Page 1 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)
Table of Contents
THE DANTE
THE FLORESCENT light in the interrogation room flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow over the scarred metal table.
Afaint buzz filled the silence, abroken fixture somewhere above buzzing like an insect trapped inside the walls.
Sam Mirabella barely noticed. His focus stayed on the manila folder in front of him, his fingers twitching against its edges like they were itching for a cigarette he wasn’t allowed tohave.
His black eye throbbed. The cut on his lip burned every time he moved his mouth.
That bastard—The Dante—had his men work him over when he’d tried to run.
They hadn’t broken any teeth, but it had been close.
The copper tang of blood clung to the back of his throat, bitter and metallic.
Areminder of how close things had already come to turning south.
Didn’t matter. He had bigger problems, along with a huge truckload of revenge waiting to be offloaded.
Across from him, two federal agents sat motionless, studying him like a specimen under glass. They hadn’t touched the folder yet. They were waiting, letting the silence stretch, watching to see if he’d crack before they even had to open their mouths.
Sam wasn’t an amateur. He knew how this game was played.
Reed—the older one—leaned back in his chair and lifted a brow, amused. His gaze flicked lazily over Sam’s injuries.
“Rough night, Sam?”
Sam rolled his jaw, wincing as pain flared through his face. “You could say that.”
The younger agent, dark-eyed and square-jawed, spun a pen between his fingers. “Let me guess. The Dante?”
Sam let out a dry, humorless chuckle. Didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny. Just slid the folder across the table.
“I want out.”
Neither agent moved. Reed exchanged a glance with his partner before resting his elbows on the table.
“Out of what, exactly?”
Sam exhaled through his nose, voice low and steady. “I’ll give you The Dante—his businesses, his accounts, the people he pays off. But I want a deal.”
No reaction.
Reed let his chair drop back onto all four legs with a hard thunk. “And we’re supposed to believe this is out of the goodness of your heart?”
Sam forced out a smile, but it was weak. He was too wired, too onedge.
“Let’s just say I’ve got more to lose now.”
That got their attention.
The pen stopped spinning. The younger agent’s dark eyes honed in on him. “Your daughter. Jazz.”
Sam nodded, forcing a sigh like this was pressing on him, though secretly he was shocked they knew which of his three daughters was in jeopardy. Or maybe they’d just guessed. “Dante’s got plans for her. Wants to marry her.”
That did it. The agents straightened slightly, subtle but telling.
“She agree to that?” Reed asked.
“Not yet. Thinks she’s got a choice.” Sam ran a hand down his bruised jaw, letting his voice roughen, like the whole thing hurt him. “But once he’s got that ring on her finger, she’s locked in. There’s no getting out.”
The younger agent’s brows furrowed. “You think he’d hurt her?”
Sam let the silence stretch just a little toolong.
Then, he gestured toward his face. “I think The Dante does whatever the hell he wants.”
The two men exchanged a look. He had them. He struggled to hide hisglee.
“You think this marriage is about love?”
Sam shook his head but wasn’t done yet. He let out a slow, heavy breath, like a man confessing something awful.
“It’s not about love. It’s about money.”
The agents leaned in slightly.
Sam rubbed his fingers together, resisting the urge to reach for a cigarette he wasn’t allowed to have. “Jazz’s sister, Poppy—her inheritance. Millions of dollars. But if she doesn’t get pregnant in the first year of marriage, it passes to Jazz.”
Reed tilted his head slightly. “And you think Dante’s after the money?”
Sam let out a hollow laugh. “I know he is.”
“And what’s that money going to?” the younger agent asked. “His businesses? To bribes? To his family?”
Sam hesitated.
His fingers twitched on the table.
Then, finally, he muttered, “Me.”
The agents stilled.
Sam’s shoulders dropped slightly, as if the weight of it had finally settled. “That money isn’t for him. It’s for me.”
Reed’s gaze darkened. “Explain.”
Sam ran a hand over his face, the bruises throbbing beneath his touch. “I owe Dante. More than I can ever pay back. And he’s done waiting. If I don’t make things right—”
“You’re dead,” Reed finished flatly.
Sam’s silence was all the confirmation they needed. Then, “He’ll marry Jazz to get his hands on the money she has coming. Marrying her pays off my debt.”
The agents exchanged another look before Reed finally reached for the folder.
He flipped it open, rifling through the contents.
Inside: financial records, witness statements—some real, some coerced—and a few names. Enough to make the feds interested.
But not enough to bury The Dante.
Reed shut the folder. “This is a start, but it’s not enough.”
Sam clenched his jaw.
“It’s all I got—for now.”
Reed stood. His partner followed.
“Then we don’t have a deal.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t walk out of here empty-handed.
“Wait.”
The agents paused.
Sam gestured toward the chairs.
They sat back down. “Talk.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. He’d just crossed the point of no return.
“Fine. You want the big stuff? Iknow how to get it. But I want protection.”
The younger agent curled his lip in amusement. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Then Sam’s phone vibrated.
Just once. Asingle buzz against the steel table.
His stomach twisted.
He shouldn’t check it.
But he did.
UNKNOWN NUMBER. One new message.
He unlocked it.
A single image.
Jazz.
Standing outside a coffeeshop.
Today.
His breath caught.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Reed noticed. “Problem, Sam?”
Sam swallowed hard. Locked the screen. “No. We’re good.”
Reed narrowed his eyes. “You better hope so. Because if The Dante finds out you’re talking to us? You’ re a dead man.”
Sam laughed, but it was hollow.
He was a dead man anyway.
Reed stood again, collecting thefile.
As the agents turned for the door, Sam’s phone buzzed a secondtime.
He didn’t want tolook.
Didn’t need to look.
But he did.
Still talking, Sammy?
A cold sweat broke out down hisback.
Reed threw him one last glance over his shoulder.
“You better hope we take him down first, Sam. Otherwise? You won’t live long enough to regret this.”
The agents walked out. The door clicked shut behindthem.
Sam sat there, staring at his phone.
His mouth was dry.
His pulse pounded against hisribs.
He had maybe twenty-four hours before The Dante decided what to do withhim.
Maybe less.
He let out a slow, shaky breath.
“You’d better move fast, boys,” he muttered. “Because once he knows I’ve crossed him, there won’t be a damn place on earth where I’ll be safe.”
He didn’t check his phone again.
Didn’t need to.
He already knew how this ended.