slammed Parsons against the counter, shoving his head toward the meat slicer. Pressing his face against the blade, tight grip still on his hair, Dante pinned him there.
"Three thousand dollars," he said, "or I turn the slicer on and make you pay another way."
"Please!" he begged. "Please, I didn't know!"
"You didn't know?" Dante asked. "Then let me tell you, so we're clear. I don't give a rat's ass who promised you protection, whether it be Roberto Barsanti or the fucking President of the United States. You owe."
"Okay! I'm sorry, okay! I'll pay!"
Dante snatched his head back up, shoving him away from the counter as he let go. Parsons turned to the cash register, his hands shaking as he pressed the button to open it. Yanking out fistfuls of cash, he attempted to count it, screwing up a few times. Umberto kept the gun trained on him from the other side, as Dante stood there, waiting. His side burned, his body aching. He wanted to sit the hell down but he knew that was out of the question.
"Three thousand," Parsons said, holding a wad of cash out. "It's all there."
Dante took it, passing it Umberto's way.
Umberto shoved it in his pocket and lowered his gun.
Parsons looked between them, starting to apologize again, when Dante drew his fist back and swung, clocking him right in the face. A loud crack echoed around them, stinging running up Dante's arm from the force. Parsons stumbled back into the cash register before his feet came out from under him and he slid to the floor.
"Don't ever swing on me again, asshole."
Dante walked away, unlocking the door to the deli and waltzing outside, stretching his fingers and shaking his hand. He glanced down at his side, pulling his shirt up, seeing the blood starting to soak the bandage. Shit.
Umberto lingered inside for a moment before joining him. Dante dropped his shirt, not mentioning it.
"His friend's at the bar," Umberto said. "Good timing, because I would kill for a drink after that."
The two of them started down the block, toward the bar. Dante's attention drifted, his gaze across the street as they walked, on the top right window of the brick walk-up. Light glowed from inside, the blinds raised, somebody moving around the apartment. He could see the shadows dancing.
"You think you got this?" Dante asked, stopping in front of the bar. "Can you handle this guy on your own?"
"Sure." Umberto's brow furrowed. "You not coming in?"
"I've got something else to take care of," Dante said. "Just do what you gotta do. I'll catch you later."
He didn't give Umberto a chance to respond before jogging across the street, dodging traffic. He reached the building just as someone else was entering and snatched a hold of the door before it closed, slipping in the building without needing buzzed in.
The building was a relic and hadn't been renovated in decades, everything in the place pre-dating him. A slight odor lingered in the hallways, like the wooden floor was starting to rot, the boards squeaking when he walked. The apartment was in better shape, albeit damn small, but instead of being suffocating, it felt cozy.
Maybe it's not the apartment, dumbass. Maybe it's the girl.
Dante stopped in front of her door, listening, before carefully knocking. At once, footsteps approached, locks jingling before the door opened a crack. The chain was still attached, catching the door after a few inches, giving Gabriella just enough room to look out.
Her eyes widened. "Dante?"
"Did you use the peephole?" he asked.
"I, uh… no."
"You should've," he said. "You should always check the peephole before you unlock the door."
Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the chain. "It's still locked."
"That one doesn't count," he said. "Chains are easy to break."
"Well, then, I guess it's kind of pointless, huh?"
"Pretty much."
"In that case, hold on a second."
She shut the door, and the chain jingled before the door opened the whole way. Gabriella stood in front of him, wearing a pair of black shorts and a matching tank top, showing a sliver of her tanned, toned stomach. He'd never seen her wearing so little before. He couldn't seem to stop his eyes as they roamed her body, meeting her gaze again when she cleared her throat.
"Are you going to come in?" she asked. "Or are you planning on just staying out in the hallway? Because I'd like to shut the door again, so I need to know which side of it you're hoping to be on when I do."