But my gut told me differently.
“Dante,” El wrapped her arm around my middle and squeezed. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never,” I lied. “I’ll never leave you.” On purpose. I left that last part out and promised her anyways.
Because at least I wasn’t looking at her face.
I wondered if love would make me a liar.
Because at one point I promised her that I’d never look into her eyes and say anything untrue.
But now that things were different.
I knew — I would do it to save her.
I’d lie to her to save her.
Love didn’t make good people honest.
It made liars out of all of us.
Because when faced with hurting someone you love by telling them the truth or giving them the lie so they don’t experience darkness.
I would choose the lie every damn time.
I finally fell asleep, only to wake up hours later with the bed empty.
“El?” I called out her name and, pulled on my jeans. She wasn’t in the bathroom and no lights were on in the house.
I walked down the hall, the door to the office was open.
I pushed it further.
El was standing in front of my father’s desk.
Holding a picture.
“This is your father?” She asked as I wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“That’s him.” We looked so much alike it was scary from the crystal blue eyes to the jet-black hair and strong jaw.
“He was there,” she said. “The day my parents were killed.” I stilled behind her. “Do you think that maybe… maybe I was saved for you? That in this messed up bloody world, I served my time with the devil — and God gave me an angel as penance?”
“I’m not an angel.”
“You’re right,” She turned in my arms. “You’re my savior.”
“I’m not good El, we talked about that.”
“I don’t need you to be good, Dante. Remember?”
Our foreheads touched. “Yes,” I said gruffly. “I hope to God that my father took one look at you and how you were suffering, whispered something in Frank’s ear and saved you so that one day you wouldn’t be beaten bloody by that monster — but loved completely by me.”
I tasted her tears on her lips as she kissed me and lifted her up onto the desk as she wrapped her legs around me and hung on.
“We have a desk fetish,” she said between kisses.
“I don’t mind.” I nipped her lips harder as she dropped my jeans to the floor. “I’ll never get tired of this.”
She guided me into her. “Me either.”
We were making love on my father’s desk.
In a house with more secrets, more ghosts than I could possibly imagine, and yet, I couldn’t conjure up anything but pure joy that maybe, just maybe, El was right.
He saved her without knowing her future.
Or mine.
He did the right thing.
And because of that, a man who isn’t good, who will never be good, got to experience a taste of heaven.
I thanked him silently as I worshipped her, and was even more solidified in my decision to take my rightful place.
Not because it’s what was best for her.
Or for me.
But because it’s what Luca Nicolasi would have done.
And it was what he wanted.
A man not good, not bad, but both, wanted.
And I wanted to follow in his footsteps.
Knowing, it would kill me.
But the right thing is the right thing, and I was tired of being angry, tired of running, fucking tired of revenge.
“I love you,” I moaned against her neck.
“Then promise me you’ll be careful.” She gripped my face with my hands. “Promise me.”
“Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say you love me back?” I deflected with a thrust.
“Dante.”
“I promise.” I looked into her eyes and then our mouths collided against one another as she reached her climax, and called out.
“I love you too.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
El
I DIDN’T WANT to leave.
I knew what was waiting for us when we stepped outside that ranch house. But our time was up.
We’d spent the morning in bed.
Talking.
Laughing.
Like we were normal.
Like this situation was normal.
And every time he didn’t think I was watching him — I could see the uncertain future age him before my very eyes.
Dante may have walked in here still figuring out life.
He was walking out of the house a man.
It was in his gait.
The way he watched everything, the cow included. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle, the puzzle of our future, the Russians, and whatever the hell was going on.
“You ready?” He held out his hand.
I didn’t want to take it.
Dante’s face softened, he kissed my head and pulled me into his arms. “We’ll be back.”
“For longer than twenty-four hours?”
“Absolutely, besides someone has to feed that damn cow,” he teased.
The cow moo’ed as if he’d heard promises of food.
We both shared a smile and then slowly walked down the porch steps to the waiting car.
Gravel crunched beneath my shoes.
Sadness hung between us like a heavy tether.
Dante opened my door for me.
“You think it was like this for your mom and dad? When she had to leave him?” I asked.
“I’m sure it was worse.” Dante looked out into the distance. “She belonged to someone else, and you, you will always belong to me.”
I sagged in relief. “I’m yours.”
He locked eyes with me. “And I’m yours.”
He kissed my fingertips one last time before going to his side of the car, getting in and shutting the door.
Silence existed around us.
A heavy silence that spoke of every single fear I refused to admit out loud.
He started the car.
My heart hammered in my chest.
We were leaving the fantasy.
Back to reality.
Back to blood, guns, war.
How did they do it? How did they still laugh? Drink? Have babies? How did they do it?
Without dying a little bit inside every single time one of their husbands left the house — knowing that they may not come back.
How did you keep yourself from resenting the very thing that gave you this life of luxury?
Because these men, they were molded by the violence, had they not been in this life, I don’t think the love would be as intense.
What made them mafia — is what made them people.
Dante inched the car forward, then gripped the steering wheel with both hands and exhaled slowly.
And then we were driving down the gravel road and suddenly back on the freeway.
We didn’t talk.
I think both of us were more consumed with what today would bring. I was just about to ask him if he was going to go to The Spot and see Andrei that night when Dante let out a curse and changed lanes.
“What’s wrong?” My heart skipped a beat.
“We’re being followed.” He tossed me his phone. “Call Nixon, now.”
I fumbled with the phone and hit Nixon’s number.
“Yes?” He answered on the first ring.
“Dante says we’re being followed.”
“Shit.” I heard rustling behind him. “Where are you guys?”
“Freeway.” My hand was going numb from gripping the iPhone so hard.
“Tell him to hit it.”