by Hazel Parker
“I appreciate you giving me a chance to explain all of this,” he said. “I’m doing my best not to repeat the Pork situation, but this time, there are things that have me by the balls that go a little bit beyond my own stupidity.”
“I’m happy to hear them out,” I said. “Go get yourself some coffee, huh? You must be exhausted with all of the traveling that you’re doing.”
“Tell me about it, fuck,” Richard muttered.
I sat down and looked at my phone as Richard ordered his drink. I still had not gotten word from Jenna. The more time went by, the more I was beginning to believe that she not only was removing photos, but she might also have edited the text to benefit her some. I wanted desperately to believe that she wasn’t trying to help me to cover her ass, but, well…
Richard came out mercifully quickly, taking me away from the thoughts of Danica, Jenna, and whatever else was involved in that file.
“So what’s going on?” I said, getting right to it. “Why are you going to California so much?”
Richard sighed.
“You remember how, a short while back, the three main leaders of the California Saints came by and said they wanted this to be a peaceful transition? Well, if it were that easy, then I’d never have to be over there. Unfortunately, it’s not as smooth as that meeting would have you believe.”
Ah, fuck.
“The California Saints have more or less made it clear that being taken over is not something that we have a say in, but for the sake of maintaining appearances, we are welcome to call it a partnership or whatever the fuck we want to call it,” he said. “I’ve been fighting like hell to negotiate, but they’re playing a lot of games to wear me down. Like, well, traveling. They have insisted that any negotiations be done on their turf.”
“I thought they—”
“Said we could come up with something on our own and send it to them, yes, you’re not wrong. But they feel like they have the upper hand and can dictate things. What they are telling you all and what they are telling me, let’s just say it for what it is, are two separate things.”
Well, wasn’t that just great? We’d finally found peace, and now not only did we have the city wanting to eliminate us, but we also had our supposed friends. At least they didn’t want to kill us.
Yet.
“Believe me, I’m fighting like hell to keep this club independent,” he said. “I’ve offered them payment, I’ve offered them equity, I’ve offered them access to more weapons. It ain’t working. They feel like they have all the bargaining power, and we have none.”
“And here I thought they were our friends.”
Richard gave a short chuckle.
“Dom, I got the club, and I got Natasha, and that’s it. Everyone else is a mutual acquaintance or, at best, someone I’m friendly with. We’re bikers. We don’t have a lot of friends by nature.”
“Including Mario, I take it?”
Richard took a sip of his coffee.
“He knows how it works,” he said. “He stays out of our hair; we keep the streets clean of the bad element.”
He sighed.
“I’ve been trying to keep this coy in the club because I don’t want to start up a round of panic. I know that it seems like I haven’t learned my lesson, but keep in mind what happened with Krispy and Pork was pretty contained. What goes on here affects everyone. And you have a pretty level head—probably because you’re drowning in so much pussy you can’t be mad.”
I snorted at that, but Richard seemed a little surprised I didn’t have a stronger reaction. Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything else about it and continued to speak.
“In any case, think of what news of a takeover would do. You’d have more than a few guys going to California on their own and starting violence. The minute someone dies, the rest of the dominoes fall. I’m doing everything in my power to avoid bloodshed.”
“And the California Saints know that,” I pointed out. “They’re using that to leverage us.”
“Well, it’s just good fucking common sense. We have, what, twelve members now? One of whom is six months pregnant? And they have a few dozen? I’d say we have more former members of the military, but they don’t have zero.”
Now the problem was apparent. They had the personnel, tactical, and psychological advantage. We had… well, we didn’t have much, did we? We could appeal in a few ways, but otherwise, we were fucked.
It was almost like we had to rely, once again, on outside forces to help. And the one force that could, the LVPD, suddenly seemed so oppressive and watchful that we couldn’t so much as go a mile per hour over the speed limit.
“It’s not much better here, I’m afraid,” I said, piling on the bad news. “I’ve been speaking with Jenna. Mario can’t see you anymore. He’s being watched and scrutinized closely.”
Richard snorted.
“Figured,” he said. “Guy’s been looking forward to the golf course more than his office the last several months. Even if Las Vegas didn’t want his ass in the frying pan, he’s more than happy to put himself there.”
“Well, whatever happens with the California Saints, it cannot come here,” I said. “It just can’t. Even if we win, we run into trouble.”
“City Council wants us gone, huh?”
I nodded.
“Those pussy-ass politicians have wanted us out of the town since I was a runaway here. I’m not worried about them. I am, however, worried about the LVPD turning their asses on us.”
A tense silence followed. Both of us were desperate for solutions. Neither of us could see an easy way out.
At least, though, I knew what Richard and I had nearly fought about wouldn’t come to blows. I understood why Richard had all but said he’d kill me if I started a coup—he’d been under so much stress, he probably just went immediately for the jugular. Hearing what I’d suggested would come couldn’t have felt good on top of everything in California.
Still, we had to figure something out, and we had to do it fucking quickly. This shit with the California Saints had to end bloodlessly, or at least outside city limits.
I felt my phone buzz. Given that Richard was sitting there silently, I used the chance to pull out my phone.
“I have the case files you wanted.”
Chapter 10: Jenna
Dom told me to come to his apartment at four that night.
I was fucking exhausted. I didn’t want to come over that late. Not only did it feel like the equivalent of a cheap booty call, but it also prevented me from getting to bed. I had only slept six hours the night before, and combined with my seven a.m. wakeup call with Chief Gutierrez, this just felt like a fucking taunt on his part.
I suppose it said something about how I felt with Dom that I never said a word to him about the late start, though. I just said that I would be waiting for him outside the parking deck at that time and that I’d follow him up when that happened.
When four-oh-one hit, the temptation to just say fuck it and head home was quite strong. The files were printed out. I could have just tossed them on the ground, texted Dom where they were, and headed home. Or, if I was feeling kinder, I could have waited until he arrived, put the files in his hand, and then bid him farewell.
And yet, when he showed up a few minutes later, I wanted to be by his side as he read what I discovered. Selfishly, I wanted the exoneration. But, well, also selfishly, I wanted to see his reaction. I wanted to feel his presence as he uncovered the truth. I just wanted to be near him.
“You’ve got it all?” he asked.
I nodded, flashing the folder in front of me.
“Hop on.”
I did so without hesitation. He moved slowly, not wanting to spill the files, and he parked on the second level of the deck in his usual spot. I hopped off, the files still in hand, and silently followed him up the elevator. Neither of us said a word, me because of exhaustion, him probably because of nerves.
I stole a glance at him a few times as the elevator ros
e up. He never once changed his body language. His eyes stared straight ahead, narrowed, determined. His arms were crossed, displaying his lean, vascular forearms. His Adam’s apple swallowed multiple times, a movement that was the only thing that suggested anything beyond absolute stoicism. I wanted to watch his stomach, maybe even steal a glance at his pants, but that felt too obvious.
The doors opened a short time later, and Dom immediately stepped through, knowing I would follow. As soon as we were in his apartment, he shut the door behind me and locked it.
“Lay it out,” he said.
I tossed it on his kitchen island, leaned against the fridge, folded my arms, and let him read the whole thing in silence.
I knew what it contained. I knew how it made me look. I knew that it exonerated me. I looked forward to that.
But that didn’t mean that it left me entirely off the hook. I knew there were bits in there that made me look, at best, wildly naive and stupid. Those were parts I’d left in, hoping to make it obvious to Dom that this wasn’t an edited version meant to cover my ass one hundred percent.
The original document, several pages long, had been cut to five. Admittedly, a great deal of the document was photos of evidence, meaning the actual text wasn’t that long, but I also made it a point to cut redundant information or things that he did not need to know. He didn’t need to know, for example, who the past residents of the house I had lived in were.
The rate at which he flipped through the pages told me he was taking his time to read everything that he saw. There was no stone left unturned, no word left unread. He read between every single line. He would not miss the parts in which I had reacted stupidly.
I began to wonder if I even needed to be there. By now, I’d been standing there for a couple of minutes; it probably would have looked really bad if I’d just walked out. I hinted at making a move, but Dom didn’t notice or care. He was utterly engrossed with the text, and not even me leaving would change that.
But selfishly, I didn’t want to leave. So I stayed. He would tell me to leave if necessary.
One by one, he flipped the pages. He got to the last page.
It was only then that he finally spoke.
“Scar killed Danica.”
He barely uttered the words. Had I not been intently watching him, I wouldn’t have heard him clearly. But there was no mistaking it.
“Scar killed her,” he said, this time a little more clearly. “He killed her with your gun.”
I gulped. He didn’t look at me, though. He still stared at what I presumed was the last line, which recommended arresting Stewart Elliot, also known as Scar, for murder.
“And now he’s dead.”
I bit my lip. I genuinely had no idea how Dom would react to this. I could have seen him flipping out at me, asking me about the testimony in which I said I had shown the gun off, giving Scar the opportunity grab it. I could have seen him feeling at peace, knowing that Danica’s murderer was gone. I could have seen him feeling empty and unfulfilled, knowing that someone else in the club had murdered him.
“He meant to kill someone else,” he said, reading a previous section of the last page. “And instead, he killed Danica.”
He bit his lip, sighed, and dropped the packet. His eyes remained downcast. I took one step forward but stopped after feeling that anything further was intruding on a profound moment for Dom.
“I’m sorry, Dom,” I finally said after what felt like a minute of silence. “If not for the gun being so easily accessed…”
I lowered my eyes. Tears formed in them. I didn’t dare cry or sob, not when this was Dom’s moment. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for my part in all of this.
I closed my eyes, sniffled once, and folded my hands. I would not cry. I could not cry.
And then I felt a finger gently on my chin lift me up. I opened my eyes to see Dom before me.
We were so close. We were just inches from each other. He was so close that the view of the rest of the apartment was swallowed by his handsome face. I could have just…
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I have a gun here. Doesn’t mean that if Pork takes it and kills someone, it’s my fault. Guns aren’t illegal.”
I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye as I spoke.
“Yeah, but—”
He lifted me up again. He wouldn’t let me avoid his eye contact. Those soulful, wounded eyes of his had me locked in, even as I struggled to break free.
I feared what would happen if I held that gaze. I wasn’t sure it was something that I or Dom as ready for.
“I could have made a difference.”
“And you do now,” he said.
He leaned his head forward. I swore for a second it was going to happen. My stomach fluttered, and my heart skipped a beat.
And then his head moved to the side, and he embraced me tightly.
I felt mostly relief that he had just hugged me. Anything else would have ruined this moment that was meant to reflect on Danica, not me. I hadn’t come upstairs to take advantage of Dom, even passively. I just wanted to comfort him if need be. I didn’t want to be the one to be comforted.
As it was, even this hug felt incredibly intimate. For how much he had hated me, for how much he had called me a killer and said other things that shook me to my core… this hug said, “I forgive you.” It released a burden that had hung over me for ten years.
That burden wasn’t completely clean. I still had to forgive myself, and I hadn’t reached that stage. But Dom had helped a lot.
“Thank you, Dom,” I said, deliberately taking a few steps back to avoid making this situation any weirder than it already was. “You don’t have to comfort me. You’re the one who lost her.”
“I am,” he said. “But we all suffered that night. Just because I loved her and knew her more than you doesn’t mean you don’t get to suffer.”
I clutched my hands to my chest, sighing slowly. He was going to make me start crying again, goddamnit.
“You’re a lot nicer than your reputation would have others believe,” I said.
“Contrary to what everyone thinks, I’m not a player,” he said. “I’m a broken man who tries to keep things lighthearted. Everyone loves the jester who charms the ladies. But it’s never been something that I’ve embraced so easily. It’s just… it’s a way to prevent people from asking the right questions.”
“What are the right questions?”
Dom went silent. Ironic, I thought, that I asked a question that probably wasn’t the right question.
“I mean, the obvious answer is the question that gets me to reveal all of this,” he said. “But I’m just not sure that that even matters. I can talk about it now, knowing the truth that I do, just… well, I don’t know. I just know there are right actions, and that means moving forward. You know I do forgive you, right?”
I smiled, letting my arms drop to my side.
“I mean, hell, you were what, nineteen? Yeah, I played with guns when I was nineteen too, I just happened to be in the military. So, you’re good.”
“Good,” I said.
I couldn’t even begin to express how much relief I felt right there. I still had my own demons to fight, but I’d already taken the fight to them by joining the Las Vegas police. But I could remove from those demons the fact that Dom seemed stricken with the disease of being unable to love ever again. That wasn’t going to affect him like it might have in the past.
But now I was left in a slightly awkward position of being at Dom’s place at four-thirty in the morning with a lot of emotions and confusing feelings flying through the air. I’d already thought I was going to, well, do that, and even if he had wanted to, it still wouldn’t have felt right. This was about letting go of the past, not about starting a new future.
“I should get going,” I said. “But I’m glad the documents brought you some measure of peace.”
“Will you let me walk you to your car?” he said.
And then,
goddamnit, he adopted that little smirk of his he got whenever he wanted to charm someone. I’d seen him use it on other girls at the parties, and it was not lost on me that he used that expression frequently. And yet, it worked.
It fucking worked! I knew it was coming, and it worked. It made me want to have him even more. It made me want to kiss him.
Yeah, it really did.
“I’d hate for a lady to be all by herself at night.”
And now the flirting. Fuck.
“I am a cop, you know. I can handle it.”
“Cops have backups, you know.”
Fuck me. He’s good.
“OK,” I said. “But just know that I could make the walk back myself.”
“And I could walk right now all the way from here to The Red Door without consequence; doesn’t mean that it would be wise for me to do that.”
I rolled my eyes as Dom let out a lighthearted laugh—probably, I thought, the first one he’d had around me since Danica’s death. If that didn’t signal him moving forward, I’m not sure what would have.
When we got to the elevator, I swore I got the vibe he wanted to put his arm around me. When the elevator doors closed, I saw him turn just ever so slightly so he could take me in. It felt like the prelude to something more. When we walked through the lobby, our hands bumped accidentally. There were so many opportunities for something more to happen.
“Thanks for showing me what you did,” Dom said when we finally got to my car. “I feel like I can go about my life much more easily now.”
“It was nothing,” I said. “I just took out some photos, removed some unnecessary text, and that was that.”
“It was far from nothing, Jenna,” he said. “It was what gave me my old self back.”
And here comes the smile.
“Not bad for a cop.”
I snorted. He held out his arms, and this time, the body language was unambiguous. He just wrapped me up in a hug.
That lasted…
And lasted…
And lasted…
I wanted to pull back. But I didn’t really want to pull back. I wanted to go home to the comfort of my bed. But I didn’t really want to leave the comfort of Dom’s lean, firm chest.
