If The Seas Catch Fire(74)

“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 f*cked 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 f*ck 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.