“No.” Dom drew him closer. “Not really.”
A kiss seemed out of place now, standing on Felice’s boat and ready to destroy the family that had broken them both. It was insane to be turned on or even affectionate, but what about this wasn’t insane? A moment of tenderness, playfulness, a promise of more if—when—they made it out of this alive didn’t seem like too much to ask.
So for that moment, Dom just lost himself in Sergei, and enjoyed it.
*
The sun was sinking into the sky when they tossed the last empty crab pot into the water.
“That’s all of them?” Sergei asked.
“Pretty sure it is. Even if it isn’t, I’d say it’s enough.”
“Good point. Back to shore?”
“Back to shore.”
It was completely dark when they made it back. Guided by the boat’s lights, Dom parked the yacht in its wide slip, and with Sergei’s help, tied it enough to keep it from leaving. If it banged against the dock, he really didn’t give a shit—Felice could take that up with his insurance company tomorrow if he was still breathing.
They made sure Felice was still securely bound and then left the boat. Raffaele Cusimano’s yacht was a few slips down. Like St. Leo’s, this was one of the few places where the families could cross paths peacefully. It was an unspoken rule—don’t fuck with my shit, I won’t fuck with yours—and everyone abided by it.
Usually.
Sergei made short work of the lock, and the door opened. He quickly disengaged the security system. They did a quick sweep to make sure the boat was empty, and Dom said, “We’re clear. Let’s move the cargo.”
It took a while, but they moved all the cocaine over to the other boat and neatly stacked it on the coffee table.
“All right.” Sergei dusted off his hands, probably shaking off the salt from the packages. “Shall we bring over the guest of honor?”
Dom put a hand on Sergei’s waist and kissed him lightly. “Why don’t you stay with the presents, and I’ll go get him?”
“What?” Sergei batted his eyes. “Don’t you trust me not to kill him?”
“I know you, Sergei.” He kissed him again. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
One last kiss, and Dom left the boat. He scanned the marina, double-checking that none of the men patrolling the docks were nearby. Certain he was in the clear, he boarded Felice’s yacht.
He unfastened Felice’s cuffs from the pipe and hauled him to his feet. “Time to go for a walk.”
Felice glared at him and muttered something around the gag.
“You’ve done enough talking.” Dom nudged him toward the steps. “Let’s go.”
Felice said something that sounded an awful lot like “Or what?”
Dom coolly drew his pistol and aimed it at his cousin’s groin. That got the message across—Felice started toward the steps. Damn. He really could learn a thing or two from Sergei, apparently.
They disembarked, and Dom directed his cousin down the dock. When they stopped in front of Cusimano’s yacht, he gestured for Felice to board.
Felice balked, eyes wide, and shook his head.
“I wasn’t asking, asshole.” Dom shoved him toward the boat, sending him stumbling over his feet and almost into the water. “Get on the fucking boat.”
Felice planted his feet and turned around, eyes narrow.
Dom aimed the pistol below his cousin’s belt. “You really want to dance?”
Felice glanced down. Then he said something around the gag—no doubt something profane, though it was hard to tell which language it was—and continued up the ramp.
Inside, Sergei stood in front of the pile of cocaine, idly flipping a long knife between his fingers. He flashed a demonic grin. “Welcome aboard, Felice.”
“We’re going to do some talking in here,” Dom said to Felice. “I’m taking off your gag, and you’re going to answer my questions. You call for help, or try anything stupid, and I’ll let the Georgian take care of things.”
Felice’s eyes darted right to that knife, and Dom thought he actually heard his cousin’s balls jump into his body.
“And go ahead and call for help,” Sergei said quietly. “Cusimano likes his boats with top of the line acoustics, just like you do. No one will hear a thing.”
Felice paled.
“I’m taking it off.” Dom untied the dirty rag and took off the handcuffs. “Now, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner we get off this boat. Because I don’t think Cusimano’s going to like seeing you in here with all his merchandise.”
“You’re on the boat too,” Felice said in a low growl, gingerly rubbing his bleeding arm.
“Yeah, and I have two functioning legs.”
Felice’s eyebrows rose. His Adam’s apple jumped, and Dom was satisfied the threat had hit its mark.
Felice shifted. “What the fuck are you two doing? Are you insane?”
“No.” Dom looked him in the eye. “But what was your father’s philosophy? That a family is only as strong as its weakest member?”
“My father was a *,” Felice snarled. “He didn’t deserve the kind of power he had.”
“And your brother?”