"What happened?" I asked, as Luisa escorted me into the clinic. "What the hell happened? Where's Dante?"

When I'd been woken up at four in the morning by someone pounding on the back door of the studio, I ignored it at first, figuring it to be either a drunk or maybe the overly frisky dogs who had decided the area behind my studio was the local hookup spot. The deadbolt was reinforced, and would take a SWAT battering ram to break through. "Fuck off!"

"It's Luisa!" I heard in a muffled reply, and I rolled out of bed immediately, running to the door and unlocking it. I threw the door open, and saw my friend standing in the alley, wearing black military type pants and a t-shirt. "Come with me."

"What is it?" I asked for the first time, fear in my heart put there by the look in her eyes.

"It's Dante. Come with me. Quick!”

I obeyed, even though I was in only an old pair of ratty dance pants and a t-shirt, pulling on shoes with no socks and getting in Luisa's car. She said nothing as she drove me toward the clinic, which was hidden in an old warehouse in the industrial district. There were three men on guard at the entrance, each of them armed with pistols, but they parted like the Red Sea upon Luisa's approach.

"Where's Dante?" I asked again, and Luisa brought me to a back room, where I saw him lying on a table, unconscious. Two doctors were working on him, and he was surrounded by a clear sheet, like what you might see in a shower, but the space was much larger, at least ten feet in diameter. "What happened?"

"There was a fire fight," I heard Tomasso say to my left, and I looked over, my concern ratcheting up a notch when I saw that his hands were covered in blood. "We thought we'd gotten everyone. But one guy, he wasn't . . . he tried to return fire. Dante saw it out of the corner of his eye and shoved me out of the way. He took a bullet for me.”

"How bad?" I asked, my heart clenching in my chest. "How bad?"

"Just his hand," Tomasso said, his voice catching, and I let loose a sigh of relief. "The docs are doing what they can to save it.”

I gulped and nodded. "I see. Is there any hope?"

Tomasso sighed and wiped at his face. "I don't know, Carmen. I sent Luisa to get you because, well, I thought you should know."

"There is little else to do than wait," Luisa said, pulling a chair over. "But we felt it would be good for Dante if you were here when he wakes up. He passed out in the car, and the doctors have kept him under since then."

We sat, trapped between worry and boredom as the doctors kept working for another hour, my body fighting the mix of adrenaline, fatigue, and heart-wrenching worry that coursed through my blood. Eventually fatigue won out, and I dozed off, leaning against Tomasso who put an arm around me and kept me warm in the cold room.

I was woken up when the plastic sheet that surrounded the operating table rustled, and the doctors came out. Tomasso sat up, waking me at the same time. "How is he?"

"He lost all of his index finger, and a small chunk of the palm itself," the lead doctor said. "Mr. Bertoli, even if we'd had the facilities of the University hospital, I couldn't have saved the finger. I'm sorry, sir."

Tomasso shook his head. "You did your best, doctor. What about Dante?"

"He's still sleeping it off," the other doctor said. "He's got a strong pulse, and he's in tremendous shape. He should be coming around in a half hour or so, I'll stay and monitor him until then. In my opinion you should get changed, get some coffee. No offense, but you look like hell."

"After I know that he’s okay," Tomasso said. "Can we go inside?"

"Give us two minutes, we'll have that screen down," the third doctor said. "Then you can go in all you want."

They went back to work, quickly pulling the clear sheet down, and I saw Dante for the first time. He was a little pale, but except for the mass of gauze wrapped around his right hand, he looked like he was sleeping. I went closer, up to him in the flat bed, where he was lying so helplessly. "Tomasso?"

"Yes, Carmen?" he asked, coming up next to me.

"Tell me you didn't get him hurt foolishly. Tell me that, and I'll believe you. You've never lied to me before."

"I thought we did our best," Tomasso said quietly. "In terms of from a military standpoint, we were successful. A plane down, a big chunk of a gang wiped out, and only one wounded. But personally, I've been sick about this the whole time. I've never gotten someone else hurt before."

I looked at Tomasso, then to the sky, taking a deep breath. "I believe you. That doesn't mean I don't want to slap you right now."

"I know you and Dante are seeing each other, and it’s scary, but he'll recover," Luisa said, and I turned, shaking my head.

"Luisa, you don't understand! Yes, that scared me when you came banging on my back door at four in the morning, and yes, it scared me sitting here watching the doctors work. But Dante's hand is injured, maybe permanently. Think about how that’s going to impact him with his promotion that means everything to him. Not to mention, how in the hell are we supposed to get ready for the Nationals when my partner can't use his right hand?"

Luisa thought, then nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. What will you do?"

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out,” I said with a sigh, “Maybe call, let them know that Dante's injured, and that the next in line gets our slot. It wouldn't be fair to whoever that is to not let them prepare."

"Fuck being fair," a weak voice came from behind us, and we all turned, a smile breaking out on my face as Dante opened his eyes. "I'm sick and tired of being fucking fair in life. It certainly hasn't been fair to me."

I rushed over to the table, careful to take his left hand, looking down at him. "Dante, your hand is injured. They say . . . they say . . ."

“My right index finger got blown off, and from the feel of this lump at the end of my wrist, I'd say I had some other damage as well. I felt it in the car. But it doesn't matter, we're going to New York, and we're going to compete."

I swallowed, looking at his face, which was set with such composed resoluteness that I felt like what he was saying was possible. "We're going to have to rework our showcase," I said, squeezing his good hand. “But I guess we’ll figure that out.”

"Then we rework them," Dante said. "Hey Tomasso. Good to see you. Did you wait the whole time?"

He nodded, coming closer. "Luisa ducked out to pick up Carmen, but I was watching your ass the whole time."

"Not my ass I'm worried about," Dante said with a chuckle. "The rest of the crew?"

"Nick and Gene checked in about an hour and a half ago, they got back to their drop off points. I'm tempted to go over there and have a little heart to heart with Gene, since he was the one who swept the building that guy came out of."

"Don't," Dante said, his voice gaining strength. Still, I could tell he was drained, whether it was from blood loss or from the trauma I wasn't sure. "The guy who came out, I caught a glimpse. He was already dying . . . he was hit. What is the news saying?"

"We'll check that later," Tomasso said. He looked over at Luisa, and gestured with his head. Luisa nodded, and Tomasso turned back. “Actually, that might be a good idea to check on now. Think we can leave you in Carmen's care for the next hour or two?"

"I think I can tolerate that," Dante said with a small smirk. "Go on, go be the boss man. When you come back though, could you bring me a Coke? Preferably cherry, and with a straw?"

Tomasso smiled and patted Dante on the shoulder. "For my brother? Anything. I'll see you later."

He and Luisa left, and I looked back down at Dante, who had a shocked expression on his face. "For he who sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother," he whispered in amazement, before his eyes found mine.

"Well, you wanted acceptance," I said, patting his arm. "Even if you're out of your mind."

"And how am I out of my mind?" Dante asked, giving me a semi-cocky grin. "I mean, in what new ways am I out of my mind?"

"We're seven and a half weeks out from the Nationals," I replied, stroking his hair absently. "You just had a finger blown off, and who knows what other damage to your hand. I haven't even seen it, and you're talking about still trying to make it. After we placed third at the Regionals. You do realize we're going to be facing the best of the best at this thing, right?"

Dante nodded. "And I know one other thing. I can’t think of anyone more worth it."

A shook my head, amazed. "I still should make the call."

"You should, but you won't," Dante said, pulling me in closely. Our lips met, and we kissed slowly, with tenderness and affection. He was gentle, not weak at all despite being drained, and when his hand pulled me in deeper, I moaned lightly, passion filling me. I knew what I wanted, even though he'd just been through surgery. I wanted to climb on top of that operating table and have sex. Long, slow sex that would last for hours.

Instead, with a chuckle and a small whine from me, he released our kiss, giving me a little smile as I stood up, slightly out of breath. "That's why you won't make the call. Because you're just as crazy as I am, and because you know that come hell or high water, I'm going to step onto that dance floor, and we're going to make magic together."

* * *

"You're both out of your damn minds."

For the second time in my life, I was sitting in Carlo Bertoli's study that evening, sitting across from the Don while both of his sons were flanking me. Angelo had a bemused expression on his face, while Tomasso still bore the haunted but intense expression I'd seen at the clinic.

"Be that as it may, it’s our decision," I replied. I was dressed in my best business clothes, which were admittedly not very good. When you're a dance instructor, suits are not a priority. Besides, I had a lot to do in the short time I had between going home and driving up to the Bertoli mansion. "And I truly believe in my heart of hearts that Dante is right.”

Don Bertoli turned his attention to Tomasso. "What is the fallout from the airport?"

"Our sources are telling us that the cops have no leads on us," Tomasso said. I was surprised and slightly flattered that the they were including me so much in open discussion of what had happened. "I was careful, every round was from a pre-loaded canister, we wore gloves and masks the entire time. The only evidence that might be traceable is Dante's blood at the scene, if the cops discover it, but from what I know, Dante has never been DNA sampled. In any case, Nick told me that he rubbed his foot into the blood, grinding it into the dirt before taking off after us. As for the Malone family, Luisa and I will deal with them directly this evening. It wasn't a Malone in that plane, but most likely one of their men, and that needs to be dealt with."

The Don nodded, then turned his attention back to me. "Miss Esperanza, of course I have concerns about this. Some are things we can control, some we can’t. This blood sample is worrisome, but Dante continuing with his dance training with you is neither here nor there. What I’m more concerned with is his ability to return to work. Men with no trigger fingers find their work options limited within my organization. Before I make a decision, are you sure that is worth your time and effort?"

I nodded strongly. "More than ever. You say Dante might be limited. Let's make it the worst-case scenario, that he can never return to anything within your organization ever again. Let's say that eight weeks from now, the two of us get back from New York, and some detective is waiting for us at SeaTac with a set of handcuffs for him because somehow, in some weird situation that nobody remembers, his DNA is actually on file somewhere. If that's true, if that's the case, then let him, let this man who has spent six years giving his heart and soul to your family, let him fulfill this last mission."

"And if I can add, it still is best for your investment," Tomasso said. "You are still Carmen's business partner, Father."

Carlo leaned back and laid his hands over his stomach, pondering. "All right then. When Dante leaves the clinic tomorrow, he will be reassigned in his duties. Until the end of the trip to New York, his primary duty will be to train for this competition. In fact, I'm going to place a call right now."

He sat forward and picked up a phone, dialing a number from memory. "Hello, Frankie? Yeah, it's Carlo. Yeah, how you doin'?"

I looked at Tomasso, raising an eyebrow. How you doin'? I mouthed. Tomasso tried, but couldn't totally hide his smile in reply, and I turned my attention back to the Don, who was talking with his friend. "Yeah, that's right, the dance competition in six weeks, the AADP Nationals. You got odds on it yet? No? Well, that doesn’t really matter to me. Listen, I got a business associate of mine who's competing. No, I don't want you to put a fix in with the judges. What I want to do is back myself. Put me down for ten large on the team of Esperanza and Degrassi."

The Don hung up the phone and gave me a small smile. "I always back my own horse. So when you win, we all win."

"I don’t know what to say,” I manage, truly moved as well as slightly scared. If Dante and I failed, I would have let him down, and that was not a position I wanted to be in. He'd been kind and generous our entire relationship so far, but losing the man ten thousand dollars on top of everything he had invested in opening my studio might make things change. "I promise that we will do our best."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have other business to attend to. Tomasso, if you'd show Carmen out, please. Angelo, stay here. We need to discuss your nightclub."

I got up and followed Tomasso out into the hallway, Tomasso closing the door behind him. "Uh, wow. I didn't expect that last bit."

"Nor I, but I'm not surprised," Tomasso said. "Dad's always been a bit . . . sentimental about you. And you can wash away that worry I see in your eyes. He's not going to hold that marker over your head. If it comes to anything, I'll take that marker on myself. I owe Dante that. He did save my life."

We walked toward the foyer, Tomasso still somber. Reaching the steps outside the front door, he stopped. "Carmen, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm going to back you guys too, just to let you know. I'll talk with Dante about the details with that after I discuss them with Luisa."

I smiled and gave him a quick hug. "You're going to be a good Don someday, Tomasso. You've got brains and heart. Wait just a second."

I went down to my car, retrieving the item that Dante had insisted I get from his apartment. It was strange, going to his apartment for the very first time after knowing him for months and him not being there. I had felt a bit like a voyeur, even though I was doing what Dante wanted me to. Looking at his sofa which doubled as his bed, I had chuckled to myself. It was a reminder that the two of us hadn't led lives that were all that different.

"Here," I said, handing Tomasso a black and white covered schoolboy's composition book, the sort that I had used back in elementary school. "Dante asked that I give this to you."

"What is it?" Tomasso asked, looking down at the speckled black and white cover with an American flag in the lower right corner.

"Bobby Degrassi's notebook," I answered. "Dante felt you should have it."

Tomasso opened the cover and looked at the tight, neat handwriting inside, nodding slowly. "I swear, I will back you two, Carmen."

"I know you will. Have a good night, we'll talk later."

I headed down the steps, stopping at the bottom before turning back. "Hey, Tomasso?"

"Yeah?"

"How you doin'?"

Tomasso laughed loudly, shaking his head. "How you doin'!"