“Come on, Allie. I’ve got two double beds in my room, comfy and warm, safe and . . . not here.”
“Nope,” I reply, shaking my head. “I won’t be chased from my home.”
Funny. I never felt in danger until Dom, and now he’s the one I’m in the most danger from. He’s the only one with access to hurt my heart, my body, my soul.
TJ looks around, and I understand the feeling. Even though he’s searched, there’s still that little niggling feeling that we’ve missed something, that we’ve got a big hi-def camera or something pointed right at us and it’s streaming video of me right now.
“Listen, Allie, I can’t leave. I just don’t feel like you’re in a safe place. But I won’t force you. Can I stay the night?”
His question unknots a giant ball of tension from my chest, and I nod. TJ drops down on the couch beside me, relieved.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“I got you, Sis,” TJ says quietly, looking down between his knees.
After a few minutes, he speaks up again. “How’d everything get so fucked up, Allie-gator? What happened?”
I don’t answer because he seems to be leading himself somewhere, processing something in his own mind. His head falls back to the couch and he stares at the ceiling.
“When I was in high school, I had this whole picture, you know? You were gonna be this famous dancer, living in Manhattan or LA or Paris or some shit, and I was going to be the soldier boy. Yeah, I was thinking about it even then. Blame Dad with all those old fucking John Wayne movies, I guess. Then, well, I had Janine, dreaming of happily ever afters and all that romantic shit. I thought I was gonna come home, surprise Janine with being back, and we’d be happy. I mean, I was going to surprise her with damn-near a guaranteed year at the base stateside. We’d get the family started, have a couple of kids, dinner at home. And somehow, it all got shot to hell. Now I’m stuck here, without her, without the dream, without the happily ever after. I filed for divorce, did I tell you that?”
“No, you didn’t,” I reply, but I’m really not that surprised after what he told me. “I’m so sorry, TJ. If you need anything, please just say the word and I’m there.”
The offer is real, but I know he won’t call on me. That’s not how he operates. He’s always been the caregiver, not the care-receiver. He’s always taken care of me, patiently and with his whole heart. It’s one of the things I love most about him and an example I’ve always tried to live up to myself. Still, he nods, his head rolling over to look at me.
“Thanks, Allie.”
I sit forward, putting a hand on his knee. “It’s her loss, you know? You’re an amazing man, TJ, and if she couldn’t see that, didn’t appreciate that, it’s her loss.”
He picks his head up and looks me dead in the eye. “His loss too. You’re better than this, better than him. You deserve more than to be questioned and followed, kept in a cage. You are one of the strongest people I know, Allie. You’ve fought and reinvented yourself so many times, and you’re so close to getting out of the tunnel you’ve been in for so long that I swear . . . looking at you, it hurts because your light is so bright. You can leave your debts behind, this life behind, and get all the things you’ve always wanted. Don’t let him keep you in the dark.”
Chapter 21
Dominick
Every morning when I wake up, I look at the calendar, each blank square stabbing in my heart as I look back at that night.
Two weeks. Two weeks, and tomorrow, the calendar changes over, taking that night off the page. And not a single word.
I’ve felt myself retreating day by day as my mind starts to fray before crystalizing back into the ice-cold, manipulative fucker I was before Allie. I hadn’t realized how much she’d changed me, melting my frozen heart in a watershed of rebirth, shaping me into something better. But now, without her light, her sun, her warmth, every thawed drop has refrozen into sharp edges, making me ready to gut anyone who so much as looks at me sideways.
It’s only by sheer force of will that I haven’t gone on a rampage of violence, slashing and burning the city so it hurts as much as I do. Even before, I never felt this insane. Never felt this primal desire to destroy things.
Ironically, the more of a bastard I become, the busier Petals has been. In a twisted sense of irony, every night has more patrons, more people wanting a front-row seat for Armageddon, like I’m some daytime soap opera villain they want to see destroyed by his own weakness. But even as the darkness inside me grows, I keep my façade, stoic and impassive, not giving an ounce of show to the vultures.
I still make the required appearances for formality’s sake, shaking hands here and there around the floor because it’s expected and it would show weakness on my part if I didn’t. That’s something I’m unwilling the bear. I’ve been conditioned since birth to never, ever show weakness.
Instead of letting that happen, I take a few moments to have a seat at a table near the stage with a group of influential local businessmen, offering them a round of Jack on the house.
Nothing fancy—they don’t deserve the fine imported stuff—but they’re so enamored to watch Trish’s turn on the pole that it doesn’t matter.
I lift my glass in silent salute and hold it there as each man lifts his in kind. I wait, not saying anything but giving each of them a hard look of expectation. These pampered princes haven’t tipped Trish at all during her performance and they’re taking up one of the prime tables. Unacceptable and downright rude.
Still holding my drink aloft, I watch as they set theirs down, quickly grabbing twenties from their wallets and holding them up. Trish sashays over, giving me a look of appreciation, but I don’t acknowledge her in any way. She plucks the bill from each man and blows them all a kiss as she moves on.
I finally take the Jack in one gulp, not even feeling the burn of the whisky down my throat. A sense of relief washes through the men, and they follow suit, taking their shots at once too.
The ritual completed, I rise, laying a heavy hand on the shoulder of the leader of the little group, wishing them a good rest of their evening before continuing my way upstairs.
I can hear Logan coming up the stairs behind me as I enter my office, the weight of the crown weighing heavily on my head. I know he wouldn’t dare approach without a reason, but I wish he would just leave me to sink into the darkness of my soul alone.
No such luck. He’s a professional. I could order him to leave me alone for the rest of the night unless it’s an emergency, but I’ve been doing that too often over the past two weeks.
Besides, he’s my only source of intel, and even if it’s a bitter, vile pill that I have to take each day as he shares his news with me, I swallow it eagerly. I know Logan’s hoping that it’ll soothe the beast I’ve become before my state of mind starts threatening everyone’s well-being.
“Sir?” Logan says, asking for permission to come into my office and begin.
I wave him inside, holding up a hand as I sit down in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to prepare myself. He must sense permission because he begins his report.
“Allie had routine classes today for Thursdays, two children’s classes and her Diva class. Her Diva Dance class was full this week, three new attendees, all married females, nothing amiss. She had her first Pole Fitness class last night, also full, seemed to be majority of dance moms from Encore.”
As hurt as I’ve been, I’m glad for her. She deserves every success in her dance dreams, and I hum, signaling for Logan to keep going. I need to get this over with, but I also want every morsel of insight to savor.
“After work, TJ met her. They went for dinner at a Mexican restaurant, then back to her apartment. He stayed until just before midnight. Allie stayed in the rest of the evening. Wilson is on duty tonight.”
“Wilson?” I bark, suddenly angry. That’s a change in schedule, something I can question and reasonably expect an answer on, something I can be angry at without seeming like a heartb
roken, lovelorn puppy. I make a plan, and it should be followed to the letter.
To his credit, Logan doesn’t so much as flinch at my outburst. At least, for me, it’s an outburst.
“Yes sir. There was an incident before TJ arrived.”
“What happened?” I growl, reining in my anger. “Is Allie okay?”
Logan holds up a hand, unruffled. “She is, though she almost took my head off.” He says it with an amused tone, like whatever happened was funny to him.
“Logan.”
My single word cuts through his attempt at lightness and refocuses him back to business.
“Of course, sir. I was at Mat Madness, not for duty but because Max and Dalton let me use their stuff in exchange for pointers on their amateur fighters. I’ve been helping them coach one of the up-and-coming kids.”
He pauses like he’s waiting for me have something to say about that, but I don’t have patience for that right now. “Continue.”
“She must have seen my car in the parking lot, assumed I was there to watch her,” Logan says, turning slightly red. “She stormed in, and before I could even greet her, she ripped me a new one, the gist of which was to leave her the fuck alone, and then she stomped out. Whole thing took maybe a minute? Max and Dalton were rather amused at seeing her hand me my ass while I stood there like a gaping fish.”
I have a flash of pride in my girl. It’s good to imagine her unafraid of someone as athletic and dangerous as Logan. Not that Logan would touch Allie. He’s a good man and has strict orders not to unless it’s for her own safety.
But her ire at being watched means she’s still fighting with herself over what we are, what I mean to her. I swallow the painful thought down, not willing to let Logan see my hurt at her dismissal of what we have.
“So what does that have to do with Wilson being on duty tonight?” I ask.
Logan rubs at his jaw. “You want us to stay invisible, Boss. Allie knows Gavin and me, knows our cars, knows our builds well enough to spot us in a crowd. Wilson might not be the best, but he’s . . . invisible because she doesn’t know him that well. I also told him to dress casually when he’s on patrol, just one more way to be inconspicuous. Because she’s obviously looking, testing to see if you’ve really left her alone.”
I growl to let Logan know he’s walking a fine edge.
After our fight, I’d had to tell him and Gavin to step back in their chaperoning, to be invisible once again. Logan, who sort of knows what happened, hadn’t liked it, but he’d done it when I reminded him that though Allie might not want to be guarded, she damn well needs the bare minimum because the whole town knows she is mine.
And though there may be suspicions as to why I’ve been such an asshole lately, no one really knows that there is trouble in our fucked-up version of paradise, so she’s very much at risk.
“Wilson?” I muse. “He’s a good asset here at the club, but this assignment is more important. Do you trust him to do his job, keep her safe, not be seen, and not touch her if he is?”
Logan nods immediately. “I do. I stressed the importance of the matter to him . . . personally.”
With a sigh, I acquiesce. “Very well.”
He turns to go but stops with one hand on the doorknob. He looks up and then turns to face me fully, his hands crossed in front of him.
“Sir, may I speak freely?”
It’s a big thing to ask me in my current mood, and he knows it. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to hear what he has to say, but his proximity to Allison teases at me, wanting any tidbit of intel he might have on her.
I have done my best and haven’t contacted her, haven’t spied on her or knocked on her door to beg entry, but it’s been hard. Without the insights from Logan and Gavin, I’m not sure I could’ve withstood the last two weeks.
I nod, not saying a word so he knows to be cautious.
Logan clears his throat. “Dominick, she looks like hell. She’s holding it together, putting on a smile for the kids and the ladies in her classes, but it’s fake. She’s fraying around the edges. Her eyes are puffy like she’s been crying a lot, and I think she’s even lost weight. The light through the window says she’s got her TV on into the early hours of the morning, so either she’s not sleeping or she’s sleeping in the living room. I think she’s falling apart.”
In an instant, I’m out of my chair, pacing back and forth. I run my fingers through my hair, grabbing handfuls and pulling hard to punish myself for doing this to her. I hate that she is in pain. I can withstand anything but that. I need to go, need to hold her in my arms and tell her that everything will be okay. Reassure her and myself. She will come around. She has to.
I make a move toward the door and Logan bravely steps in front of me, halting my progress. “Sir. Stop. I wasn’t finished, and I can read it all over your face, but you can’t go to her. She’s working it out. It’s hurting her, but you’re in no condition to go to her either. As much as she looks like shit, you’re just as bad.”
He knows his words piss me off, and I narrow my eyes at him, pressing my shoulders back and standing upright. A king demanding reverence. “Excuse me?”
Logan doesn’t back down as I expected and continues. “You don’t wear it on your sleeve like she does, but you’re just as unraveled. I get it, she’s special. Everyone who’s spent five minutes with her knows that. She brought you to life, like the miracle worker she is. Now she’s gone, and you’re five different kinds of fucked up because of it. Just as much as she needs to figure shit out, so do you. Don’t go fuck her up more than she already is because you can’t handle your shit.”
It’s probably the longest string of words I’ve ever heard from Logan, which sucks because he’s one hundred percent right and we both know it. Still, his words sting, and my hand clenches in desire to punch him for the liberties he’s taking speaking to me, even if I gave him permission to do so.
Instead, after a moment, my hand relaxes and I reach up, patting him on the shoulder. “Perhaps you’re right, Logan.”
He nods. “You’re a good man, Dominick. As much as you can be. But what you’re asking her to do, to be, is a lot for someone who has no frame of reference for the world you live in. She doesn’t understand. But I think she could. You can’t keep her compartmentalized like you have been. Either she’s in all the way or out all the way.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “I think you need to bring her in, or at least give her the option. Be clear on it, none of this cloak and dagger shit that you’re good at. But just . . . give the girl a minute to miss you.”
A tiny smile of encouragement flashes on his lips, gone so fast I almost think I imagined it, but it was there. “You think she does? Miss me?”
The rare moment of weakness escapes with the hopeful question before I can stop it, but Logan doesn’t take advantage. “I know she does.”
It helps, and I take a deep breath, going back to my office chair and sitting down to gather my thoughts. “What was she wearing for her first pole fitness class last night?”
It’s an odd segue, and though he looks confused, Logan takes a moment before answering. “I don’t know, sir. The classroom has no windows, you know, and when she came out, she was in her normal sweats, like I said. Same pair she was wearing when she chewed me out. But earlier, when she greeted the ladies in the lobby, she had on black shorts and a baby pink tank top. Why?”
I take a moment to savor the image in my mind. “Thank you, Logan. That’ll be all.”
He doesn’t question me further, hearing that our moment of friendly chatter has ended. But I know without a doubt that my Allison misses me now.
I sent her the package of dancewear with an encouraging note about her first class. Maybe it hadn’t been the smartest play, to push myself into her life when she’d so adamantly forced me out.
But she’d worn the outfit, which means she read the note I sent.
Maybe there is a chance I can earn my way back into her life.
But the last
time I tried to do a delicate dance, it ended in spectacular flames and nine thousand dollars’ worth of broken surveillance equipment.
And my gut tells me that if I go in like a bull in a china shop, demanding and pressuring with expectations of obedience, Allie would rebel like the hellcat she is. While I enjoy her moments of wildness, I need it to be within reason.
There’s got to be a way to keep her safe, to keep her by my side, and to keep her mine.
Chapter 22
Allie
“Oh, my goodness, girl. You look like . . .” Maggie says as I open the door before her voice stalls.
She just looks at me, her mouth pursing as she tries to find a nice way to put it.
Finally, I just wave her inside. “Helluva greeting after not seeing me for so long. And you can say it, I look like shit. Believe me, I’m well aware because I feel even worse.”
Maggie shakes her head, her newly-dyed platinum curls bouncing. “No, I mean you look fine, just . . .”
She doesn’t finish the thought, just grabs me in a big hug, squeezing me tight. She’s surprisingly strong for a little thing. I’d forgotten just how much.
“Grr, I could just shoot that man for what he’s doing to you,” she says when she lets me go, and though my lips tilt up slightly, it’s far from my usual beaming smile. “I can do it, you know. I think the law’s on my side.”
“Thanks. It’s the thought that counts, though I’d never want that. Even the thought of you brandishing a weapon kinda freaks me out. Like a Killer Kewpie Doll,” I reply, watching her plop down on my couch.
She grins, a full showing of her teeth like it’s a really funny joke. “You know me, I’m just your everyday FBI consultant Barbie doll. I’ll shoot you full of holes, infiltrate your organization, and discover all your dirty secrets. Then I’ll make cupcakes, paint my nails, and break your eardrums with my karaoke. Gotta have balance, you know?”
Dirty Secrets Page 22
