In the faint light coming in from the parking lot, Dom watched his fingers run through Sergei’s bleached hair. Sadness and affection mingled in his chest. He wanted to stay like this all night. Hell, forever. From the first time he’d slept with Sergei, he’d found himself circling back to him whenever the rest of his world went off the rails. Sergei had become a source of sanity. An escape.
But there was no escaping now. All eyes were on Dom. People would be watching his every move. Some of them, he guessed, through rifle scopes.
Whatever violence came was part of Mafia life. Sergei wasn’t a part of that life, though. He was someone Dom never should have touched, and someone he never should have come to need like this.
Most of all, he was someone Dom couldn’t put in danger. And whether he liked it or not, every time he went near Sergei, he was lining him up with crosshairs that should’ve been for Dom and Dom alone. Bullets and car bombs were indiscriminate. There weren’t many hitmen who’d lose sleep over a stripper getting caught in the crossfire.
In his mind, he heard the father screaming for mercy as Corrado tortured the son.
“So this was his punishment,” Corrado had calmly explained. “The last thing he ever knew in this world was his son screaming and begging for death.”
Dom shuddered as much as he could without disturbing Sergei. What if Sergei was there when someone finally closed in on Dom? What if the last thing Dom ever knew was Sergei screaming in pain and begging for the release of death?
No.
That wasn’t going to happen.
As much as he wanted and needed Sergei’s touch, he refused to put him in danger. And the only way to guarantee his safety was to put as much distance between them as he could. Maybe Dom would go insane without these interludes with Sergei, but insanity was a small price to pay for Sergei’s safety.
Closing his eyes, he sighed.
Then he gently eased himself out of Sergei’s sleepy embrace and got up. Moving as silently as he could, he separated his clothes from Sergei’s and dressed.
In the darkness, he touched Sergei’s arm.
I’m sorry, he wanted so badly to say.
But if he started speaking, he’d say something he couldn’t take back, and even if Sergei didn’t hear him, he’d hear himself. And he couldn’t let himself hear the things on the tip of his tongue.
So he squeezed Sergei’s arm.
Walked out the door.
And didn’t look back.
Chapter 27
Eyes still closed, Sergei had followed every near-silent rustle of Dom getting dressed. A few times, he’d thought about asking him where he was going, why he was leaving like this instead of saying something. But he said nothing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist. And if Sergei spoke, then Dom might stay, and no matter how much Sergei wanted him to, it was best if he didn’t.
Dom had come back and stood beside the bed for a moment, and it had taken all Sergei had not to hold his breath or tense. He didn’t want Dom to know he was awake.
Softly, Dom brushed his fingers along Sergei’s arm, and without a single word spoken, he’d slipped out of the room. Sergei stayed still and silent until the door clicked and Dom’s footsteps had started fading into the night.
Alone, Sergei sat up in the bed where they’d had sex earlier.
The emptiness was weird, vibrating with a strange sense of finality. They weren’t going to see each other again, were they? Not up close and personal, anyway.
Sergei exhaled, rolling his tense shoulders. Everything was as it should be. This was right, even if it hurt. After all, being together was dangerous for Dom, and it was a distraction for Sergei.
Besides, he needed to get moving himself. It was still painfully early, but there was work to be done. Today was an important day.
Dom had a funeral to attend.
And Sergei had a job to do.
*
Through the scope, Sergei watched the church’s double doors. A few people lingered outside on the steps, all looking just as somber as the people who’d filed inside at the beginning of the service. Several were armed. They scanned the parking lot, the street, the hills—any place where danger might be lurking.
A thousand yards away, safely perched on top of an apartment building, Sergei paid them little mind. An earpiece kept him abreast of the service going on inside, so he’d know when to be ready.
Unsurprisingly, there were only Maisanos at this service. Though the three families mingled peacefully at St. Leo’s most of the time, there was violence in the air right now. Blame being thrown around like New Year’s confetti. Too much potential for a sidelong glance or a misheard whisper to spark a fight, a gun battle right there in the pews. No one could take anything for granted these days. Not even the safety of holy ground.
Which meant that after Sergei was finished, the Maisanos would be out for blood. The Cusimanos and Passantinos would be blamed, and they’d be answering to a sacrilegious hit at a funeral.
The service began to wrap up. The people on the stairs turned toward the doors. Sergei shifted slightly and peered even more intently through the scope.
A pair of suited men pulled the doors open wide. Slowly, mourners emerged.
Six Italians held the casket on their shoulders, and carefully started down the steps, moving out of the crosshairs.
Behind them, several black-clad Italian women dabbing away tears. Family members, he assumed