Dominik

by Sawyer Bennett

  My heart pounds as we run. I trip over some type of plant, feel rocks cut into my knees, but I push back up before John can even reach out to help me. The gunfire continues and it doesn’t sound any further away, but no closer either. I can’t tell if we’re running to or from more danger, but I have to trust Mark. He’s a former Army Ranger, and he’s good at his job.

  I’m gasping for air with a painful stitch in my side when Mark finally pushes John and me into some thorny underbrush. I ignore the stings to my flesh through my thick clothing as I scuttle in behind him. He orders us to go in as far as we can, then he positions himself near the edge, pulling down a pair of night-vision goggles attached to the top of his helmet.

  I try to control my breathing because I’m terrified the harsh gasps coming out of me will give us away.

  The gunfire continues, and there are two more explosions.

  John mutters, “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

  He chants it over and over again, and I realize he doesn’t sound confident at all.

  And it’s in this moment I realize something so important I want to cry from the epiphany. I could very well die here, huddled under this bush in the middle of Syria, and Dominik will never know the most important truth of all. In between all my apologies and attempts to explain myself, through my desperate pleas that we could make this work, I never once told him the one thing he probably needed to hear because I was too scared to say it.

  But right now, I’m more afraid of dying without Dominik ever knowing how I feel about him.

  I grab the satellite phone hooked to my belt, hunch my body over it, and turn it on. The LED screen glows, and John whispers, “Turn that fucking thing off.”

  I snarl back. “I have to make a call.”

  “You’ll get us killed,” he growls.

  Ignoring him, I move to my knees, open my jacket, and hunch further around the phone to dampen the light it emits. Shakily, I touch the button for one of four numbers I’d programmed in it before I left.

  Dominik’s.

  I had every intention of calling him, but every day that passed by with no word from him, I became less and less sure of myself.

  The phone starts to ring.

  I imagine him in the visiting owner’s box at the Cold Fury’s arena. He keeps his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d pull it out, see it was me calling as it’s hooked to my cell account. Would he wonder why I’d be calling him from Syria in the wee early morning hours?

  Would he be concerned?

  Please, please answer, Dominik.

  But after four rings, his voice mail comes on, and a tiny moan of disappointment slithers out of me.

  More gunfire and another explosion that sounds even closer.

  It takes forever for his voice mail to play, even though it’s a short, simple message. John snarls for me to hang up again, but I ignore him. Mark remains poised with his rifle aimed into the darkness.

  Finally, the tone to indicate it’s time to leave a message goes off. “Dominik… it’s me, and I really, really wish you had answered.”

  More gunfire… this time, it’s just a single round.

  Perhaps to end someone’s life?

  My tone becomes more urgent. “Um… listen, I’m kind of in a tight spot.” Another burst of gunfire, this time definitely closer. I lower my voice. “I have to make this quick, but um… I’m scared. I’m really, really afraid right now and I don’t know what will happen, but I’m mostly afraid I’ll die without you knowing how I feel about you. I just wanted to say… I love you. I should have said yes when you asked me to marry you. It’s the greatest regret of my life, and I need you to know you are my everything.”

  There’s another round of gunfire, and now we can hear men shouting.

  “Hang the fucking phone up,” John demands, and the terror in his voice breaks through my fog.

  I grip the phone hard. “I have to go, Dominik. I love you.”

  Disconnecting the phone, I shove it face-first into the dirt to extinguish the light, then flatten myself to the ground beside John.

  I feel weirdly satisfied that I accomplished the call. It was necessary for Dominik to know I’m not afraid of him or what he represents. On the contrary, he’s my everything.

  And now I have to wait to see what happens.

  CHAPTER 28

  Dominik

  I realize now I have never really appreciated being obscenely wealthy. So many times I’ve taken my money for granted. I’ve often chastised myself for buying the most expensive toys.

  But right now, I have never been more thankful. Few private jets can make the ten-plus-hour flight from Raleigh, North Carolina to Istanbul, Turkey, but it just so happens I own one that can.

  I had my Gulfstream G650ER gassed and ready to leave within an hour of receiving Willow’s call.

  My stomach rolls even thinking about when I’d decided to listen to her voice mail. I saw her call during the game and even thought about answering it, but I’d still been set on punishing her. I’d put on an act, as if I didn’t need her. That if I was so unimportant she would leave to take on a dangerous assignment in Syria, then she could get a little taste of the same back.

  It was the second worst mistake of my life, the first being letting her get away at all.

  It was a shitty night all around. The Vengeance lost game six to the Cold Fury, setting us up for a final showdown back in Phoenix. I didn’t bother listening to her voice mail until after the game ended. Everyone had cleared out of the visiting owner’s box, and I’d been on my way out when I couldn’t stand it any longer. I simply had to hear what she had to say after six days of silence since she’d left for Syria.

  I almost threw up when I heard her voice.

  The terror in it.

  The gunfire in the background.

  The way she was whispering so her voice wouldn’t carry.

  Some man snarling for her to hang up.

  And then those words I’d thought would make me the happiest man in the world… I love you.

  I couldn’t even fucking appreciate them because when that message was over, all I could think was the woman I loved could very well be dead even as I listened to her words.

  But money is power… and power means connections. I took an Uber to the airport while Mrs. Osborne worked her magic. Before I even boarded my plane, I had a US Senator on the line while I tried to figure out where the fuck Willow was.

  We were somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean when I found out the details of what happened. She was embedded with some forces that were making a hostage rescue attempt. It wasn’t her original assignment, but one she jumped on when it came available. I wanted to hate her for that decision, but I promised myself if she were still alive, I’d forgive her anything.

  We were an hour from landing in Istanbul when I got word Willow was safe and sound, which was a God-given miracle considering some of the people she was with had been killed. I didn’t know whether to hug her or shake her when I saw her, but Istanbul wasn’t my final destination. It appeared Willow and some of the crew she was with had been rescued and extracted to the Incirlik Air Base in Adana, Turkey, where she was currently being debriefed by U.S. officials. Reports said she was in good shape but definitely shaken up.

  Yeah… I’d forgive her for everything.

  My plane touched down in Istanbul. It took roughly thirty minutes to refuel, but there were no further delays to get back in the air as my senator friend had already gotten my plane clearance to land at Incirlik.

  I’m now in a military Jeep being chauffeured to some building on the large airbase that’s shared by both U.S. and Turkish air forces. As I’m led down a hallway toward a closed door at the end, I know Willow is on the other side.

  I can feel her.

  The airman opens the door for me, and I step through. Willow is at a window with her back to me. She turns, eyes widening in disbelief as she takes me in. My gaze sweeps down her. She has on a white tank top and khak
i shorts with a bandage wrapped around her knee, but she looks healthy and whole.

  I stop when I see that beautiful fucking face, and we just stare at each other for several long moments.

  And then she’s flying toward me, gimpy knee and all, and, at last, she’s in my arms where I swear I’m never going to let go of her ever again.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice muffled since I’ve lifted her off the floor and her face is buried in my neck.

  My hand goes to the back of her head. “You seriously didn’t think I wouldn’t come get you after that voice mail you left, did you? Seriously, Willow… I can think of better ways to get my attention.”

  She barks out a choking laugh, pressing closer to me. Weaving my fingers into her hair, I grip a handful to pull her head back so I can see her face. “So you love me, huh?”

  “God… do I ever,” she says with a groan, then plasters her mouth to mine.

  It’s a kiss that represents long days of repression and loss, all coming out to cleanse both of our souls. It’s soft and gentle and then it’s gone, her face buried in the crook of my neck once more.

  “I was so scared, Dominik,” she whispers against my skin. “I was so afraid—not that I’d die, but I’d die without you knowing how I felt.”

  “It’s okay,” I reassure her.

  She rears back slightly, shaking her head. “No, it’s not okay. Jimmy and Sal died out there. Malik is missing, and—”

  I hold my fingers over her mouth. “I want you to tell me all about it. First, though, I want to get you out of here. I’ve got a doctor on standby to look you over, then we’re going to fly to Paris so you can take a few days—”

  “No,” she practically screeches, her eyes going incredibly wide and filling with angst. “I just realized… you are really here.”

  “Of course I’m here.”

  “No, no, no. Dominik… game seven is going to be starting in less than eighteen hours. What the hell are you doing here?”

  And then it dawns on me. I haven’t thought about the Vengeance once since I’d left, yet Willow is wigging out over that?

  “Relax,” I soothe, trying to reassure her.

  “No, no, no,” she repeats frantically. “You have to get on a plane and go back. Maybe you can make it before—”

  “Willow, just stop,” I say sternly as I set her down on the floor. I put my hands firmly on her shoulders, making sure she’s looking at me. “The game doesn’t mean anything. You’re the only thing that matters.”

  Her eyes get wet and her voice lowers. “But… Dominik, it’s your dream.”

  “You’re my dream,” I clarify. “And it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not. The Vengeance will win it.”

  She just blinks. “I seriously can’t believe you left the playoffs for me.”

  “I’d do anything for you, Willow. I love you.”

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t say the words to you before. I was so caught up in being scared about marriage that I didn’t even stop to think about how I felt about you. Had I done that—just taken a moment—none of this would have happened. I love you so much, Dominik.”

  That deserves another kiss, so I give it to her, hoping to convey it’s truly going to be okay between us.

  I pull back from the softness of her lips. “No more talking. Let’s get back on my plane and go to Paris. Or London. Or even Amsterdam. Wherever you want to go in Europe, as we can be there in four to five hours. We’ll let you get some rest before we head back to the States.”

  “I wish we could head straight to Phoenix so we could see the game,” she murmurs dejectedly. “I feel horrible for leaving.”

  “We’d never make it back in time,” I say, taking her by the hand. I lift it to my mouth, then press my lips to it. “But I promise… we’ll watch it on TV while naked in bed. Sound okay?”

  She smiles, though it’s a little sad because not being at the game in person sucks.

  Regardless, I’d rather have Willow safe, sound, and firmly back in my life. I’m the absolute winner right now.

  ♦

  We’re not naked. Instead, we’re sitting on the end of the bed, leaning toward the flat-screen TV.

  As with owning a private jet capable of traversing oceans on a tank of gas, it was pretty easy to secure a luxury suite with access to a live feed of the final championship game.

  When Willow and I arrived in Paris, we took showers, both of us travel weary, and slept for a few hours. I woke her up with my mouth, and we made love twice.

  Ordered room service and ate like starved animals.

  Fucked in the shower, then dressed in the robes provided by the hotel.

  And now, we’ve been screaming at the TV for the past three hours as the time ticks down toward victory. The Vengeance is up 4-2 with less than a minute to play, and it’s on a TV timeout right now.

  Willow bounces off the end of the bed and crawls onto my lap, straddling me. Her face is lit up with excitement and sheer joy. “I can’t believe it, Dominik. You’re getting ready to win the championship. The brand-new baby team in the league is knocking down veritable giants, and it’s all because of the amazing roster you put together.”

  “It’s surreal,” I admit. “I mean… when I bought the team, it was just an investment, but it’s gone so far beyond that.”

  “It’s become a family,” she says. And, yes, that’s exactly what it is. “I still feel bad we’re not there.”

  “Everyone understands,” I promise her. Willow called her parents and Dax from the plane as we flew out of Adana toward Paris. She told them some glossed-over details about what happened and that we were headed to Paris. They were just so happy she was safe and returning home no one minded in the least—especially Dax—that she wasn’t there.

  As for my team, I’m sure they’ll understand. In fact, I know they will. Dax got on the phone with me for a private word, to thank me for going after his sister. His parting words were, “I’ll always have your back, bro.”

  I think all my players would feel that way.

  So yeah… it’s okay we’re here. Willow’s on my lap, and my team is getting ready to win the Cup in their inaugural year.

  In fact, it’s more than okay that Willow’s in my lap right now.

  I vaguely hear the announcer come back on the TV, but Willow is soft and warm and I know there’s no way the Vengeance will give up a two-goal lead with less than a minute left.

  “Dominik?” Willow whispers in my ear.

  “Yeah?” Settling my hands on her hips, I press our bodies together.

  “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Is your plane all gassed up?”

  “It should be,” I say. We hadn’t made any solid plans on when to leave.

  “Let’s fly to Vegas tomorrow.”

  My chin jerks inward, and I push her back slightly so I can see her face. Clear eyes stare back, filled with devotion. “Vegas?”

  And then it hits me.

  Vegas.

  Land of the quickie weddings.

  “Are you sure?” I ask as I wrap my arms tightly around her.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she replies. On the TV, I vaguely hear the buzzer go off, signifying the end of the game.

  The Arizona Vengeance are the champions.

  And it looks like I’m about to get married.

  Life could not be any more perfect.

  A special thanks to Kat Mizera for calling on her roots as a former hockey journalist to provide the article about the Arizona Vengeance and their playoff run in chapter 25! For more hockey romance, stop by Kat Mizera’s website to see her available titles.

  The Arizona Vengeance will continue heating up the ice in 2020!

  After having been traded from the Arizona Vengeance to the Carolina Cold Fury, Rafe Simmons is adjusting to live back in North Carolina in Rafe: An Arizona Vengeance Novella, releasing April 28, 2020 as part of the 1,001
Dark Nights series! Preorder Rafe now!

  Aaron Wylde needs to re-evaluate his playboy ways in Wylde, releasing August 4, 2020! Preorder Wylde now!

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  About the Author

  Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released multiple books, many of which have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists.

  A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.

  Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active daughter, as well as full-time servant to her adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or even better, both.

  Sawyer also writes general and women’s fiction under the pen name S. Bennett and sweet romance under the name Juliette Poe.