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Second String
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Indebted to the Mafia King Country Air
Eleni“Let me get that.” Dante swoops into my path and tries to grab the full plate of pasta out of my hands.I hold on with a small smile. “I’ve been walking for two days. I think I can handle carrying my own dinner.”“You are stubborn.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Can I take your glass instead?”I nod, and he lets go. He’s been doting on me for the last three days, barely letting me do anything. It’s sweet, but it’s also driving me insane. I pad from the kitchen into the living room and sit on the couch. Dante’s pasta and his glass of wine wait on the coffee table. I set mine next to his, and a moment later, he appears with my glass of sparkling apple juice. We both look at it for a moment. Dr. Fletcher hasn’t called yet. I haven’t gotten my period yet. Without talking about it, Dante and I both agreed I’m not going to drink until we know one way or the other.“What do you want to watch tonight?” I ask, shattering the spell.He passes me the glass and blinks a few times. “I pick
Indebted to the Mafia King Perfect
EleniOver my clothes, under the blankets, Dante cups me like I’m made of glass. My thin shirt can’t disguise the warmth of his skin, and though my whole body still aches, I want to tell him to treat me like normal. He thumbs over my nipple, and I arch up, tilting my head back toward the ceiling. In my mind’s eye, I see the crack I tracked during the endless hours of my capture.I shut my eyes. “Fuck me like you would if we were there.”“Quietly?” Dante’s voice holds the ghost of a smile. “We have a lot of children and Mama not to wake up.”I picture a whitewashed house in Greece, next to the restaurant rather than on top of it, with a cozy front garden covered in plastic kids toys, far enough outside the city that I can commute and far enough away that the air tastes clean. A small grove of olive trees in the back where we picnic. I can almost taste the salt of the sea, just like Mama always described from home. In the darkness, it’s easy to pretend we’re already there.“Yes,” I murm
Indebted to the Mafia King Rond Up
DanteTwo days before El’s first class at Tandon, Tony and I sit on the back porch of the safehouse. I roll a glass of scotch between my palms and stare at the trees I know hide Christos’ grave.“I don’t think there’s another choice at this point,” I say.“She was just kidnapped, Dante.” Tony takes a long pull of his beer. “Putting off college for a semester is a goddamn option.”I shake my head. “She’d be devastated. And she fucking earned it, Tone. I’m not letting Camila take this from her.”“And if you move her into the city, Camila only has the opportunity to take her life.” Tony rolls his eyes.I sip my scotch. He’s been touchy since he found out about Henry. I know it’s the right move. Even if it scares the shit out of me.“Has there been more activity?” I ask. “Or are we just hiding from shadows at this point?”“Nothing huge.” Tony shakes his head. “I don’t fucking know what they’d do at this point. They’ve got the drug trade in a stranglehold. Everyone’s hiding from goddamn sh
Indebted to the Mafia King Fidgety
EleniI pace back and forth in the guest bedroom we’ve set up as my kind-of office over the last few days. Dante got me a laptop, and Tony brought my school books on one of his many trips up here. I could study. Maybe I should be studying. Classes start in two days. But neither Dante or I have actually, seriously said we’re going back to the city yet. I lift the blinds to check on him and Tony on the deck.They’re both gone. For a split second, cold fear grips my heart. The Russians found the safehouse, and they took both of them while I stood up here. Any second now, the door to this room will burst in, and I’ll be back in that fucking cell before I know it.Someone knocks on the door, and my heart skips a beat. But Russians wouldn’t knock. Dante would.“Come in!” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound panicky.Dante opens the door and steps in. He looks taller, prouder than he did a minute ago. My battered heart leaps.“What did Tony say? Good news?” I ask. “Russian syndicate destroye
Indebted to the Mafia King Apprehension
EleniI shuffle through the hangers in the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom in the city apartment Dante showed me just before everything went wrong a few weeks ago. Classes start tomorrow. Tomorrow! And I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to wear yet. Most of my things from the house have been shipped here, but as I flick through them, all I can think about is how much longer they’re going to fit me for. Leather pants? Silk camisoles? I couldn’t have picked clothes with less stretch if I wanted to.Someone leans on their horn outside, and I’ve lived here way too long to jump, but the city noises are still abrupt after so long away from them. The cell the Russians kept me in was almost completely silent, and there are no neighbors by the safehouse. I missed the noise. I think.My mind drifts to the house on Staten Island, apparently empty right now. It wasn’t silent there by any means, just quieter. Quiet enough that I should’ve been able to hear the sirens headed for bur
Indebted to the Mafia King Blow Them Away
Dante“No,” Wing says. “We’re not getting involved.”I scowl at the four other half-lit men in the back of the mahjong house in Chinatown. “What, does he have you all by the balls?”“No,” another triad leader, Chan, replies. “We talked before you arrived. He speaks our consensus. It’s too dangerous.”I turn to Tony, expecting him to be just as shocked as I am. The fucking triads, backing down? Tony looks back at me evenly. Fuck, he’s right. I need to keep goddamn cool.“What changed?” I ask.Wing sighs. “The feds leave a wide trail.”I grimace. “Don’t tell me this is about the deaths in Brighton.”“What else?” Chan slams his hand on the table. “Feds raid the Russians, get you your girl back, and who feels the pain? Russians. You know who will hurt if we help you?”“The triads.” Wing’s voice holds an air of finality.I shake my head. “They’re eating into your territory, aren’t they?”“Territory can be recovered.” Chan folds his arms. “Lives, not so much.”I stand. “Call me if you ever
Indebted to the Mafia King A Part of the Crowd
Eleni“How did you get the gradient?” Kaley leans over and points at the background of the webpage on my laptop. “I feel like CSS is organizing against me. I can’t get it to work.”I glance at the front of the classroom, where Professor Villanueva taps away at her own computer. She said we weren’t supposed to help each other with this assignment. It’s a test of our initial capabilities. But then I look back at Kaley, who clasps her hands under her chin and flutters her eyelashes. God, she can’t be twenty yet, can she? After my semesters at night school, I was able to start Tandon a little ahead of the usual freshmen, but Kaley seems so young.Something in my stomach twinges. I swallow, praying it’s not midafternoon sickness. Thankfully, the rush of saliva that always precedes my attacks doesn’t appear. This twinge is more like what I imagine the baby kicking will feel like. When it can do that. Almost like the not-quite-baby inside me is telling me I should help out another at least r
Indebted to the Mafia King Make it Happen
EleniI fidget with the waistband of the leggings Dante packed in the bag for me to change into before entering the prison and wish they hadn’t taken my ring. Apparently, the whole “no metal allowed” thing isn’t really negotiable. A burly woman stands on the opposite side of the table from me, one hand on her thick baton and the other on a walkie-talkie. I clear my throat.“Vanessa?”She quirks an eyebrow at me.“Hank sent me.” I feel ridiculous. All these code words…it’s like I’m in a kid’s movie, not a women’s prison upstate.Still, that makes Vanessa hit something on her walkie that dims the constant static pouring from it a second before the door buzzes loudly. I look up.Escorted by two more guards, chained wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, Camila stumbles in through the heavy door. She’s barely recognizable. Her long, beautiful hair shines with grease in its loose bun at the back of her neck. The orange jumpsuit does the opposite of her endless whites and pastels, turning her a
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