Indebted to the Mafia King
Second String

Tony

"Check on the fucking capos," I mutter under the music as I soar down the Verrazano Bridge in the dead of night. "Call them back. Check in with Cal fucking Duncan. Take out my goddamn laundry while I play house upstate. I'm the don, don't forget." In my mind, I hear Seb's response. You sound like a cranky toddler, Tony. You two love each other. He's dealing with a lot. You'll be back to normal in no time.

"He's dealing with a lot?" I demand. "I'm talking to my dead fucking brother in my mind as I drive to meet the head of the Irish Kings."

The Seb in my mind only shrugs. I win a lot more arguments since

I crank the music to drown out my thoughts.

After weaving through city traffic, I pull up in front of McCreegan's Pub and leave the music blaring for a few extra seconds. May as well give the little dick something to complain about. Then, I shut off the car and head inside. Just like last time, the bartender leads me through the freezer, into the second bar Cal installed in the back of his goddamn pub. Unlike last time, a few other Kings mill around, drinking, gambling, and playing darts. Cal still stands at the bar. I stride up to him.

"If I'd known we were partying, I would've eaten first."

Cal grins. "You're welcome to party with my lads, but I was rather thinking we might grab a drink and step aside."

I roll my eyes. "Whiskey."

With a teasing smile, he pours me a draught of that same black beer, then one for himself and leads me to a corner booth.

"You need new fucking ears," I mutter as I sit.

"I have heard that before." Cal draws a curtain around us that instantly deadens the sound of the rest of the secret bar. "Apologies for the crowd. We're staying close to home, which I'm sure you can understand."

I lift my glass to him and take a sip. I don't even hate dark beer like this, I just need something stronger to burn the words Dante said to me before I left from my head. In bed with the fucking FBI because his fiancée was missing for half an hour and we didn't have any leads yet. I could kill him.

"How were the hinterlands?" Cal asks pleasantly. "I heard about a kerfuffle."

I snort. "Federal raid. Russian house."

"Funny that you managed to be there." He glances up at me. "Isn't it?"

"How do you fucking figure?" I cross my arms. "You were the one who said Henry was leading the charge. That little dick is my cousin. I know him better than-" Seb's face pops into my mind, and I choke on my next inhale. Catching my breath is a fucking fight. I haven't slept a night in weeks, and exhaustion is taking its revenge. The whole time, Cal looks on without lifting a pinkie to help. Fucking dick.

"I don't discount the power of blood," he says when I'm done. "Merely the power of coincidence." He sips his beer.

"Go to church if you want to talk doubt." I swig mine. "Half a dozen Russians in custody, and Dante has Eleni back, so I wouldn't expect him to pick up your calls much longer."

Cal nods slowly. "Ours was always a partnership of convenience. Where is the gentleman in question, anyway?"

"Taking care of Eleni," I say through gritted teeth.

He makes a small, understanding noise in the back of his throat. "I remember when my da started looking like he was ready to shuffle off. Tad nerve-wracking, looking at the driver's seat and knowing it's yours soon, hm?" Every ounce of my willpower pours into not reacting to that statement. What the fuck does he mean, shuffling off? Dante's only had the Saints for five years, he's still going strong.

The memory of my fingers wrapped around his arm crashes through my thoughts. He was going strong. Now, when I tell him we have business to talk about, I hear "hold on" more often than "what's up?"

"Well, worry not." Cal raises his glass. "The Kings are happy to talk something more than a partnership of convenience, whenever your time does come. I like you better than Dante, anyway. We both have a little more of that old-fashioned street under our nails."

I stare at Cal's drink for a long moment and think about how long I've fought to hide the fact that Dante is this college-educated golden child, and I'm some Italian kid he pulled along for a ride. Then, I finish my beer and stand. "Seems like that's a conversation to have when the time comes."

Cal laughs.

When I get in the car, I turn toward Staten Island. Let Dante figure out his shit upstate, if that's what he wants.

The Seb I keep imagining, stained with blood, appears in the passenger's seat next to me.

"Don't say it," I spit.

He needs you, he says anyway. If it were you up there, he'd go.

"The old Dante would've." I pull up to a T intersection. One way takes me to the highway. The other, the Verrazano Bridge to Staten Island. "These days, I don't fucking know." Dude. Imaginary Seb turns to look at me, blood sputtering from his wounds.

With a sigh, I turn toward the highway.

***

Like a complete fucking freak, I knock on the front door of the safehouse an hour later. I have keys. I've always just walked in. But it feels like a place I can't share anymore.

Dante opens the door. He's finally traded out his shitty, two-day-old suit for a T-shirt and sweatpants, but that makes him look even more unstrung. The small cut I put on his cheek stands out from the puffy flesh around it. For the first time since I've known him, he looks old.

"Tony," he says, suddenly guarded. "I wasn't expecting you back."

I push past him with an armful of groceries. "Oh yeah? What was your food plan?"

Dante opens and closes his mouth a few times. "I hadn't gotten there yet."

Used to be, he didn't miss a beat. I head for the kitchen and start unpacking.

"I changed my mind," he says. "We should keep low."

"I know." I load vegetables into the empty fridge. "I already told the guys that. Gave 'em money to stay under."

"Good." Dante nods. "I'm sor-"

I put up a hand. "Are you done with the feds?"

After a long pause, he says, "I don't think I can be yet."

I force my hand down to my side despite the sick emotions begging me to hit him again. "Don't apologize to me until that's true." He swallows loud enough that I can hear it. "Fine."

"How's Eleni?" I ask because I know Seb would.

"She's going to be fine." Dante walks up next to me and begins helping. "But I can't keep her hidden here forever, Tone."

I catch Dante's eye, and I know. There's no way this ends without Dante burning down the Russians for what they did to Eleni. Or worse, disappearing with her forever.