4. Dante
1871 Words
4
DANTE
I stayed up way too late last night thinking of a certain sweet a*s as it wriggled under my hand, Savanna’s blossom scent rising to fill my nostrils, teasing me even in my dreams.
I lost my faith but remained faithful to Lilly.
Devoted to her memory.
A big part of me felt like a real jerk fantasizing into the late hours about a hot little bod. s**t, I didn’t even know how hot it was because she draped it in baggy clothes, as if she had something to hide.
Lack of sleep and blue balls meant I was cranky as a junkyard dog at work the next day.
“The f**k you are,” I snarled into the phone at my cousin, Carlos. He informed me the syndicate planned a switch to an equity form of reimbursement versus the two-point-five percent commission the organization collected from my construction company for the privilege of doing business.
Bullshit.
“Put your balls back in your pocket, Dante. I ran the numbers; you’ll still be making a banging profit, even taking into consideration payoffs to local officials.” Carlos was the mediator between his relatives and the community it did business with.
I might be his relative, but I wasn’t “in the family.“
There was radio silence on my end.
Being pushed around by my relatives pissed me off, and I gave two shits about how ruthlessly they handled dissenters. I’d rather cast my balls in concrete than roll over.
“Yeah, well... Money talks. You tell my uncle I can do three percent, no more. If that won’t work for him, we need a meeting.”
“I can’t promise anything. You know how this works.”
“Yeah, I know how it works. I bring in plenty of ‘legitimate’ cash for the famiglia and don’t appreciate being bent over a barrel for my efforts.”
Carlos made an affirmative sound. “I get it, but you gotta see dad’s side too. Without the permits, union workers, police security watching your sites—you ain’t got s**t for business. It’s a two-way street, Dante.”
It took work to keep my temper in check, and I still didn’t have it quite under control when I arrived later than I wanted at Piece of Cake.
Parking my truck in the back lot, I felt my c**k coming to life at the thought of seeing her again.
I hefted two panels of the non-slip flooring, willing my d**k down with the efforts of heavy lifting, and rang the back door.
Two minutes passed, and I rang the buzzer again.
What the f**k?
She knew I was coming.
Maybe she was putting on a special outfit for me. My d**k perked up at that thought, and I felt pressure down below.
God, men are pigs.
Fucking finally she opened the door, and standing in front of me was a sight my eyes refused to believe. In her right hand, she held a huge kitchen knife, smeared with thick arterial blood, so she hadn’t been slicing tomatoes.
There were matching splotches of dark burgundy fingerprints stamped up her sleeve, stomach and chest.
“Savanna?” Speaking slowly and softly, as one would with a half feral animal, I tried to make eye contact. Hers were glassy and stared vacantly off to the side.
Her baby blues finally snapped up to my face, as if just realizing I was here. “He found me.” She said squeezing her lids shut, her lips and chin trembling.
I gently guided her indoors, so no one saw her like this, and set the non-slip panels down against the kitchen wall.
“Show me.” I talked to her like she might break.
One thing that ran through Drago blood was the ability to read people.
Quickly.
As if our lives depended on it.
This girl beside me who was wrapping her arms around her belly was not a killer. Which meant someone tried to hurt her, and she’d fought back.
I’d bet my life on it.
Gently, I reached for the knife in her cold and clammy hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.” I replaced the knife with my hand.
This wasn’t the first dead body I’d seen, but it was the bloodiest. His lifeblood pooled in a thick crimson puddle, which coagulated in place across the floor of the workroom, spilling out from a deep gash in his jugular. I leaned over to look and realized she must have hit the carotid artery.
A puncture to this part of the neck meant sudden and irreversible death.
My girl had good aim.
I didn’t know whether to be afraid of her, impressed by her, or both.
“Baby, I have to make a call. I’m going to take care of this. Do me a favor though; don’t touch anything,” I handed her a kitchen towel, “Wrap this around your hands, and we’ll go to my place where you’ll be safe.”
It wasn’t the first time life backed me into a corner. Carlos had meticulous cleaning methods, and would take care of this. No questions asked.
I got my burner phone from the glove box and called him.
“Carlos, I have a situation here.” My tone was urgent.
“Tell me, my man.” Old loyalties kicked in.
Family first.
Food, family, and f*****g.
The three Fs.
Carlos had my back, but that didn’t mean he was above pressing his advantage. After I explained what I was dealing with, he said, “I would consider it a personal favor if you were to ask for my help on this, Dante. But you have to ask.”
“Carlos, I’ve got to get this mess cleaned up, and I need to get her out of here. I’m taking her to my place.”
“Then it’s done.” Carlos probably thought he was reassuring me, but I felt my mouth go dry when he said, “Leave it to me, Dante. I’ll take care of everything.”
Exactly what I was afraid of.
Now I owed him one.
I grabbed my jacket from the truck. It was big enough to keep every speck of blood on her hidden from watchful eyes. She looked like a little girl standing there in my coat, which dwarfed her.
I grabbed the boxed carrot cake off the counter. Teresa left it there for me in return for installing the floor. I’d have to make an excuse for not getting the panels done tonight.
“My place is five minutes from here. We’ll go there and get you cleaned up,” I buckled the seat belt around her. The towel she clutched in her hands trembled, and I noticed her wince when I shut the door for her.
I said nothing as my truck wound up the mountain road towards my place. After selling the house I’d built for Lilly, I needed a spot which was remote enough so that there were no neighbors, but still close enough to town. My bungalow on the shore of Lake Azul fit the bill.
It was modest, nothing fancy. But I refinished the original maple floors, so they gleamed and installed new kitchen cabinets and tiling so that everything shone its greeting at us when I opened the door and led her inside.
Back then, I wasn’t so sure about the bathroom remodel. It was just me, and I didn’t care where I showered so long as the water was warm.
But as I led Savanna into the vintage-feeling room, designed to feel like an enclosed porch, I tucked my hands under my armpits and felt as tall as the ceiling.
All the lights were lantern style, the double sinks were antique oak washstands and against the large lake-facing window there was a freestanding porcelain soaking tub which I never used.
“You’re welcome to take a shower, but it might feel good to soak in the bath. Let’s wash your hands first, shall we?” I led her to the sink and grabbed a washcloth from the cupboard. Her hands were a gruesome sight, and the visual reminder wasn’t doing her state of mind any favors. It took some scrubbing, and I tried my best to be gentle, but I wanted him off of her.
Gone.
The blood clung to the sides of the sink in drippy streaks that looked like tie dye patterns against the white porcelain, and I splashed water to wash the accusatory stain down the drain, “Keep scrubbing. I’m going to fill the tub.”
She tracked me with her eyes while I poured a generous squirt of shower gel into the bath for bubbles.
“Why don’t you put your clothes in here?” I pointed to the trash bin under the sink. “I’ll get you something else to wear.”
Turning towards the door, I stepped away from her and she snatched a handful of my sweatshirt. “Don’t leave!”
“Easy,” I pet her hair back from her forehead. “I can stay. I’ll stay right here.” I lit two candles and placed them on the window ledge next to the tub. “There you go. Fit for a princess.”
Her eyes bulged in a way that made me wonder what she was seeing. Just imagining what she had gone through tonight, what led up to it, made me want to hurt someone.
She started shaking her head, and, rather than waiting, I undressed her.
The flickering candles gave her skin a soft satin glow, and I suddenly had a craving for scotch.
Or a cold shower.
Now was definitely not the right time, but l**t burned in my brain so bright I could think of nothing else.
It was definitely a sin to hide this body behind baggy clothes as she had been doing. Her full figure was made for pleasure, and the spot between her thighs was speaking my name.
I needed to have her on my tongue.
There was a cushioned stool next to the tub, and I sat on it. Savanna was in too much shock to even bother covering herself in the tub, and her breasts were ripe, succulent mouthfuls.
Picking up a washcloth, I traced warm, soapy circles on her back, under her arms, behind her ears. “Let’s wash your hair, baby.”
I held her neck and dipped her backwards like a child, submerging her thick, blonde tresses in the water, and swallowed hard, noticing the fat tears that fell from her eyes.
My hands scrubbed, rinsed, and dried the compliant doll she had become.
Seeing her like this brought back a familiar refrain…
I should have been there to prevent it.
Wrapped in a huge towel, she followed me like an obedient pet towards my bedroom and I dressed her in a pair of my sweats and a T-shirt.
This tight spot she was in was a curveball, but hey, we all had our baggage. Hers happened to be b****y. She’d tell me what was going on when she was ready.
The least I could do was take her hand and guide her through the dark. That was a good deed I could afford.
If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was wade through the deep darkness.
From the moment I met her, she came across as the best possible kind of trouble. A good girl who knew exactly when to be bad.
She awakened me from a three-year slumber, and I could hear a warning bell.
Keep away.
Deep sleep was better than loving someone and having them taken from you.
Better not to feel anything than to feel too hard.
I’d never have Savanna’s submission if she wouldn’t give it to me, and she’d been through way too much to entrust herself to me right now.
Telling myself all of that didn’t satisfy the pulsing need to make her body my private pleasure palace.
- Writer
