CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dante

I SHOULD HAVE been thinking about business — about the art of warfare, keeping your enemies closer than blood.

Instead, I was thinking of El’s mouth.

Her lips mainly, and the way they curved into the most stunning smile I’d ever seen when she was happy. The way her tongue slid across her bottom lip, wetting it just enough to make her look like a damn feast for my eyes.

I would have kissed her.

I wouldn’t have stopped.

I was the guy you wanted on your side in a war.

I was the guy that killed the guy you hated.

I was the guy who bled for you.

I was not the guy who just kissed and walked away.

I honestly wasn’t sure I had it in me. And I knew if I kissed her again, if it happened, everything would snap.

My focus would be gone.

It was already complete shit and all I had were the memories of what she tasted like, right along with the feel of her ass pressed against me in that damn pantry.

She belonged to someone else.

Would belong to someone else.

And I would be the biggest prick alive if I took what wasn’t mine to take just because I wanted to taste her again.

The guy who kissed her next, needed to be a guy who didn’t have blood on his hands, a guy who didn’t enjoy this side of the mafia.

A guy who didn’t live this life.

I tortured myself another hour before my last class and tried not to take it out on her on the way home.

Which was harder — in every way — when one of the buttons on her shirt came loose exposing her lacy powder blue bra just at the precise moment that I turned to ask her a question.

I almost murdered three mailboxes on the way back to the house.

And was gripping the steering wheel so tight I’m surprised my fingers hadn’t developed a type of lockjaw against the leather.

“Are you… okay?” El asked before opening her door.

I stared down at the steering wheel, not trusting myself to look down her shirt. “Yup.”

“Dante…”

My dick twitched, treacherous bastard. “Yeah?”

“We’re friends… right? I mean, still friends?”

“Yes, El.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car, then grabbed my back pack from the backseat just as she dropped a pen from her bag and bent over right the hell in front of me.

“Leave it,” I barked.

She looked up, didn’t stand, just looked up, on her knees, in front of me, I was never getting that vision out of my head, great more things to fantasize about.

I needed people to kill.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, closed my eyes, and just walked around her, leaving her in the perfect position for me to drop my pants in front of her.

Maybe that was best. Just make her feel like a cheap whore, get her to hate me forever like she used to, and move on.

Except.

The thought of treating her that way.

Of her thinking I even thought that.

Made me sicker than when I had to shoot Ike last night.

So, I let the door slam behind me and made my way into the kitchen only to find Chase staring into a bottle of red wine.

“Kinda early, Chase.” I swiped the bottle and started chugging.

I stopped after a few gulps then slammed it down on the counter.

“Drinking at four in the afternoon, not normal Dante behavior…” Chase grinned. “I mean, I’m not one to judge, I treat water like wine as every good Italian should, but something got you… hard up?”

“I see why Nixon’s always threatening to shoot you now. I really get it.” I reached for the bottle again, but he scooted it away and crossed his bulky tatted arms. “So? Who’s the girl?”

“Girl?”

“Guy?” He looked confused. “Llama?”

“You’re a jackass.” I reached behind him, he blocked me with one of his ninja tricks just as El made her way into the room, took one look at us, and charged right on by.

“Huh.” Chase let me get the wine this time.

“It’s not what you think,” I grumbled.

“So, you’re not the reason for the missing button?” His amused expression wasn’t helping my mood at all. “The one near the top, is that bra, blue?”

I reached into my back pocket pulled out my knife and held it to his throat at the same time he pointed a gun at my chin. “Damn it.”

“Still faster.” With his free hand he grabbed the wine and poured it into a waiting glass, the gun still pressed to my chin, he drank and then sighed happily. “So, you like her?”

“No,” I lied.

“You’re holding me at knife point because I commented on the color of her bra.”

“Say it again, I dare you,” I snapped.

“Blue.” He laughed as a trickle of blood ran down his throat where I held the knife.

Nixon walked in, took one look at us, rolled his eyes and walked off.

You’d think this would concern him.

I think it just made him jealous he wasn’t a part of the pissing match.

Damn mafia.

Chase pulled the gun away, his eyebrows shot up. I relented and shoved my knife back into my pocket.

“So, we have guests tonight,” Chase said changing the subject like we hadn’t both been ready to attack each other. “Try not to pull any knives on them.”

“You’re the only one lucky enough to piss me off on a daily basis.” I stole his glass and gave him the middle finger.

Chase laughed loudly, then handed me the whole bottle. “Honestly, I think I’m going to really enjoy this.”

“What?” Dread filled my stomach.

“One of our cousins is here, I think he’d be great for El.”

I spit out the wine into the sink and wiped my mouth. “Bullshit. What? I thought it was going to take weeks? Didn’t you say days this morning? Days until one of them came into town?”

Chase shrugged. “He had business, decided to come early, we invited him into our lovely home—”

“Never say lovely again.”

“LOVELY!” Chase yelled loudly. “Besides, the sooner she gets under someone’s protection, the safer she is.” His expression sobered. “She doesn’t want in this life anymore. And we’re able to give her that choice,” He slapped me on the shoulder. “So try not to kill the lucky bastard, eh?”

I swore. “No promises.”

“Yeah well, I’ll tell Nixon to dig a hole just in case.”

“Make it deep,” I murmured.