SE7EN: A Single Dad Mafia Romance

by Ann, Bry

“Of course.”

  Of course. Fine. Yes. I can get an Alexa for the same amount of connection I’m getting right now.

  I pad down the hall ahead of him, fighting with myself not to put my hands over my throbbing head. It’s not easy.

  I know I must look a mess to him. I’m limping. I’m pale. My hair is a literal nest on my head. I have bruises on my cheek and probably throat.

  I can’t even imagine what Danny would do if he saw me like this. Lose. His. Ever-loving. Mind. That’s what.

  I turn the corner to my room.

  “How has Nia not woken up yet with all the noise?”

  “She has. She’s just bein’ respectful, I’m sure.”

  “I love her. I think I’m gonna have a hard time saying goodbye. At least I’ll still be her doctor.”

  I glance back. He seems a little startled by my statement, but of course, doesn’t comment. He just plows ahead of me, pulls the cover back, and looks at me to go in.

  I listen. The covers are far too appealing and I have no desire to argue. I slide inside, reveling in the feeling of the cold pillow against my aching head.

  Feels so good…

  “Anything else you need?” Seven asks in that same empty tone.

  “A friend?”

  He blinks at me.

  “The less contact you have with Danny, the safer he is.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know. Just get out of here, Seven. I’ll spare you the torture of having to stay here with me.”

  I’m done. I turn on my side, curl up, and block him out.

  Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Ugh, I can’t sleep without reading, but reading is making everything worse, which in turn depresses me.

  I don’t wanna be awake anymore, to be frank. What am I gonna do about work? Do I even have an alarm? Seven probably won’t wake me. I’m spiraling… I’ll see Danny and Keisha tomorrow. Do I just act normal? Will Danny ask questions or will he behave and keep his distance from me? Will…

  “I can hear you thinking from across the room,” Seven whispers gruffly as his arm slides stiffly around my waist.

  “Better?” he murmurs. There’s an edge of vulnerability to his voice. Has he ever held someone? Has someone other than Danny ever held me?

  “Mmm-hmm,” is all I can manage.

  Better? Better? If his hug was a blanket, his strong arm acting as a weight and an anchor as I sleep is like a full-body heating pad, soothing every ache and pain, even the ones in my heart.

  “What happened to you, Seven?” I ask after thirty minutes of being too scared to even breathe.

  He stiffens. Before he can pull away, I snatch his hand and hold it as tightly as I can to my chest.

  “You’re supposed to be tired.”

  “I am tired.”

  “Then go to sleep,” he mutters.

  “Tell me.”

  His sigh almost makes the headboard shake, it’s so heavy.

  “Tell me what you were thinking about a minute ago, then you have my word.”

  “Work. How I’m gonna get up. What I’m gonna do when I get there. How to approach Danny.”

  “Alright. Let’s clear that up. I’ll wake you. Don’t worry ‘bout that. You go there, do your thing. We’ll have eyes on you from the outside. Nothing to worry about there. I’ll handle it. I’ll help you cover your—”

  “Stop, shhh…” I soothe, stroking his scarred hand as his mind wanders to the marks he left on my throat. “Shh. Don’t ruin this.”

  “I’ll help cover it,” he finishes in a gravelly, pissed-off tone. “As for Danny, be nice, but keep your distance. If he pesters you, though I don’t think he will, since he loves you, wants you safe, remind him to think ‘bout what I said and to remember he has Frank, too.”

  I stiffen a bit at that, but nod slowly.

  “I programed my number in your phone earlier. Text me if something comes up. I’ll keep my phone on me at all times.”

  “Alright. That helps, thanks.”

  “Yep.”

  “Seven?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “I know you’re not asleep. Your turn.”

  I squiggle around to get loose so I can turn and face him. I manage to figure it out, even though it’s awkward and ungraceful.

  I don’t meet his eyes right away. My gaze stays hidden by my hair, trained on his chest. Slowly, shakily, I reach out and stroke the spot where his heart is beating out of his chest. It’s the only sign he’s scared. But that’s exactly what he is, scared.

  “Can’t go back there. Could hurt you,” he finally says.

  “You won’t hurt me. I’m already touching you. I’ll keep you safe, Seven.”

  “That’s not how it works,” he growls, starting to yank himself away from me and all my limbs.

  “No!” I scream, leaping forward out of sheer desperation, and grabbing his massive body. “Don’t leave! Not yet.”

  “Isla…”

  … And, ‘cause I only have one card I know to pull, I whisper, “Please.”

  He stops, glancing over at me, before a smile, a beautiful, beautiful half-smile, spreads on his lips.

  “Really?” he laughs. “I mean, really?”

  I take his shirt between my fingers and tug so he’s close and can hold me again. Just so you know, he does.

  “It was a guaranteed win. How can I turn that down?”

  He laughs, breathy. “Wow.”

  “Are you really mad?”

  “No, I’m not really mad at all.”

  “Okay, good. Your life story awaits.”

  “You don’t want my life story, Isla. You’re sunshine, but my life is doom and gloom.”

  “Hey, judgey!” I smack his chest, weakly though. My body’s not up to par. “Just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’ve had an easy life.”

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  “Fact for fact?” He goes quiet. “Seven, fact for fact?”

  “Fine.” It’s barely audible, but it’s an agreement. I swear I hear him mutter, “Great, I can’t say no to you either,” but I could be wrong.

  “Tell me about your parents.”

  I wince. “Start small, specific.”

  “Tell me about your dad.”

  Go right for the jugular.

  “He was great.”

  He laughs, unamused. “So, I’m supposed to spill my heart to you and you’re really gonna sit and lie to me right now?”

  I bite my lower lip.

  “Sorry.”

  “The truth now. Try again.”

  He gives me a little squeeze.

  “He-he worked a lot. Mom…” I swallow. “Mom left. Broke his heart. We were dirt poor, lived in a trailer and all… and, you know, alcohol became a little crutch, but mostly work,” I add quickly. “He’d have loved me if he wasn’t so tired from working all the time.”

  Seven’s quiet, absentmindedly stroking the soft skin on my arm with his palm. Maybe I did die and go to heaven…

  “The alcohol…?”

  “Your turn. Why do you have PTSD?”

  He stiffens. He went for the jugular first!

  “Military.”

  It’s my turn to freeze. “You were in the military!? Before… this?”

  “Yep. You’d think it’d be quite the change, but nah, not really.”

  “How can you say that?”

  He shrugs. “I saw more death in the military than I do now.”

  “But weren’t those people bad?”

  “Some, not most.”

  I stay quiet for a long time, thinking that over.

  “That’s awful,” I whisper.

  “Too young. They’re too young to be doin’ that.”

  “You mean you.”

  His jaw grits. “My time’s done. Your turn. The alcohol. Was he a drunk?”

  I look away at that, fiddling with the blanket.

  “Danny says yes, I say no.”

  “‘Cause it hurts less that way?”

  I debate not answering
, but then snuggle in closer to his constant heat.

  “Yes.”

  “Alright,” he whispers, not fighting it like Danny always does. He strokes my hair once.

  I wish he’d kiss it…

  No. Ugh. Stop.

  “You have the softest fucking hair,” he groans.

  “Oh, you mean the rat’s nest you’re currently touching. I’d get your hand away before eggs fertilize between your fingers.”

  His lip twitches. “You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  “Alright.” Well geez, thanks for making sure I knew.

  “My turn. What happened while you were in the military to give you PTSD?”

  At that, I think I do lose him. He turns into a literal rod.

  “Next subject,” he barks, putting distance between us, but not enough where he knows I’ll pounce on him.

  “No, this one, Seven.”

  I scoot in closer and take his chin in my hands, forcing eye contact.

  “You gotta tell someone, crazy boy.”

  “Most of the men who know have killed themselves by now. Let’s keep it that way.”

  “Please.” I bat my eyelashes for good measure.

  “You can’t just use that whenever you want something from me.”

  “I only use it when it’s something that will benefit both of us.”

  “This won’t help you, woman! You don’t see. You don’t get it,” he growls, fisting his hands, so he doesn’t hurt me instead of the demons.

  “I still wanna know.”

  He whimpers, whimpers, and it slays me, pierces through the worn-out tethers of my heart and reaches right into my soul.

  “I was a prisoner of war. Happy now, Isla? Are you just so fucking happy? Are you happy I went to the military to escape my monster, only to run into her devil? Are you happy I watched my baby sister die ‘cause she couldn’t take the abuse my mom doled out on us? When I couldn’t protect her, I joined the military to save her soul in other little girls. I saved no one. No fucking one.

  “Are you happy those monsters ripped off my fingernails for information? Are you happy I watched my brothers get murdered before my eyes, shrivel up like prunes and die?! Are you so fucking happy they burnt me with rods for information on this Godforsaken country? Does that make you so fucking happy?!”

  He’s crying by the end, tears streaming down his beard-covered face. So am I. I take his large body in my tiny arms and squeeze as tightly as I can. I squeeze until my muscles wobble from prolonged exhaustion. I squeeze until I literally can’t anymore. I really only stop when his silent tears turn into audible sobs in the crook of my neck.

  Unable to talk past the horror clogged in my throat, I cry with him. I cry with him and squeeze his hand in mine.

  Neither of us say anything until he stops crying.

  “That’s why…” He clears his throat. “That’s why I am so fierce when it comes to the safety of children. For Delilah. And all the kids who got wrapped up in a war that they didn’t ask for, that had nothing to do with them and everything to do with power and greed.”

  “Why the mafia?” I whisper, wiping his tears away with the back of my hand. It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, but I have to know.

  “I have too many demons, Isla. They broke me, hun. They broke me. This is my compromise, so I don’t lose my mind and do worse.”

  I swallow.

  “I understand. I understand.”

  That’s all I have to offer, my softness. My acceptance and understanding.

  “Good.” He kisses my head like I’ve wanted all night, but it’s too fast. His lips are just a tempting whisper in the tangles of my strawberry blonde hair. “I’m glad you do, hun.”

  He pulls me in tighter.

  “‘Cause that’s why tomorrow, while you change lives at work, I’m gonna find somewhere else you can stay and actually be safe. I have to protect you from my demons, too, angel.”

  I hide my face in his t-shirt and squeeze the fabric between my shaking fingers.

  Why did he have to ruin everything?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seven

  “Do you have him?” I bark, storming over to Boss.

  My eyes flare. Boss’s eyebrows raise. This is absolutely not how I talk to him. Ever.

  “First, let’s talk. Come.”

  Without looking back, Boss spins on his dress shoe-clad heel and silently makes his way down the hall. I follow with my body, like the soldier I am, but my mind is all… fucked up. It took everything in me to get Nia ready this morning like normal. I practically dumped her on the teacher/nanny’s doorstep.

  I completely avoided Isla.

  I could barely look at her. I think at one point, I coldly stated that she should call out of work today. She shrugged limply and avoided me as much as I avoided her.

  I didn’t miss her red-rimmed eyes, though. Or the dark circles. Or the way her skin was pale again, not as bad as yesterday, but still. I sure as hell didn’t miss the fingerprint-shaped bruises adorning her neck. She tried to cover it with makeup, but Danny’s gonna flip his lid when he sees her and I don’t blame him. The worst part isn’t even the physical stuff, it’s in her eyes. See, Isla shines. Corny. Would have never used that word before, but she does. Her eyes are warm as the summer sun. When she looks at you, she gives you some of that light. She gives it to everyone, despite her deadbeat influences growing up, and yet still, she never seems to run out herself.

  But this morning, that was gone. All that light snuffed out in one day by me.

  I almost killed her. I almost killed the most perfect woman on the planet in Nia’s bed. If it wasn’t for Boss being two feet in front of me, I’d hurl. I’d vomit all over the floor.

  I was there. I was right back there. I didn’t see her at all, just the faces of the terrorists who tortured me, mocked me, broke me.

  “Seven.” Boss comes into my line of sight, brows furrowed with concern. “Come into my office. Come on.”

  I do as he says. I always do as he says.

  Click. The door seals shut behind me as Boss rounds his desk.

  “Start talking and don’t tell me nothing’s wrong or I won’t update you on Ben.”

  “We need to find somewhere else for Isla to stay.”

  Boss straightens immediately. “What happened?”

  My hand goes to my beard and tugs to keep me grounded.

  “I had an episode.”

  “Fuck,” Boss mutters. Yeah, he knows. He has to in case it happens on a job, or from a different angle, he may need me to channel that trauma to take down a motherfucker.

  “Isla tried to touch me to… help.”

  Boss’s face falls to his chest and his fingers slide up to pinch his nose.

  “What did you do, Seven?”

  “She’s alive…”

  “Oh, is she?” he barks. “Good to know.”

  Wincing, I mutter, “I-I choked her. Bad. Enough to leave marks. I didn’t see her there! I swear to God, I didn’t.”

  “I know, Seven, I know,” Boss assures me quietly. “I know. Are you okay?”

  “What does it matter if I’m okay?!” My voice booms off the walls. “She didn’t have that fucking shine in her eyes this morning! I snuffed it out in one night!”

  “Was Nia present?” His voice remains calm. Level.

  “No,” I bite out. Thank God.

  “Good. Does Isla want to leave? How is she, emotionally?”

  Oh, she’s all screwed up. After I nearly killed her, suffocated her to death while roaring out strings of curses meant for terrorists, she asked me to stay. She begged me to stay.

  I didn’t intend on listening until she lifted her chin and rightfully put me in my place. Then I became a subservient soldier. But when her eyes glazed over with frustration and disappointment, I couldn’t hold it. I took her curled-up, tired body and wrapped an arm around it.

  She melted. Her tense muscles softened and an ina
udible mewl escaped her lips. I can deny, deny, deny all I want. It was all real as day.

  Then the questions started.

  And she told me things. Things that confused me. How could her parents not love her, yet she emanates love so brightly? How is that possible? How can she protect her father's memory when he left her out to dry?

  And I told her things. Things I don’t ever tell anybody.

  “Seven, I’m still here,” Boss reminds me.

  “She’s tired. Emotionally. Physically. All of it, but she’s stronger than she thinks she is. We just have to get her out of this mess so she can go on with her normal life.”

  “Don’t sound so happy for her, Seven,” he muses.

  I fight the instinct to glare at him, as he’s my superior, and settle for my shoes instead.

  “You didn’t answer my first question.”

  I grit my jaw. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure? Or you don’t want to admit that you have issues, fucked up, but she forgave you and still feels safer with you than at some random apartment I stick her in with guards outside her door that she doesn’t know? Which one is it Seven? Don’t tell me you don’t know. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “She doesn’t know what’s best for her!” I explode.

  He stands. “She doesn’t? A doctor at, what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine? Seems to me she’s doing pretty well for herself so far. I researched her. Drunk dad, absent mom, grew up in a trailer park. Not exactly the makings of a MD, Seven.”

  I feel my jaw ticking at a faster pace.

  Boss sighs. “Alright, come on.”

  “Where are we going?” I growl under my breath.

  “Gym,” he says simply, unbuttoning his expensive suit jacket and carelessly throwing it over his chair.

  “You’re gonna fight me, so come on.”

  I follow. ‘Cause if I don’t, I’ll probably kill someone in a blind rage.

  * * *

  Isla

  Keep eyes down. Hair over face and neck. Be invisible, Isla Grace. Just do your job. That’s all you have to do right now.

  Your job.

  In. Out. Deep breaths. It’s all okay. You have medicine. Food. Water. A soul still, somewhat…

  “Isla,” comes a whispered voice.

  Danny.