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Saying goodbye a couple of days later was almost as hard as walking out of my father’s mansion back then. The bonds I formed, with Izzy especially, killed me to break. Part of me wanted to stay, telling me thatwhy not?What did I have to go back to?
Tears burned behind my eyes with the reminder. I had nothing. No one. Only Marc. And he alone was why I even considered leaving. I’d go anywhere with him. For him. And he had a life that didn’t involve cozying up with the Cuban mob.
“I’ll miss having you here.” Izzy pulled me in for a tight hug. “Stay in touch,chica?” She pulled away, looking me in the eye. “And be careful. Just because Xander is gone does not mean it’s all safe.”
I nodded, trying to hide that pang of worry that gripped my belly. It wasn’t safe here, either, but under Dom’s and Izzy’s protection, it was as safe as it could be. She was right. People were still out there. People who wanted them dead. ThoseReapers. Did that include us, too? Or would they let us be and focus on their main targets? Only time could tell.
“There’s no better place to hide than in a group of crazy fans,” Marc sneered. “We’ll be fine.”
I grimaced, hoping he was right, and looking forward with nervous anticipation to being a part of his life. And Johnny’s.
Dom strode into the room. “You’re still here?”
Marc lifted an eyebrow in mock question. “Can’t wait to get rid of us?”
Dom grinned. “On the contrary. Here.” He held out his hand, and my eyes landed on a small black gun tucked into it.
I gasped. We didn’t need that, did we?
“No thanks,” Marc said, and Dom scoffed.
“It’s not a request. Take the fucking gun.”
“I fucking hate weapons.”
Dom let out a sharp laugh. “You want to keep her alive?” he asked with a pointy look my way, and I cringed under his dark gaze.
Marc hesitated, then grabbed the weapon and looked it over before tucking it into his belt. “Thank you.”
Dom slapped his back. “You got this.” He held Marc’s gaze, and I looked between them, clearly missing something. “Just don’t shoot any of those fans,” he added, and Marc chuckled.
“I wish.”
“If you need anything, you know where to find us,” Izzy said.
Dom nodded his agreement. “What I said. About family. I meant it.”
Marc gave him a stiff nod, and I squeezed his hand. He didn’t want to admit it, but I wasn’t blind. He’d come to like the twins, too. And saying goodbye wasn’t his strong suit. Neither was mine. And as I hugged Izzy one last time, tears rolled down my cheeks. She wiped hers as I moved away, and as I reached out a hand to Dom, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into a tight embrace that made me tense from the sudden shock. “Take care of your man,” he spoke into my ear. “He’s lucky to have you.”
He let me go, winking at Marc. “I might keep this one.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Marc’s voice didn’t quite hide the warning hidden under a twisted grin, and Dom chuckled.
“Is that a threat?”
“If it has to be.”
“Guys!” Izzy stepped between them. “Max is outside.” She turned to me. “He’ll take you straight to the airport.”
Two months later
After announcing my arrival at the main gate and being escorted inside the walls, I walked in silence as a scary-looking guard led me into the building and into a room. He gestured toward a booth, and my eyes darted over the colorless interior, to the glass wall, then to the guard. His face was as cold and hard as the prison itself. Emotionless. Like Dom, buthemade it mysteriously attractive. This man made me recoil as he looked at me with two pale blue eyes roaming over my body as if I was a snack. I quickly averted my gaze, letting it sweep over the place. Everything was concrete and steel. Gray and black.
My legs trembled as I sat, staring into the glass separating me and my father. It was the first time I saw him since coming back to California. That was two months ago. Seeing him. Seeing the surprise in his blue eyes as he assessed me made little chills run up my spine. Something about the brief confusion as he saw me filled me with a foreboding coldness. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t even a disappointment. All those things I expected. But watching him stare at me through the thick glass, all I felt was…wrong. As if I shouldn’t be here. As if he expected me not to be.
I shook the uneasy feeling, focusing on his eyes. The same blue as mine. The gaze I once felt protected under. His hair was shorter than I remembered, now cropped close to his skull, and the black started to gray in the temples. Was it new? Did the months in prison age him? I shook that off, too. Feeling bad wasn’t what I came here for, even though Izzy’s story about how prison treated Dom was fresh in my mind. What I wanted were answers.
