Chapter 5 - Harper Walks Into the Lion’s DenDante said no 17 times.
Harper counted.
The 18th time, she stopped listening.
“Vincent wants me because he thinks I’m leverage.”
“You are leverage.”
“Thank you. Very romantic.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Dante paced the penthouse office.
“He wants you alone.”
“He expects me to tell you.”
“Obviously.”
“He expects you to refuse.”
“Correct.”
“So we do something he doesn’t expect.”
Dante stopped.
“You’re not going.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“19.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Stop counting.”
“Stop repeating yourself.”
Dante approached until they stood inches apart.
“If anything happens to you—”
“That sentence is exactly why Vincent chose me.”
His expression changed.
Harper touched his chest.
“He knows you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“No.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“You’re afraid of losing me.”
Dante said nothing.
“And he knows it.”
That was the problem.
Fear made Dante predictable.
Harper intended to make them unpredictable again.
The meeting location was St. Agnes Church.
Abandoned for 14 years.
Harper arrived at noon.
Alone.
Technically.
Dante had men positioned 3 blocks away.
A microphone was hidden beneath Harper’s collar.
A tracker sat inside her shoe.
And Dante had threatened to personally murder every member of the surveillance team if they lost contact for more than 5 seconds.
Harper pushed open the church doors.
Dust floated through colored sunlight.
A man sat in the front pew.
Vincent Caruso was older than she expected.
Late 60s.
Silver hair.
Perfect charcoal suit.
He looked like a retired banker.
“Ms. Reed.”
“Mr. Caruso.”
He smiled.
“Dante told you about me.”
“Enough.”
“Did he tell you about Elena?”
“Yes.”
The smile faded slightly.
“Interesting.”
“You wanted to meet.”
Vincent gestured toward the pew.
Harper remained standing.
“I prefer not to sit with men who send photographs of me to my home.”
Vincent chuckled.
“I understand why Dante likes you.”
“You don’t understand anything about Dante.”
“I raised him.”
“No. You underestimated him.”
The smile disappeared.
Vincent studied her.
“You are dangerous.”
“I balance spreadsheets.”
“You make him hesitate.”
Harper’s pulse remained steady.
“He never hesitated before you.”
“That sounds like his problem.”
“No. It is mine.”
Vincent stood.
“When Dante was young, he understood power. Power requires sacrifice. It requires the ability to lose people.”
“And you think loving someone makes him weak.”
“I know it does.”
Harper thought about the hospital.
The docks.
Marco Bellini.
Michael.
She shook her head.
“You’re wrong.”
Vincent tilted his head.
“Am I?”
“You understand fear. Dante understands loyalty.”
“Loyalty is fear wearing a prettier dress.”
“No. That’s why your empire disappeared.”
For the first time, anger flashed across Vincent’s face.
Harper continued.
“Your men abandoned you because they were afraid of you. Dante’s men stay because they know he’ll go to war for them.”
“Dante went to war for you.”
“Yes.”
“And eventually that will destroy him.”
“Perhaps.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Leave him.”
Harper laughed.
The sound echoed through the church.
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“You find that amusing?”
“You spent months infiltrating his organization, kidnapping a capo’s son, burning warehouses, sending photographs, and your master plan is asking me to break up with him?”
“I’m offering you survival.”
“No.”
“I can give you a new identity. $10 million. Anywhere in the world.”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I have.”
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“Dante will die because of you.”
Harper stepped forward.
“Then you should understand something.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“If Dante dies, there will be nowhere on this planet far enough for you to run from me.”
Vincent stared.
Then smiled.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The woman behind the secretary.”
He reached inside his jacket.
Dante’s voice exploded through Harper’s earpiece.
“MOVE.”
Harper dropped.
A gunshot shattered stained glass.
Dante’s men stormed the church.
Vincent escaped through a side door.
Harper remained behind the stone altar until Dante reached her.
He grabbed her shoulders.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Harper.”
“I’m fine.”
He checked anyway.
Hands over her arms.
Her shoulders.
Her face.
“Dante.”
He pulled her against him.
Hard.
For several seconds, he simply held her.
Then anger replaced fear.
“You disobeyed the extraction signal.”
“I dropped when you told me.”
“You stayed 7 minutes longer than planned.”
“I was getting information.”
“He pulled a gun.”
“Which proved useful information.”
Dante stared at her in disbelief.
“You are completely insane.”
“You’re a mafia boss.”
“That doesn’t make your behavior reasonable.”
Despite herself, Harper laughed.
Dante kissed her.
Right there.
In front of Leo.
Carter.
6 armed men.
And whatever remained of St. Agnes’s congregation of pigeons.
Nobody commented.
Leo looked at the ceiling.
That night, Harper reviewed the recording.
One phrase bothered her.
Dante will die because of you.
Not might.
Will.
She replayed it.
Again.
Again.
Then she noticed something.
Background noise.
A train horn.
Three short blasts.
She opened a map.
“There are only 2 freight lines close enough to St. Agnes for that volume.”
Dante looked over her shoulder.
“So?”
“So Vincent arrived before me. If he traveled from wherever he’s staying, he probably used the industrial corridor.”
They cross-referenced traffic cameras.
A black sedan appeared 4 times.
Same plate.
Registered to a shell corporation.
Harper searched the corporation.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“The registered agent.”
Dante leaned closer.
Harper turned the screen.
PETER WALSH.
Their security chief.
The man responsible for protecting the penthouse.
Dante became still.
“That’s how the envelopes got inside.”
Harper nodded.
Walsh had worked for Dante for 12 years.
He knew every camera.
Every safe house.
Every emergency protocol.
Dante reached for his phone.
Harper stopped him.
“No.”
“He betrayed us.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Eventually, perhaps.”
Dante looked at her.
“We use him first.”
Peter Walsh entered the penthouse at 8:00 the next morning.
He never saw Carter behind him.
Dante sat behind the desk.
Harper stood by the windows.
“Morning, boss.”
“Peter.”
Walsh noticed Harper.
His eyes flickered.
That was enough.
Dante saw it.
Harper saw Dante see it.
“Sit.”
Walsh sat.
Dante pushed a photograph across the desk.
The shell company registration.
Walsh’s face went white.
“You have 10 seconds.”
“Dante—”
“9.”
“He has my daughter.”
Harper closed her eyes.
Again.
Vincent’s strategy was not bribery.
It was family.
“He took her 2 months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He showed me video. Said if I spoke, she died.”
Dante stood.
Walsh began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Harper stepped forward.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does Vincent want next?”
Walsh looked at Dante.
“Your financial network.”
Harper froze.
“What specifically?”
“The master ledger.”
Dante’s expression changed.
Nobody outside the room understood what that meant.
The master ledger contained everything.
Politicians.
Judges.
Police.
Shell companies.
Accounts.
Every financial artery of the Moretti empire.
If Vincent obtained it, he could destroy Dante without firing another bullet.
Harper looked at Walsh.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
Walsh swallowed.
“He wants me to take it to Pier 19.”
Dante looked at Harper.
Harper looked back.
They were thinking the same thing.
Vincent wanted the ledger.
May you like
They were going to give him one.
Just not the one he expected.
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