Chapter 5 - The Safehouse In Lincoln Park
The armored black SUV sped through the rain-slicked streets of Chicago, cutting through traffic with reckless disregard for signals or speed limits.
Mia sat rigidly in the backseat, wedged between the leather door panel and the towering, silent bulk of Marcus the enforcer. Up front, Dante sat in the passenger seat, staring out the rain-streaked window, his jaw clenched so tight muscles ticked along his cheek. In the trunk—or tied up in the third row, Mia wasn't entirely sure—was Vivian Vale, awaiting whatever grim fate the Morelli syndicate reserved for traitors.
They pulled into a subterranean parking garage beneath a heavily fortified brownstone in Lincoln Park. Steel security gates rolled down automatically behind them, locking them away from the rest of the world.
Dante stepped out first, holding the door for Mia. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before sliding out, her boots hitting the concrete floor with a hollow echo.
"Inside," Dante ordered, gesturing toward a heavy steel-reinforced security door.
The interior of the safehouse looked less like a home and more like a military command center. Monitory screens lined one entire wall, displaying live feeds of the Blackstone, the Chicago riverfront, and various intersections across the city. High-end tactical gear, weapon racks, and encrypted communication consoles filled the room.
Dante shrugged off his ruined suit jacket, tossing it onto a leather couch, and poured himself two fingers of amber whiskey from a crystal decanter. He didn’t offer her a drink, but he did stop and look her dead in the eye.
"You knew about the hit," Dante stated, not a question, but an observation. "How?"
Mia crossed her arms defensively, standing her ground. "I grew up around gamblers, Mr. Morelli. I know what a lying face looks like. I saw Vivian’s phone light up with a push notification. West exit secured. Cleaners in position. 9:12. I put two and two together."
Dante studied her for a long moment, swirling the liquor in his glass. A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. "A waitress reading encrypted push notifications off a billionaire heiress's designer clutch. Outstanding situational awareness."
"Are you going to kill me yet, or are you just going to compliment my observation skills?" Mia snapped, her nerves finally fraying past the breaking point.
Dante raised an eyebrow, genuinely amused by her fire. "Kill you? Mia, you just handed me the keys to the kingdom. By warning me about the west exit, you gave me the upper hand. Within the hour, my men will roll up the Vale family’s safehouses while they're still celebrating a victory that never happened."
"Then let me go home," Mia said earnestly. "I don't want your war. I don't want your money. I just want my life back."
May you like
Dante took a slow sip of his whiskey, shaking his head. "Your old life ended the second you handed me that napkin, Mia. The Vale family owns half the police force in this city. If you go back to your Cicero studio tonight, their cleaners will find you before sunrise. You’re safer with me than anywhere else on earth."
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