Indebted to the Mafia King
In Too Deep

Dante

Eleni turns on her heel and marches up the stairs. My chest squeezes, and I race after her. What the fuck was Uncle John thinking? Even if she wasn't here, even if she hadn't overheard, he can't just walk into my goddamn house and talk like I'm still the kid he had to drive to the hospital once because I threw a tennis ball at his garage door so hard that when it bounced back and hit me in the head, I got a concussion. I've been fine on my own for years.

She turns into her room, but she doesn't close the door. A good sign, I think. I follow her in and close it behind me.

A weird feeling tightens my chest further. A couple weeks ago, this was one of many guest rooms. Now the sheets are rumpled, her books are on the desk, and her clothes are in the closet.

Before I can think too much about that, I say, "How much did you overhear?"

She glances at me, and I see tears in her bright blue eyes.

"Okay, so enough." I run a hand through my hair. How do I explain this? Her being posted on one of these sites is a fucking nightmare, but I haven't double-checked Uncle John's information. She could be on some dummy site Luca's goons made sure he saw to light a fire under me.

Or it could be real. The thought kindles some of my rage back up. I have to make sure Eleni's okay, but whether it's a dummy or not, Luca is going to regret fucking with me.

I sit on the corner of her bed and try to gather my thoughts. "Uncle John is old school."

She nods and sits at her desk, her lower lip snagged between her teeth.

"Worse than that, he's been out of the picture since... since a couple months before Frank Lombardi killed my dad," I admit.

She wraps her arms around herself. "So you're still just a...a what? A capo to him?"

God, she's smart. If it wasn't for the way she's holding herself together, I'd grab her and kiss her.

"More or less," I say. "And a capo he met the day said capo was born."

El smiles weakly. "Yeah? Were he and your dad close?"

I knew she was tough, too. I haven't even told her about the potential of a dummy site, and she's already trying to push through her fear. I was right to bring her back to the city. Luca won't lay a finger on her.

"They were about a year apart, so they damn near acted like twins." I smile, remembering the way Dad used to finish Uncle John's sentences, and how Uncle John seemed to have a sixth sense for when Dad was going to need a capo around. She nods. "And that's why he was yelling at you."

"He was yelling at me because Dad and Uncle John could both be assholes sometimes." I chuckle and rub the back of my neck, hoping to coax a real smile out of her.

Nothing. Fuck. She might actually be scared.

"And because he doesn't realize I've proven myself over these last five years," I say.

Once again, I get nothing but a nod. Should I tell her about the things I've done? The deals I've made, the millions of dollars I've raked in? Or the enemies I've dropped before they got anywhere close to hurting me? Something tells me the enemy stories would be more comforting to Eleni, but I don't want her to see the same blood packed under my fingernails that I do. And anyway, I know where stories about dropped enemies lead. I can't tell her that. Not now, not ever.

"Luca posted this," I say. "You remember what I said about the dark side of being connected to the mafia? I don't think it's on one of those sites, but it's probably only a couple clicks removed." She squeezes herself tighter. "I'm sorry."

"No." I'm off the bed before I can blink, on my knees before her, with my hands on her elbows. "You don't need to be sorry. There's a real chance Luca faked the site to scare me us." "To scare you," she repeats. "Are you scared?"

I tilt her chin up until I can meet her soft blue eyes, still swimming with emotions.

"No," I say. "Because I know I'm going to do everything in my power to keep him from touching you, and I've been up against worse odds than this."

She stares at me blankly.

I cup her face in one hand. "And because I know how tough you are. I trust you, just like you can trust me. You are safe."

She chuckles, and the smile that lingers on her lips burns down into the core of me like a sip of the best scotch. I pull her into my chest so she can't see my face. What the hell was that?

The rest of the afternoon passes. El and I eat dinner together, late, because she gets caught up in studying again, and she doesn't mention anything about sharing a bed, so I go to my room alone. It's not like we really shared a bed upstate. We only slept next to each other when one or both of us passed out after a round. This makes sense.

Which, of course, is why I'm pacing dents into my carpet while nursing a glass of scotch in the dead of night. I roll my eyes. It's stupid, but I can't stop thinking about that smile I coaxed out of her. It did something different to me, something even the one I watched her share with Seb didn't. I've never felt anything like this before. And it seems like I'm clear-headed, like I'm the same Dante who's led the Saints through trouble as bad as the Lombardis and worse, but part of me wonders if I'm not the best judge of that anymore.

I shoot the rest of the scotch in my glass. The part of me wondering that sounds too much like Uncle John. I just need to go the fuck to bed. Tomorrow, after a night by myself, everything will make more sense.

***

My ringing phone stirs me awake. I grab it and answer blindly. "Yeah?"

"Dante," Tony says, his voice urgent. "You have to get to the port. One of the warehouses just got hit."