The relief was instant.
The howl of the summer storm greeted me. Its raging rush licked my face. I peeled off my gloves to embrace it, wishing I could slide the dress open easily. In a few months, it would be cold outside. I’d had quiet reservations about leaving the sun and heat of the South in exchange for the bitter, bleak winters. It had never truly been a factor in the decision to come north. The poverty that chased me out of town was enough to eclipse any feeble reason like the weather. But it was nice to find that I enjoyed the change of seasons.
And I couldn’t wait to see snow.
Leaning against the edge of the door, I sighed.
The waxing-moon peeked through the heavy storm clouds for a brief moment. It draped the paved ground and the patio furniture in a silken glow. I’d watched it every night, feeling a kindred call to the familiar globe. I never thought too deeply about the celestial object, but now that I was so far away from where I grew up—where I thought I would live and die—it was nice to have the familiar orb as a companion. I stared up at it, letting my mind lull and my body come alive. With each pass of the sun, it revealed itself. If it was my friend, it was full of secrets. The kind it could only share through feeling, not through thought. The light was filled with a tangible, eerie longing that seemed to invade my heart. By Monday, it would be golden and full, wholly unveiled in all its shimmering glory.
That realization decided me. I knew exactly what I was going to do on my day off.
The twist of the door jarred me from the existential moment. Reality slammed back into me with a brutal force. I jumped outside and softly closed the door behind me.
The shape in the doorway made me pause.
He hadn’t seen me.
Blending into the shadows, I watched the mafia prince hurry to the paneled fake outlet. A knife flicked in the gloom, and he twisted the screws free.
Dominico knew.
Of course he did. How was I not surprised?
That put me in an awkward position. I should have slipped around the house and hoped my sudden appearance in the kitchen wasn’t odd. But I couldn’t make myself move.
I lingered, transfixed by the sight of the beast of a man, lying on the floor with his ear pressed against the hole in the wall. For a girl, I was tall. But Dominico was a giant compared to me. Those long, thick muscles strained against his clothes. My muscles pulsed at the idea of springing on him, straddling that thick trunk…tearing his clothes off.
The door inside swung open.
I gasped and covered my mouth. Not that they could hear me through the French doors.
Dominico pushed off the floor, leaned back on his haunches, and spoke. The words were muffled.
The man kicked the door closed and came at the prince.
He was quick.
Dominico didn’t have time to rise before the fucker was on him. Blows rained down on the mafia prince. Body shots. Something flickered in the dim light, and it took a second before my brain registered that they were brass knuckles.
“Get up!Get up!” I hissed.
It was like watching a car crash.
Dominico managed to kick out. It was a strong blow, but it glanced off the other man’s leg. And it cost Dominico his balance.
The man doubled his attack, twisting out of the mafia prince’s grasp. He was going to severely hurt Dominico if he hadn’t already.
My inner voice screamed at me to move. To fight! Dominico was getting his ass handed to him, and I just stood here.
Enough of this!
I ripped open the glass door and charged.
The noise made the other man recoil. I didn’t think about the repercussions or the fact that the stranger was twice my size. There was a precious second where I used every ounce of momentum to jab the motherfucker in the throat.
The assailant stumbled back, choking.
But I wasn’t done. I grabbed the closest object, hefted it with both hands, and sent it crashing on his head.
