Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

”You’re asking me,” Dimitri said.

”Yes.”

”Why should I?”

”Because she was your fiancée.”

The word sat on the line between them.

”Betrothed since she was a child,” Dante went on. ”You were supposed to marry her. For years someone has been poisoning her, and the family you were about to join never noticed. Not her father. Not her mother. Not you. If that means nothing to you, say so, and I’ll hang up and find another way. But if it means anything at all, you have a reason to want to know who did this.”

”That engagement was a signature between two fathers,” Dimitri said. ”It was never a vow.”

”I know that.”

”Then you know it carries no obligation.”

”I’m not asking you to owe her anything,” Dante said. ”I’m telling you what she was.”

Dimitri looked at the dark door that led down the hall to the room where Eve slept. He thought of a girl at the far end of a long dinner table, pale and quiet. He had never wanted her. He had never wanted this for her either.

”I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

Dante said nothing, and Dimitri gave him credit for that.

”Understand what this is,” Dimitri continued. ”It isn’t a truce, and it isn’t friendship. If I move on this, it’s because I’ve chosen to, and you’ll owe me for it. So tell me, Romano. What are you giving me in return?”

The line went quiet.

It stayed quiet for almost ten seconds. Dimitri waited. He pictured the man standing in some dark room, one hand on the phone, working out the price of the only thing he wanted.

”Whatever you want to know about The Covenant,” Dante said at last.

Dimitri’s hand went still on the arm of the chair.

”Say that again.” He asked.

”Their command structure. Their handlers. How their money moves. Who they have in Rome and where those people sleep.” Dante spoke slowly, setting each word down. ”I’ve worked for them long enough to know things you can’t buy. Ask me anything and I’ll answer.”

”You work for them,” Dimitri said.

”I did what they told me because it served me. It doesn’t anymore.” Iron came into Dante’s voice. ”They told me to clean up my own mess. I intend to. My way.”

Dimitri stood and crossed to the window. He stood there with the phone at his ear and his free hand against the cold glass.

”Do you understand what you’re offering?” he asked quietly.

”Yes.” Dante replied.

”A man in your position who sells The Covenant to the man they want dead doesn’t get to change his mind afterward. That isn’t a debt, Romano. That’s a death sentence.”

”I know exactly what it is.”

”For a woman who may not choose you in the end.”

”She already did,” Dante said.

”Then she’s worth that to you.”

”She’s worth more.”

Dimitri believed him. It was the only thing in the whole conversation he believed completely.

”Twenty-four hours,” he said. ”If there’s anything to find, I’ll find it.”

”And if there isn’t?” Dante asked.

”Then you’ll hear that from me too.” Dimitri took his hand from the glass. ”Don’t call this number again. I’ll call you.”

He ended the call and stood there a while with the phone in his hand. Then he went back to the desk, picked up the whiskey he hadn’t touched, and drank it.

...

DANTE’S POV

Dante lowered the phone and stood in the dark.

The villa was silent. Beyond the walls the sea moved against the cliffs. He looked down and saw that his hand wasn’t quite steady.

He had just offered the one thing that kept him alive and useful to the most dangerous organization he knew. He had offered it to the man who had spent a year trying to bury him. He waited for regret. It didn’t come, and that surprised him more than anything else that night.

He called Luca.

”Boss,” Luca answered on the first ring.

”I called him.”

”And?”

”He’ll look into it. Twenty-four hours.” Dante pressed his forehead briefly to the glass. ”No promises. No terms.”

”That’s not nothing,” Luca said.

”No. It isn’t.”

Luca went quiet. Dante had heard that silence for twelve years, and it always meant the same thing: there is a question you won’t like.

”What did he ask for?” Luca said.

”What you’d expect.”

”Boss.”

Dante let out a breath. ”I offered him The Covenant.”

The line stayed silent for a long moment.

”Everything?” Luca asked at last.

”Whatever he wants to know.”

”Dante.” Luca rarely used his name. ”You know what that is.”

”I know.”

”If they find out, they won’t send men after you. They’ll take you apart slowly, and then they’ll do the same to everyone you ever stood near. Her too.”

”They’ve already told me I’m on my own,” Dante said. ”I’m not leaving her to shake herself to death on a bathroom floor while I wait for the right moment to be brave. If they want to punish me for that, they can try.”

Luca didn’t argue. He never did once the decision was made. ”Then tell me what you need,” he said.

”Keep digging. Prometheus. Dr. Armani. The courier. Anything he might reach before we do.” Dante rubbed his jaw. ”And Luca. He wasn’t surprised.”

”Dimitri?” Luca asked.

”I told him someone had been poisoning the girl he was meant to marry for years, and he never even drew breath. He asked how long since her last dose. He asked if she’d seized.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. ”I hadn’t said a word about seizures.”

”Maybe he’s seen withdrawal before,” Luca said.

”Maybe. But when I said Prometheus, he went quiet one second longer than he should have. Then he said go on.”

”What do you want me to do about it?”

”Nothing. I’m telling you what I heard.” Dante turned from the window. ”Find me everything before he does.”

”I’ll try,” Luca said.

Dante ended the call and walked down the hall to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway.

Isabella lay curled on her side in one of his shirts, one hand drawn against her chest the way it always curled when the tremors came. Her hair was damp on her forehead. Her face was the color of paper. Her breathing was shallow and fast.

He stood there and watched her.

Twenty-four hours.

He had never trusted a clock less.