HONEY AND KNIVES

The target

The SUV smelled like bleach and old coffee.

Zara drove with both hands on the wheel. Dante sat in the passenger seat with the seatbelt undone. Not because he wanted to. Because the shoulder wound made it hurt to lean back.

No one talked for ten minutes.

The radio was off. The sirens were behind them now, fading. The city was a blur of yellow streetlights and wet pavement.

Finally Dante broke the silence.

“He’ll be at his house.”

Zara didn’t look at him. “You sure?”

“Victor doesn’t run. He buries people and then goes home and drinks scotch.” Dante’s voice was flat. “12 Harbor View. The penthouse. Top floor.”

“That’s federal property. He lives on government housing.”

“Yeah. Convenient.”

Zara turned onto a side street. Cut the lights. “We can’t just walk in. There will be guards. Cameras. He’s Deputy Director.”

“So we don’t walk in.”

She glanced at him. At the blood that had soaked through the marshal’s shirt again. “You’re in no shape to do this.”

“I’m in exactly the right shape.”

Another ten minutes of quiet.

The SUV stopped two blocks from Harbor View. A glass tower that reflected the river. Guards at the gate. Cameras on every corner.

Zara killed the engine. “Plan?”

Dante pulled the keycard from his pocket. The one from the marshal. “Service entrance. 3 AM. Shift change. One guard is always late.”

“How do you know that?”

“I put him there.”

Zara stared at him. “You had a guy inside Morales’ building?”

“I had a guy inside everything.” Dante opened the door. The cold air hit him and he didn’t flinch. “You coming or not, Agent Cole?”

She got out too. “Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you?”

“Zara.”

They moved.

The service entrance was exactly where Dante said. A steel door with a keypad. A camera above it.

Dante used the keycard. The light turned red. Denied.

“s**t,” Zara whispered.

“Wait.” Dante pulled the pipe from his waistband. The same one from the cell. He jammed it into the door frame and pulled.

Metal screamed. The lock gave.

They slipped inside.

The hallway was dark. Maintenance lights only. The smell of bleach was stronger here.

Footsteps.

A guard rounded the corner. Young. Tired. He saw them and reached for his radio.

Zara was faster. She had him in a chokehold before he made a sound. 3 seconds. He went limp.

Dante took the guard’s radio and his gun. A Glock. He checked the magazine. Full.

“Elevator or stairs?” Zara asked.

“Stairs. Elevators have cameras.”

They climbed. 22 floors.

Dante’s shoulder screamed with every step. He didn’t make a sound.

At floor 21, they stopped.

Zara pressed her ear to the door. “Clear.”

They pushed through.

The penthouse hallway was carpeted. Quiet. Expensive. Two guards at the end, standing outside a double door.

Dante and Zara pressed against the wall.

“What’s the move?” Zara whispered.

Dante looked at her. Really looked. “You don’t have to do this. You can walk away. Tell them I forced you.”

Zara met his eyes. “And let you die alone?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not walking away.”

Dante nodded. Once.

He stepped out.

“Evening, gentlemen.”

The guards turned. Saw the marshal’s uniform. Saw the gun.

“Hands up,” Dante said.

They reached for their weapons.

Zara came around the corner. Two shots. Clean. Both guards dropped.

No screams. No alarms. Just the thud of bodies on carpet.

Dante didn’t look at them. He walked to the double doors.

Victor Morales was inside.

He could feel it.

He pushed the door open.

The penthouse was huge. Floor to ceiling windows. The river below. A fire in the fireplace.

And Victor Morales, sitting in a leather chair, a glass of scotch in his hand.

He wasn’t surprised to see them.

“Took you long enough,” Victor said. He didn’t stand. “I was starting to think you got lost, kid.”

Dante closed the door behind him. “You ordered the hit.”

“I did.” Victor took a sip. “You were getting sloppy. And she was going to ruin everything.”

Zara stepped in next to Dante. Gun raised. “You leaked the video.”

“Also me.” Victor smiled. “The press needed a story. The Bureau needed a reason to cut you both loose. And I needed you gone.”

“Why?” Dante asked. The question burned.

“Because your father was going to talk.” Victor set the glass down. “He found the offshore accounts. The ones I’ve been running for 15 years. He was going to bring it to the U.S. Attorney.”

The room went cold.

“My father’s dead,” Dante said.

“Because of me.” Victor shrugged. “And now you’re here to finish it, I assume?”

Dante raised the Glock. His hand was steady. “You don’t get to say his name.”

Victor didn’t flinch. “Do it then. But know this: if you pull that trigger, you’re not a cop anymore. You’re not a criminal. You’re just a murderer. And she goes down with you.”

Zara’s gun didn’t waver. “He’s not the only one with a file, Victor. I have the ledger. The real one. Not the copy you planted.”

Victor’s smile faltered. Just for a second.

“What did you say?”

“I said I have it.” Zara’s voice was ice. “Every transaction. Every name. Every bribe. Including the ones to you.”

Victor stood. Slowly. “You’re lying.”

“Try me.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Victor lunged.

Not at them. At the drawer in his desk.

Dante shot.

Once.

Victor staggered. Clutched his stomach. Looked down at the blood.

“You missed,” he whispered.

“No,” Dante said. “I didn’t.”

Victor fell to his knees. Then to the floor.

The fire crackled.

Silence.

Zara lowered her gun. “Is he—”

“Dead,” Dante finished.

He walked to the body. Kicked the gun away. Took the phone from Victor’s pocket.

He looked at Zara. “We have 4 minutes before backup gets here. Someone heard the shots.”

“What now?”

Dante held up the phone. “Now we finish it.”

He dialed.

One ring.

“Reyes.”

“Get a team here. Harbor View. Penthouse.” Dante’s voice was steel. “Deputy Director Morales is dead. I have evidence. And I have a witness.”

A pause. “Dante—”

“We’re turning ourselves in. But not to you. To the press.”

He hung up.

Zara looked at him. “The press?”

“If we go through channels, they’ll bury it. If we go public, they can’t.” Dante tossed her the ledger drive from his pocket. The real one. “You’re going to walk out of here with this. You’re going to give it to every news station in the city.”

“And you?”

“I’m staying.” Dante sat down on the floor. Next to Victor. “Someone has to be here when they arrive. Or they’ll say you killed him.”

Zara stepped forward. “No. We do this together.”

“You’ll go to prison.”

“So will you.”

Dante looked at her. At the blood on her hands. At the fire in her eyes. “You deserve better than this.”

“So do you.”

The sirens were close now. Very close.

Dante stood. Pain shot through his shoulder but he ignored it. He pulled Zara into him. One arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair.

“For what?”

“For all of it.”

She hugged him back. Hard.

The doors burst open.

Marshals. FBI. Reyes in the front.

“Hands up! On the ground!”

Dante let go of Zara. Raised his hands.

Zara did the same.

Reyes looked at the body. At the two of them. At the gun on the floor.

“What happened here?”

Dante spoke first. “Deputy Director Victor Morales attempted to kill two federal officers. He failed.”

Reyes looked at Zara. Then at Dante.

She saw the drive in Zara’s hand.

She understood.

“Take them,” Reyes said. “And get a medic. Now.”

As they cuffed him, Dante looked at Zara.

She looked back.

They didn’t say anything.

They didn’t need to.

Outside, the sun was starting to rise over the river.

Damage control was over.

The truth was just beginning.

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