by Gwyn McNamee
She stirs against me and her sleepy eyes meet mine, a small smile spreading across her face before quickly vanishing as she looks at me. “Hey, you look worried. What’s wrong?”
I brush the hair from her face and kiss her, hoping to momentarily delay the inevitable. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
Sitting up, she eyes me warily. “What now?”
There is no way I’m having this conversation with my dick still inside her. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up? Then, we’ll talk.”
She makes an adorable growly noise, different but no less sexy than the one she makes when I’m deep inside of her. “Fine, two minutes.”
As she slides my cock from her warm body, we both groan. I pull my boxers back up and she disappears down the hallway toward the bathroom.
When she reappears, so does the wariness in her gaze. She stops next to the couch, watching me suspiciously. “So?”
“Sit back down.” I pat my lap and she sighs, reluctantly dropping down onto it. I plant a quick kiss on her temple before getting down to business. “We need to talk about last night.”
She stiffens immediately and I sense a wall coming up before I can even say another word. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“I understand, baby, and you don’t have to talk. You just need to listen. There are things you don’t know that you really need to.”
“Fine.”
I run my hands through my hair, a bad habit I’ve never been able to break when I’m nervous. “Um, first you need to understand I would have told you all of this a long time ago if I’d known what you were working on. I understand why you didn’t tell me, but once you hear all this, you will know why things might be a lot different if you had known, if I had known.”
“Jesus,” she says, turning on my lap so she can see me, “you’re really starting to freak me out here. Out with it.”
Here goes nothing…
“I know Abello.”
She doesn’t say anything, watching me as if she is waiting for something. “So? Everyone knows who he is.”
“No, I don’t just know who he is. I actually know him. He is kind of my uncle.”
“What?” She flies up off my lap before I can grab her. She looms over me, her surprise and anger evident in her quivering mouth and clenched fists at her sides. “What do you mean, he is ‘kind of your uncle?’”
This is going well.
“Shit, baby, please sit back down.”
“No,” she says, taking two steps back from the couch, intentionally putting herself out of my reach. “Talk.”
“He isn’t my real uncle. We aren’t related. But, he grew up on the same block as my mother and my dad was in his class in school. They all knew each other since, like, grade school. My mom’s best friend growing up was his little sister, Maria.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” she groans, rubbing her hands over her face before turning back to me. I would do anything to spare her the pain I know this is causing her, but I can’t stop now. She needs to know everything.
“When I was little, he was kind of just around a lot. He and my father were friends, and we called him Uncle Dom. When my dad died, he was around even more, constantly checking on us and my mom, making sure we were okay financially or whatever. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I discovered who and what he was. I tried to distance myself from him, and I did, for a long time.”
“But,” she interjects, “I know there is a ‘but.’ There’s always a fucking ‘but.’”
I sigh and then take a deep, cleansing breath. “But, when I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a loan to open the bar. I didn’t have any credit.”
She sneers. “So, you went to Abello.”
“No, of course not, but my mother told him about my struggle finding financing, and one day a check from him just showed up. I called him and told him I didn’t want his money, but he insisted, said my father would have wanted me to have a chance to prove myself as a business owner. He said he had faith in me and would give me five years to pay back the loan, without interest.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, so I took it. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I did. I paid it all back in less than two years, and went on with my life and my various business ventures, trying to forget I had ever had ties to him. But, he started asking for favors.”
The nervous look returns to her face and I can only imagine what horrific things she’s imagining Abello may have asked me to do over the years.
“No, never anything like that,” I reassure her. “It was always innocuous stuff, like wanting to use the backroom at the bar for a meeting, or reserving the champagne room and entertaining one of his high-profile guests. Never anything illegal, as far as I could tell.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” she retorts. “He is evil incarnate! I can’t believe you ever let yourself get involved with him.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I clench my hands into fists so hard I think my palms may be bleeding. I think of the position both Danika and I are now in with Abello. “You think I like being tied to a fucking mafia boss for the rest of my life?”
“Fuck!” she screams and begins pacing back and forth between the couch and the coffee table. She’s already freaking out and I haven’t even told her half of it yet. I’m afraid she’ll go nuclear when she finally knows everything.
Deep breath, Savage. Then get it out.
“There’s more.”
She pauses and turns to face me. “You have to be fucking kidding me. What more could there possibly be? You’re basically related to the man who tried to have me killed last night. What the fuck more can there be?”
Her voice rises several octaves as she borders on hysteria, but it does no good to withhold this from her. It’s like ripping off a bandage. Best to get it done quickly.
“When you were researching the mayor, what do you remember finding about his family?”
She closes her eyes briefly before she returns to pacing, alternating between squeezing her hands into fists at her sides and chewing on her nails. “Um, Mayor Dunne’s wife died giving birth, and everyone kind of lost track of his son after he graduated from high school. I think his name was Anderson. The mayor never talks about him.”
Bomb dropping in three…two…one…
“That’s because they haven’t spoken in over ten years.”
She stops in front of me, hands on her hips. “And how the hell would you know that?”
I take a deep breath and attempt to prepare myself for her epic meltdown. “Because Gabe is Mayor Dunne’s son.”
A gasp escapes before she shakes her head. “No, no, that’s impossible. Gabe isn’t a Dunne.”
“His mother’s maiden name was Anderson. They named him Anderson Gabriel Dunne. When he was eighteen, he had his name legally changed to Gabriel Anderson. He enlisted, and he never spoke to his father again.”
She stops and collapses onto the other end of the couch, dropping her head against the back and closing her eyes. “This is like some sick fucking joke.”
“I know, but, baby, I need you to understand how dangerous this is. Abello is not going to let the killing of his right-hand man and two of his lieutenants go unanswered, and by now, he knows not only that you are alive, but that you and I are involved.”
When she turns her head to face me, I see the tears shimmering in her eyes and hold my hand out to her, urging her to come over to me. She resists momentarily, but eventually grabs my hand and lets me pull her up against me.
She buries her face in my chest, and her warm tears splash against me, drenching my shirt.
“Don’t cry, baby. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out.”
“How?” she cries, sobbing so hard she practically chokes herself. “How the hell do we get a mobster to stop trying to fucking kill us?”
“Shh.” I try to comfort her, but, frankly, I don’t have a clue how I’m going to
convince Abello to let this go. There’s no way he can let Danika live with a chance she might publish the story, and he will assume both Gabe and I are involved and helping her at this point. “Danika, was what you told Matteo true? Does no one else know about your story?”
She sniffles and looks up at me with her red-rimmed eyes. “Yes, I never told anyone what I was working on.”
My mind races and a plan begins to form. “What about your notes? Where are they?” If I can get my hands on them, maybe, just maybe, we have a chance at keeping ourselves alive.
“At my place, I keep them in notebook. It’s probably on my desk.”
I nod and kiss her head, holding her close to me as I run through the plan mentally.
I’m a lunatic. It’s the only explanation for why I think this might actually work, but, right now, I feel like there aren’t really a lot of options. The police can’t keep us safe from someone like Abello. He has so many men on his payroll; he has people in every precinct of the city. Even if we left town, where the hell would we go? Would we really be able to leave our families behind? He would find us anyway. With his connections, it wouldn’t even be hard.
“I need to go talk to Gabe. Are you going to be okay here alone for a little bit? I’ll be right across the hall.”
She nods weakly. “Yeah, I need to call Nora and my mom anyway. They will be freaking the fuck out by now.”
I kiss her again, taking my time to show her through actions what I can’t in words. I will fix this.
Savage heads to Gabe’s with a promise he’ll return as soon as he can, and an order not to leave the condo unless it’s to come to Gabe’s because I need something.
I agree, reluctantly. Even though I know it would be dangerous and stupid to leave the building, the thought of being cooped up here for God knows how long while Gabe and Savage try to figure this out is giving me cabin fever already.
Wandering back to the bedroom, I climb onto Savage’s bed and recline against the headboard, staring at my phone in my hand. I have multiple messages from Nora, Caroline, my mother, my editor, and pretty much everyone I have ever met asking if I am okay. I barely listen to them before I hit the “Delete” button. I don’t want to have to discuss what went down with everyone. If I did, I’m not sure I could maintain the level of calm and control I have managed so far today.
The only reason I’m not currently in a corner sobbing and generally becoming a mental patient is because of Savage. His strength and reassurances have grounded me, and the breakthrough we had concerning our relationship has cemented us in a way I didn’t think possible. All the magnificent hormones racing through my body from the multiple orgasms can’t hurt either.
Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepare myself for the call with my mom and Nora. I’m doing this three-way, no way in hell I am going to do it twice.
As soon as the phone starts ringing, I feel like I’m going to vomit. I need to tell them right off the bat I’m not getting into details with them. There’s no way I would survive discussing that, especially without Savage here.
“Danika? Oh, my God! Are you okay?” Nora screeches into the phone.
“Yes, I’m okay. Hold on, I’m going to get Mom on the line.”
“No, don’t call her. I’m at her house. I’ll put it on speaker.” I hear her scream for our mother, and can picture her running down the hallway in my mom’s tiny ranch house at breakneck speeds just like when we were kids. Rustling follows and then my mother is screaming when Nora tells her I am on the phone.
I groan and drop my head back against the headboard, clenching my eyes shut and enjoying my last second of peace and calm before my mother’s inquisition begins.
“Danika! Are you okay? What the hell happened? We got a call from Gabe saying you were okay, but…”
“Mom…” I interject, the tension between my temples swelling infinitely.
“…then this morning on the news we saw pictures of you and Savage and you were covered in blood! They said something about three dead…”
“Mom! Stop.” I don’t mean to snap at her. Really, I don’t, but she never stops. She never listens, and if she starts drilling me about what happened I know I will lose it. I can’t lose it. I can’t. I’m too strong for that.
Keep it together.
After a sharp intake of breath, Nora whispers something to our mother before responding. “Are you okay, really?”
I sigh, pressing on my temples to try to ease some of the pressure. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m at Savage’s and will be here for a while, I think, but I’m fine. I promise.”
Nora tells our mother she will be right back and I hear her footsteps and a door slam. “Sorry, I needed to get away from Mom. You’re at Savage’s? What’s going on? Are you two back together?”
“Yeah, we are. We talked, and things are good.”
I don’t know how else to explain it to her. I have no intention to giving her any of the salacious details. It’s awkward enough having my sister work for my boyfriend. The last thing that needs to be tossed in that mix is her having knowledge of our deep, dark secrets.
She releases a sigh. “Thank God. You two were fucking miserable asshats the last couple weeks. I swear to God, if you didn’t figure this shit out soon, Gabe and I were ready to lock you two in a room and leave you until you got your shit together.”
“Gee, thanks, sis,” I say, sliding off the bed and making my way to the bathroom. A long, scalding-hot bath sounds amazing right now. I grab what I need and walk down the hallway to the guest bathroom and its enormous whirlpool jet bathtub.
“I’m just being honest. It was awful watching both of you torture yourselves. It was clear neither of you wanted this breakup, or whatever it was. I’m just happy you worked it out. I could have done without the heart attack I had when Gabe called to tell us what happened and then saw you on the news.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I switch on the water and sit on the side of the tub as the steam rises around me. The eucalyptus bath salts sitting on the edge of the tub look beyond inviting so I dump some in as the tub fills.
“What are you doing now? You need me to come over?”
“No, Savage is over at Gabe’s for a bit. I am going to take a long, hot bath and just try to relax.”
“Okay,” she says, and I hear the disappointment in her voice, “but let me know if you need me.”
I know she wants to be here to support me, and I love her even more for it, but I’m too on edge right now to deal with her. Especially when she doesn’t, and can’t, know the whole story.
“Maybe tomorrow, Nora. I’ll call you.”
“Okay, I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I hang up and slide my phone onto the counter before I strip and step into the tub. The hot water sears my skin, almost to the point of intolerability, but I sink down into it anyway, letting it continue filling around me.
Dropping my head back against the headrest, I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the sound of the rushing water. Maybe it will wash away the images in my head, the ones that, even after what happened with Savage this morning, I can’t seem to shake.
He promised things would get better. He said it gets easier, more bearable.
I hope he’s right because the thought of going to bed and closing my eyes, being with my thoughts and the vivid memories all night, terrifies me. It’s different in the daylight, easier to make it through with distractions like Savage. But nothing will ever get better if he and Gabe can’t find a way to deal with Abello.
The cops told me they didn’t have enough on him to arrest him, just like I didn’t have enough to write my story. So, Savage is right. They’re useless as far as protecting me is concerned.
But something inside tells me not to underestimate Savage, or Gabe for that matter.
They’ll figure something out. They have to.
Gabe stares at me from across the coffee table.
“You want to do what?” he asks, his jaw dropping open
in disbelief. “Are you fucking insane?”
His response shouldn’t surprise me, I guess. My plan isn’t exactly foolproof, but I can’t think of any other feasible way to get out of this clusterfuck.
“You have a better plan?”
“Than blackmailing the head of the fucking mob and then relying on him to keep a promise not to come after us? Yeah, I think I can come up with something better than that, Savage. For fuck sake, you can’t trust this guy. You, of all people, should know and understand that.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s your plan? Take him out with your damn rifle?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. He recoils and presses his lips together in a tight line as his blue eyes go ice-cold instantly. It wasn’t fair, and I know it.
Low blow, Savage. Nice work.
I know what a toll his job took on him. Maybe I don’t understand the full extent. I doubt he will ever open up enough to talk to me about what went on over there, but just knowing it got bad enough he went to a shrink tells me all I need to know. A good friend doesn’t throw something like that in your face. I’m such an asshole.
“Gabe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
He drops back in the sofa and leans his head back, effectively avoiding any eye contact with me. “Yeah, you did.”
The silence lingers between us and I try to determine something, anything to say. I could deny it, but I would be lying. As much as I hate that what I said hurt him, I also know he’s good, really fucking good at killing. And whether he likes that fact or not, it’s still true, and it would still solve all of our problems.
He scrubs his hands down his face before finally returning his leery gaze to me. “I can’t kill him, Savage,” he murmurs, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
Gabe doesn’t break. Ever. He’s been my best friend, my brother, my rock, since I was too young to realize how important it was. He’s been with me through the hardest days of my life, and risked his own life to save Danika’s. And I know he would do it again, without me ever asking. He doesn’t break, but he is bent right now, after what happened last night, so far I’m afraid anything I say may push him over some invisible edge.
