Chapter 2 - The Audit of the HarborThe air inside the study became heavy enough to crush bone.
Carmine took an involuntary step backward toward the heavy mahogany doors, his eyes darting frantically toward the two guards stationed at the entrance. "Salvatore! You're letting a thirty-one-year-old dentist confuse you! She doesn't know anything about ballistics! It was a chaotic fire-fight! A piece of metal hit you—that's all!"
"I have a bachelor's degree in biochemistry and a doctorate in dental surgery, Mr. Lombardi," I stated flatly, stripping off my surgical gloves and tossing them into the biohazard pouch. "I know the difference between amalgam restoration alloys and custom tungsten-carbide. And if you'd like, I can send this fragment to the state forensic lab in Albany for a full spectrographic composition test."
"Shut your mouth!" Carmine snarled, his composure completely shattering as he reached into his coat.
CLICK-CLACK.
Before Carmine's hand could even reach his inner holster, four of the six perimeter enforcers—led by Salvatore’s veteran security chief, Marcus Vance—drew their suppressed pistols, aiming them dead center at Carmine's chest.
"Don't do it, Carmine," Marcus warned coldly, his finger tight on the trigger. "Hands where the Don can see them."
Carmine froze, his face drained of every drop of color, his breathing shallow and panicked.
Salvatore stood up slowly from his leather chair. At forty-six, his broad six-foot-three frame towered over the room. For eight years, his body had been weakened by chronic malnutrition and constant, agonizing facial pain. But now, with the infected tooth gone and the pressure on his nerve released, his posture was straight, imposing, and sovereign.
He walked over to where I stood beside my portable equipment case, taking my hand into his large, calloused palm, pressing a soft, respectful kiss against my knuckles.
"You saved my life today, Dr. Russo," Salvatore said, his deep voice carrying a genuine, profound reverence that made my heart flutter. "Not just my jaw. My mind."
"I did my job, Mr. Lombardi," I replied, meeting his intense gray eyes without flinching. "Now, I suggest you let me give you your post-extraction antibiotics before you settle your family business."
Salvatore offered a rare, razor-sharp smile—a look of pure, dangerous charm that lit up his severe, handsome features.
"Marcus," Salvatore commanded, turning his head back toward his chief enforcer.
"Yes, Don Salvatore?"
"Take my brother to the subterranean holding suite," Salvatore ordered, his voice flat as glacier ice. "Seize his phones, his financial ledgers, and every offshore account registered under his name. I want a full forensic audit of Lombardi Enterprises before dawn."
"NO! SALVATORE! LISTEN TO ME!" Carmine shrieked as Marcus and two heavy enforcers grabbed his arms, hoisting him off his feet and dragging him out of the study in total, public disgrace.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them.
Salvatore turned back to me, looking at my worn blue scrubs, my modest equipment bag, and the quiet dignity I carried in his dangerous world.
"Dr. Russo," Salvatore spoke softly. "How much do I owe you for this house call?"
"The agreed fee was ten thousand dollars, Mr. Lombardi," I answered. "It's enough to pay my father's clinic rent for three months."
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Salvatore stepped closer, reaching into his desk drawer, pulling out a leather binder bound by gold seals.
"Ten thousand dollars was for a dentist, Lena," Salvatore murmured, his gray eyes shining with an unbroken, fiercely protective heat. "For the woman who freed me from eight years of dark shadows... ten thousand is insultingly small."
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