DANTE
I stop drinking. Mostly. Just a couple at night to try and sleep. I don’t manage much, but it’s enough to function.
I stay in my room all weekend, unable to fathom seeing Samantha again.
Her words ring in my ears. To hate you I’d have to care.
Harsh. Cruel. Completely unlike her. I’ve done this to her. Brought out the worst in her.
I mostly read, lose myself in Westerns and crime novels. I don’t watch our show anymore. It’s too painful.
Elio gives me the time. Nothing’s coming up until after the party, anyway.
He’s inviting everyone, all of our allies and their men, their wives and children.
It’s going to be a full house. So I have to get it together. Lock in, as Samantha says.
Elio’s home recuperating, but he’s starting to get stir-crazy, and his wound is almost healed. Soon enough, I’ll have to take my responsibilities back up.
Ricardo’s already been doing most of the work when Samantha needs to go out.
I feel almost bad about it. I’ve never really liked the guy, he’s always seemed arrogant and weaselly, but maybe that’s just because of how he looks.
Tall, lanky, balding, thin-faced. Lately, he’s been acting a lot less like he’s got a chip on his shoulder.
He looks exhausted, thinner than usual. His mother’s illness must be taking its toll.
On Monday I’m downstairs after grabbing an early dinner, when Samantha walks in the door. “H-hey,” I stutter, like a dumbass, meeting her brown eyes.
She looks at me blankly. “Hey.”
“Where’d you go?” None of your business.
“Shopping.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t buy anything?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. Didn’t find anything I liked. I just did it for love of the game.” She offers me a small smile and I can’t help but return it. Then Samantha suddenly goes pale, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”
“Oh, Maria made Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. Do you want one?”
“Onions,” she says in a broken voice, and I raise my eyebrow higher.
“Onions?”
She bolts for the downstairs bathroom, clapping a hand over her mouth. She slams the door behind her.
I walk up to it and hear her retching. I wait a beat. Tell myself I should go upstairs. Leave it alone. “You still sick?”
The toilet flushes once. Twice. After the sound of running water, she opens the door. “Just a little…sensitive to smells still.”
I frown. “You should see Doc.”
She waves a hand. “I’m fine. It was just a bug.”
Alarm rises in the back of my head. Cancer isn’t genetic, isn’t it? “Are you sure?”
She nods quickly, her eyes starting to flash. “Why do you care, anyway?”
I glance into the dining room. Elio’s nowhere to be found, must have gone out the back. He’d gotten a phone call during dinner that he’d ignored, so he’s probably answering it.
“You know why,” I say in a low voice.
Samantha slips past me. I should leave it. Let her go.
“We can’t all be like you, you know,” I say, too loudly.
She whirls around to face me, shushing me. “Stop being so loud. Are you drunk again?”
“No,” I say honestly. I haven’t had a drop since last night. “I just… fuck.” I trail off, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck.
She looks at me shrewdly, throwing her hands up in the air. “What do you want from me, Dante?”
I glance back at the kitchen. I don’t see Elio. There are no cameras in the house, Elio thinks it’s a breach of privacy. They’re only outside.
I back her against the stairwell, placing my hands on either side of her head. “I don’t know,” I say, and it’s maybe the most true thing I’ve ever said to her. “I just know that I still…”
“That you still what?” Her eyes narrow.
Love you. Need you.
“Want you,” is what comes out of my mouth.
I lean down and kiss her roughly. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t kiss me back, either. I’m the one that pulls away, to see her expression.
Her mouth twists in a grim smile. “Well, you can’t have me. Not anymore.”
She slips out from under my right arm and heads up the stairs. She’s not storming up them. Not stalking. She doesn’t even seem angry, not really.
Just…. Gone.
The rock in my throat is hard to swallow around. My hands itch to go to the liquor cabinet, but I don’t. I manage to refrain from day-drinking the next few days, but it’s a near thing. I don’t ever stop thinking about her. Worrying about her. I’m off my game, and everyone knows it.
Elio notices. Tells me to talk to my girl. I wave him off. Because she’s not my girl. She never was, not really.
At least I’ll be distracted tonight. We’re catching the rat, once and for all.
Elio called myself, Marco, Leo, and Ricardo into a meeting a few days ago. Told us about the shipment. Told us he’d text us a location. Three of Elio’s men will be stationed at each location, except for Leo’s location. Only I’ll be stationed there.
Elio doesn’t really suspect Leo or Ricardo. Ricardo because of obvious reasons, and Leo because well… Elio trusts him. He’s been with him from the beginning, when Elio took over for his father.
I’m not so sure. So when I head out, I’m armed to the teeth.
Bullet-proof vest. Handgun in the holster at my spine.
Derringer at my ankle. And finally my lucky pocket knife, which has gotten me out off more scrapes than I can count.
I sit in the car across the street from the warehouse, watching Leo pull up.
He skirts the area, watching the perimeter. Just like he’s been taught.
But my eyes narrow when he pauses just outside the warehouse doors. He doesn’t go in. Usually he would, he’d walk in and check the shipments, which are supposed to be crates and crates of high-grade cocaine.
In reality, we’ve set up a shipment from Columbia in a couple of weeks to provide us with the blow we need to sell.
Of course, Leo, Marco, and Ricardo won’t know that. Just me and Elio.
I narrow my eyes, putting my hand on the door handle.
That’s when I hear the rumbling of a V-8 engine. I turn to see two sportscars pulling up across the street, two men piling out of each car.
“Christ,” I curse under my breath, pulling my phone out of my pocket and texting Elio.
It’s Leo.
Elio’s standing by, ready to deploy all his men to whichever location gets hit. But I can’t wait for backup like Elio said. If I do, they’ll head inside, see that the crates are empty. Leo will know he’s been made.
I pull my gun. I don’t bother twisting on the silencer. This is going to be messy. Four men, plus Leo.
And there’s just me.
I have to play this right.
They’re huddled around, talking. Leo looks around nervously. He’s not stupid. He senses something’s up.
I creep around my car. I can’t take them all. I’m not arrogant enough to think I can.
But all I need is Leo.
I crouch behind the passenger side. Take in a deep breath. Count to three.
Then I pop up, firing twice into the air.
The crack of the gunfire scatters them like cockroaches. Leo bolts toward one of the cars but they’re already taking off, leaving him grappling for the door handle, yelling.
“Shit!” I can hear his curse from across the street as the two cars peel off.
Unfortunately for Leo, he’s followed Elio’s number one rule—park a block from the warehouse.
He’s got nowhere to go.
Leo glances across the street, but I duck back behind my car. He won’t recognize it. It’s not my daily driver. He stands there for a moment, as if shell-shocked, and then starts power-walking toward the street.
I wait just a beat before I calmly walk across the street, following behind him.
I don’t have to walk fast. Leo’s five-foot-seven something, and my legs are a lot longer.
He’s scurrying like the weasel he is, but I don’t make a sound.
He’s probably too focused on his heart beating in his ears to hear my footsteps.
He takes the corner into the parking garage and I follow, waiting until he’s got his hand on the door handle of his car to speak.
“Leo. Long time no see.”
He freezes and fumbles with the door. I raise my gun. I cock back the hammer.
“Raise your hands.”
Leo lets out a ragged breath. His shoulders slump as he drops his hand from the door handle.
”I said raise them.”
He slowly turns, raising his hands in the air, face pale and drawn. “Dante, I can explain.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Can you?”
“I owe Luciano money,” he babbles. “A lot of it.”
I stare at him, not speaking.
“He was going to kill me!”
His voice goes thin and reedy, like he’s trying to keep from screaming.
“Elio would have taken care of it.”
Leo swallows visibly. “Listen. We can work something out. We can… help each other.”
I bark out a laugh. “Why would I want help from a rodent?”
“Because you need help,” Leo says quietly. “Because I know you’ve been sleeping with Samantha.”
His words shock me but the gun doesn’t waver. My heart drops into my stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Elio wants you to take me alive, right? You’re not going to kill me.”
He’s right. Elio wants me to capture him. Interrogate him for the rest of his tragically short life. “You never know,” I drawl. “My finger might slip.”
Leo trembles but he doesn’t back down. “If you capture me, I’ll tell Elio everything.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I have proof. I caught you two one night in the hallway. I was having a late night meeting with Elio.”
My mouth twists in a sneer. “Your word isn’t any kind of proof. Especially right now.”
“I have pictures. On my phone.”
My teeth grit so hard I feel like the enamel might crack. “Show me.”
He fumbles for his phone, nearly dropping it before turning the screen around.
Sure enough, I’ve got Samantha pinned up against the door of her bedroom, leaning down, kissing her throat.
Fuck. I thought we’d been careful. “What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“I just want you to let me go.”
I scoff. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You can. Dante, we went to high school together,” he says desperately. “Tell them… tell them Luciano’s men got the drop on you. That you were distracted.”
It’s a good plan. I have been distracted, and Elio knows it. Everybody knows it. Leo keeps staring at me, waiting for me to respond. I don’t, keeping the gun trained on him.
“Come on, Dante. You don’t want to risk getting killed over a piece of ass, do you?” Leo smiles nervously.
I pull the trigger and shoot him in the head. He crumples to the ground, blood pooling around him. I stare down at him, breathing hard.
Goddamnit.
“Shouldn’t have fucking called her that,” I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand across my face.
I put the gun back in my spine holster and crouch down. Leo’s leg is twitching.
He’s still alive.
Good. Let him suffer.
I fish his phone out of his hand and delete the photo. I throw the phone on the concrete, stomping it into pieces for good measure. I kick the pieces under a nearby car.
I look down at Leo. He’s still twitching. Gurgling. I feel nothing. I crouch down again, pull his gun out of the back of his pants and carefully put it in his hand. I’m not leaving anything to chance.
Then I take in a ragged breath and call Elio so I can lie to him again.
“Dante?” he sounds breathless. “You alright?”
“Fine,” I say in a clipped tone. “But Leo’s dead. Pulled a gun on me before I got the drop on him.”
Elio curses. “Shit. He didn’t pop you, did he?”
“No, I was faster.”
“Thank God.”
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly. Of course he’s not angry. He’s just grateful I’m okay.
I hate myself.
“I thought it was Marco,” he says, almost apologetically, and my stomach twists. “Backup is coming.”
“Don’t bother. Ricci’s men split and Leo’s beyond help. Just call Volkov.”
Elio sighs. “Alright. Wish we could have gotten one of them.”
“I’m sorry.”
He scoffs. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you killed the fucking weasel. Just make it home safe.”
“Ten-four.”
I look down at Leo once more as he wheezes out his last breaths. I kick him in the ribs, hard.
Then I turn and walk out of the parking garage.
Sirens start to wail as I pull onto the highway. Someone reported the gunshots. They’re unlikely to find Leo’s body, though, since it’s a block away. Gregor Volkov, our cleaner, always manages to get it done, so I’m not worried.
I curse myself the whole ride home. Something has got to change.
I have to forget her.