Chapter 6 - The Lie Hidden in the Lining
Thomas confessed before Caroline asked.
Maybe it was her face.
Maybe he was simply tired of carrying secrets.
Back at Dante’s penthouse, Thomas sat at the kitchen table with both hands wrapped around coffee he never drank.
Caroline stood across from him.
“Tell me.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Arthur called me that night.”
“The night he died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He was scared.”
“Of Rourke?”
“Of everyone.”
Thomas swallowed.
“He wanted to destroy the evidence.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I stopped him.”
Caroline stared.
“You?”
“I thought the records could save us.”
“Save us from what?”
“My debts.”
The words landed harder than Caroline expected.
“You tried to sell Grandpa’s evidence.”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I wanted to use it as leverage.”
“Against criminals.”
“Yes.”
“Because of gambling debt.”
Thomas’s shame filled the room.
“I was desperate.”
Caroline laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
“So Grandpa spent decades hiding a criminal ledger, and you thought, what, maybe it could refinance the mortgage?”
“Caro.”
“No.”
She stepped back.
“Tell me how he died.”
Thomas’s eyes filled.
“I went to the shop. We argued.”
“About the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“He told me I was becoming exactly like the men he’d spent his life fearing.”
Caroline’s throat tightened.
“What happened?”
“He had chest pain.”
She stared.
“I called an ambulance.”
“Then why did Adrian say it wasn’t natural?”
“Because Arthur had been poisoned.”
The room went silent.
Dante moved away from the windows.
“Poisoned how?”
Thomas rubbed his face.
“His medication.”
Caroline could barely breathe.
“Who changed it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dad.”
“I swear.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“Who else knew he was sick?”
“Me. His doctor. A few clients.”
“Adrian?”
Thomas nodded.
“Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“Michael Baker?”
“Already dead.”
Dante’s expression did not change.
Thomas continued.
“The coroner called it heart failure. Arthur was seventy-eight. Nobody questioned it.”
“But you did.”
“Later.”
“When?”
“When I found his pill bottle in the trash behind the shop.”
Caroline felt sick.
“You knew for five years.”
“I suspected.”
“And said nothing.”
“I had no proof.”
“You ran.”
“Yes.”
“From me.”
“To keep you safe.”
“You keep saying that.”
Her voice cracked.
“You keep making abandonment sound like protection.”
Thomas looked as if she had cut him.
Good.
Some wounds deserved to be felt.
Caroline grabbed her coat.
Dante moved.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I cannot spend another night in your penthouse while men discuss where I’m allowed to exist.”
“It isn’t safe.”
“Neither is being near you.”
The words came too fast.
They hurt him.
Caroline saw it.
She regretted them.
But she was too angry to take them back.
Dante’s face became unreadable again.
“Marcus will take you.”
“I can call a cab.”
“No.”
Caroline opened her mouth.
Dante spoke quietly.
“This is the compromise.”
She almost fought him.
Then didn’t.
At the shop, the broken window had been replaced.
The brass chime sounded when Caroline entered.
For the first time in days, she was alone with fabric.
She breathed.
Then she cried.
Not dramatically.
No collapse.
No screaming.
She simply sat on the floor beneath her grandfather’s old cutting table and cried into both hands.
For the grandfather whose death had become a question.
For the father who kept failing her.
For Greg.
For Dante.
Especially Dante, though she refused to examine why.
An hour later, someone knocked.
Marcus.
“Food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“It’s soup.”
“That is not an argument.”
“Boss said you forget meals when you’re upset.”
Caroline looked at him.
“He noticed that?”
Marcus nodded.
“He notices most things about you.”
She hated the warmth that created.
Marcus set the bag down.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You’re going to anyway.”
“Why him?”
Caroline blinked.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Marcus smiled.
“Yes, you do.”
She looked away.
“He’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
“Controlling.”
“Yes.”
“Emotionally constipated.”
Marcus laughed.
“I’m using that.”
“Don’t.”
“Too late.”
Caroline sighed.
“He listens when I tell him no.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Eventually.”
“That matters.”
“Yes.”
“And when he looks at me…”
She stopped.
Marcus waited.
Caroline shook her head.
“Never mind.”
“Probably smart.”
His phone vibrated.
Marcus checked it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He reached for his weapon.
“Back room.”
“Marcus—”
“Now.”
The front door exploded inward.
Two masked men entered.
Marcus fired.
Caroline ran toward the back.
A third man came through the alley door.
Trap.
He grabbed her.
Caroline drove her elbow into his ribs.
He held on.
She bit his hand.
He cursed.
Marcus shouted her name.
Something struck the back of Caroline’s head.
The floor disappeared.
When she woke, her hands were bound.
She was inside a moving van.
Vincent Rourke sat across from her.
“You’re becoming expensive.”
Caroline tasted blood.
“Send Dante an invoice.”
Rourke smiled.
“This is what he likes?”
“What?”
“The mouth.”
“Apparently.”
Rourke studied her.
“Dante Baker has never risked this much for a woman.”
Caroline said nothing.
“You should be flattered.”
“I’m mostly concussed.”
The van stopped.
They were taken into an old printing warehouse.
Elias Shaw waited inside.
Dante’s former driver.
Caroline stared.
“You sold him for money?”
Elias’s face hardened.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know Dante trusted you.”
“Trust doesn’t pay for chemotherapy.”
That stopped her.
“My daughter was sick.”
Rourke looked irritated.
Elias continued.
“Baker paid once. Insurance denied treatment overseas. I needed more.”
Caroline’s anger complicated.
“Did Rourke save her?”
Elias looked away.
“She died.”
Silence.
Rourke sighed.
“Emotional biography hour is over.”
He placed Arthur’s ledger on a table.
The fake one.
“You embarrassed me.”
“Good.”
“I want the original.”
“I don’t have it.”
“You know where it is.”
“No.”
Rourke stepped closer.
“Dante will come.”
“Yes.”
“And he’ll bring it.”
“No.”
Rourke smiled.
“You underestimate what men do when they love someone.”
Caroline’s heart stopped.
“Dante doesn’t love me.”
Rourke laughed.
“That may be the stupidest thing anyone has said in this building.”
Outside, gunfire began.
Rourke looked toward the door.
Caroline smiled despite herself.
“You were saying?”
Chaos followed.
Dante did not enter through the main door.
He came through the roof access with Marcus.
Rourke’s men scattered.
Elias stood between Caroline and the exit.
He raised his weapon.
Then looked at Caroline.
At Rourke.
At Dante.
His gun lowered.
“Go.”
Rourke shot him.
Elias fell.
Caroline screamed.
Dante fired.
Rourke disappeared behind machinery.
Marcus cut Caroline’s restraints.
Dante reached her.
His hands moved over her face, shoulders, arms.
“Are you hurt?”
“Head.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
He pulled her against him.
Not carefully.
Not politely.
Like he had reached the edge of something unbearable.
Caroline felt his heart pounding.
“You came.”
“Of course I came.”
“Rourke said—”
“I don’t care what Rourke said.”
“He said you—”
A shot cracked.
Dante jerked.
Caroline felt his body slam into hers.
For one second, she didn’t understand.
Then blood spread across his shirt.
“Dante.”
He dropped to one knee.
Marcus fired toward the catwalk.
Rourke ran.
Caroline caught Dante.
“No.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have been shot.”
“I noticed.”
Blood soaked through her hands.
“Marcus!”
“I’ve got him.”
Dante looked at Caroline.
His face had gone pale.
“Stay with me.”
“I am.”
“You cannot die after ruining my date.”
His mouth moved.
“What?”
“That would be rude.”
She almost screamed at him.
Instead she pressed harder.
The bullet had entered beneath his ribs.
The ambulance took twelve minutes.
Caroline remembered every second.
At the hospital, surgeons operated for three hours.
Caroline sat beside Marcus.
Thomas arrived.
Greg called.
Adrian remained under guard at another hospital.
Nothing mattered.
At 4:17 in the morning, a surgeon appeared.
“He’s stable.”
Caroline closed her eyes.
The world returned.
Dante woke six hours later.
Caroline was beside him.
His eyes opened slowly.
“You stayed.”
“You’re observant for a drugged man.”
His mouth twitched.
She wanted to hit him.
Instead she cried.
Dante looked alarmed.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Cry.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“That is not my problem.”
He lifted one hand.
She took it.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Dante whispered, “Rourke was right.”
Caroline’s chest tightened.
“About what?”
“I love you.”
There it was.
No music.
No perfect lighting.
A hospital monitor beeped.
Dante looked exhausted and vulnerable and nothing like the man who had walked into her shop.
Caroline squeezed his hand.
“You have terrible timing.”
“I’m aware.”
“You broke my measuring tape.”
“Yes.”
“You had me followed.”
“Yes.”
“You ruined my date.”
“Yes.”
“You are possibly the most irritating man in Illinois.”
“Possibly?”
She laughed through tears.
Then leaned forward and kissed him.
Carefully.
When she pulled back, Dante looked stunned.
Caroline smiled.
“Don’t make me regret that.”
May you like
“I’ll try.”
It was the closest thing to a promise she believed.
