If The Seas Catch Fire (36 page)

“Good afternoon,” Dom said. “I’m taking the boat back out. Felice and I have a…
meeting
.” He spoke in that snarled, pissed-off-boss tone, and from the rapid footsteps on the decks, the men weren’t sticking around to watch the sparks fly.

At least one hung back, though. “You need security detail or someone to drive—

“This is a private meeting,” Dom snapped. “A family matter. I can drive the boat.”

“You got it, boss.” One more set of departing footsteps.

Felice closed his eyes and exhaled.

Doors opened and shut. People moved around. Someone told Dom the boat was gassed up, and someone else mentioned that an appliance in the galley wasn’t working. Business as usual, to anyone who might be listening.

Another door opened, letting out a conversation in progress:

“…make sure he calls you. It’s just business, hon. I’m sorry.”

Felice’s mistress huffed. “He didn’t tell me he had a business meeting.”

“It was last minute. These things come up.”

The woman snarled something, and then high heels
thunked
along the ramp and onto the dock.

Sergei chuckled. “I might be doing you a favor.”

“Kiss my ass,” Felice hissed.

Eventually, everything on the boat was quiet. Voices and footsteps faded into the distance, and Felice and Sergei seemed to be completely alone.

Then the door opened, and Dom stepped in.

“Really, Domenico?” Felice snorted derisively. “You’re working with the Russians now,
cousin
?”

“I’m not from Russia, motherfucker,” Sergei said through his teeth. “I’m from Georgia.”

Felice lost what little color he had left. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.” Dom gestured at the door. “Now let’s get up to the helm. We’re going for a ride.”

“A ride? What are—”

Sergei jerked Felice to his feet, dragging a howl of pain from him.

“It’ll make sense as we go,” Sergei said. “Now walk.”

Felice glared at him, still wincing and gripping his wounded arm, but with Sergei’s pistol at his back, he walked.

Above decks, Dom fired up the engines.

“You driven this thing before?” Sergei asked.

“No, but it can’t be that hard.” Dom chuckled. “Out in open water, anyway. A few scratches won’t hurt it, right?”

Felice groaned. “You motherfucker.”

Dom sobered, narrowing his eyes at his cousin. “How about you sit down and shut up for a little while?”

“Fuck you.”

Sergei kicked his knee out from under him, and Felice’s kneecaps hit the deck with a loud
crack
. Then he cuffed Felice’s hands and shoved him back against the bulkhead, where he bound him to a pipe. Felice’s face contorted with pain—the wound would definitely keep him from fighting while he was tied.

Meanwhile, Dom eased the boat out of its slip, and drove it out of the marina. There were quite a few boats out today, but Sergei wasn’t concerned about them seeing anything amiss. Felice was out of sight. This yacht turned a lot of heads in Cape Swan—it stood out like a cruise ship among kayaks—but no one had any reason to be suspicious.

“So how do we know which crab pots are yours and which are the Cusimanos’?” Sergei asked.

Felice swore in Italian.

“The buoys are colored,” Dom said. “Orange are Maisano. Blue are Cusimano. Not that it matters—we’re clearing out everybody’s supply today.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Felice demanded. “Are you insane?”

Sergei huffed sharply. “Shut up, or I’ll put a gag in your mouth.”

Felice eyed the gun in Sergei’s hand and must’ve decided not to push his luck, because he fell quiet and stayed that way.

Dom drove the boat from crab pot to crab pot. At each one, he stopped, and Sergei pulled up the pots and retrieved the sealed kilos, which Dom stacked in the living area.

“How many more are there?” Sergei rubbed his lower back gingerly.

“Ten, maybe fifteen?” Dom shrugged as he steered toward the next one. “We have to keep them spread out.”

“There’s got to be a more efficient way to do this.”

“You have any ideas?”

Sergei exhaled. “No.”

Felice struggled against his handcuffs, hissing as he apparently pulled on his stitches. “You sons of bitches. What the fuck are you doing?”

Dom nodded toward him. “Would you shut him—Oh shit.”

Sergei’s head snapped up. “What?”

“The Coast Guard.”

Sergei craned his neck, and his heart dropped. Sure enough, the Coast Guard boat was pulling up, and it was slowing down. They weren’t just going to stroll on by, were they?

“What do you think they want?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Dom muttered. “They don’t usually harass us unless they’re getting suspicious.”

“Of course they’re getting suspicious,” Felice said. “My men have probably already—”

“Your men think we’re having a private business meeting,” Dom snapped. He glanced at the boat and scowled. “We’re not required to let them board and search us, but I’d just as soon not raise suspicions.”

Sergei thought quickly, and then turned to Dom. “Go out and stall them.” Sergei paused. “Take off your shirt and muss your hair a little first.”

“Take—”

“Trust me.”

Dom hesitated.

“
Trust me
, Dom.”

Dom exhaled, but he pulled off his shirt and hurried outside.

The Coast Guard boat pulled up close, its engines getting louder as it did. Not much time.

Sergei turned to Felice. “I’m leaving you here, and you’re going to keep your fucking mouth shut, or I will—”

“Fuck you.” Felice spat blood at his feet. “You’re not going to—”

Sergei pistol-whipped the fucker, the impact of the gun against Felice’s cheekbone reverberating up his arm.

Felice blinked a few times. Blood trickled from his face, and he stared at Sergei, stunned.

“I’m not fucking around,” Sergei growled. “Make a goddamned sound, and I’ll make sure you live a very long, very hellish life. Wouldn’t take much to plant some evidence and get you convicted of something child-related. And all it would take is a rumor around the prison yard that you’re a child molester, and you’ll learn the meaning of hard time. Am I clear?”

The Italian swallowed. Slowly, he nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

He double-checked that Felice’s bindings were secure, shoved a gag in his mouth, and then headed down to join Dom, peeling off his shirt as he went.

Dom trusted Sergei, but this seemed insane. Shirt off? Hair mussed? What the hell did he have up his sleeve?

But he hadn’t led him astray so far, so Dom stepped out onto the deck and leaned on the railing. The smaller vessel was manned by two young coasties in uniforms and sunglasses, and one was out on the deck.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Dom asked.

“Good morning,” the coastie said. “Sorry to bother you, but we’ve gotten some reports of—”

“
There
you are!” Sergei singsonged.

Dom spun around, and his heart stopped. Sergei wasn’t just strutting down the steps from the upper deck, he was completely naked with a wine bottle in his hand and a very prominent erection.

Oh God. What in—

Sergei turned to the guys on the boat. “Oh, hey boys!” He waved at them. “We’re on our honeymoon!”

The blushing coastie chuckled, shifting uncomfortably. “Oh. Uh. Congratulations. Um—”

“Oh my God.” Sergei flashed Dom a grin, then looked back at the coasties. “You boys should join us!” He held up the bottle. “We’ve got tons of champagne and
gallons
of lube, so—”

“Seriously?” Dom gaped at him. “What—”

“Relax, baby.” Sergei wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled his neck. “Just play along.” Then he grabbed Dom’s crotch and called out to the man below, “Come on, boys! What do you say?”

The other coastie stepped out of the cabin. “What’s going on out—oh, lord.” His eyes about bugged out of his head, and his face turned even redder than the first guy.

“Um.” The first cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about—”

“Hey, honey!” Sergei gestured at the red-faced one. “Do you top? Please tell me you top.”

Apparently the poor kid’s face could get darker. He blinked a few times, and then disappeared inside.

The first guy watched him go, then looked up at the yacht. Shaking his head, he stepped back from the rail and started toward the cabin. “You gentlemen, um, enjoy your… enjoy your day.” As he went back into the cabin with the other guy, he said, “Let’s move on. They’re good.”

The boat pulled away, and as the engines throttled up and they left, Dom stared at the boat and its growing wake.

“Worked like a charm,” Sergei said.

“Uh-huh.” Dom turned to him. “And what would you have done if they’d taken you up on the offer?”

“What do you think?” Sergei shrugged indifferently. “Turned up the music and had a foursome.”

“With
how
many kilos of coke onboard? Along with my bound and gagged cousin?”

Sergei’s lips quirked. “Well, now you’re just making it sound kinky.”

Dom stared at him. Sergei batted his eyes.

Finally, a laugh burst out of Dom, and he wrapped his arms around Sergei’s beautiful naked body. “That was a pretty genius plan.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No.” Dom drew him closer. “Not really.”

A kiss seemed out of place now, standing on Felice’s boat and ready to destroy the family that had broken them both. It was insane to be turned on or even affectionate, but what about this
wasn’t
insane? A moment of tenderness, playfulness, a promise of more if—when—they made it out of this alive didn’t seem like too much to ask.

So for that moment, Dom just lost himself in Sergei, and enjoyed it.

*              *              *

The sun was sinking into the sky when they tossed the last empty crab pot into the water.

“That’s all of them?” Sergei asked.

“Pretty sure it is. Even if it isn’t, I’d say it’s enough.”

“Good point. Back to shore?”

“Back to shore.”

It was completely dark when they made it back. Guided by the boat’s lights, Dom parked the yacht in its wide slip, and with Sergei’s help, tied it enough to keep it from leaving. If it banged against the dock, he really didn’t give a shit—Felice could take that up with his insurance company tomorrow if he was still breathing.

They made sure Felice was still securely bound and then left the boat. Raffaele Cusimano’s yacht was a few  slips down. Like St. Leo’s, this was one of the few places where the families could cross paths peacefully. It was an unspoken rule—don’t fuck with my shit, I won’t fuck with yours—and everyone abided by it.

Usually.

Sergei made short work of the lock, and the door opened. He quickly disengaged the security system. They did a quick sweep to make sure the boat was empty, and Dom said, “We’re clear. Let’s move the cargo.”

It took a while, but they moved all the cocaine over to the other boat and neatly stacked it on the coffee table.

“All right.” Sergei dusted off his hands, probably shaking off the salt from the packages. “Shall we bring over the guest of honor?”

Dom put a hand on Sergei’s waist and kissed him lightly. “Why don’t you stay with the presents, and I’ll go get him?”

“What?” Sergei batted his eyes. “Don’t you trust me not to kill him?”

“I know you, Sergei.” He kissed him again. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

One last kiss, and Dom left the boat. He scanned the marina, double-checking that none of the men patrolling the docks were nearby. Certain he was in the clear, he boarded Felice’s yacht.

He unfastened Felice’s cuffs from the pipe and hauled him to his feet. “Time to go for a walk.”

Felice glared at him and muttered something around the gag.

“You’ve done enough talking.” Dom nudged him toward the steps. “Let’s go.”

Felice said something that sounded an awful lot like “
Or what?
”

Dom coolly drew his pistol and aimed it at his cousin’s groin. That got the message across—Felice started toward the steps. Damn. He really could learn a thing or two from Sergei, apparently.

They disembarked, and Dom directed his cousin down the dock. When they stopped in front of Cusimano’s yacht, he gestured for Felice to board.

Felice balked, eyes wide, and shook his head.

“I wasn’t asking, asshole.” Dom shoved him toward the boat, sending him stumbling over his feet and almost into the water. “Get on the fucking boat.”

Felice planted his feet and turned around, eyes narrow.

Dom aimed the pistol below his cousin’s belt. “You really want to dance?”

Felice glanced down. Then he said something around the gag—no doubt something profane, though it was hard to tell which language it was—and continued up the ramp.

Inside, Sergei stood in front of the pile of cocaine, idly flipping a long knife between his fingers. He flashed a demonic grin. “Welcome aboard, Felice.”

“We’re going to do some talking in here,” Dom said to Felice. “I’m taking off your gag, and you’re going to answer my questions. You call for help, or try anything stupid, and I’ll let the Georgian take care of things.”

Felice’s eyes darted right to that knife, and Dom thought he actually heard his cousin’s balls jump into his body.

“And go ahead and call for help,” Sergei said quietly. “Cusimano likes his boats with top of the line acoustics, just like you do. No one will hear a thing.”

Felice paled.

“I’m taking it off.” Dom untied the dirty rag and took off the handcuffs. “Now, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner we get off this boat. Because I don’t think Cusimano’s going to like seeing you in here with all his merchandise.”

“You’re on the boat too,” Felice said in a low growl, gingerly rubbing his bleeding arm.

“Yeah, and I have two functioning legs.”

Felice’s eyebrows rose. His Adam’s apple jumped, and Dom was satisfied the threat had hit its mark.

Felice shifted. “What the fuck are you two doing? Are you insane?”

“No.” Dom looked him in the eye. “But what was your father’s philosophy? That a family is only as strong as its weakest member?”

“My father was a pussy,” Felice snarled. “He didn’t deserve the kind of power he had.”

“And your brother?”

Felice snorted. “Luciano was just like him.”

Dom’s temper tried to surge to the surface, but he slowly released his breath to keep himself calm. “I have some questions.”

“Fine. Ask. And then let’s get the fuck—”

“The day Privitera died out on your boat,” Dom said. “You knew I was the target, didn’t you? Because
you
set up the hit?”

Felice’s features tightened.

“Oh hey, Dom?” Sergei cleared his throat, and the cousins both turned as he pulled a tightly wrapped kilo of coke off the pile. “I’m no expert, but this looks like some really nice cocaine.” He turned his knife emphatically between his fingers. “Would be awfully expensive if someone were to—”

“Jesus fuck!” Felice put up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t cut into that. We can all just walk away, and Cusimano doesn’t need to know we were—”

“What’s wrong, Felice?” Dom asked. “I thought you wanted a war with him.”

“I want to take them down,” Felice said through clenched teeth. “They’re thieves and they have no business in this town. But that”—he gestured at Sergei—“is only going to give them an excuse to kill Maisanos.”

“No.” Sergei let the knife’s edge just tease the plastic. “It’s going to give them an excuse to kill
you
.”

Felice straightened. His eyes flicked toward Dom, then Sergei. “Just tell me what the fuck you want so we can get out of here.”

“Tell me why you ordered him”—Dom nodded toward Sergei—“to kill me on the boat that day.”

Felice stared at him. Then, slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Anyone ever tell you it’s not wise to ask questions unless you want to know the answer?”

“Don’t test my patience, Felice,” Dom growled. “I know how this business works. Sometimes calls have to be made. Tell me why you made that call.”

Felice didn’t answer.

Dom exhaled. “Is it true you wanted me dead so your father would believe you had been the target? So he’d actually retaliate against the Cusimanos like you wanted him to?” He huffed sharply. “Way to look after family, Felice. Really, I’m—”

“Oh get off your high horse.” Felice’s lips pulled tight across his teeth. “You say you want diplomacy and to settle everything with words and negotiations, but you’re just a pussy like that son of a bitch who spawned you.”

Dom’s own teeth ached from clenching them. “I’m a pussy? Why? Because I haven’t murdered my way into power?”

“You don’t deserve—”

“One last question.” Dom stepped closer, making sure he loomed over Felice. “On the boat that day, why did you shoot the Korean?”

Felice laughed humorlessly. “You always did have a soft spot for the wetbacks, didn’t you?”

Dom grabbed his cousin by the wounded arm, and Felice choked on a scream.

Getting right in his face, Dom snarled, “Answer the fucking question, Felice.”

His cousin moaned pitifully, and Sergei thought for a moment the man might throw up, especially as blood seeped through his sleeve.

“You know what?” Dom said. “I don’t even want to know. And quite frankly, regardless of what my father did or didn’t do, I’d rather be like him than be anything like you, you piece of shit.” He shoved Felice back and let him tumble into the pile of cocaine. “Even your own father didn’t see people as disposable to quite the extent that you do. And you know what? You wanted a war.” Dom tossed a cell phone to Sergei. “Looks like you’re about to have one.”

“What are—” Felice clutched his arm, and his eyes flicked toward the phone. “What are you talking about?”

Dom nodded toward Sergei. He watched Felice, and Felice watched Sergei.

“Mr. Cusimano?” Sergei asked with no trace of his accent. “This is Jimmy from the marina. I think there’s a problem with your boat.”

Felice’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Sergei went on. “
The Merrietta
. Don’t know. Someone was messing with—” He jerked the phone away from his ear, and the shouting on the other end was loud and clear even to Dom. “I don’t know. I saw them moving some bags of—” The shouting got even louder.

Felice’s shoulders sank lower and lower.

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on ‘em,” Sergei said. “Should I call the cops or—okay, okay. I won’t. I promise. Right. You bet.” Then he hung up. “Sounds like Cusimano’s on his way.”

“Oh Jesus.” Felice looked up at Dom, and spoke quickly. “Look, just get me out of here. I’ll call off the hit. We—”

“You’ll call off the hit?” Dom laughed. “Well isn’t that nice. And then I suppose we’ll just go on like family? Fuck you, Felice.” He nodded at Sergei.

Sergei tossed the phone to Felice, who caught it in midair with his good hand.

“So you have a choice,” Dom said. “You can wait here for him, or you can call 911 and hope they make it here first.”

Felice laughed. “You want me to call the cops?”

“If you want to.” Dom shrugged. “I was thinking an ambulance would be more appropriate.”