Page 49 of Enforcer

“Don’t you need to stay?” I ask him, a bit breathless.

“I’m where I need to be,” he says, and the echo of his words is still resonating through my chest as we pull away, driving over blood stains on the concrete where the Ricci men held no bullets back from the fight tonight.

This world is one of darkness and blood, and I’m sure that even though Dante says otherwise, I just got the first taste of it.

And there’s a bitter aftertaste I know will linger.

I showered oncewe got home. Dante has been in his room. I assume he’s decompressing. After all the cake we had, I couldn’t think of eating a thing but made some tea and pushed the button to make the television spring from the end of the bed.

When I see the barest hint of light change outside the door, I stop blowing my tea and wait a beat as I watch the doorway.

Dante saunters in wearing low-slung sleep pants and no shirt. His tattoos are on full display, and I nearly forget the night we had altogether and say fuck the tea.

He hops onto the other side of the bed, tucking himself under the covers and laying back with one arm over his head. His eyes look far away, even pointed at the screen.

Sweet Home Alabamais playing because it’s one of my favorite movies, and it can get me out of any funk imaginable.

“Dante? Are you alright?”

I have no clue why he’s in bed with me; it’s not something we’ve done to date other than the one when he woke me up with his tongue.

He reaches between us, grabbing the remote. The movie pauses as I take a big sip of my camomile tea—I’ll need it.

“I was eighteen and only justmade,” he starts. I swallow another gulp down. “I was sent to collect rent from a few of the Ricci properties downtown, which is no big deal. I did it a million times before.”

I set my tea down and lay on my side to listen. I don’t know why he looks so glum, but I want to give him my full attention. Maybe my asking had prodded suppressed memories?

“That night was different?” I ask, prodding when he doesn’t go on.

He nods. “It was. The last stop was a pizza joint I frequented often with family and friends. I even took my first girlfriend there on a date once. The owner, Mr. Capelli, had always been kind any time I interacted with him. But that night, something was wrong. He was combative, angry that I was there to get his rent.”

I furrow my brows, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“You see, he had asked for an extension from the Don, and my showing up meant he’d been denied. While Slate’s father hadn’t thought Capelli would be an issue, he became one.”

“Oh no. Were you alone?”

“I was.”

A sour feeling twists in my stomach.

“He pulled his gun, but I pulled mine faster. I shot past his head, breaking a two-hundred-dollar bottle of red wine behind the bar, and it was enough to show him who was in charge. He lowered it and paid me in full. The thing that lives with me today, though, was he was ready to shoot me—a kid. There was so much desperation in his eyes that night. That’s what I keep with me daily. I’m always ready for the next desperate person to step into my path.”

“It must have been traumatic to grow up in this world.” I reach over and cup his face, deciding to start peeling back some of the pesky layers keeping this beautiful man at arm's length.

He turns into me. “I could’ve lost you tonight. It scared the shit out of me.”

I open my mouth to reply, and he covers it with a finger.

“I know. You’re going to say we’re nothing. But we are, so spout your bullshit to someone else who will listen.”

I grin behind his finger, which is still covering my mouth.

“The way I lost her, tesoro. I can’t…” He swallows, closing his eyes. “I can’t do it again. It’s selfish to keep you in this world when I want to tell you to fucking run, but the way I feel with you… It’s like I’m alive again. Like I’m me.”

Fuck.

I lift the covers, slide across the space between us, and snuggle into his body, wrapping around him in quiet strength as I let him be the same for me.

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