If The Seas Catch Fire (23 page)

Dom nodded. “Yeah, I know. And maybe I’ll regret it later, but I’m not ready to walk away from it yet.”

Sergei held his gaze. “Can I ask something kind of personal?”

“If you put that mask back on, yes.”

Sergei laughed. He pushed the mask over his mouth and nose again, and as he took Dom’s hand, said, “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m curious…” Sergei paused. “We both know what you are. I’ve known since the night you got beat up outside my club.”

Dom shuddered at the memory.

“Why?” Sergei asked.

“Why what? Why did they kick my—”

“Why do you do it?” Sergei’s brow furrowed. “Is it… I mean, I get that you’re in it because of your family, but how do you do it? How do you live with…?”

Dom let out a long breath and stared at their loosely entwined fingers. “It’s the only life I’ve ever known.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Dom wanted to say it was the only answer he could give, but that was bullshit, and he swore Sergei’s piercing blue eyes saw right through him anyway. Why lie? Hell, there was probably no one on the planet he could be honest with about this, and with time running out, there was no point in wasting the opportunity.

“Like I’ve told you before,” he said finally, “if I could walk away from this life, I would. And it just kills me that…” Dom swallowed, his throat aching. “Sometimes boys come to us, and they try to get recruited. The Sicilians want to get made so bad they can taste it.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “These guys, they have a
choice
. They can do anything. And they want… this life.”

“So if you’re born into it, you have to…?”

“It’s…” Dom sighed. “It’s not that cut and dried. Most of us who are born into it stay in it, but for me…” He paused. “Like I said the other night, my father fucked up. He broke omerta and got several people killed. A few more went to prison because of him. The family almost lost everything. My uncle almost lost his power over it because they thought he was unfit to run the organization. Being related to my father and all of that. They thought the genes were defective, and that anyone who was actually a Maisano was a narc waiting to happen.”

“But your uncle is still the boss.”

“A lot of blood spilled to make sure that still happened,” Dom whispered. “Including my father’s. My uncle took me under his wing, especially after my mother died, and he told me in no uncertain terms that either I toed the line, or I’d wind up in the same hole my father was in.”

Sergei blinked. “Just for bowing out and doing something else with your life?”

Dom nodded. “There’s more to it than that, but the punchline is that everything I did was a reflection of my father, and it reflected on Corrado too. Becoming a made man, it was… it was survival.”

“Have you ever thought about trying to find a way out?”

“Every day of my life. But there isn’t much point.”

“If you weren’t part of it, what
would
you be doing?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“You don’t?”

Dom shook his head. “Can’t let myself think about it, or I’ll drive myself insane. I could spend all day fantasizing about things I could do if I weren’t a Maisano, but it won’t change anything.” With a shrug, he added, “So I don’t.”

“When were you made?”

Dom shifted uncomfortably. “When I was twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two?” Sergei’s jaw dropped despite the form-fitting mask. “Isn’t that, uh—”

“Young?”

“Yeah. That.”

“It is.”
But he had to get me in while I was still too young and terrified to say no
. He shivered. “My uncle pushed me through because he knew I’d be untouchable after that. No one would fuck with me without serious consequences.” Dom pushed out a breath. “What about you?”

Sergei cocked his head. “What about me?”

“What will you do after this?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he drew back. “After… after what?”

“I mean, you’re not planning to work in that club forever, are you? There’s got to be something else out there for you.”

He studied Dom, a hint of suspicion in his eyes that Dom wasn’t sure how to interpret. But then he relaxed—a little—and offered a taut shrug. “I’ll think about that when I have enough money saved to go someplace else. Wherever I go or whatever I do, it won’t be in this shit town.”

“Good,” Dom said with a nod. “I don’t want you getting tangled up in all this shit. The farther you are out of the way—”

Sergei laughed dryly, though his amusement didn’t last. When he spoke, his accent sharpened the edges of his words, but his voice was soft enough to counter it. “I’ll be all right.” He squeezed Dom’s hand. “But I do appreciate that you give a shit.”

“Of course I do.” Dom smoothed Sergei’s hair. “You’re about the only thing I do give a shit about these days. Just you and staying alive.”

Sergei swallowed. His eyes were unreadable. Then he pulled his mask down, and before Dom could tell him to put it back on, Sergei drew him down into a soft kiss. Goose bumps prickled Dom’s neck, and it wasn’t because of the cool air blowing out of the mask. This was the first time they’d kissed when they knew damn well it was as far as things would go, and though he wanted Sergei, this kiss was enough. More than enough. Some tender reassurance that yes, Sergei was okay, and yes, Dom really did care.

When Dom broke the kiss and lifted his head, their eyes met. Sergei’s hand slid off his neck, but Dom didn’t pull away. Heart thumping and lips tingling, he held Sergei’s gaze.

Clearing his throat, Dom gently pushed the mask onto Sergei’s mouth and nose again. “You should keep that on,” he whispered.

Sergei found his hand again. “I know.”

“Are you starting to feel better?”

Behind the mask, Sergei smiled, and squeezed Dom’s hand. “Yeah. Feeling a lot better now.”

Dom kissed his forehead. “Good.”

*              *              *

Another summons from Corrado. Fuck.

After worrying over Sergei all night, and then trying to work while simultaneously daydreaming about Sergei and wondering if Sergei was really okay, Dom’s morning had come to a screeching halt with a phone call from Biaggio.

A meeting with his uncle. Right now. Of course.

So he’d dropped everything, as always, and driven over to his uncle’s place. Biaggio was otherwise indisposed, but Dom knew the way to the office, so he showed himself upstairs.

Before he made it to the office, though, Felice met him in the hall.

“There you are!” His cousin threw up his hands. “Where the
fuck
have you been?”

Dom halted, schooling his expression, though it took work. “Why?”

“Because I’ve got people breathing down my neck asking what the fuck happened yesterday.” Felice narrowed his eyes. “Then you step off the boat and just disappear? Dad’s hammering me for answers left and right, and I’ve got the Coast Guard getting curious after they found that fuck floating out by—”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you killed him, you fucking idiot,” Dom said in a harsh whisper. “Or before you threw him in the water for the Coasties to find.”

“Before
I
killed him?” Felice laughed, stepping closer, and stared right into Dom’s eyes. “I seem to recall you were the one who killed him.”

“Yeah, to put him out of his misery after you decided to put a bullet in his gut.”

“And did you really want to sail back into the harbor with a body on the deck?”

Dom gritted his teeth. “
I’m
not the one who decided to shoot the—”

“It’s done,” Felice snapped. “But that doesn’t explain why you dropped off the face of the earth after—”

“Because I wanted to lay low,” Dom threw back. “Keeping a low profile seemed like a good fucking idea.”

“Yeah? Somebody’d almost think you were hiding. Got a guilty conscience or something?”

Dom held his gaze, and slowly narrowed his eyes. “Are you making an accusation?”

“Depends. Am I hitting a nerve?”

“You think I did Privitera in?” Dom folded his arms. “Because if memory serves, I was with you from the last time you saw him alive until someone else found his body. So pray tell, when exactly did I kill him?”

Felice’s jaw tightened. “Okay, it wasn’t you. But disappearing doesn’t look good.”

“I was around. All you had to do was call me.”

“You should have been
here
. With everyone
else
.”

“Yeah? That why your father told me he’d call me when he needed me?” Dom arched an eyebrow. “Or am I answering to you now?”

Felice scowled. “Listen, I’m just rattled. Yesterday… that was too close. Someone was
on that boat
.”

“So you don’t think it was one of the Koreans.”

Felice shook his head. “I questioned the hell out of the two who survived, told them they’d be joining their buddy if they didn’t talk. They didn’t know anything.”

“Which means we have to consider that it might’ve been an inside job.”

“I know.” His cousin exhaled. “But those guys, they’ve been my crew for years. I trust them.”

“Somebody cut Privitera’s throat. It wasn’t you or me, so…” Proceeding cautiously, Dom added, “We can’t rule them out. Not yet.”

“Think about it, though. They were all on the deck with us or supervising the Koreans. And the Koreans confirmed the others were there with them the whole time.”

“So what do you think happened?” Dom lowered his arms. “I mean, Privitera didn’t cut his own throat.”

“Someone else had to be on the boat.”

“We scoured it from top to bottom.” Dom shook his head. “I don’t get it. And the security cameras show nothing?”

“That’s the weirder thing—all the surveillance equipment was compromised. There’s nothing. It’s so fucking scrambled, we can’t even tell
when
it was compromised.”

Dom shuddered. Whoever was behind this was good. They were thorough. They thought of everything. Always one step ahead. “We need to bring in more security, then. Extra bodyguards. Personnel on watercraft, at houses and offices.”

Felice nodded. “That’s going to get expensive.”

Dom gritted his teeth. He could practically hear Felice calculating how many immigrants Dom would have to squeeze to make up the spike in security costs.

“Anyway.” Felice shook himself and clapped Dom’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t keep you. My dad wants to see you, and he won’t want to be kept waiting.” He flashed an odd smile. “Once we get some more security, you should come out on the boat again soon. Hopefully it’ll be a little more boring this time.”

Dom’s stomach lurched. If he never went back out on that floating crime scene again, it would be too soon, but… image. “Sure.” He returned the smile. “Let me know when you’re going out again. I’ll bring champagne.”

“Perfect. See you later, Dom.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Dom watched his cousin walk away, then continued toward Corrado’s office.

Well. This day was getting better by the minute.

The conversation with Dom wouldn’t leave his mind.

They’d left the hotel room before dawn, after Dom’s doctor friend had come back one last time and decided Sergei had recovered enough to be on his own. Now Sergei was drinking coffee in the silence of his apartment, his head still throbbing and his bones still aching. At least he had his balance back. He could finally walk without face-planting. He’d even driven home without incident.

And now, he couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

It was the first time they’d met up without having sex. Of course Sergei had been in no condition to do anything, but Dom had seemed more concerned than put off. Where other casual lovers would’ve maybe called a doctor before disappearing to find someone a bit less pathetic, Dom had stayed there, hovering beside him and watching his every move.

As Sergei had recovered, they’d talked. No sex. No touching. Just… talking.

And that felt weird. It felt wrong. Fooling around with Dom was one thing. Talking to him, listening to him explain how trapped he was in his own life, was a mistake, particularly when Dom was staying attentively by his bedside, making sure Sergei didn’t get worse. Somehow, that seemed even more dangerous than when they’d lie in bed naked, talking until one of them finally decided it was time to get dressed and leave. Those conversations had become increasingly intimate. But this… somehow this felt riskier.

After all, hadn’t this intimacy nearly earned him a bullet between the eyes? He’d been on Felice Maisano’s boat to kill Dom. They hadn’t told him exactly who he was meant to kill—probably for some plausible deniability for whoever called in the hit—and when he’d realized his target, he’d made a dangerously different call.

And why? Because Dom could fuck him without making him feel like a sex toy who barely qualified as human?

No. Because they were too close. The sex had given them a reason to be together, and they’d talked, and in the end, they’d softened Sergei out of completing yesterday’s hit.

He scrubbed his hands over his unshaven face. This was getting out of control.

Well, they’d only be sleeping together for so long, especially if Dom would be getting married soon. There was a finite end to this. And once Sergei had moved a few more pieces on the Mafia chessboard, Dom would be too preoccupied with a local war to bother hitting up Sergei for sex.

Which was weirdly disappointing. Sergei liked the sex he had with Dom. Much as he was loathe to admit it, he liked Dom. Which he shouldn’t. But he did. And what the fuck was—

His phone buzzed, shaking him out of his thoughts. When he picked it up, he had a text from Katashi.

Got what you asked for.

Sergei exhaled.
Finally
.

They made arrangements to meet, and Sergei headed out, getting on the 103 and following the winding highway toward the mile marker where Katashi said he’d be. The persistent soreness in his knees and shoulders made driving more of a chore than usual, particularly as he maneuvered around the bends and curves, but he pushed through. By now, he felt like he did after spending too much time onstage at the club—achy, annoyed, but not nearly as miserable as he’d been last night. And he just tried not to think about how much it was going to suck to get back on the stage this evening.

Sergei neared the designated mile marker, out where Sergei’s memories smelled like blood and the backseat of his parents’ old station wagon, and slowed down. As always, there was no one around except for Katashi, so he parked behind his supplier’s car and killed the engine. When he stepped out of his car in the shade of some evergreens, the whole world was silent.

Katashi got out and grinned, a metal box in his hand. He put the box on the trunk lid, entered the combination, and popped the latches. “Took some doing, but he got it for you.” He opened the box and pulled a pair of small bottles free. “It’s going to be tough to get more of this, though.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Sergei took one of the bottles and turned it in his hand, watching the fine powder tumble against the inside.

“He said to use these for mixing.” Katashi put a tiny measuring spoon on the trunk lid, and beside it, an empty bottle with a spray attachment. “That’s what you’ll use to deploy it.”

“Did he give me a conversion chart?”

Katashi produce a sealed envelope. “Precise instructions based on the mark’s body weight.”

“Excellent.”

“Be careful with this shit.” Katashi eyed the assembly warily. “Spray it outside, and the wind’s liable to blow it into your face.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“I’m serious, kid. One whiff of that and—”

“You don’t think I know that?” Sergei turned to him. “I wanted it for a reason. I know what I’m dealing with here.”

Katashi put up his hands. “Easy, man. Just saying. Be careful.”

“Duly noted,” Sergei said through his teeth. He held up the vial, and eyed Katashi. “You’re sure this shit works?”

His supplier nodded vigorously. “This guy’s good, man. If he says it works, it works.”

“And you remember our deal if it doesn’t work?”

Katashi gulped. “Yeah, man. I remember.”

“I fucking hope so.” He pocketed the bottle and the other paraphernalia and pulled a wad of hundreds out of his wallet. “It’s all there.”

Katashi thumbed through it. “Yep. We’re good. You need anything else?”

“Not at the moment. But we might be in touch soon.”

“You know where to find me.”

*              *              *

“Good morning, Sergei.” Brittany looked up from pushing a small cart down the hall, and she smiled brightly at him. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How is she doing?”

The smile didn’t quite hold up, though she sure tried to keep it alive. Glancing down the hall, Brittany said, “She’s a little less… here today.”

Sergei winced. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Brittany faced him again. “How are
you
doing?”

“I’m all right.” He shrugged. “I should, um…” Clearing his throat, he gestured at Mama’s room. “Do you have her pills?”

“Oh! Yes. Sorry.” She scanned the tray of meds on the cart, and picked up one of the little paper cups. “Here you go, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” He took the cup, and they exchanged smiles before continuing down the hall in opposite directions.

Outside the door, as he always did, he took a few seconds to steel himself. Then he put on a smile and went inside.

Mama was by the window as she often was. As he shut the door, she looked up, and she stared blankly at him. “Hello,” she said in English.

Well. Good thing Brittany had warned him. The days when there wasn’t the slightest flicker of recognition, not even to mistake him for his brother, were the worst.

Also in English, he quietly said, “Hi.” He gestured at the chair beside hers. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Mama looked at the chair. For a moment, she didn’t even seem to understand what it was for, or where it had come from. Then she looked up at him. “All right.”

He put the pills on the table between them and sat down in the familiar chair while she watched him like she’d never seen him before.

She glanced at the pills. “Are you a nurse?”

“No, I’m…” He swallowed. “No. I’m not.”

“Oh. I see.” Confusion pulled at her features. Though she didn’t say it, the “
Why are you here?
” was unmistakable.

“You seemed lonely.”
And I miss you.
“Like you could use some company.”

“Oh. Well yes.” She smiled a little. “It does get lonely here sometimes.”

I’m so sorry, Mama…

Silence descended. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know who she was now, and she didn’t know who he was. They were strangers. He could make small talk with strangers, but it was different when that stranger was Mama.

Some days he wished she’d come back, just for a moment, so she could know that the men who’d destroyed their lives weren’t getting away with it. The game had taken years, but it was coming to an end. Piece by piece, domino by domino, everything was happening the way he’d hoped, and soon, it would be over. And though he didn’t want her to remember what had happened, he wished that on some level she understood that the evil in this town was inching closer to karmic justice.

I’m so close. The whole fucking thing’s ready to come down.

“You shouldn’t talk that way,” she said, calmly making him jump out of his skin. “You seem like such a nice boy.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken the thought out loud. Quietly, he laughed because at least then he didn’t cry. She really didn’t know who he was today. Didn’t have a clue. Watching some stranger break down in tears would confuse her and terrify her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I won’t talk like that.”

“Good. Good boys don’t.”

He didn’t know what to say.

Before he could think of something, she spoke again: “You remind me of my son.”

Sergei’s head snapped up. “I do?”

She nodded, gaze fixed on something outside. “My Sergei.”

Sergei swallowed. “Really?”

“He always swears.” Clicking her tongue, she shook her head. “With his language, the boy will be a dock worker someday.”

He stared at her in disbelief for a moment but then managed to laugh. His foul mouth may not have been his best feature, but it had started young. Young enough that apparently Mama still remembered.

She laughed softly, and gazed out the window with a smile. “He’s a good boy, though, my Seryozha. A good boy.”

Sergei pretended to cough just to give himself an excuse to turn away and swipe at the sudden sting in his eyes. When he faced her again, he whispered, “Tell me about him.”

She looked at him. “Who?”

No, no, Mama—don’t slip away yet.

He moistened his dry lips. “Sergei. Tell me about him.”

“Oh, Seryozha.” She sighed wistfully. “A boy who wants to be a man too soon.” She shifted her attention to the scenery outside. “He’s younger than his brothers. They were schoolboys already when he came along.”

The memory of his protective older brothers made his chest hurt. They’d kept a close eye on him and never let a neighborhood bully lay a hand on him, but they’d also taught him to be fearless and wild.

“
Climb higher, Seryozha!
” Vasily had taunted from the ground.

Mikhail had egged him on too. “
Mama won’t know if you broke your arm from ten feet up or twenty!
”

Sergei had climbed higher. Much higher. And he hadn’t broken his arm, but Mama had caught them, and she’d punished them for encouraging him and him for listening to them. The moment their backsides healed from that whipping, they were back out there, climbing higher than ever. They’d been punished for that too, but it was worth it.

Mama laughed softly at something only she understood. “Ever since he could walk, my Sergei’s wanted to be just like his brothers. And his brothers, they just love him. They protect him like his father does.”

Sergei’s throat constricted, nearly cutting off his breath. Memories flooded his mind, but some of the bad ones were creeping in too.

“
Stay here.
” Vasily’s voice had trembled as he’d pushed Sergei down between the front and back seats of the station wagon. “
Don’t make a sound.
”

“
Promise, Seryozha.
” Mikhail had covered him with a blanket, nearly suffocating him and muffling his last plea: “
Not a sound.
”

“I wish they’d come see me,” she said, oblivious to the salt she was pouring in his wounds. “I miss my boys.”

Sergei squirmed, pushing back both tears and nausea, and he forced his voice to be calm and even. “I’m sure they miss you too, Mama.”

She turned to him, brow furrowed. “Why would you call me that?”

Sergei’s heart skipped. “Sorry. Sorry, I…” He cleared his throat. “You remind me of my mother.”

“Oh.” Her features relaxed and the smile came back. “She’s a lucky woman, if you’re anything like my boy.”

“I’ll pass it along,” he whispered, almost choking on the words.

“Good. You seem like a good boy.” Gazing out the window again, she softly added, “Just like my Sergei.”

His chest ached and he turned enough to hopefully hide his grimace. With a few slow, deep breaths, he composed himself, though the lump in his throat probably wasn’t going anywhere.

“You should take your pills,” he whispered.

“Oh.” She looked at him, then the cup, then him again. “Okay.”

He helped her take them, and after she’d finished, she gazed out the window.

“I should go,” he said.

She turned to him again, and her expression was blank. “Who are you?”