James. James was in town.
What the fuck was he supposed to do?
The question rattled around in Dom’s head endlessly for hours. He’d not seen James since he’d faked his own death and left California. It had been the only way to escape his brother, who’d grown increasingly psychotic over the years. His identical twin brother.
The brother no one knew existed.
No, that was wrong. Rowe knew. When he’d interviewed with Rowe, he’d told him everything when his boss discovered that Dominic Walsh didn’t actually exist. He’d told him about the stealing and living on the streets. He’d told him about escaping James and wanting something more for his life before it was too late. Rowe had taken pity on him, given him a shot when he was sure that he didn’t deserve one.
Did James know he was still alive? Was that why he was in Cincinnati? The message didn’t seem to be directed at him, but then ten years ago, he and James were the only ones who could read their secret language. They hadn’t even let their father in on it. Had James come to town with someone else who could read their language?
When they’d been younger, James liked to mark his target with NEXT, like he was taunting the cops. And he got off on eluding the police and child protective services and even other gangs trying to run them off their turf. James wanted the world to know that he was smarter than all of them. Better than them.
Dom went along. Telling himself it was just a game. It was just stuff and they needed to eat. No one was really getting hurt.
Until it stopped being a game and someone got hurt.
His fingers clenched around the gun he was taking apart and he closed his eyes. It took everything to shove back the memory, to bury it down into the darkest depths of his brain. He didn’t want to remember it or the ensuing fight with James.
He’d gotten out. Built a good life.
Opening his eyes again, he loosened his fingers and stared down at the gun. He was just supposed to be checking the weaponry and inventory. A mind-numbing job, but they all took turns doing it. Dom usually tried to sweet-talk his way out of it, but today he welcomed the tedious monotony. He couldn’t have concentrated on teaching a self-defense class.
Soft footsteps were his only warning before Royce Karras strolled into the room wearing the standard black cargo pants and black polo shirt with the Ward Security logo. They all wore that or something similar on the job unless they were told to appear in a suit and blend.
“Some hero’s reward,” Royce muttered, jerking his chin at the inventory sheet resting on the edge of the table.
“I’ll take it,” Dom said, smirking at his friend. “Dealing with screaming fans and pushy reporters gets old fast.”
“Thanks.”
There was a wealth of sarcasm and derision in that single word, but that was Royce. A man of few words but they carried a shit-ton of meaning when he bothered to speak at all.
“How’s Marc?”
Royce’s dark expression faded at the mere mention of his boyfriend, and his smirk turned into something closer to a smile. “Begging me to get him an introduction to Elrige.”
“Him too?” Dom chuckled. Marc Foster was one of the most successful art gallery owners in Cincinnati. Hell, he had several successful galleries around the world. He was also a damn good artist, though few people had seen his work. Just some friends. And since Royce considered Dom a good friend, he’d been invited to Marc’s house and seen many of the paintings Marc had done of Royce. “I thought he knew a bunch of celebrities. How can he need your help?”
“Apparently their paths have not crossed. He claims he’s got the perfect piece for Elrige.”
“Yeah, and isn’t Silver Blaze one of Marc’s favorite movies?” Dom teased.
“You’re not helping.”
Dom just chuckled as he resumed cleaning and putting together the Glock in his hands. Royce worked around him, checking out his gun for the evening and the necessary ammo.
The silence was comfortable and easy, but Royce’s presence reminded Dom that they both had less-than-pristine pasts, though Royce didn’t realize it. Royce had been born into a New York mob family and then worked as an enforcer for a loan shark. Sure, it wasn’t the same, but Royce chose to leave that life and start fresh…before it came back to threaten everything.
“Royce…can I ask you a personal question?”
The other man stopped and raised a dark eyebrow at him. “I’ve never known you to ask permission before. This must be serious.”
Dom rolled his eyes and then returned them to the gun in his hands. “Did you ever worry about your past coming back to fuck up your life?”
“You mean like how my uncle nearly killed my mom and almost cost me Marc?” Royce asked, his voice wry.
“Or some variation of that.”
Royce chuckled softly. He put the gun he’d been checking on the worktable and leaned his forearms on the top. “I did for a time when I first moved to the area and then when I got the job with Ward, but after a while, I forgot about him. I just concentrated on the job and Marc. The bastard caught me off guard when he struck.”
“Now that you know, what would you have done differently?”
Royce watched him for several seconds, his eyes narrowed, weighing him. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Royce’s brain as the man tried to figure out the reason for Dom’s questions. A part of him wanted to tell Royce, to come clean to all of them, but he was ashamed of his past. He couldn’t risk losing them.
“Nothing,” Royce said firmly.
“What? What do you mean? You just said your mom almost died, and you could have lost Marc. Why would you not do anything if you could have?”
“Anything I could have done differently would mean possibly missing out on the friends I have here at Ward. It would mean not having Marc in my life. There isn’t anything that would convince me to walk away from those two things. My mom is safe, and my uncle is out of my life.”
Dom grunted. It had all worked out for Royce, and now he was happily involved with a man who loved him. But was he willing to risk his life—or even Abe’s—where his brother was concerned? Last time he’d seen James, he was sure that his brother had gone insane. The guilt over leaving him out there to wreak havoc had nearly taken him down—but James was still his brother and like it or not, they’d had a tight bond during those early years when their father had used them to trick marks.
How was he supposed to protect his friends from James? The only thing he could even think of was packing a bag and disappearing completely. But he loved his life. He didn’t want to leave and start all over again. But if it meant keeping people safe…
“Don’t run.”
Dom’s head jerked up at Royce’s hard voice.
“Don’t run,” he repeated in the same unyielding tone. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can almost hear that thought racing through your brain.” He reached out and poked Dom’s temple. “You’ve got a good life here and people who will help you.”
He grunted again with a nod. If he opened his mouth, things were going to come spilling out, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.
A soft sigh slipped from Royce and he picked up his gun. He carefully shoved it into the holster at his side. “Even if your problems turn out to be worse than mine, I’m not going anywhere. You were there when shit went sideways for me. And you were there for Sven when he lost Geoffrey. Your friends aren’t going anywhere.”
“Thanks, Royce.”
Clapping his hand on Dom’s shoulder, Royce smirked. “Don’t miss a chance at happiness because you’re worrying about what could be. Not what is. If shit hits the fan, we can handle it.”
Dom nodded and watched his friend leave.
Was Royce right?
There was little doubt in Dom’s mind that his brother was in town. He might have taught others their secret code, but just the arrogance of the message screamed James.
But even if Jam
es wrote the message, it wasn’t necessarily directed at him. No, if James was sending him a message, it would have been far more direct. And threatening.
If the message wasn’t directed at him, then there was a very good chance that James had no idea that he was in Cincinnati or even alive. He was worrying over nothing. And potentially wasting his shot at happiness with Abe. That he couldn’t accept.
Taking a deep breath, Dom felt some of the weight fall off his shoulders. The pressure on his chest eased, and the jitteriness in his legs finally lessened. He’d be careful. Keep his head down. James would never know he existed, and he’d focus on winning Abe over.
Chapter Four
“Do me a favor, and don’t leave me alone with a blatherskite.”
Abe lifted an eyebrow as they walked down Race Street to where they were meeting Trent Elrige for dinner between takes. The street had been roped off and large chunks of Washington Park had been cordoned off by the film crew that had been shooting in front of the massive, red brick façade of Cincinnati Music Hall that afternoon. Crowds still milled around the edges, people hoping for glimpses of the actors and actresses. Besides Trent, there were three other big names in this production and apparently, they were all in Cincinnati now for a particular scene, so the place bustled with activity.
“You’re expecting that on a movie set?”
“You know what it means?” Dom skirted a couple of people wearing walkie-talkie headsets.
“Are you assuming I don’t?” Abe snorted and pointed to his head. “Think there’s nothing going on up here? That I’m just a man who works with his hands?”
“I would give anything to know how you work with your hands.” Dom gave an exaggerated shudder and nearly ran into a frantic woman carrying a couple of tall coffees. She shot him a glare and took off. Dom laughed softly, but it didn’t hold the usual merriment. They walked a few more feet before Dom knocked him gently with his shoulder. “What was it you were saying about your hands?”
Abe shook his head and smiled. He was so screwed. “I suppose I can show you how I carve wood, but really, how exciting is that?”
“And now you’re assuming I wouldn’t watch you,” Dom growled at him. “Be nice or I’ll absquatulate.”
He groaned. “Someone needs to take away your Word a Day calendar.”
Dom snickered.
The banter felt good. Abe had noticed something was up with Dom the second he’d climbed inside his car, and he much preferred this over that unnatural quiet he’d been earlier. On the drive, the urge to put his hand on Dom’s thigh and squeeze for comfort had been so hard to resist, he’d had to curl his hand into a fist on his lap.
This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He was getting attached, and it didn’t feel like he was keeping Dom in the friend zone, where he wanted him. Any more and he was looking to get his heart broken.
Not for the first time, Abe wished he was the type to find casual sex easy and fun, because he was fast reaching a point where he wanted…no, needed…to know what Dom’s skin felt like. How he smelled and tasted. He glanced at him, loving the way his auburn hair shone in the plethora of lights filling the area.
He should have said no to this outing, but turning down a chance to be on a real movie set, a chance to meet Trent Elrige, would have been crazy.
Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? He just wanted to be with Dom.
“There’s Trent now,” Dom said, grabbing his attention as he picked up speed and waved.
The Clooney lookalike came toward them and his easy smile at Dom made Abe feel a little something he was not familiar with. He wouldn’t call it jealousy exactly—more like discomfort at the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at the bodyguard.
When that gaze turned to him, then locked on, Abe slowed his walk. Why the hell was the very famous Trent Elrige staring at him so hard? Did he have a smudge on his face or what? When they reached him, Trent nodded at Dom like they were having some sort of telepathic conversation. He waggled his brows.
“This who you chose over me the other night?” he asked when they stopped in front of him. The thin, hipster assistant next to Trent gasped, then bit his lip. Trent rolled his eyes. “Oh can it, Earl, you know what I meant.”
“Who’s with you today?” Dom asked, shaking the hand Trent held out. “Garrett or Royce?”
“Nobody. You threw the stalker through a window, remember?”
Dom’s body went stiff. His frame seemed to puff up a bit in indignation. “You have no security from Ward now?” His gaze latched on to the bruiser standing next to a picnic table outside a trailer.
Trent aimed his thumb back over his shoulder at the man. “I just sent Royce on his way. My usual guy is over his flu and back on the job. He should be enough with the threat removed.” He frowned. “You’re being rude not introducing me to your boyfriend.”
“Oh, I’m not—” Abe started.
“This is Abe Stephens and no, he’s not my boyfriend, but that’s not from lack of trying.”
“Nice to meet you, Abe Stephens,” Trent said, holding out his hand.
Abe shook it, noticing he had a lot of callouses. He remembered reading something about the actor paying a lot of extra money for insurance because he climbed as a hobby. He had an iron grip, too.
“So, you don’t think Dom here is pretty enough to date?” The wry twist of Trent’s lips let Abe know he was messing with Dom. And it worked.
“Pretty? What the fuck?” Dom scowled.
And like that, Abe’s tension eased. He liked this guy. “Oh, he’s plenty pretty, just not my type.”
“And that is?” Trent asked.
“Respectful of his elders.”
“We are having a big conversation later,” Dom growled under his breath. He held his hands out in front of his chest like he was measuring something. “Big.”
Trent cracked up and waved them toward a picnic table. “Come and eat. I ordered ahead—got several things because I didn’t know what you guys like.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Dom said.
Trent shrugged. “Gotta eat and I only have an hour tonight. And I only got that because the director is pissed about something or another. This one usually is whenever his wife can’t come on the shoots. If you’ve seen her, you’ll get it.” He paused as he settled on the bench. “Or maybe not with you two.”
Dom stared at Abe but didn’t speak, and Abe realized he wouldn’t give away any of Abe’s personal information. His heart warmed and he stared back until Dom’s mouth went slightly slack.
“Whew,” Trent muttered. “You guys better sit down before you catch my trailer on fire. Not dating? Really?”
Abe briefly closed his eyes, then sat across from the actor. He needed to watch himself, or he was going to hurt Dom for real. He focused on the spread on the table, impressed. Sandwiches, subs, salads—and none looked like the kind he made himself at home. These had specialty meats, cheeses, and veggies. Several bright lights had the entire area lit up so much, it was like daytime.
“It’s nothing fancy,” Trent said. “Things like this are easier to serve when you don’t know what time you’ll have each day. If you’re adventurous, try this one.” He pointed to one of the thicker subs. “My assistant found that spicy mustard on our last shoot in Pennsylvania. Has a kick, but a way of bringing out flavors of everything around it.”
“You a foodie, Trent?” Dom reached for one of those subs.
So did Abe. He had a thing for good mustards.
“I dabble some, but I eat on the run a lot and with the workouts they’ve had me doing for this movie, I’m wallowing in protein. Who ever heard of a bulked-up vampire?”
“Not wallowing in blood then, eh?”
Trent flashed them both a quick grin. “Well, I do like my steaks rare.”
Bulked out was an understatement. He wasn’t as tall as Abe and Dom, but his layers of muscle dwarfed them both.
Abe enjoyed the dinner, surprised he felt no nerves around
the easygoing actor. Trent really was like one of the guys, and he had a feeling they’d be friends if he lived nearby.
A woman with sleek black hair and red eyes wrapped in a short, silk robe walked over, her gaze locked on the spread rather than the table’s occupants.
“Damn, Trent. I’m jealous.”
Abe blinked and stared hard at the woman. It was only when she spoke that he realized that he was looking at Kate Jones, one of the highest paid actresses in Hollywood. But then, she was hard to recognize without her trademark blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
“I do have pretty amazing dinner companions,” Trent quipped.
“No offense, gentlemen, but I was eyeing the food. If I have to eat one more salad, I’m gonna murder for real.”
Grinning, Trent grabbed an untouched sandwich and pulled off a thick slice of roast beef. He rolled it into a little tube and handed it off to the woman, who consumed it like she was starving.
“There you go, my little carnivore. Just a few more days of shooting and you can binge-eat like the rest of the world,” Trent teased.
“You’re evil,” she said with a little moan. Her eyes finally caught on Trent’s companions, and Abe swore he could see a blush under her heavy makeup. “I’m so sorry to disturb your dinner.”
“No problem,” Abe murmured.
“Kate, these are my friends, Dominic Walsh and Abe Stephens. Guys, the lovely and hungry Kate Jones.”
She reached across the table and shook Abe’s hand, but paused when she took Dom’s hand. “You’re the one from the window. You saved Trent’s life.”
Dom gave a little shake of his head. “It was just a little saving.”
Trent made a scoffing noise, but Kate pressed on. “There’s a casting agent going frantic around here. I think she’s dying to cast you in something after seeing that video of you.”
To Abe’s shock, Dom went pale at the mention of the casting agent. “Please don’t tell her you’ve seen me. Hollywood is definitely not my thing,” he quickly said.
Sadistic Sherlock (Ward Security Book 4) Page 4
