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Jimmy and Viper were drinking at the bar. John wasn’t there, but that wasn’t a surprise — he was hardly ever there. The club was more of a burden to him these days. And with his junkie wife, Dornan could understand why. It was like owning a bar and being married to an alcoholic. The last thing Caroline needed to be around was a place like this, full of booze and drugs and fucking.
Dornan, on the other hand . . . well, he fitted in just fine.
He slid onto a stool and slapped the bar in front of him. The chick behind the counter was new, and completely naked, save for a bottleopener she wore on a piece of twine around her neck. She looked young, but legal. That was important in a club with a reputation like theirs. They might’ve had the local cops in their pocket, but it didn’t stop the fucking narcos from turning the place upside down on a semi-regular basis, looking for drugs and underage girls.
The girl handed him a beer and told him her name, which he promptly forgot. They all looked the same, and he had to wonder who the fuck was doing the hiring around here. Blonde, young, with perky tits.
‘You look like hell,’ Jimmy said, clinking beers with Dornan before taking a swig. ‘Let Destiny here take your mind off it.’ Jimmy pointed over the bar at a second girl who was stacking beer bottles into a fridge. Unlike the first blonde, she still had her panties on. It was the only way he could tell them apart.
‘Destiny? What kind of a name is Destiny?’
The girl stood up, kicking the fridge shut with her stiletto. So, she had shoes on, too. They looked good on her. Dornan glanced down at his lap. Nothing. Not even a stir. What the hell was wrong with him?
‘The VP,’ Destiny drawled, biting her lip sexily. ‘I’ve heard about you.’
Dornan winked at her, taking a sip of beer. He was Dornan Ross, son of Emilio. Son of Il Sangue. Of course she had heard about him. Everybody had always heard about him by the time he’d first laid eyes on them, and that was a major part of his problem. His reputation, real or otherwise, preceded him to such an extent that he hardly bothered correcting people anymore. Let them think what they wanted. He didn’t have time to care.
He was daydreaming again, and while he was, the chick had rounded the bar and come to stand beside him.
‘I heard it was your birthday,’ she said, licking her lips suggestively and looking down at his lap. ‘Viper said I should give you a present.’
‘Oh, did he, now?’ Dornan asked, smacking Viper over the head with his hand. Viper had earned his nickname due to his penchant for biting every woman he screwed. Dornan noticed bruised bite-marks on Destiny’s shoulder and his dick went even softer, if that was possible. If Viper had been biting and fucking this girl, Dornan sure as hell didn’t want her.
‘I’ll tell you what I want,’ Dornan said, fishing his cigarettes out and lighting up. ‘I want you to lay on that pool table,’ he gestured with the end of his cigarette, ‘and stay there.’
She smiled, her tits bouncing as she practically skipped over to the table. Dornan withdrew the small plastic package he’d taken from the apartment while Mariana hadn’t been looking. Last thing he needed was for her to find his coke stash and OD before he got back to her.
Destiny was already laying on the pool table, her breasts up in the air and her red thong barely covering anything. Dornan grinned as he tapped a fat line of white powder just above each of her tight pink nipples, setting the bag aside to roll up a greenback.
‘Happy birthday,’ Destiny said, as he leaned over and snorted the blow off her tit. A jackhammer smacked right into his brain. Yes. It felt good to be this powerful. He smiled as the coke bubbled pleasantly into his bloodstream, masking the exhaustion and the uncertainty. Now, he felt good.
He leaned down and licked the remainder of the powder off her tit, letting his tongue linger longer than it needed to.
Life was good at the top.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MARIANA
I expected him to come back. I wandered around the empty apartment, too scared to shower or sleep in case someone else — Emilio, Murphy, a Gypsy Brother — decided to pay me a visit. I found the refrigerator and pantry fully stocked and decided to fix myself a sandwich to eat. The television set worked, so I turned that on and watched infomercials, still curled up in my auction dress.
I don’t know when I dozed off, but when I woke up, it was light, and from the sofa in the living room I could see the front door swinging open. The click of the lock disengaging must have been what woke me — in my dream, Emilio was holding a gun to my head, and the click had been him cocking it. Crazy. I peered around the corner cautiously, watching as a tattooed arm came around the door and placed a bag on the floor. The door shut again, the lock engaging, and footsteps retreated.
‘Wait,’ I pleaded, rushing to the door. I recognised the tattoo. It was Dornan, and he’d left me — a bag full of clothes?
I heard a bike roar to life and tear out of the parking lot. He was gone, and I hadn’t even seen his face.
The day passed slowly. I changed into a shirt and cut-off denim shorts that I’d found in the bag he had left inside the door. Night came, and still no Dornan. There was plenty of food in the kitchen. I wasn’t about to starve to death. But I was starving for human contact. I watched as much TV as I could stand, and watched the sliver of ocean that I could glimpse from inside the apartment. He’d locked the balcony door and taken the key, probably after seeing the way I had been gazing down at the pavement below.
I wondered if he’d ever come back. And, strangely enough, in the quiet nights that seemed to stretch out for eternity, random thoughts of Dornan would make their way into my head, burrow in and stay there. I still wasn’t sure if they were welcome or not. His eyes, the way they appeared dark brown until you got up close and saw the little flecks of amber in them. His lips. The way he smiled. His hands on my bleeding wrist.
One night turned into two, into five, into twelve, and he still hadn’t come back. Part of me was furious. The other part of me was terrified. What if he never came back? Sure, I could try breaking a window, but I was more worried about what would happen afterwards. Even if I managed to escape, he would just hunt me down. They wouldn’t let me live if I broke our deal, not a chance. I imagined my dead body rotting in a stormwater drain, or maybe dissolving in a barrel full of acid. Maybe they’d string me up over the freeway overpass.
I couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t bear to stay. I had nothing.
I had nothing but Dornan Ross in this sorry world, but even he was gone.
Every day, I waited. And still, he didn’t return.
