Chapter 13 - Dante #2
For a moment, I thought he looked afraid. Then his good hand shot up, faster than I expected, connecting with my eye in a punch that sent stars exploding across my vision.
I fell back, momentarily stunned. He scrambled to his feet, already running.
“Stop!” I shouted, raising my gun despite my blurred vision.
A shot rang out, but it wasn’t from my weapon. The snake-tattoo guy jerked and stumbled forward before collapsing face-first onto the asphalt.
“Fuck!” I spun around to see who had fired that kill shot.
A figure disappeared around the corner of the building. By the time I got there, they were gone.
Someone didn’t want him to talk. I kicked a nearby trash can in anger, and the pain from my eye now travelled to my head.
The one guy who could give me answers about how Alisa had been caught up in that auction mess was now fucking dead, and I found myself back at square one, unable to know just who to protect her from.
“Dante!” I heard Federico and turned around to see him approaching with his gun still stretched outright, scanning for trouble. “Jesus, what happened to your face?”
I touched my eye. It was already swelling shut. “Got sucker punched by a guy I thought could give us some answers. Someone shot him before I could get anything useful.”
Federico glanced at the body, then back at me. “You recognize him?”
I hesitated. Telling the truth meant explaining Alisa, explaining the auction, explaining everything I’d been hiding.
“No,” I lied. “Just thought he might know something about who’s behind this.”
Federico didn’t look convinced, but the sound of sirens in the distance cut our conversation short.
“We need to move,” he said. “Caspian’s handled the ones inside. Cops will be here soon.”
I nodded, taking one last look at the dead man. Another dead end in my search for answers about the Volkov crew. Another failure to protect Alisa from whatever was coming.
***
By the time I got home, my eye had swollen completely shut, and the throbbing pain matched my mood perfectly.
I headed straight for the gym, needing even more pain to dull the feeling of failure that felt somehow worse.
I needed to hit something. Needed to feel the burn in my muscles, the sting in my knuckles. Anything to distract from the frustration and anger inside me.
I didn’t bother changing, just stripped off my jacket and shirt, kicked off my shoes, and wrapped my hands. Then I attacked the heavy bag like it was that now dead tattoo-man.
Pain was simple. Pain, I understood. Not like the complicated mess of emotions Alisa stirred in me.
I don’t know how long I was at it before I heard her.
“What the hell happened to you?”
I failed that final punch and groaned, turning toward Alisa, and when I did, I saw her eyes widen at the sight of my battered face.
“What the hell happened to you?” she squealed.
“Oh, great.” I crossed my arms in front of me. “You’re talking to me now?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What happened, Dante?”
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, trying not to be immature, and turned back to the bag. “Just a disagreement.”
“A disagreement?” she repeated, voice rising. “Your eye is the size of a baseball!”
“I’ve had worse,” I grunted, throwing another punch.
She marched up to stand right between me and the bag. “Stop that. You’re going to make it worse.”
I glared at her with my one good eye. “Why do you care? You made it pretty clear you don’t want anything to do with me.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “That doesn’t mean I want to watch you injure yourself further. Have you even put ice on it?”
“Been busy,” I said, stepping around her to resume my workout.
She blocked me again, hands on her hips. “Dante, stop. You need to take care of that eye.”
“What I need,” I growled, “is for you to leave me alone. Isn’t that what you wanted? Distance? Space? Well, here it is. Enjoy it.”
“Don’t be childish,” she snapped. “I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me?” I laughed harshly. “That’s rich. One minute you’re running away from me like I’ve got the plague, the next you’re playing nursemaid. Make up your mind, Alisa.”
Her eyes flashed dangerously. “I never claimed to have it all figured out. But I know enough to see that punching things with a head injury is stupid, even for you.”
“Even for me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re reckless,” she shot back. “Always have been. Charging into situations without thinking, not caring who gets hurt—including yourself.”
That stung. “You don’t know anything about what I do or why I do it.”
“Then enlighten me,” she challenged, stepping closer. “What happened to your eye? Another bar fight? Another woman’s jealous boyfriend?”
My temper flared. “You want to know what happened? My operation got attacked, and I was trying to find the men who put you on that auction block. But my only lead took a bullet before I could get answers.”
Her face paled. “You… you were looking for them? For me?”
I didn’t know what to say. How much of the truth would scare her off? I took one step closer. “I… I got you back here to keep you safe, Alisa. Why would that change?”
She took in a shuddering, soft breath, her eyes darting between mine. Just then, I realized how close we stood, how one more step would suck the air out between us.
Her chest heaved, and she blinked away her confusion, her lashes pattering softly against her cheeks. “I… I didn’t ask you to do that,” she whispered.
But I heard what she didn’t say; the quiver in her voice, the racing of her heart, the knowledge that time between us stretched taut and unmoving.
“Just how stubborn can you be?” I whispered, tilting my head, taking one step closer to see if she’d rise to my bait.