Chapter 5 - The Intervention
Ryan’s face went from confusion to a deep, ugly red. His cop instincts flared up, but the cold steel pressing into his lower back kept him pinned to the velvet cushions.
"Do you know who the hell I am?" Ryan hissed, his voice low so as not to attract the attention of the surrounding tables. "I’m a detective with the NYPD. You touch me, and you’ll have the entire city hunting you down."
Dante didn't look at him. He didn't even acknowledge the threat. He remained focused on Vanessa, his extended hand steady as a rock.
"Vanessa," Dante said softly, using her first name for the first time. "Get your coat. My car is outside."
Vanessa looked from the stranger’s gray eyes to Ryan’s furious face. For months, she had been a victim, a woman trapped in a cage of fear. But looking at this new man, she felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of hope. This man wasn't afraid of Ryan’s badge. This man looked like he owned the city that Ryan merely patrolled.
Slowly, deliberately, Vanessa slid out of the booth, ignoring Ryan’s choked curse. She grabbed her coat from the seat.
"You're dead, Moretti," Ryan muttered, his eyes widening slightly as he finally recognized the face of the man standing before him. He had seen Dante’s file in the organized crime intelligence unit. "I know who you are. You're Dante Moretti. You're a target."
Dante finally turned his gaze down to the detective. The expression on his face was so empty, so utterly devoid of human mercy, that Ryan actually flinched back into the booth.
"I am the target that you missed, Detective," Dante said, his voice a quiet, lethal purr. "Marco. Ensure Mr. Foster enjoys his steak. And ensure he understands that if he so much as breathes the name Turner again, his uncle the judge will be reading his obituary in the morning paper."
Dante wrapped a large, warm hand around Vanessa’s elbow, guiding her out of the crowded dining room before she could faint. The rich patrons of L’Avenue didn't notice a thing; they just saw a powerful man escorting a beautiful woman into the cold December night.
When they stepped out onto the wet sidewalk, the black Escalade was waiting, its exhaust pluming in the freezing air. A driver opened the door instantly.
Vanessa stopped before climbing inside, the freezing sleet hitting her face. She looked up at Dante, her body shivering. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
May you like
Dante pulled Lily’s crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it to her.
"Your daughter wrote a letter to the North Pole, Ms. Turner," Dante said, his face softening as he looked down at her. "It was delivered to the wrong address. But in this city... I handle the wishes."
