Dominic: Cerberus MC Book 4

by Marie James

  I don’t flinch with the first pop of the gun. I keep my eyes on Smokey as his weight shifts when Chains crumples against him. I smile when Smokey dies with the second blast of Scorpion’s gun. His eyes never leave mine as he tilts left and collapses, his life’s blood swallowed up by the New Mexico dirt.

  My brother turns back, holstering his weapon. “Problem solved,” he says his affect returning to indifference once again. He looks at Kincaid. “We good?”

  Kincaid nods, his face impassive to the violence he’s just witnessed.

  “I want Jasmine,” I say stepping forward and out of the heat of Dom’s embrace.

  “Good,” my brother says with a smile. “Butch found Foxy dead from an OD this morning. The last thing I need is some orphan child at my clubhouse. Didn’t work out so well for you did it?”

  Dom steps up beside me again, a low growl rumbling from deep in his throat. He’s not fond of the callousness my brother approaches me with, but I’m used to it by now.

  “I’ll make the arrangements,” he assures me before turning back to his VP. “Clean this shit up.”

  We all watch, unmoving, as Scorpion and a couple of their guys climb on their bikes and ride off into the darkness.

  I look at Grinder’s body one last time before climbing back into the SUV. Certain he’s dead, I can finally breathe again.

  Chapter 36

  Dominic

  Hate isn’t an emotion I give into very often. It’s a type of poison that will eat you from the inside out. It gives power to the person the feeling is directed at, allows them space in your head as you seethe over it.

  Hate is exactly what I feel for Scorpion. Before tonight, you could say I only disliked him and every shitty thing his club stood for, but after he ripped my chance of killing Grinder from my hands tonight, the hate I’d had for that piece of shit transferred to his president.

  My hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel by the time we make it to the clubhouse to drop Snatch off. I press the child locks before Mak has the chance to pull her door open. I anticipate her insisting she be allowed out and inside of the club where her belongings are, but she just sighs, exhausted from the night and keeps her eyes facing outside of the vehicle.

  The entire ride back to my house is spent in silence, fraught with the heaviness of what the evening entailed. I hope, as I unlock the front door and let her pass, that his death and knowing her sister will be with her soon will ease the burden she’s had on her shoulders for so long.

  As silent as she was on the ride here, she walks past me. I hear the soft click of the guest bedroom door while I’m setting the house alarm.

  I make my way into the kitchen. She has to be starving. She refused lunch at the clubhouse, claiming she wasn’t hungry. I throw sandwiches together, wishing for once in my life I’d paid attention when my mother tried to teach me to cook. Comfort food is what she needs, but peanut butter and jelly is all I have to offer.

  I look up from the meager offerings to the clock, deciding maybe a pizza from the place we ordered from weeks ago would be better. It’s after midnight, and I know they close at eleven on weeknights.

  Placing the plates on the dining room table, I head down the hall to her door. I don’t have a problem with her eating in the room, but I’d prefer she come out and not sit alone.

  My knuckles rap softly on the door, but it goes unanswered. I knock harder to no avail. I can’t imagine what she’s going through, and I know she needs space to run through everything in her head, but knowing that doesn’t make it sting any less.

  I walk away from her door, back to the kitchen to wrap up the food and place it in the fridge. I pace through the house, wasting time even though I know she won’t leave that room. If there’s one trait that describes Makayla Evans without fail it’s that she’s beyond stubborn.

  My pacing leads to my room, which eventually has me gravitating toward the shower. Hope renews while I soap up my body that maybe she was in the shower when I knocked and that’s the reason the door went unanswered. I rush through my shower and barely dry my hair to once again stand and knock on the closed door.

  “Makayla, please open the door.”

  No answer, no sound from within. Sighing, I leave her with the distance she’s demanding, hating every fucking second of it.

  Four hours later, when I know she has to be asleep, I climb out of my bed, grab the key to her room, and let myself in. She doesn’t move when I lift the covers and crawl underneath. When she doesn’t flinch as I wrap my arm around her and pull her against my chest, I know she’s not asleep.

  Normally she would shift her weight, snuggle her soft curves into the hardness of mine, but tonight she lays silent, almost lifeless.

  “Mak,” I whisper even though I have no idea what to say to her.

  “If you want to fuck, let’s get it over with. I want to be alone.” Deadpan, no inflection one way or the other.

  Just fucking, nothing more. My words choose now to come back and haunt me. She uses them in the one moment the lie I’ve told her more than once will burn the most, and it does. Contradicting myself now will only seem like a placation, especially when my own thoughts and feelings are in a battle of epic proportions.

  “Mak,” I whisper against her neck. “That’s not… I didn’t come in here for that.”

  A lifetime goes by in silence.

  “Then I don’t understand why you’re in here.” She hasn’t relaxed into me, and I hate the stiffness of her back.

  “You almost died today. If Scorpion hadn’t acted so fast. Fuck, baby, I can’t even think about it.” Every word spoken is the truth, but I can’t bring myself to speak all of the other truths that are on the tip of my tongue. I can’t say them out loud. I’m not only scared of putting them out there, verbalizing them, but now the possibility of rejection seems like too real of a thing.

  “It’s not the first time someone has tried to shoot me,” she informs with no emotion. “I’ve been shot at before.”

  The fuck?

  “You shouldn’t have to live that way, baby.”

  I’m close enough that I feel her breathing change, hiccupping slightly.

  “I’ve broken ties with the Renegades. I don’t have anything to worry about now. I can take Jasmine and live a normal life without fear of violence.”

  Tell her to stay, my heart insists. It won’t make any difference, my brain interrupts.

  I hold her tighter, but she pulls away.

  “I want to be alone,” she repeats.

  “I want to hold you,” I insist.

  “That’s not what this is,” she counters immediately. I hear her words, but I also feel the hitch in her shoulders as she tries not to cry.

  It can be, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut as I climb out of bed. I look back at her one final time before locking the door from the inside and closing it quietly behind me.

  I know laying back down in my empty bed will be fruitless, so I don’t even bother. I opt instead, for a tumbler of whiskey and a four in the morning walk down to the dock. I’m aware of the cold New Mexico air as it bites through my t-shirt, but I’m so lost in my own head that it barely registers.

  My mind only has room for one thing, and it’s the pink haired woman who showed up less than a month ago and turned my world upside down. I can’t put my finger on what makes her different from the other women that have filtered through my life the last seventeen years, but she’s managed to infiltrate parts of my being no one else ever has.

  Her rebuff wounds me more than I thought it ever could. So many times she’s felt like she’s needed me, needed my comfort, my arms around her, my body inside of hers. Leave it to my fucked up karma to have her reject me the one night I believe she needs me the most, the one night I need her the most.

  I drain the whiskey before making it down to the end of the pier, trying to dull the pain and at the same time figure out a way to make her stay, make her want to stay.

  I’ve used sex numerous
times to control her, to get her to act in a certain way, knowing it’s what she required at the time. It won’t work now, and I have no other recourse to change our situation, no ideas or words to make her see that my house, my heart is where she needs to be.

  The gentle breeze ripples across the top of the lake, distorting the beams of the moon as I stare into nothing, feeling empty inside. No, not empty, deprived. She feels lost to me already even though she’s inside, alone, comforting herself.

  Chapter 37

  Makayla

  Even though I’m the one who asked Dom to leave me alone last night, I can admit that waking up alone, knowing that he’s near, sucks. I have, however, gotten used to it. Back at the clubhouse, even after he fucked me standing in the middle of the room, even after admitting he sleeps on the couch because I was there and not at his house, he continued to leave me alone in that bed.

  He didn’t need me then, so I know last night was a fluke. He wanted to hold me? He has to know that another night in his arms would make walking away from him that much harder. Asking him to leave was almost as hard as facing my demons last night.

  I take longer than usual to shower and get ready for the day, hoping he has obligations that will take him away so I can continue to be alone. I don’t get my wish though because he’s sitting on the couch, tumbler of golden liquid in his hands when I finally make it into the kitchen for coffee. Ten in the morning and he’s already drinking. Not an unusual sight, having grown up in an MC clubhouse where the guys never stop partying, but out of character for Dom.

  Even though I want to, I don’t question the odd behavior. I remain quiet as I pour coffee and stand in the kitchen just out of his line of sight while I drink it. I want to say a million things, but my throat grows dry and scratchy at just the thought of mentioning my feelings or desires.

  Hurt before you get hurt; shoot first ask questions later, that’s what I’ve been raised with. It’s how I have to be right now, even though I know there’s no hurting Dom. He’s been very clear from the beginning about what we were. It’s not his fault I’ve changed the rules by having feelings for him. This is now my mess to deal with.

  Rinsing my cup to put it in the dishwasher, I look out over the lake. From this angle, it’s almost as if the pool flows right into it. I’ll miss this house, the comfort and security. I won’t be able to find the same level of luxury where ever Jasmine and I end up, but at least we’ll be safe.

  The doorbell startles me, nearly causing me to drop the wet cup in my hands. Thankfully, I catch it before it shatters in the stainless steel sink. I dry my hands after positioning the cup in the top rack of the dishwasher and peek around the wall to the front door.

  My depressed mood changes to one of elation when I see my little sister standing in the doorway with my brother. He looks as if he’s ready to bolt and run, which is the opposite of Jasmine’s smiling face.

  The second she sees me, she squeals and runs into my arms, almost before I can crouch down to scoop her up. Tears flow immediately, both of us so happy to see each other neither one of us can hold them back.

  The tension, as thick as lava, is heavy enough to pull my attention from Jasmine long enough to look over at Dom and my brother who seem to be in a standoff on the front porch.

  “Not going to invite me in?” my brother asks with an edge to his voice I don’t often hear.

  “You’re not welcome in my home, Renegade,” Dom returns instantly.

  “You think I’m a threat?” Dom doesn’t answer. “I wouldn’t hurt either one of my sisters.”

  “You’ve been hurting Makayla for years,” Dom counters, his voice filled with so much derision it warms my heart and pains me at the same time.

  “I’ve never laid a hand on that girl,” Scorpion says with an aggressive half step toward Dom.

  “Not all pain is physical.” Dom’s big arms close over his chest, and his mouth turns up in a sneer. I know he’s been drinking and it seems he’s itching for a fight. With my brother’s temper, he won’t have to push much farther to satisfy that need.

  Trying to ignore my shock at Scorpion’s confession concerning Jasmine’s relation to us, I set her down. “Go look out the window.” I point in the direction of the back patio door. “There’s a lake back there.”

  She smiles from ear to ear and all but runs to look. I grin, my heart filled with happiness at seeing her carefree with her nose to the glass.

  I turn my attention back to the men about to beat the shit out of each other. Jasmine may be accustomed to men fighting to solve their problems, but I’ve vowed to myself that once I have her, she’ll never witness such a thing again.

  I walk out onto the porch, running my hand up Dom’s back. I almost get lost in the warmth radiating from his skin. The tension in his muscles eases slightly at my touch, and I do my best not to read anything into it.

  “Thank you for bringing her,” I tell Scorpion holding out my hand for Jasmine’s bags resting at his feet.

  “Planning on living here?” He asks as he hands them over. His wary eyes go back to Dom. I’m not even worth five minutes of his undivided attention.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Good,” he says, but it feels more like a jab at the huge man standing beside me than approval at my decision. “Everything you girls need is in those bags.”

  Without another word, my brother turns his back on me, gets into the truck he drove from Colorado, and drives away.

  “What an asshole,” Dom mutters keeping his eyes on the departing truck until it disappears from sight.

  “Did more than I expected,” I say holding the bags up a little higher.

  I knew it was more likely that Scorpion would’ve shown up empty handed with Jasmine on the back of a motorcycle. I’d also anticipated her being shoved off on one of the other members.

  “Let me help you with those,” he offers.

  I grip the handle on the heavy bags tighter and step past him, heading back into the house. “Thanks, but I got it.”

  Jasmine, ever obedient, still has her nose to the window. I make a mental note to clean her fingerprints off of the glass before we leave. I don’t want Dominic to have to clean up after us after we’re gone. I’ll make it as if I was never here, and he can glide right back into his life.

  “Hey, sweet girl. Let’s get you a bath and into some fresh clothes.”

  I hold out my hand to her, and she clasps it immediately, circumspect eyes stay on Dom until we turn the corner down the hall.

  I lock the door as we enter the room, for her peace of mind, not my own. I know Dom won’t bother us and will knock if he needs to get my attention.

  “Is he a good man?” she asks softly as I run a bubble bath for her.

  My heart clenches. “One of the best men I’ve ever met.”

  Even at eight years old, she loves a bubble bath, so I indulge her. Most of the rooms at the clubhouse only have stand up showers, which are efficient enough but not much fun for a child.

  “I’m going to grab you some clothes,” I tell her. “Have fun but don’t splash too much.”

  She grins back at me and piles two handfuls of bubbles on her head.

  I’m laughing at her antics when I unzip one of the duffel bags, but the humor turns into a gasp. Just under the first couple of inches of clothes are stacks of money, passports that have mine and Jasmine’s pictures but not our real identity, records she’ll need to start school, and two handguns. My brother has literally provided me with everything he feels is necessary to start a real life.

  I grab a change of clothes from the bag and zip it up tight. The money is more than enough to get started on, but I also have to think about the long term because it’s not enough for forever.

  I walk back into the bathroom to find Jasmine in a different mood than I left her. I know she has to be upset, and she’s doing just as I did as a little girl, pretending to be someone else when she’s around others. I was always the little girl with a smile on my face, kn
owing angry and upset wasn’t what the adults in my life wanted to deal with, so I gave them what they expected. Even though it killed me inside, all of my tears were cried in private. I hate seeing that trait in my sister right now.

  She notices me in the doorway and tries to turn her lips up, but her grief is just too much.

  “My mother died,” she says quietly keeping her eyes on the bubbles covering her legs.

  “I know sweetheart,” I say as I drop to my knees on the mat beside the tub and place a gentle hand on her back. “If it’s any consolation, you have me.”

  Teary eyed and filled with sadness she looks up at me before speaking. “You’re going to be my momma now?”

  I want to explain to her that I will be that and everything her mother wasn’t but I settle for, “if that’s okay? I’d love for you to live with me.”

  “Will that man out there be my daddy?” Hope fills her eyes at the prospect of having two loving parents.

  “He’s just a friend, Jas. But I promise to be everything you need.”

  She nods her head, satisfied with my answer.

  “I think that’s perfect,” she says softly.

  Half an hour later, she’s asleep, her tiny body taking up only a fraction of the bed. I leave her to rest and go to find Dom. I need to thank him for helping me and ask for one last favor.

  Chapter 38

  Dominic

  “You pitiful motherfucker,” I mumble before tossing back a mouthful of whiskey.

  I don’t think it’s even noon, yet here I sit, drunker than I recall being since before I retired from the Marine Corps. The sight of that little girl, arms wrapped around Mak, both of them crying at their long-awaited reunion, fucked me up. It hit me in the chest as hard as holding Gigi and Ivy in my arms at the hospital. Only this time it wasn’t about missing out on something but wanting exactly what I had in front of me.

  Mine, my heart screamed as I watched them.