caught her wrist, gently but firmly.
“Going home alone tonight would be a mistake.”
“Touch me again and saving you becomes a temporary arrangement.”
His hand released instantly.
“Fair.”
She headed toward the door.
Dante followed.
Outside, three black SUVs waited beneath the rain.
“You planned all this?” Sonia demanded.
“I suspected someone was stealing from my businesses. I didn’t know they were willing to kill me.”
“So you dressed like that to test people?”
“Yes.”
“And I was what? Part of your experiment?”
“No.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Congratulations. I passed.”
“Sonia.”
“My father is sick. My sister is drowning in tuition debt. I work sixty hours a week for a psychopath you apparently allowed to run your restaurant. I don’t care about your empire.”
Dante absorbed every word.
“You’re right.”
That stopped her.
Men like him probably did not say that often.
“I should have known what Vincent was doing,” he continued. “I didn’t.”
“Great. Accountability. Very modern.”
Despite himself, Dante almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
His expression changed after listening for three seconds.
“When?”
Pause.
“Is he alive?”
Sonia’s anger vanished.
“Who?”
Dante looked at her.
“Your father.”
The hospital smelled of disinfectant and bad news.
Robert Mitchell had been admitted twenty minutes earlier after collapsing at home.
Emma stood outside his room in blue scrubs, crying.
“Sonia!”
The sisters collided.
“What happened?”
“Dad couldn’t breathe. I called an ambulance.”
Emma looked past her.
Dante stood several yards away with two men.
“Who is that?”
“Long story.”
A doctor approached.
Robert had suffered a severe reaction to a medication.
Except he had not been prescribed that medication.
Someone had replaced his pills.
Sonia’s knees nearly gave out.
Dante caught her elbow.
This time she did not pull away.
“This isn’t coincidence,” he said quietly.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because Vincent mentioned your father thirty minutes before someone tried to kill him.”
Emma stared between them.
“What is happening?”
Dante led them to an empty waiting area.
Then he told Sonia the truth.
Seventeen years earlier, Robert Mitchell had worked as a crane operator at Pier 17. One night he had witnessed a Moretti lieutenant secretly transferring weapons for a rival organization.
Robert had reported it.
Not to police.
To Dante’s father.
The information had prevented an ambush that would have killed twelve men, including seventeen-year-old Dante.
“My father saved your life?”
“In a way.”
“What happened afterward?”
“The traitor disappeared. Your father quit the docks. My family quietly made sure no one bothered him.”
“Until now.”
Dante nodded.
“Why would anyone care after seventeen years?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
Emma’s voice trembled.
“Are you saying somebody poisoned Dad because of something he saw before I was even in high school?”
Dante looked at her.
“I’m saying someone believes Robert still knows something valuable.”
A nurse hurried toward them.
“Ms. Mitchell?”
Sonia stood.
“Your father is awake.”
Robert looked impossibly small in the hospital bed.
Sonia took his hand.
“Dad.”
His eyes moved toward Dante.
Instant recognition.
Fear followed.
“Moretti.”
Dante approached slowly.
“Mr. Mitchell.”
Robert squeezed Sonia’s fingers.
“You shouldn’t have brought him here.”
“He brought me.”
Robert closed his eyes.
“You have to leave New York.”
Sonia leaned closer.
“Why?”
Robert looked toward the doorway.
Then whispered:
“Because Vincent isn’t the man they’re protecting.”
“Who are they protecting?”
Robert’s eyes settled on Dante.
“Your brother.”
The room became silent.
Dante’s face lost all expression.
“My brother died eleven years ago.”
Robert shook his head.
“No.”
Dante stepped closer.
“I buried him.”
“No,” Robert repeated. “You buried a body.”
Sonia felt Dante’s hand tighten against the bedrail.
Robert struggled for breath.
“Your brother came to see me three weeks ago.”
Dante went still.
“What did he want?”
“The ledger.”
“What ledger?”
Robert’s eyes widened suddenly.
He looked toward the hospital window.
A red laser dot appeared on his chest.
Sonia saw it first.
“DOWN!”
May you like
Dante threw himself across the bed.
The window exploded.
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