Chapter 3 - THE SAFE HOUSE
Khloe expected Dante to order her into a black SUV.
Instead, he asked:
“Do you have somewhere safe?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Good answer.”
That surprised her.
Then:
“Is Jared able to access it?”
“No.”
“Has he ever had a key?”
“Old one.”
“Knows the building?”
“Yes.”
“Your workplace?”
“Yes.”
“Your sister?”
“No sister.”
“Parents?”
“Dead.”
Dante watched her.
“You live alone.”
It was not a question.
Khloe hated how easily he assembled facts.
“Yes.”
“Then your apartment is not safe.”
“I’m not staying with you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Paulie coughed.
Dante ignored him.
“I have a property north of the city. Staffed. Cameras. Separate guest house.”
Khloe laughed once.
“That is staying with you.”
“No. It is staying somewhere I control.”
“Exactly.”
Dante’s expression shifted.
“Fair.”
He considered.
Then:
“Hotel?”
“Jared knows my cards.”
“We book under someone else.”
“I’m not taking mafia hotel points.”
Paulie actually smiled.
Dante looked irritated that he had.
Then Dante said:
“You choose.”
That made her pause.
“What?”
“Hotel. Friend. Police station. My property. You choose.”
“You’d let me go to police with that phone?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if the police can protect you, excellent.”
She stared.
“You don’t believe they can.”
“No.”
At least he was honest.
In the end, Khloe chose a hotel.
Public.
Downtown.
Registered under the restaurant manager’s assistant.
Two rooms.
Khloe took one.
Paulie stayed across the hall.
“Why is he here?”
Dante answered:
“Because if someone comes for you, Paulie is annoying to get through.”
“I can hear you,” Paulie said.
“That was intentional.”
Dante left.
That surprised her more than anything.
No dramatic demand.
No threat.
He simply said:
“Lock both deadbolts.”
Then disappeared.
Khloe showered for twenty minutes.
The hot water did not help.
At 2:11 a.m., she woke to a sound.
Three soft knocks.
“Khloe.”
Jared.
Her whole body froze.
Impossible.
Paulie was across the hall.
Then:
“Khloe, please.”
Jared sounded injured.
Weak.
Not the man from the restaurant.
She did not move.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
DON’T OPEN THE DOOR.
Khloe stared.
Then another message.
THIS IS DANTE.
She typed:
How do I know?
Reply:
THE NAPKIN COST $47.
Despite terror, she almost laughed.
Then Dante called.
“Do not speak.”
His voice was low.
“Paulie is not answering.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Do not open the door.”
Outside:
“Khloe, I’m bleeding.”
Jared.
Then a thud.
Silence.
Dante said:
“Bathroom. Lock yourself inside.”
Khloe moved.
“Why?”
“Because someone found the hotel.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She reached the bathroom.
Locked it.
Then heard the hotel-room door open.
Not crash.
Open.
Key card.
Footsteps entered.
Slow.
Not Jared.
Khloe covered her mouth.
Then Dante whispered through the phone:
“Whoever comes in, stay quiet.”
She heard drawers opening.
Closet.
Bedside table.
Then a man’s voice.
Not Jared.
“Phone’s not here.”
Another voice:
“Find the girl.”
Khloe’s blood turned cold.
They were not looking for her because of Jared.
They wanted the burner.
Then someone tested the bathroom handle.
Once.
Twice.
Khloe backed away.
Dante’s voice came through the phone.
“Get into the tub.”
She obeyed.
The door shook.
Then a gunshot exploded from the hallway.
Khloe screamed.
Another.
Then silence.
A minute later:
“Khloe.”
Paulie.
She did not move.
Then:
“It’s me.”
She opened the bathroom door.
Paulie stood there holding his side.
Blood seeped through his shirt.
Two unconscious men lay near the bed.
Jared was not there.
“What happened?”
Paulie grimaced.
“Somebody drugged my coffee downstairs.”
Khloe looked at the broken room.
Then at the electronic lock.
“They had a key.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Paulie’s expression darkened.
“Hotel security.”
Then Dante arrived twenty minutes later.
He looked at the lock data.
And said:
“The key was issued from a manager terminal.”
“Who?”
Paulie checked the access log.
Then swore.
The user name belonged to someone Dante knew.
Someone trusted enough to manage three of his restaurants.
May you like
Elias Marino.
The waiter who had served Dante bourbon earlier that night.
