Indebted to the Mafia King
Ties That Bind

Eleni

I sit in the passenger seat of a black, bulletproof sedan, watching the blinking dot of the tracker on my phone. "Left here."

Tony turns smoothly. The engine is nearly silent, which seems almost pointless in the noisy, New York City night, but I'm not giving up any advantage here. It took me embarrassingly long to remember the tracker-or, more accurately, to hope the feds hadn't bothered to take it off of him. I was halfway through hacking the city's FBI base when I looked down at my own hand and the rings caught the light.

"And...that's the last precinct turnoff I know of," Mikey says from the back seat, where he's sliding together piece after piece of a sniper rifle, just in case. "Bronx cops don't bother with spots this far out."

"Me either," Tony says. "Maybe they took him to one of those fucking black sites."

Distantly, I note a chill of worry would touch me at those words, if I weren't already frozen.

"You're sure you don't remember the names on any of the badges?" I ask. "Turn right."

He turns. "One of 'em started with a 'J.' Nothing more."

"Fine." I sigh.

The car continues cutting through the night. We passed the way to the FBI Headquarters ages ago. Mikey has checked off each precinct as we skip it. The crowds don't taper off as we nearly drive out of the city, just the working streetlights. Maybe they took Dante to a black site. Or maybe we're not the only people in the fucking world with dirty feds. Hell, maybe someone bought ours. If there's one thing I've learned these last few months, it's that someone who will turn once will always turn twice. That's why I was wiping out Coppola men instead of sparing them. Their word wouldn't mean shit to me.

I check the bullets in the pistol at my waist and think about the private plane, gassed up and ready to go, at the airstrip north of the city. A suitcase sits in the hold with enough cash to get me out. Not just me. Not even just with Baby-I spit in my mind-but Mama and Gianna too. We'll be set for life. Just before I turned on the tracker, I told every Saint to call his family and set them up just like that.

Wait for the phone. Be ready to run.

The whole world feels like it's on tenterhooks, waiting for the outcome. Will the Saints win? Or will they abandon New York City to the dogs?

If Dante were here, he'd tell me to get on the plane now. Fuck the mission, the men have it. But if he were in my shoes, he wouldn't dream of leaving before he had me back. I'm fucking tired of the double standards. I'll rescue him or see his body.

Then, I'll leave. For him. For Baby.

At least if he's in custody, the papers we signed just hours earlier mean we won't be forced to testify against each other.

My phone beeps softly, alerting me that we're close. Half-collapsed or mostly dark buildings stick out between brightly lit ones that look almost as bad. The streets still crowd with people. "Tony," I say.

He glances at me. "I think you're supposed to have cold feet before the wedding."

"Fuck off," I reply automatically.

He waves a hand for me to continue.

"If he's dead, the Saints are yours," I say.

Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Dead," I repeat, the word landing hollowly on my chest, "dying, in federal custody. Any of those, I have to run."

"I should already be looking at your back," he mutters.

I'd like to say I responded with anger, but that would be a lie. Every inch of my skin is cold, every movement of my body certain, as I slide my gun from my holster, cock it, and place it against his temple. "Say it again."

"I'll say it." Mikey puts a hand on my wrist. "You have to relax."

I don't look away from Tony. My fingers don't shake.

"I'm giving you everything you want," I say. "Take it without bitching."

"I told you you were cut out for this life," Tony mutters.

That's as much of an apology as I'm going to get from him. I remove the gun from his temple and slide it back away.

"Last turn," I say. "Park here, and we'll walk."

Tony obeys. "Looks like an apartment block. No lights. Gotta be empty."

"Vests." Mikey hands forward two bulletproof vests.

I pull off my suit jacket, slip the vest on under it, then adjust the straps around the stomach aggressively. I owe Dante a rescue, but I also owe Baby a fair chance at life. Tony, already wearing his, adjusts my shoulder straps. "I don't give a fuck, but Seb would."

"Maybe tomorrow, that'll mean something." I pull my jacket back on and button it. Anything I can put between Baby and the world.

He leans back. "You're really gonna make me do this? Hold your ass while you die, knowing I never really liked you but it's gonna kill Dante if the Russians haven't already?"

I'm done. I meet Tony's ice gaze. "Yes. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Forever, if I damn well please. You've known him for longer, fine. You've got history, seniority, whatever the fuck you want. But he's my fucking husband"-I point to the twin rings

on my finger-"and that means I'm not leaving him to die. I'm not taking a single chance. And there's nobody on this team who will fight harder than me to get him back."

Tony holds my gaze for a long moment, then looks away. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

Before I can reply to that, Mikey's phone rings. He answers immediately.

"Hey, Leo."

Leo is part of the advance team, the guys who weren't running around doing shit and we already set to go. I crane my head to see if I can hear through Mikey's phone speakers. Mikey frowns. "Wait, you're what the fuck, man?"

At the apartment block, something flashes. A shot rings out.

I throw myself out of the car.