Page 106 of Duty

“That could be explained—”

“Except let’s cut the shit, and get down to what you came here for, Dante Marcello.”

The man stiffened on the stool even as his brother beside him grinned, and stared down into his bottle of beer.

“I suppose I can see why my nephew took an interest in you, Haven Murphy. You certainly don’t seem like the … average woman.”

“Neither does your wife,” Haven returned. “Suspected Queen Pin that built her business from the ground up starting in Italy, right?”

If her question surprised Dante, he didn’t show it. In fact, he didn’t even blink.

She turned on Giovanni with a pointed finger, saying, “And your wife …”

“Kim,” Giovanni said. “Don’t call her Kimberlynn, she hates it. It’s stuffy.”

Haven nodded. “Kim, then. Vegas affiliated, right? That’s where she came from.”

“She did.”

“Gio,” Dante murmured.

“What, she knows anyway?”

“Yes, but how.”

The two men looked at her.

Haven smiled. “Do you know that some of the men in your family actually have fan clubs on the internet? There are forums dedicated to following you, and tracking your life. Your daughter’s birth, Dante, was announced in a dark web forum before even the New York Times announced it in the paper.”

That made them blink.

Haven laughed.

“But don’t get a fucking complex over the whole fan club thing,” Haven said, “because as I have come to learn, you are just one family—one organization—of many. And those who follow you seem to know it, too.”

“We did know about the forums,” Giovanni said after a second or two had passed. “They’re harmless, and a lot of what they post is harmless.”

“Fascinating,” Haven deadpanned. “What do you want to know about me?”

Dante smiled—slow and cold. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

Her gaze cut to him. “I beg your pardon? You clearly came here because you wanted something from me, likely because you know I’m involved with Andino. I take it that’s a problem for a few reasons, and none that I care to get in to at the moment. So, please don’t treat me like I’m stupid, or—”

“Haven Murphy,” Dante murmured. “Twenty-six, born on September eighth born to Neil and Stacey Murphy. Do you want the time of your birth, too?”

Haven blinked. “Four in the morning.”

“Four-oh-two, actually.”

“My parents always just told me four.”

Dante shrugged. “That’s what the records say. They also tell me you were quite a student—top of your class, and accepted into every university you applied to. I know you took over this business here two years ago for your father when your mother’s health failed. I know you took out a loan to pay off his debts, but never told him. Was that why you turned it into a strip club—for the money?”

“Sex sells,” Haven replied, trying to keep her tone level.

“It does.” Dante sighed, and folded his arms over his chest. “I also know their street address and zip code in Florida—I know the name of the doctor your mother goes to see every six months to make sure her cancer hasn’t come back. I know the name of the kindergarten teacher who sings Maria’s ABC’s to her every day. So, no, donna, there is very little I don’t know about you, and there is nothing you can tell me that I want to know, anyway.”

Giovanni cleared his throat beside Dante.