Chapter 2 - The House With No WindowsDante Finally Told Me Why He Bought The Honey
The house didn't look like a safehouse.
It looked like a prison designed by someone with too much money.
Black stone walls.
Iron gates.
No visible neighbors.
No front lawn.
No welcome.
The windows were narrow and dark.
Dante walked inside first.
I followed.
Marco locked three separate doors behind us.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Dante removed his coat.
"Sit."
"I'm not sitting."
"Nora."
That stopped me.
"You know my name."
"I've known your name for six weeks."
"How?"
"I asked."
"Of course you did."
He placed the photograph on the dining table.
I stood across from him.
"My father was a beekeeper."
"I know."
"He sold honey."
"I know."
"He wasn't involved with organized crime."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"You believe that."
"I know that."
"You knew your father better than I did."
"You knew him?"
"For almost twenty years."
I stared at him.
"Why did he never mention you?"
Dante looked toward the window.
"Because I wasn't proud of the man I was back then."
That answer surprised me.
Before I could respond, Marco entered carrying a medical kit.
"Dante."
"I'm fine."
"You've got glass in your arm."
Dante glanced at the cut.
"I said I'm fine."
Marco sighed and looked at me.
"He's impossible."
"You work for him."
"Exactly."
Dante pointed toward the chair.
"Sit, Nora."
I sat.
He opened the medical kit.
"You asked me why I kept buying your honey."
"Yes."
Dante took out a small bottle of disinfectant.
"My wife used to buy honey every Sunday."
His voice changed when he said her name.
"Sofia."
He nodded.
"She put honey in my tea when I couldn't sleep."
I folded my arms.
"So you bought mine because it reminded you of her."
"At first."
"And after?"
He looked directly at me.
"After the first morning, I kept coming back because you said something."
"I say a lot of things."
"You said my body wanted rest, but my head wouldn't let me have it."
I remembered.
"I was guessing."
"You weren't."
Dante stared at the table.
"That was exactly how Sofia described my insomnia."
I softened despite myself.
"How did she die?"
His expression shut down.
"She was killed in our home."
"By who?"
"I don't know."
"You never found them?"
"No."
"You're Dante Russo."
His eyes lifted.
"What does that mean?"
"It means everyone says you're the most feared man in Pennsylvania."
"Fear doesn't solve everything."
"No."
I looked at the photograph.
"Secrets do."
Silence.
Then Dante said, "Sofia spent the last month of her life investigating something."
"What?"
"Money."
"Money?"
"Payments moving through small businesses in western Pennsylvania."
I frowned.
"Why would she care?"
"Because the money was connected to people inside my organization."
I looked down at the photograph.
"And my father?"
"Your father was one of the people she trusted."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"My father worked with you."
"Not exactly."
Dante sat opposite me.
"He transported goods."
"Honey?"
Dante didn't answer.
"Then what?"
"Sometimes medicine."
"Sometimes?"
"Sometimes documents."
I stared.
"My father was a courier."
"Yes."
The word landed like a stone.
"And you knew?"
"I knew after he had already gone too deep."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know how."
"Try words."
Dante almost smiled.
It disappeared immediately.
"Your father wanted out."
"Out of what?"
"My world."
He pushed the photograph toward me.
"Sofia helped him."
I looked closer.
There was something tucked beneath her left hand.
A small brass object.
A key.
My father's key.
I recognized it instantly.
"That's impossible."
Dante leaned back.
"Why?"
"Because that key was buried with him."
Dante stared at me.
"Are you sure?"
"I watched them bury him."
A long silence passed.
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
"Dante."
"What?"
"They found us."
"Who?"
Marco looked at me.
"The men from the market."
Dante stood.
"How long?"
"Less than five minutes."
Dante turned toward me.
"Basement."
"What?"
"Now."
I stood.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get answers."
"You'll get them."
"I want them now."
Dante took one step toward me.
Then the first bullet smashed through the kitchen window.
Everyone ducked.
Dante grabbed my arm.
"Basement."
We ran.
Behind us, glass shattered.
Men shouted outside.
I stumbled down the stairs.
Dante followed.
When the basement door slammed shut, he locked it.
Then he looked at me.
"Your father didn't die in an accident."
My breath caught.
"What?"
May you like
Dante lowered his voice.
"He was murdered."
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