Page 13 of Dirty Behavior

Dante

Icouldn't breathe. Tugging at the collar of my suit, I tried to loosen it and let the air flow in seamlessly. My nerves were on edge. I didn't remember ever being so nervous in my entire fucking life.

When my mother died I was too young to really understand exactly what was happening. My father came home really late, my brother and I were asleep—at least that's what he thought. But I remembered seeing his shadowed face in our doorway and hearing this gentle sniffle like he had a cold.

I remembered hearing him go into their bedroom, the same room that was sealed off until Ivy had opened Pandora's box. And as I laid there staring at the soft glow coming from the hall, I heard this sound I had never heard before.

It wasn't a scream, it wasn't an angry yell or a frustrated grunt. The sound he made was something outside of this world. If I had to describe it, I would compare it to the wild screech of an injured bear.

That's when I knew our lives had changed. I could hear his fists crashing into the walls as he sobbed uncontrollably. I never told him that I was awake to witness the only moment in his life when he truly broke down.

But when my mother was stolen from him, it changed him completely. He hadn't just lost his wife, he had lost a piece of his soul. She was the only person who had the power to make him laugh, the only person who could talk him down when he looked like his head was going to explode.

That was the one and only time I had ever heard him cry. That realization didn't set in until I was older and able to piece back together my memories.

And now here I was, driving to his funeral.

Did it make me soulless for not tearing up?

Should I be sobbing for my loss?

There was nothing there. I couldn't help but wonder how or why my father had raised me to be an empty, emotionless bastard. I was forged from titanium, heated and cooled to the point where nothing was getting through.

Because feelings equaled weakness and I was never allowed to be weak.

Until Ivy.

She had found the kink in my armor.

And I loved her for it.

The deep black tint of the limo's windows gave me some cover, but that wouldn't last for long. We were a block away from the cemetery and soon every eye would be on me. It was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.

And it was everything I didn't need.

I'd spent weeks trying to stay hidden. Now that I was here, I was no longer the hunter, it felt like I was the prey.

Remo was looking for me, his men could be anywhere, waiting for just the right moment to snuff out my life the same way he had done to my father. A single bullet was all it would take. One single slug of lead from a distant spot, away from prying eyes, and I'd be gone.

I'm not dying today, I'm not dying at the hands of that man.

“How you holding up, kid?” My uncle Carlo asked as he sat across from me. His suit was a deeper black than mine with bright white pinstripes lining the entire damn thing.

Could you guess what his line of work was?

Uncle Carlo was my father's younger brother, he flew in from Las Vegas two days ago and basically took care of all the planning for this entire funeral.

Which I was grateful for. I wasn't ready for this. Even if I had been here, I probably would've gone to him anyway.

How do you plan the celebration of life for a man like my father?

I wouldn't have had anything to say. There was no way I could have stood up there and pleaded to everyone what a wonderful, caring man he was.

Because he wasn't.

What kind of father taught their son how to kill, how to instill fear?

I had all the power I needed to keep our guys wrapped around my fingertips. He taught me to value the family business, that money was a goal, that to be a boss meant to never let your emotions get the best of you.

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