Dante.
It’s the perfect name for him. But he’s wrong about its meaning, though. He is an inferno. He’s all heat. Fire. Danger.
And every time I look at him, I wonder how delicious it would be to get burned.
10
Dante
The next few days, I spend a lot of time thinking about hot blondes with ice-blue eyes — and trying to ignore the fact that whenever I do, all the blood in my body seems to be go right to my dick.
I’ll say this, though. Tori Lowe is doing a bang-up job of distracting me from wondering why the hell Dominic has been making himself so scarce ever since he got to Ironwood. Here I thought he’d be underfoot in my house all the damn time. But in fact, it’s been just the opposite. He’s been out until all hours of the night, and crashed out like the dead every morning — whenever he bothers to come back to my place to sleep. I haven’t actually talked to the fucker once since the day he arrived.
Maybe he’s just tryin’ to milk the time I’ll let him stay with me for all it’s worth. I sure as shit wouldn’t put it past him. Dom takes what he can get, almost like it’s his due. Always has. Typical youngest kid, maybe, I dunno. He was always the apple of my ma’s eye. He was the most spoiled by far. He grew up knowing that anyone in the family would do anything for him. It ain’t surprising he probably still thinks that’s the case.
When we were kids, Ma was always talking about how she wanted better for all of us boys than what she had. And better than what her parents had had before her. She did our best to make sure all of us were on the right path. Unfortunately, as a single mom of five unruly boys who had to break her ass to make ends meet, she had a hard time keeping track of us all. Our grades at school were mediocre or worse, but between the two jobs she worked to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, she didn’t have much time or energy left over to make sure we studied. Most of the time, she had to be content with us staying out of any obvious trouble.
And hell, to our credit, we didn’t do so bad at that, at least for a while. Antony, Marco, and Matteo got in fights, sure. But they were all big and matured quickly, so most kids their age were too scared to challenge them. When I hit puberty, I grew tall before I grew muscular, so I had to learn to fight with my wits before brawn. I learned quickly how to size up a situation — how to evaluate an opponent’s strength at the same time as his brain power. When I finally did start to fill out, I was a better fighter for it.
Dominic, the last of us, has always been the most reckless. He has what they call the gift of gab. That ain’t unusual in Italians. But unfortunately, his mouth and his swagger have gotten him in a hell of a lot of trouble over the years. He talks before he thinks, that one. Always has, and probably always will. He doesn’t back down before a fight, either. Even the fights he can’t possibly win. I’ve gotten that motherfucker out of more scrapes over the years than I can count.
Like my other brothers, he’s gone his own way. On the rare occasions he came back to visit our ma when she was still alive, he would always have a new story about some great job opportunity that had just fallen in his lap. She accepted these lies without questioning him, because she wanted to believe him. And hell, to one extent or another, we all lied to Ma when she was alive — to protect her from learning shit we knew she didn’t wanna know. But with Dom, it was always different. Ma worried about Dom more than the rest of us. Maybe we were just more convincing liars. Or maybe she saw the same thing I see in my youngest brother sometimes. A self-destructive streak. Something inside him that makes him forget to look before he leaps.
Maybe that’s why she was always harping on us to look after Dominic when we were kids. Because she figured he was always gonna need someone around when he fell, to pick him back up.
The truth is, I don’t really want to know what the fuck Dom’s involved in these days. Just like with my other brothers, I prefer the don’t ask, don’t tell approach. But the old weight of guilt in the pit of my stomach comes back at the thought that Ma would be pissed at me not watching out for Dante more. No matter that we’re all adults now, and that I can’t control his decision making.
The longer Dom stays with me, the more it weighs on me that if she was still alive, she’d be expecting me to be my youngest brother’s keeper. To make sure he’s not gettin’ himself in a mess he can’t get out of.
So when I pull into my street one afternoon and see his SUV is back in my driveway, I decide I’m about to fuckin’ find out what the hell brought him back to Ironwood, once and for all.
“Hey, big bro,” Dom greets me from his position on my couch. He looks like he’s taken root there, with fast food containers and chip bags strewn all around him.
“Make yourself at home,” I say sarcastically.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he grins. “What’s up with you? You look like you could use a drink, or to get laid. Aren’t those club girls takin’ care of you the way they should be?”
“Fuck you,” I shoot back. I go into the kitchen and come back with a cold bottle of beer from the refrigerator. “Glad you’re here, Dom. It’s about time you told me why the hell you’re in my house, eatin’ up my damn food.” I eye the food wrappers on the coffee table. “You been sittin’ there in your own stink all day, or you manage to do anything productive?”
Dom grins wider and points to a tablet that’s sitting on the couch next to him. “That’s the beauty of the twenty-first century, brother. I can do business right from here, in the comfort of your less than well-appointed home.”
I grunt and sit down in a chair. “That business got anything to do with why the fuck you’re here?”
“Matter of fact, it does.” He picks up the tablet and waves it at me.
“What the fuck are you on about?”
“I’m thinking about starting my own transport company.” He points toward the text at the top. “‘Iron City Refrigerated Transport,’ I’m gonna call it. I’m online lookin’ for deals on a used refrigeration truck.”
“Refrigeration?” I scowl. “What the fuck do you know about refrigeration?”
He cocks a brow at me. “What’s to know? You buy a truck. It keeps shit cold. You move that shit from one place to another.”
“Where the hell did you get that idea?”
Dom shrugs. “I used to do transportation for a while. Moving product is good business.”
“What kind of product?”
“Whatever people need moved, brother.” Dom flashes a grin. “I thought maybe you’d want to get in on the action.”
I roll my eyes. “You thought I’d give you some money, you mean.”
“No, Dante, that ain’t it. I mean, sure, if you wanna invest, that’d be cool.” I snort, but he ignores me. “But it ain’t necessary. I made good on some online poker games and some other bets I made. I’ve got the money. I just need some leads on clients. Since I ain’t been around here for a while, I thought maybe you could point me in the right direction.”
I gape at him. This is a level of responsibility I’ve never seen out of Dom before — if he’s not feeding me a line, that is.
“Are you serious about this?”
“As a heart attack.”
Well, that’s a hell of a deal. I’m still suspicious, but, maybe my baby brother is finally pulling his shit together. Still, it doesn’t quite add up in my mind.
“Why Ironwood, Dom? It doesn’t make sense. You never wanted to live here.”
“Competition isn’t as stiff here. It’s easier to get your foot in the door.” Dom shrugs again. “Plus, you know how it works in Cleveland. You gotta pay protection to some organization or another.” He shows his teeth. “I should know, right? I used to be on that end. But here in Ironwood, I have an in with the MC that owns the territory. I figure the Lords ain’t gonna bleed me dry the same way I might get bled somewhere else.”
Aha. “So that’s why you want me in on it.”
“Sure. That, and I wanted to see if there were any opportuniti
es there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wanted to see if there’s any way we could work together. The Lords of Carnage, and Iron City Refrigerated Transport.”
“How do you figure?”
Dom shakes his head impatiently. “Shit, Dante, you know how this works. You run a legit business, to cover for the other shit. Well, look. I’m workin’ on some contracts with some businesses that should provide some good cover, if you know what I mean. Organic fuckin’ farmers who make stinky cheese out of goats milk. That kind of shit.” He chuckles. “Thought maybe the MC might want have need of my services.”
Organic produce. Not a bad idea. Transporting hippy-ass shit like that around Ohio might be a decent cover for the product we need to move.
I think about the situation the club is having with the Dos Santos cartel. How Los Caballeros might be watching and waiting to intercept our shipments to them.
Huh. Well, what do you know. Dom just might be the fuckin’ answer to our problem.
If he doesn’t fuck it up, that is.
“Come on, man, I’m your brother.” Dom holds his hands out. “I wouldn’t ask if you couldn’t trust me.”
I scoff. “Right.”
“I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “This could be an arrangement that’s beneficial to both of us. Your club needs reliable people to move your shit, don’t they? I wanna get out of the rat race.”
“Dom,” I warn, “you workin’ for the Lords would put my ass on the line. The club expects my loyalty, and they got it. I took an oath. You understand what that means?” I lean forward, fix him with a stare. “That means if somethin’ goes wrong, and I gotta make a choice between you and them, I pick them. You got that?”
“Absolutely.” Dom’s expression doesn’t waver.
I frown down at the floor for a moment, not speaking. This is a lot to take in. It’s also one hell of a coincidence.
Fuck. Is this a good idea? I dunno.
I know what our ma would say. Family helps family.
It’s fuckin’ ironic that my mother’s words about helping family come back to me so often, to convince me to help a brother who doesn’t give a shit about family — except when it suits him.
But there’s something to be said about the idea of keeping the transport of our product in the family. Especially when we don’t know what Los Caballeros’ next move might be.
“I’ll talk to the club,” I finally say, piercing him with a look. “But no promises. And if it’s a no, it’s a no. Case closed. You feel me?”
He bobs his head. “Absolutely.”
“Okay.” I nod once. “We’ll see where it goes.”
“Fuckin’ fantastic.” Dom leans forward and slaps his hands on his knees. “I think this calls for a celebration!”
“Dom,” I mutter, “nothing’s settled yet. I already told you that.”
“Yeah, I know. But I’m still in the mood to celebrate. Cut loose a little, you know?” A gleam appears in his eye. “Hey, that strip club in Kendrick. The Lucky Strike. That still open?”
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s still open.”
Dom stands up off the couch, clapping his hands together. “Come on. Let’s head on over there. It’ll be like old times.”
I snicker. “You mean back when you couldn’t get laid to save your life?”
But Dom’s in too good a mood to take the bait. “Those days are over, brother mine. Come on. First drink’s on me. And I ain’t taking no for an answer.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Holy shit. Dominic D’Agostino, actually buying drinks instead of mooching them? Jesus, maybe you are turning over a new leaf after all.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he protests. “I said drink, not drinks. I’m buyin’ the first round. You wouldn’t be too cheap to return the favor, now, would you?”
I burst out laughing as I stand up and decide to join him for once.
At least in one way, my little brother hasn’t changed a bit.
11
Tori
I’m standing in line at the grocery store, setting my few items on the conveyor belt and trying not to attract any attention. But my heart is pounding so hard I can actually hear it. And apparently, I’m not the only one. First the cashier looks up at me with a confused expression. Then the customer in front of me turns. Pretty soon, everyone in the line is staring at me, as my heart thunders louder and louder. I open my mouth to scream for help, but somehow I can tell it’s too late — my heart is about to literally explode in my chest.
Pound, pound, pound…
I fall to the ground, my head connecting sharply with the hard linoleum floor. The customer who was in front of me is standing over my prone body now, a shocked, paralyzed look on her face. She looks around and calls out to someone, her voice coming to me muffled, like we’re underwater. Everyone looks like they’re all moving in slow motion — and with every second that passes, the pounding of my heartbeat thuds louder in my ears, terrifying me.
Pound, pound, pound…
I wake up with a gasp, bolting upright in bed. I clutch at my chest, certain my heart has already exploded. But except for the fact that it’s beating a little faster than usual, I seem to be okay. The silence in my bedroom is almost deafening for a few seconds.
Pound, pound, pound!
Holy shit. It’s the front door.
I’m still feeling shaky as I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a ratty T-shirt, then clamber down the stairs. Yanking open the door, I catch Dante mid-pound, his fist poised inches from my face.
“Seriously?” I half-yell. “You can’t call first or something?”
“I don’t have your number,” he smirks. “You didn’t give it to me.”
His eyes travel downward, sliding over my body, then back up to my face. I’m suddenly very, very sorry I didn’t take the time to put on a bra.
“I didn’t think you’d be here so early,” I mutter crossly.
He lifts a shoulder. “I had some time this morning.” He holds out his non-knocking hand and thrusts a piece of paper toward me. “Here’s that quote I promised you. Look it over. If it looks good to you, I’ll get started.”
I reach out and take it from him, lifting my other hand to rub the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it, anyway?” I ask as I stare down at the paper, blinking.
“A little after eight.”
Shit. I must have slept through my alarm. It’s actually sort of a good thing Dante woke me, or I would have been late for work. Not that I’m going to thank him, of course.
I peer at the quote, scanning the short description of the work he’s proposing to do and making sure the amount at the bottom is close to what we agreed on. “Okay, fine,” I finally say, stepping away from the threshold to let him in. “Go ahead into the kitchen, and do whatever you need to do. I’m going upstairs to take a shower.”
Something flashes on his face— a little spark in his eye, a little twitch of his lips.
“Don’t put that image in my head, Lois Lane,” he growls, lip curling into a sensual smirk. “I’m likely to electrocute myself.”
His words are so unexpected that they make my brain momentarily short-circuit. I can’t think of a single thing to say in response. Instead, I turn away, face flaming.
The low rumble of a chuckle follows me as I head walk away from him. God, there’s something so destabilizing about this man! I never know if he’s teasing me, or feeding me a line, or just trying to get a rise out of me. I have no idea how to react around him -- it pisses me off to think I’d just be playing into whatever messed-up game he might be playing with me.
As I climb the stairs, I hear him stomp across the room and into the kitchen. On the way up, the soft tinkle of my cell phone from my bedroom tells me I have a text. Back in my room, I see it’s from Savannah:
Wakey wakey! Good morning, sunshine!
I smile and type back:
Yes, I’m alive ;)
A few seconds later, she sends her response:<
br />
Hey, Jeremy is going out of town tomorrow for a couple days, so I’ll be back at the house full-time. Wanna have a girl date with movies and ice cream?
How can I resist? Except we might have to nix the ice cream part unless the electrician fixes the outlet to the fridge.
Ooh, u found someone?
Yes. In fact, he’s here right now.
Are u good being alone there with him? u need me to come hang out? I might be able to get Dr. Andrews to give me the morning off.
No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. My hair stylist recommended him, so he’s probably not too dangerous, right? Besides, I’m leaving for work in a few. :)
Okay, love u babe. Text me if u need anything
Will do <3
I smile to myself as I toss my phone back on the nightstand. Savannah is like the sister I never had. A familiar pang pokes me in the chest at the thought of the brother I never really had either, but I push the thought of Vaughn aside.
I start to strip off my shirt, but then remember I’m not alone in the house and don’t want to be walking around naked. As I cross the hall to the bathroom, the heavy steps of Dante’s boots echo up the stairs.
“Don’t put that image in my head, Lois Lane. I’m likely to electrocute myself.”
Iron Heart (Lords of Carnage Ironwood MC) Page 7