Page 24

Chapter 24

DANTE

I expected to feel nervous, jittery, right on the edge of patience and sanity. But as Salvatore and I sit in the quiet, empty, blandly furnished apartment, I’ve never felt calmer in my life. I eye the ceiling fan and Salvatore leans in to nuzzle my ear.

“It’s sturdy enough,” he assures me, and for a minute or two, we both just watch the rope sway in the soft breeze from the air conditioning, biding its time just like we are.

When Salvatore offered me his gun the other day, to let me be the one to punish Antonio for what he did, my hesitation wasn’t for his sake. I know I could have pulled the trigger and slept just fine knowing there was one less prick like him in the world. But there’s something special to me about the idea of Don’s being the only life I’ll ever directly take myself. I want one name on my ledger, one single unwashable stain on my soul, and I’m saving it for Don.

My hands are steady as a rock, my heartbeat is even and unhurried. It’s not even about rage anymore, and it’s definitely not about fear. It’s about finishing what I should have ten years ago and then washing my hands of all of this.

“He’s coming,” Salvatore says calmly, dismissing the alert on his phone from the camera we placed in the stairwell on our way in.

I nod and tilt my face towards his. He smiles and cups my jaw, pressing a slow kiss to my lips in a promise that I’m not alone and I never will be again.

“I love you,” I murmur.

Salvatore’s grin widens. “I know.” He throws the cheeky answer back at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Okay, now go.” I shoo him towards the bedroom and take my place on the couch, in full view of the door, and I listen to the sound of his footsteps approaching. The distinct shuffle step of his gait tugs at my memories, filling my head with thoughts of the times before . Before I knew what he was, before everything changed, before I saw the world the way it really is.

Keys rattle and then the lock clicks and the door swings open without any hesitation. Don isn’t even looking at me, absorbed by putting his keys back in his pocket and fiddling with his phone. Declan kept his word; he’s not expecting me at all.

I shift my weight to the edge of the couch and clear my throat. Don’s eyes finally snap towards me, all of his distractions forgotten. The blood drains from his face, and damn have the years taken a toll on him. His previously round face is gaunt, and when he curls his lips back in a snarl, his teeth are yellowed and cracked… the ones that aren’t missing, that is. I curl my fingers into a fist, remembering the sting of my knuckles connecting with his mouth, spit and blood flying between pained, gargling grunts.

“Uncle Donnie,” I say sweetly. “You sounded so excited for our little family reunion, I figured, why wait?” I get to my feet smoothly.

His surprise is quickly melting away, but I can see the calculations going on behind his darting eyes. He’s been sold out, betrayed, no one coming to rescue or defend him now. He lets out a hoarse laugh.

“This is perfect, kid. I thought I’d have to track your punk ass all over this city to get a little one-on-one time with my favorite nephew.” He moves deeper into the apartment, leaving the half-open bedroom door at his back and a few feet of space still between us.

“Why would you have to do that when you’ve had your friends in the Irish mob following me for weeks?” I cock my head, sugary sweetness still dripping from every word. “I just want what you want, Don.”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

I reach back and savor the way Don braces himself as I pull the pen out of my back pocket nice and slowly. He lets out an obvious breath when he sees what I’m holding, and I jerk my chin towards the yellow pad of paper on the coffee table.

“For everyone to know the truth,” I say, the smile unwavering on my lips.

Don doesn’t hear Salvatore’s footsteps behind him, he’s too busy wheezing another laugh at me.

“Oh, are you planning to write a confession to the judge, admitting that you perjured yourself on the stand? Admitting that I never fucking touched you?”

I click my tongue against my teeth. “No, no, no, Donnie. You’re going to write a confession about what you did to your own son. And feel free to include any other last words you might want to get off your chest, other confessions weighing you down, apologies to your wife, whatever feels right. This is a suicide note, after all.”

His eyes dart to the side and he notices the rope hanging from the fan for the first time.

“Are you fucking cra—” The click of Salvatore’s gun cocking cuts off Don’s protest.

“There’s a body bag in your future, Donnie boy, one way or another. But I’d really like to make my husband happy and clear his name with those traitors you call family. So, either you can make me happy and write the fucking note like he told you to, or you can find out what happens when a man like me becomes very un happy.”

Don’s face pales again and beads of sweat form on his brow.

“Get writing.” I toss the pen down on top of the pad of paper, then bring my foot up to the edge and shove the whole table towards him.

When he doesn’t move right away, Salvatore jabs the back of his head with the muzzle of his gun. Don winces and reaches for the pen and paper.

“And hurry the fuck up,” I mutter.

I catch Salvatore’s eye and his lips twitch with a reassuring grin. The suicide note was his idea. I made peace with the fact that my family turned their backs on me years ago. If a suicide note from Don makes them see the light, they can stuff their apologies up their own asses as far as I’m concerned. But I’m petty enough to rub the truth in their face and make them sit with it for the rest of their lives.

He makes pathetic whimpering sounds as the pen scratches across the paper with his messy confession.

“Did Luis whimper like that when you hurt him?” I ask through clenched teeth.

He doesn’t answer, but I can see the flicker of something purely evil in his eyes. Even now, minutes from his own death, with a gun to his head, the memory of a child, his own fucking child, whimpering nearly makes him smile.

“You’re a sick fuck,” I hiss, resisting the urge to spit on him only because we plan to leave the crime scene so the suicide note can make it to my aunt.

“There, it’s done,” he says, tossing the notepad at me. “Just let me go, okay? I’ll disappear, change my name, I’ll be as good as dead.”

I scan the note to make sure he actually confessed. He kept it brief, but the words are there. Dante lied in court, but the truth has been eating away at me for years. All those things he said I did… I’m so sorry… it was Luis. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I love my son. I couldn’t help myself. I’m so sorry.

I roll my eyes. It goes on like that for a few paragraphs, but I’m not going to stand here and give him editor’s notes. The truth is in there at least, so it’s good enough for me. I chuckle darkly and look up from the note to meet his eyes.

“You know what’s as good as dead, Donnie?” I drop the notebook on the table and leap up onto it. The added height has me looking down at the pathetic predator I’m cursed to share blood with. At least we don’t have to share a name anymore. And after this, we won’t share oxygen every again either. “Your lifeless body dangling from the ceiling fan.”

I raise my foot and kick him squarely in the chest. He gasps and stumbles backward, right where I wanted him. I jump off the table, landing quietly on the balls of my feet. Before he’s caught his breath, I have the noose around his neck.

“Stop, Dante, we’re family,” he pleads, clawing at the rope as it tightens around his neck.

I would love to hoist him up myself, but doctor’s orders and all, no strenuous activity for a few more weeks. Salvatore tugs the rope though, lifting Don off his feet a little at a time as he wheezes and chokes.

“We may share blood, Don,” I say darkly. “But we’re not family.”

SALVATORE

“Let me have the keys.” Dante holds his hand up expectantly as we make our way out the back entrance of Don’s apartment building.

There’s a new bounce in his step and an air of peace surrounding him, but the spark of challenge in his eyes is more than enough reassurance that my little spitfire is still in there too, daring me to argue with him about who’s going to drive.

“The last time I let you drive my car, you drugged and kidnapped me,” I remind him, biting back the teasing smirk that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re really never going to let that go, are you?”

“Never.” I slip my hand into my pocket and jingle my keys just to goad him.

He stops in his tracks and swivels towards me. “Come on, don’t make me fight you for them. I’m still supposed to be taking it easy with my shoulder, how bad will you feel if I hurt myself trying to wrestle you for your keys?”

“That’s a low blow, Angel.” I tut, shaking my head and pulling my keys out.

The combination of sass and smugness on his face as he catches them makes my heart trip over a beat. I reach for him, but he dances backward before I can get my hands on him, his laughter echoing off the nearby buildings.

“Brat,” I mutter, picking up my pace to keep up with him as he jogs the rest of the way to where we parked the car, a few blocks down and around the corner.

“Don’t worry, there’s no way I could drag your unconscious body into the car right now anyway.” He plucks my sunglasses from the visor and slides them on.

I chuckle and adjust my seat. “I never underestimate you, Angel. If you wanted to find a way to drag my limp body around, I’m sure you would.”

“Lucky for you, the conscious version of you has grown on me just a little bit.” He flashes me a toothy grin and starts the car.

“Just a little?” I rest my hand on his thigh, because touching him is my new favorite addiction, and because I can.

He holds up his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “Little bit.”

Don’s apartment was in Newcrest, a lower income suburb of Wildcliff, and currently part of the Fitzpatricks’ territory. Which happens to be only a few minutes away from the overlook where I took Dante before he kidnapped me. And that’s exactly the direction we head, in the fading light of the afternoon, an intoxicating sense of closure and the excitement of what’s next making us trade smiling glances. He rolls down the windows and cranks up the music, resting his hand on top of mine on his thigh and lacing our fingers together.

When we reach the clearing, he cuts the engine and the sudden silence rings in my ears for a few seconds.

“Should I strip search you again?” I slide my hand to the back of his neck and draw him forward as much as I can with the center console still between us.

Our noses bump and I can’t stop staring at the smile on his lips, wanting to taste the joy and relief on them.

“If you want.” He flicks his tongue along the seam of my lips. “I might fight you this time though.”

My cock twitches at the fantasy of Dante playing a mouthy informant who’s afraid I’ll find the wire he’s hiding.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Angioletto,” I purr.

He gives my chest a little shove and nips at my bottom lip.

“Come on, we’re celebrating,” he reminds me, hopping out of the car and going around to the trunk. I slip off my jacket and leave it in the car, loosening my tie and rolling up my sleeves before I get out after him.

He pulls a bottle of champagne out of the trunk and waves it at me.

I open my mouth to tease him again, but he beats me to it.

“It’s still corked, so obviously I didn’t drug it. Seriously, you have to drop this joke already.” He groans, passing me the bottle.

“If I’d drugged and kidnapped you, would you ever let the joke go?” I arch an eyebrow at him while I uncork the champagne, quickly bringing the bottle to my lips to slurp up the bubbles that cascade over my knuckles.

“Of course I would.”

I snort. “Liar.”

I shake my sticky hand off and take a proper sip, then pass the bottle to Dante and take a seat next to him on the hood of my car, still warm from the engine and the sunshine it spent all day basking in.

“Fine, you’re right, I’d torture you about it forever. I feel like there should be a statute of limitations though.”

“Hmm, how about ten years?” I offer.

“If we’re still married in ten years, you’ll drop the kidnap jokes?”

I growl at his choice of wording, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him close again.

“There is no if , Angioletto. I thought we were clear on that. You’re mine, now and forever.”

“Until death do us part?” His voice dips low, and there’s a flutter of hope and vulnerability in the statement… question?

I bump my nose against his again. I catch his lips in the kiss I’ve been aching for for hours now, since the moment I watched his eyes flash dangerously right before Don came home. The sweetness of a sip of champagne lingers on his lips and tongue.

“That’s right, Angel,” I murmur. “And I’m not even sure I’ll let death keep us apart.”

A puff of breath dances over my damp lips, along with the vibrations of his laughter. “If anyone could stare death in the eye and kick its ass, it’s us.”

I chuckle along with him, sliding my fingers through his hair and kissing him deeper again, our teeth bumping with the awkward stretch of our smiling lips. I would bet on the two of us every damn time, that’s for fucking sure.