“He’s safe, doll. You’re both safe. I got you.”
At my words, her body goes limp. Her eyes close. Fuck no. I jostle her in my arms, but she’s still.
“Help her!” I hold her closer to me and shake her body to try to wake her as I scream. “Somebody help me get her down!”
Dom
“You sure, Dom?” Jack’s voice echoes in my head, and I scowl.
I want to smash his fucking teeth in. I get that his woman, his wife, was ready to rat on him. I fucking understand that. But this isn’t his woman. Becca isn’t a rat. I got her into that shit. She’s not at fault in any way.
And what he’s implying is unforgivable. My voice is low and deadly as I turn to face him and stare straight into his eyes with my hard gaze. I want what I say to be heard and understood. “If anyone touches her, or implies that any harm should come to her or her son, I will slit your fucking throat open.”
“Just calm down, Dom.” I look at my father like he’s the one who said it, because he’s keeping me from destroying Jack. My fists are clenched so tight my knuckles are white. How could he fucking imply that we should kill her?
“She’s just seen a lot is all.” He leans back against the bookshelves in the office, and I turn my head slowly to stare him down. Vince, Pops, Jack and I are in the office. Pops' office. It’s a dark room with thick curtains and dark chestnut bookshelves lining the walls. They’re filled to the brim. Pops loves to read, but he also likes to hide shit. I know some of the books are for his secrets. I just don’t know which books, or which secrets.
Vince paces by the door with his hands in his pockets, head bowed, staring at the antique rug as he walks. He doesn’t look up to respond to Jack, “She hasn’t even come to. We don’t know what she’s seen.”
“She was conscious when we were shooting. It doesn’t matter that we saved her. She could blab. She could sell us out.”
My father’s hands come down hard on my chest and then move to my shoulders, shoving me into the seat in front of his desk. My breath is caught in my throat, and adrenaline courses through my blood.
“That’s enough, Jack!” he yells at Jack, but his eyes are on me. I can feel them boring into me, but I’m not looking back at him. My eyes are shooting daggers at Jack. I fucking told him to shut his mouth. I don’t give a shit that he’s the underboss. Pops knows it. Jack’s days are numbered. I won’t allow it. I won’t allow anyone to keep breathing if they so much as think of touching my girl.
I shove Pops away and sit back in my seat, crossing my arms. I can’t turn my face neutral. I look pissed 'cause I am pissed. But I’ll bide my time, I’ll wait. But I’m not going to let De Luca live.
“You need to calm down, Dom; just think this through.” My father’s voice is calm and even. My brow furrows, and I glare at him. He can’t be fucking serious. A look of shock crosses his face as he says, “Between you and Jack. Just calm down, think it through.”
My tense shoulders relax slightly. I nod my head. He means me fucking up Jack. Thank fuck. I don’t know what I would do if he was talking about my doll. I swallow thickly and spear my hands through my hair and then grip it while I lean back in my seat. I stare blankly at the office ceiling.
I just can’t get the image of her hanging there out of my head. Her face is bruised. Her eye, her cheek. She obviously hit her head more than a few times trying to balance herself on the edge of that industrial steel sink. But it’s more than that. The bruises, the blood, they really fucked her up. All because of me.
She’s in my bedroom. My old bedroom at my parents' house. Just a few doors down from Pops' office. She hasn’t woken up yet, and that scares the shit out of me. Her skin was ice cold and pale. When the doctor stripped her down I saw the stab wounds on her legs. They didn’t show any mercy. Tears prick at my eyes, but I will them down. It’s all because of me. 'Cause I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.
Jax is downstairs playing with Gino. I’m glad the two of them hit it off. Jimmy brought some remote-controlled monster trucks over, and the kids are crashing them into each other. He keeps asking for her, looking around all worried. Ma’s got it taken care of though. I’m sure as hell not letting him see his mom like that. I don’t want to scare him. I have to protect the little guy as best I can. Luckily Paulie’s the only one those fuckers managed to hit, and it was only his leg. Doc took care of that with some quick stitches. A few days off and some whiskey will have Paulie good as new.
“What you need to be worrying about is De Luca and his gang.” Pops' voice rings out through the office.
They fucking got away. They were waiting, ready to ambush us. But they didn’t expect the numbers. They fled like the cowards they are. We got one of theirs. But you can’t question a dead body. We know their territory though. We know where they hang out. It’s fucking over.
“If I’d been there I would’ve told you guys to split.” Jack decides to chime in again. Silence greets him. He’s not the boss. He knows it, and so does Pops. But for some reason, my father lets him get away with that shit. “Someone always needs to be outside.”
“If we’d split up, they wouldn’t have run. But then we wouldn’t have had the numbers.” I finally look back at him. “I made that call, and I’m fucking good with it.” I sit forward in my seat. “Pops was there,” I look at my father, “and if he wasn’t good with it, he would’ve said so.” My father nods once in agreement. “If we’re going to go in for the kill, it’ll be on our terms. We were only there to get Becca. Nothing else.”
Pops squeezes my shoulder and walks around to sit at his desk. He sinks into the leather wingback chair and then clasps his hands and rests his elbows on the mahogany desk. His fingers steeple and the tips rest at his lips. “We had to lay low because of you, Jack. We don’t now.”
I shake my head. “I’m not ready. I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s alright.”
“Since when do you come on hits, Dom?” It’s not a question. Well, that’s not quite the question he’s asking, anyway. He knows there’s no way I’m not going after them. But I never have before. I don’t work the streets. I have my own business. I’m only in this family because he runs it. I have my bookie business, and that’s good enough for me. I work the familia’s books and that keeps me in, but that’s it.
“Things change.” I can’t look him in the eyes.
A knock at the door interrupts us. “Enter,” Pops says, pausing a conversation I’m not really sure I want to have.
The doctor walks in and gently shuts the door behind him. He’s an older man with short white hair and pale blue eyes surrounded by well-earned wrinkles. His glasses make him look distinguished even if he is wearing faded jeans and a thin V-neck sweater.
This isn’t the first time he’s been here, and it won’t be the last. Nearly a decade ago, his son got into problems with a gang on the west side. He begged my father for help. Pops knows a good man when he sees him. That, and it’s nice to have a doctor available for house visits on short notice for cash payments.