Chapter 4 - BLOOD ON THE LEDGER
The retaliation was swift and brutal. Within forty-eight hours, Chicago was bleeding.
Three of Caruso’s illicit casinos were raided by masked men who took nothing but left the establishments in ashes. Two of his lieutenants vanished from a private club in the Loop. The underworld was buzzing with fear and confusion. Nobody started a war with Vincent Caruso without a death wish.
Inside the Moretti compound, Alara paced the length of the grand library. She hadn't slept properly in days, jumping at every slamming door.
The heavy oak doors opened, and Dante walked in. He looked exhausted. His tie was gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and there were dark circles under his eyes. There was also a smear of crimson blood on his left cuff.
Alara stopped breathing. “Are you hurt?”
Dante looked down at the blood as if surprised to see it. “It isn’t mine.”
He walked over to the antique bar cart and poured two fingers of amber scotch, downing it in one smooth motion. He looked at her, truly looked at her, taking in her pale face and the oversized sweater she had borrowed from his closet.
“He sent a message,” Dante said quietly.
“What kind of message?”
“A bomb under the car of one of my captains. He survived, but barely.” Dante set the glass down with a heavy clink. “Caruso wants a parley. A sit-down. Tomorrow night at neutral ground.”
May you like
Alara’s heart hammered against her bruised ribs. “It’s a trap, Dante. You know it’s a trap.”
“Of course it is.” Dante walked toward her, finally closing the distance. He reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. His touch was so startlingly tender that Alara leaned into it against her own will. “But I don't hide from dead men.”
