Sick Bastard (26 page)

Nodding his head, he pulls his phone out again, typing roughly on the keys. “We’re going back upstairs. You’ll pack a bag full of warm weather clothes. Do not speak. Do it all without words.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll all go away, somewhere fun. How does that sound?” Shaking my head in enthusiasm, he presses his lips to my forehead and throws the door open for me. “I’ll take care of you,
cara
.”

At this point I’d go to hell with him just for a little peace and quiet. Stepping out of the car, I check out my surroundings. Taking careful steps towards the front door to my building, I look up into eyes that are smiling down at me and I smile. I need this.

Dante

Bugs. Goddamn surveillance equipment. For the first time in a long fucking time, it wasn’t my gear and that’s upsetting. I’m the only motherfucker that’s allowed to watch her. No one else can have that privilege. No one gets that. She belongs to me. Not only do I want them removed from her personal space, I want the goddamn footage in my possession. Anything that pertains to London belongs to me.

The flight was non-eventful, exactly how I like it. We had a light dinner and a few drinks, where London proceeded to sleep the rest of the flight away while I, on the other hand, took care of shit back home. Twenty thousand feet in the air and work still managed to find me. We landed and headed straight for the boat. I need London alone and miles away from anyone or anything but me, so a hotel wasn’t an option. She didn’t argue. She needs space, not stuck in a room, hence the boat.

Sitting on the upper deck, I bask in the sun’s rays. Taking a hearty drink of my Scotch, I try to drown out the nagging thoughts of business that have no place here, but they still seem to plague me. Even one hundred miles off of the coast of the Cayman Islands and I still can’t curb the never-ending dramatic saga that seems to be my life as of late. It’s all consuming in the worst way.

For the first time, it’s just us, and I plan to take full advantage of it before the family arrives.

“Evenin’, Captain.” Shielding my eyes from the sun, I tilt my head back to find those long legs.

Standing on the upper deck is London and everything is forgotten. Wrapped in the world’s smallest white bikini, her tan skin runs as far as the eye can see. Big black shades rest on that cute nose of hers and her long dark hair blows in the breeze. Everything I cherish and adore in one small, feisty package. “Come here.”

Sometimes it’s hard to remember what my life was like before London. In this small amount of time she’s changed everything. A life after London is not something I’m willing to tolerate. Thirty-three years I’ve spent blissfully unaware of how alone I was in this world. It was just myself and I was okay with that, but now that I know what I’ve been missing, things will never go back to what they were. I can’t picture spending the rest of my life without her in it. London’s it for me.

I don’t remember being lonely before she came into my life. Nothing felt lacking, at least. I wasn’t bereft with longing or sad with loneliness. I didn’t feel like anything was missing or I was without, but sitting here with her head resting on my chest, the idea of her not being with me leaves me feeling desperate and sick.

I don’t recall caring before her. Self-centered, single-minded, and uncaring were daily occurrences for me. I was okay with that life. I only needed myself.

Those feelings have changed drastically. Nothing was as intense or real before she came into my life. I don’t think I had it in me to be soft and caring, but here I sit, trying desperately to come up with things just to make her smile or laugh. Good or bad, she’s changed me and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to truly go back to the way things were before.

Looking around, I remember the day I bought this boat. It was the same trip when I bought the beach house a few years ago. I remember buying both and thinking how I’d finally made it. I was big enough to buy a fucking two hundred and twenty foot yacht and beach property. It wasn’t the biggest or the best by some standards, but I worked damn hard for it. I fucking earned it and everything else I’ve ever got in life. Blood, sweat, and fucking tears were what I put in. Big purchases, closing deals, speaking with my accountant filled me with a satisfied sense of accomplishment and now it’s all changed.

Her laugh when I do something to earn it, the soft glow in her eyes when I make her smile, that fire when I piss her off, and her sweet when I make her happy in return is a satisfying accomplishment. No material item or vain achievement could replace that.

“I kinda like your boat.” She tells me as she lays across me on the lounger.

“Our boat,” I correct her, and after this vacation it’ll never just be mine, either. It’ll forever remind me of her.

“Oh, please. I know you didn’t buy me … us, a boat.”

“I didn’t buy it for you, per se, but now it’s just as much yours as it is mine.” Those perfectly sculpted brows pull together while she digests my words.

“You’re insane.” Very much so. It’s all come full circle, really. I’ve gone completely insane and it all makes perfect sense now.

“And you’re not Miss DeLacourt?” So I’m not sure insane would be the choice word to describe her, but there are some precarious qualities there.

“Absolutely not,” she scoffs. She’s quiet for a few moments, like she’s waiting to ask me something, so I wait it out and let her get her words together. “Why me?”

“Why you what?” I’ve put in a few months and she’s still confusing to me. I wonder if I’ll ever figure her out.

“Why’d you pick me? Why stalk me?” Ah.

“Why not you?” I counter.

“You always answer a question with a question and it’s fucking annoying.”

“When I look at you, I see good. When I’m with you, I feel like I can do anything. But most importantly, it’s because you’re you, London.”

~~~~~~

I got one day before the family descended upon us. They’re staying for two days of “important” family bonding before I get London all to myself again. Fuck, I can’t wait for them to be gone. “Let’s go,” Matt shoots from his seat, offering his hands to London and my sister. He flew in late last night on my dime so London would feel comfortable and relaxed with someone she knew.

So far everyone is getting along. My sister’s behaving, Betty is doting. Cam is enjoying himself while Josh is plotting, and I haven’t turned to Grappa to get me through the day. No one’s killed anyone yet, and that’s a celebratory accomplishment.

Sitting on the second deck around the table, Josh, Vinn, Cam, and Geo discuss business. “You didn’t put those bugs in her place?” I wish had, but I didn’t.

“No.”

A scream and a wail startles me right the fuck out of my chair. I’m not entirely sure how I make it from inside the boat to the back without hurting myself. Skidding to a stop at the back of the boat, music blares from the onboard sound system along with racious laughter as Matt, Lucy, and London dance and yell, seeming to be having the time of their lives. I think she may have given me a mild heart attack.

I watch as they all drink, laugh and dance together. Now I’m watching her and Matt slap at each other. I’m not sure how I feel about his hands flying around at her face but she’s in hysterics so I leave it alone. Both are trying desperately to push the other overboard. I’ll never truly understand their relationship and as much as I hate the idea of it not being me making her smile, I’m just happy to get to witness the happiness their relationship brings to her.

London

I’ve been forced to navigate the waters of the Ocean with the false sense of help from the Captain. Dante said “Come up to the wheel house with me.” I followed him without realizing that I’d end up in complete control of a giant ass boat. I’m a nervous wreck.

“What if it sinks?”

“It won’t,” he assures me confidently. How can he be so sure?

“I could sink it.”

“London,” he groans tiredly. “we’re off the coast of The Cayman Islands. The water here is deep, the weather is beautiful, and the breeze is perfect. You have no one around and miles of ocean.” Oh.

“Still, I could hit
something.
”

Leaning down, nose to nose, he wraps those big hands around both sides of my neck with his fingers brushing tenderly against the skin of my neck and jaw, calming me just the tiniest bit. Smiling that soft dimpled smile, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I trust you not to kill us,
amore mio
. You’ll do fine.”

“Remember that trust when we’re living
Gilligan’s Island
style on some remote blip of land in the middle of the ocean,” I moan. That smile spreads into a bull blown grin.

“Your imagination knows no bounds, beautiful. Just drive the goddamn boat and try to avoid nonexistent icebergs, islands, and whales.” I could hit a fucking whale?

“I didn’t even think of whales. Oh shit.” I practically shriek after him. I get nothing but a strong wide back and a laugh from a retreating Dante. I need a drink.

I manage not to kill anyone or any whales and I avoid all floating blips of land, but it’s not without a few small strokes or heart attacks. Dante leads me away from my captain duties to find me a strong drink and a paper bag to breathe into.

“We’re spending the rest of the day lounging, drinking, and soaking up the sun.” I tell him sternly as he drags me back to the deck.

“Okay.” He nods.

“We are.” Coming to a stop, he looks back to me. “I know, baby. Whatever you want. It’s your world London, I just live in it.” He holds fast to his promise. We do whatever I want, which consists of lounging and being lazy.

~~~~~~

My eyes pop open out of instinct, but it’s not without a struggle. I’m exhausted from doing squat today. I lounged, I snacked, I drank, and I lounged a little more. It was a perfectly uneventful day.

“When we get back, I want you to move in with me.” Excuse me? He wants me to live with him? I let those words sink in and marinate before I go off like I usually would.

He wants me to live in his home? I’ve known him what? Like, a little over two months? He can’t be serious. “You want me to live with you?” I ask him slowly. He only nods once like the idea is simple enough. “Like, move my stuff into your house. Share a bed, a bathroom, and a closet? Dinners together and waking up to one another?”

“Well you’d have your own closet, but yes.” Am I the only one who finds this all a bit too soon?

“I think we’re skipping a few of those all too important steps in the dating rules,” I say carefully. I watch his eyes and that face for any indication of what he might be thinking. It’s hard to tell with Mr. Twelve some of the time. I may get one of his sensible personalities or I might get an unreasonable one.

“I don’t.” He says with that steely determination of his. I get the unreasonable one. Of course he doesn’t.

“Dante, I’m not sure living together is such a good idea right now.” I tell him softly, but I can see the wheels of crazy turning up there. He’s thinking of ways to talk me into it, ways to kidnap me, ways to force me.

“You’re moving in, and that’s it.”

“I’m not,” I fire back out of instinct.

“You are, London. If I say you’re moving in, then you’re moving in.” Why? Why must everything be his way or no way at all? “Dante, we barely know each other. Let’s be reasonable and see―”

Throwing a hand up, he stops me. “You’re living with me, London.”

“No, I am
not!
Are you drunk?” There’s supposed to be discussions, communication, understanding, but I don’t get that with Dante.

“I just want you with me. How am I supposed to keep you safe if you’re not with me? How am I supposed to function when I’m worrying? I
need
you with me. I want you with me,
always
.” And that is why I deal with it.

“I don’t know.”
“I do. You belong with me,
amore mio
. Today, tomorrow, next week, and next year. You’ll

always belong with me, London. There’s no other option, and you’re it for me.”

~~~~~~

Dante’s sister Lucy is sweet and funny, absolutely nothing like Dante, and I enjoy that immensely. We’ve gotten along great.

Betty is kind. I find a calm peace when speaking with her. Motherly with a tendency to go overboard, I find her unquestionably wonderful. Betty reminds me of my grandmother.

Joshua, Dante’s brother, is very standoffish. There’s a familiar temperament there to Dante.

Carmine is someone I’ve gotten to know a little since meeting Dante. He’s everything Dante is not. Cam is goofy and over the top. He’s like a sixteen year old stuck in the body of a man. Dante’s family is a wonderful mix of personalities and I’m happy to have them here with us.

After Dante’s conclusive proposal of living together, he’s said nothing more about it. Of course he would think that his word was final and it would no longer be discussed. Oh how wrong he is. I’m not arguing or fighting him right this moment because I’m enjoying this vacation. I’m having a good time and I’d like to keep it that way, but there’s a storm that will eventually roll in.

~~~~~~

“Something smells amazing. Whatcha cookin’ there?” Cam asks, dipping a finger into the sauce. “Bolognese.” Popping his finger into his mouth he smiles.

“This is good. You always cook like this?”

“When the mood strikes, I guess.”

“Wanna marry me?” Ha, no.

“Where’s Dante?” I ask. I haven’t seen him in a while and he’s usually attached to my hip whether I want him there or not.

“Oh-uh, yeah. He’s around,” He flutters a hand around carelessly.

“Around?” I repeat. I’m not buying his bullshit. Not for a single second. He’s not nearly as good of a liar as Dante is. Jesus, I’m surrounded by liars.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you at dinner,” he mutters.

“Yep.” I shoot him a smile as he turns on his heels and leaves.

I give him three seconds before I follow him down the exotic wood lined wall of the lower deck. The little liar will lead me to the big liar. Winding my way through different doors and rooms, I follow his retreating back.

All day Dante’s been disappearing and reappearing out of thin air. He’s taken phone calls away from me, he’s gone on a few mysterious errands. When he’s on the boat, he’s locked in his office with one of his guys. He’s acting stranger than his usual self, which leaves an unsettled knot in my stomach and the intense urge to figure out what’s going on. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s to be lied to.

Rounding the corner, I watch Cam slink inside a door at the end of the hall. Letting it swing to a crack, he doesn’t pull it closed, giving my nosey ass just enough of a view to see what’s going on inside, but just barely. The guys are sitting around a table and my mouth drops. Dante’s back is to me and the table in front of him is loaded. “Is this what we tapped into the offshore for?” Cam spits, flicking away a small baggie as soon as he sits down. It’s everything you would imagine from a terrible gangster movie. It’s unreal.

A few rectangular packages wrapped up in brown paper and covered in cellophane sit in the middle of the table. Drugs. My eyes skip from one crazy mess to the next. “We’re not getting market for these.” Cam continues to rant. Jerking a knife from the table, he tears into a package and just like every movie I’ve ever seen, he dips a finger in a rubs the white powder on his gums. It’s fucking coke. Jesus Christ. This can’t be happening.

“
We
aren’t selling a goddamn thing. We employ the hustle. They’ll sell it for street and double it for us. We’ll make our money back, just like we always do,” Dante growls.

Does this shit ever end? Every bad thing I learn about him is when I sneak in through doors. Either he’s sloppy or forgets how goddamn nosey I really am. What have I gotten myself into? Is this the reason he wanted to take me on this “vacation”? I may not know a whole fuck of a lot about drugs and the game, but I do know people traffic this shit on boats. I also hear about all the shady things that happen on these Islands.

A laptop catches my attention as Dante starts to flick through it while the guys continue checking out the bags. It’s open and sitting in front of him, facing me. Four black and white screens fill the larger screen, and when he clicks a few buttons, videos pop up of…me? There are videos of me doing everything and nothing at the same time. Video of Matt and I lounging, Lucy and I laughing over something on her phone, all of us swimming, and Betty and I eating lunch. He flicks through them one by one, and all of them are of us on this trip.

It hits me while staring at those videos that those bugs in my house were his. They’d have to be. How convenient is it that he just so happens to have videos of me here too. That’s not a fucking coincidence. The sick fucking bastard’s been taping me.

The scrape of a chair startles me. “I’m done with business. I need some time with London,” Dante says. I don’t see why, considering he’s seen enough of me to last a goddamn lifetime with all the videos he has of me.

Turning on my heels, I head back up the stairs. My head’s spinning and my heart aches. This is his other business. This is what brings out the monster in him. He’s a fucking drug dealer. This is what makes people afraid of him. This is why he’s so cruel to people who “work” for him and threatening to others. Fuck him for coming into my life. I wish I’d never met him.

~~~~~~

Peeking up through my lashes at Dante, I see him reclined in his seat with a drink in hand and a simplistic smile on his face, looking like he hasn’t a care in the world. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who runs drugs. An embezzler, maybe, but not drugs.

Just when I feel like I may be figuring him out, he does something and completely flips me on my head. How can the man sitting next to me be so despicable?

I sit in silence. Everyone is oblivious to what’s going on here, or most of them, I hope. Dante squeezes my leg in a silent question. Looking at him, he’s smiling at me, but now that smile makes me sick to my stomach.

Vinn’s concerned face appears in the doorway. Dante glances at him and Vinn just raises an eyebrow back. Is this the signal for The Drug Club? “I’ll be back in a moment.” Dante says, placing a brief kiss to the top of my head before he excuses himself from the table. Pushing himself from his seat, he shoots me a look I can’t decipher before disappearing through the door. Fuck him.

I wait a few moments after he leaves before excusing myself, complaining of a headache to slip away. I can’t sit here and play pretend with Dante right now. Everything feels too real for all of it to be a lie.

~~~~~~

The warm waves of the Caribbean lap against my feet and legs. I find peace in the waves and the bottle of alcohol I’m sucking down like a woman dying of thirst. Lifting the bottle to my mouth, I let the alcohol wash over my lips and dance across my tongue. I let the liquor dull everything into something more tolerable, but I’m looking for more manageable.

There’s not a single person for miles on the private beach and I’m thankful for the solitude. Here on this beach alone with my bottle and the ocean at my feet, there’s only my gun and myself. There’s no lies, no stares, no narcotics, no bullshit and my personal favorite, NO DANTE. There’s nothing to contend with but my own thoughts.

And my own thoughts are where I am, waist deep shit. Every word that leaves Dante’s lips are lies. He lies so fluently that I became immune to it. It’s becoming hard to decipher the real from the fake, the lies from the truth.

He said those bugs weren’t his while standing in my house. A bold face lie. He said he’d never go that far, that he’d never watch me that deeply, yet I find him watching surveillance of the boat. There I was clear as day on CCTV, but those bugs weren’t his? Lies? A coincidence? Who the fuck knows at this point. I’d never get an honest answer if I tried.

Part of me wants to accept it all for what it is. These are his ways. This is Dante. The lies are his truths. He loves with lies. All of the peculiar is his idea is his truth of protecting me and caring for me. He does this for piece of mind and who am I to say how he should do things? All the watching, the following, the demanding, and the sneaking, it’s all for me. Why else would he do it? It all has to be for my benefit, or why else would he do it? He cares about me. He wants to keep me safe, right?

It’s his sick idea of protection, but it’s always a gross invasion of my privacy. Where is that line drawn from normal to unhealthy? I never have a say, but really, do I want one? Would he stop if I said so? Do I want him to stop? I don’t think I’ve known what normal is since I’ve met him.