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“My son Paulie, Dante’s father, he made a lot of enemies. It happens in this line of work. And one of these enemies, a man by the name of Sal Natori, decided to make it personal. He went after my son not on the streets, but in his home, at night, while Paulie and his family were sleeping. He took several men with him and broke in and shot my son and his wife right in their bed. And…” her voice wavered and she made the sign of the cross as she said, “and then they went after the children. They got to little Sophie’s bedroom first and put a bullet in that beautiful, precious baby girl. And then they went down the hall to the boys’ room.”

Her hands and her voice shook as she continued, still staring off into the distance, “Dante, he must have heard something. I don’t know what. The men were using silencers. But when they got to the boys’ room, Dante was ready for them. He had a gun pointed at the men. He’d found one of his father’s big hunting rifles, I don’t even know how he could lift it. And he’d gone to his little brothers’ room to protect them. He held off the men while Mikey, Johnnie and Vincent climbed out the window. They were just three, four and five, poor little angels. Dante had them run to the neighbors for help, it’s the only reason they survived.”

She dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “Little Dante, he shot one of those men, killed him dead as he lunged for the escaping boys. But another man caught Dante and made him drop the gun. They were gonna kill my grandson, but they decided to smack him around first, make him pay for taking out one of their own.”

“Oh God,” I whispered.

“Fortunately, the shotgun blast had awakened a couple of Paulie’s men that were staying up in the converted attic, and they got downstairs in time to save Dante.” Her watery eyes met mine as she said quietly, “He was only seven years old, Charlie. He was a baby. Those men, they scarred him for life. They took his parents and sister. And now, twenty two years later, he’s closing in on that animal. This time, he’s got a solid lead. He may finally get to avenge the death of his family.”

“But what if Natori kills Dante?” I said softly, and Austin laced his hand with mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“That’s a chance my grandson is willing to take. Dante feels it’s his duty to go after Natori, to avenge his family. And if he’s successful this time, if he kills that piece of shit? Then maybe it’ll finally bring Dante some peace. He’s still tormented by the death of his parents and sister. He can’t sleep to this day. Maybe once Natori’s dead, Dante will finally have some of that, you know. Closure.”

“Dante’s not doing this alone, is he? Please tell me he’s not going after Natori by himself.”

“No way. He’s got a team of his best men with him. He’s not taking unnecessary chances with his safety.”

I whispered, “Oh God, if Dante is killed….”

“You can’t think like that, Charlie. You gotta trust in the fact that he’s strong and capable, and is going to do everything in his power to come back to you.”

“He has to,” I said quietly.

Chapter Thirteen

I was mentally drained by the time I got back to my apartment, Austin in tow. But I still had to deal with Peaches. Working together, one big glove on each of our free hands, Austin and I managed to get the smelly little beast out of the pen and leashed, and took him for a good long walk before bringing him back home and feeding him his dinner.

I didn’t have the heart to put him back in the pen after that, which meant that Austin and I had to go and hide in the bedroom with the door shut to keep from getting chewed on. I fell across my mattress and Austin sat cross-legged beside me as I asked, “Would you take a look at the manacles, see if maybe you can figure out how to open them?”

“Sure.”

He rested my chained hand on his thigh, and I felt his delicate touch on my skin as he circled the edge of the wide metal cuff, feeling for hidden levers or springs. After just a couple minutes of this, he stopped his exploration and patted the back of my bound hand with his free one.

“Giving up already?” I murmured.

“It’s an incredibly complex design. More art than S & M, really. I wonder where Mr. Dombruso got these.”

I felt him pulling the back of my t-shirt out of my jeans, and turned my head to look at him. “What’re you doing?”

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