Dinner on Friday

30. Dante

THE STORMS WITHIN

I buried my disappointment and anger as I studied the quiet street in front of Eva's apartment. This neighborhood had a distinct scent. A melange of less-than-clean scents, yet strangely inviting. Homey.

The scent of heavily spiced food lingered in the air and there was a dampness in the thin veil of fog slithering about. Close by, a street light flickered continuously, casting erratic shadows that played on the worn pavement. Amidst the quiet, a dog barked in the distance. A car drove by, the hum of its engine fading away down the road.

"That house has cameras. Find out what they know." My order wasn't directed at anyone specifically, but Schipper and Vlad took the task upon them, walking down the dimly lit streets with long strides.

Bruce stayed behind and folded his arms over his massive chest. "I knew you couldn't keep her."

"Excuse me?"

The man smiled as if he knew something I didn't know. "She wasn't built for this life. You knew that, and still, you married her, knowing that your involvement with the clan would follow you around until the day you died."

My jaw tightened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Carla chose me, not the clan. I chose her, not the clan. I won't let them dictate our lives."

Bruce's chuckle carried a hint of cynicism. "Love might be powerful, but it's no match for the ties that bind you to your family. You can't escape your past, Dante."

"The fuck I can't. I won't let Carla be a pawn in the clan's games. And we don't even know if the clan is involved in Carla's disappearance." I tugged on my jacket as the wind picked up, sending a batch of leaves swirling down the street.

"Your family has a lot of enemies. You're a fool to believe otherwise."

The air thickened with tension, shadows dancing across the street as I grappled with the possibility that my family's criminal involvement had come back to bite me in the ass despite distancing myself from them.

"Bruce," I said, "I'm so fucking angry with her. How could she leave without telling me anything? I treated her right. Loved her. Provided a safe space for her. I would kill for her and she knows it. I was loyal to her, and this is how she..." I shook my head. "I don't understand why she did what she did. It makes no sense."

The big man's gaze bore into me, unmoved by my outburst. "Dante, love is a battleground. Your loyalty doesn't give you immunity from the chaos that surrounds us all. Sometimes, even the safest spaces can't shield us from the storms within."

"If she was fighting some inner battle, why didn't she come to me?"

"I don't know, but I believe she must have told you something, and with everything going on, you misjudged how important it was to her."

I shook my head again. "You don't understand. Besides Carla, the restaurant is my only priority. She comes first. Always. I promised her that I would always put her first."

"I don't have all the answers," Bruce admitted, "but the sooner we find her, the sooner we'll understand why. For now, it's okay to be angry." He paused. "Or disappointed."

As we stood there, waiting for Vlad and Schipper to return, my mind drifted to my last encounter with Carla.

I saw flashes of relief in her eyes after learning that her mother was going to be okay, but it was the type of shallow relief people felt for acquaintances. It bothered me that she didn't seem bothered by the fact that she could have lost her mother there and then.

Before that, she'd given herself to me freely on the balcony of the hospital. The sound of her soft moans resonated in my ears and I could still feel her overwhelming slickness on my fingers. On my cock. Her kisses, goddamn her kisses. No one could tell me that those were the kisses of a woman hellbent on leaving her husband.

And the way her pussy squeezed my essence out of me when I came? Phenomenal.

I felt a deep sense of protection at the thought of her carrying our baby. The thought of her hurt or worse didn't sit well with me. I had to find her. I couldn't sleep until she was back safely in my arms.

Vlad and Schipper returned, the sound of their boots on the pavement snapping me out of my melancholic longing.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Fucking professionals," Schipper muttered. He whipped out his phone and showed me video footage of two black Cadillacs pulling up in front of Eva's apartment. The doors flew open and three men dressed in dark clothing, carrying guns bolted up the short walkway and into the apartment.

A minute later, they came back out with Eva and Carla. My heart clenched at the sight of my wife. The two women fought and screamed, but they were no match for the muscled men who clamped their heavy hands over their mouths and shoved them into the backseat of the cars.

"Do you recognize any of the men?" Vlad wondered.

"It's dark, but yes." I watched the video again to be certain. I recognized the cars and studied the way the men moved. It was the same way I moved. "Those men take orders from my uncle, Mathias."

"I'll be damn," Bruce cursed. "Why would he want your wife dead?"

I looked up from the screen. "He wouldn't. He gave me his blessing and he attended our wedding with his wife Elena. My uncle believes our women should be properly guarded at all times after what happened to his wife. She was poisoned by our enemies and has been paralyzed ever since."

"What's your theory then?"

My fingers squeezed the phone in my hand. "I think those men are working independently."

"Any idea where they might have taken her?" Schipper asked.

"My uncle has a hangar and sometimes he would use the rooms at the back to torture men who crossed him personally. It's heavily guarded." I handed the phone back to Schipper. "We're going to need help."

Schipper pocketed the phone, his face stern. "Who do you have in mind?"

"I know just the person. She owes me."

A nod was forthcoming. "Okay then. We have a rescue mission to plan. You know your uncle well. I'm going to need you to tell us what we can expect."

We piled back into the car and the tension inside mirrored the palpable heaviness of the situation. The engine roared to life with Schipper behind the wheel and Vlad in the passenger seat. The vehicle surged forward and I settled in my seat next to Bruce. Our destination: the Galician Clan mansion where I grew up.

Bruce broke the uneasy silence with a smirk. "So, Dante, rescuing your wife from the clutches of your dear uncle's goons. This is like a twisted family reunion, huh?"

I shot him a wry smile. "Yeah, except last time we gathered, there weren't any hired thugs and ex-Marines involved."

Vlad, always stoic, added, "Perhaps we should bring a gift. A peace offering for Mathias. Maybe a fruit basket?"

Schipper chuckled. "Or flowers. Classy touch for a rescue mission."

The absurdity of the suggestions sparked a brief moment of laughter, a much-needed release of the pressure that had been building. Yet, beneath the humor, the reality of the impending confrontation with my uncle hung heavy in the air.

As we approached the imposing gates of the mansion, Bruce leaned over. "You sure about this, Dante? Once we cross that threshold, there's no turning back. How do we know your uncle isn't there right now?"

"Once we're in there, things might get messy, but we mustn't show them our cards. Just be ready for anything."

The big man grinned. "Messy is our middle name."

We pulled up to the entrance, and the guards posted at the gates aimed their guns at the car. None of the men inside flinched. I lowered my window and glared at the guard closest to my door.

A moment later, the gates open to welcome us. The car rolled through the mansion's courtyard, the looming structure casting shadows that seemed to whisper tales of the Galician Clan's legacy.

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