Chapter 22 Hannah
Hannah
After we finished up breakfast, Dom ran home to grab a few things and switch out his unmarked Camaro for a fancy black Range Rover that had me raising my eyebrows in puzzlement the instant I set eyes on it.
It’s a fantastic car—was a dream car for teenage Hannah, in fact—but I’m pretty sure the price tag has six figures attached to it. Not exactly what you’d expect a detective from Metro PD to be driving.
Sherry, on the other hand, hasn’t stopped talking about how great Tony’s car is since Dom helped her get into the back seat while I was locking up the house to leave.
Now we’re heading down the highway toward an unknown destination, and all Dom’s told me is that it’ll be fun and laid back. I hope he’s right. Taking my mom out of the comfort zone of our farmhouse and access to every single NCIS episode ever created is something I haven’t done in a very long time.
“Any hints on where we’re going?” I question, looking over at Dom as he takes the next exit, which says Belle Meade.
“Do you like parties, Hannah?” he answers my question with a question, and a little smirk flickers on his lips when he glances at me out of his periphery.
He takes a right turn into a very affluent neighborhood in Nashville. But I shouldn’t be surprised—Belle Meade is known for being where the money is. In fact, my father knew that very well. He actually built quite a few houses in this area back in the day.
“Do I like parties?” I repeat with a snort.
“I guess that depends on what kind of parties we’re talking about.
” I meet his eyes conspiratorially for a brief moment, both of us fully aware that I’m referring to a specific caller by the name of Waylon.
His version of a party is something I hope to never experience.
Hell, just thinking about that caller has anxiety clutching my chest. Last I heard, Dom and Shane were actively tracking that guy down to question him, but I don’t know anything else.
I start to open my mouth to ask him for an update on Waylon, but my mom is quick to change the conversation to NCIS-inspired thoughts.
“Oh, Tony, you’re so funny,” my mother cuts in with a laugh from the back seat. “Of course Ziva loves parties, especially where you’re involved. Surely you haven’t forgotten how much fun the two of you had together in Paris.”
“You’re right, Sherry,” Dom agrees with an amused smile, his eyes flitting to the rearview mirror to meet my mother’s. “Though I think Ziva was a little pissed at me for killing her boyfriend back then.”
I blink several times, genuinely surprised that Dom’s response is actually right on point.
“Yeah, but Rivkin was corrupt,” she answers through a scoff. “I honestly don’t know why it took you so long to realize, Ziva. He might’ve acted pro-American, but he was a snake.”
“Tell me about it,” Dom agrees and flashes a little grin in my direction. “From the moment I met him, I knew something was off with that guy.”
My mom goes back to looking out the window as Dom drives us down a perfectly paved road in a clearly rich neighborhood within Belle Meade. But I am mostly fixated on him. When he meets my eyes, I convey all I need to with a furrow of my brow.
“I’ve been doing a little research,” he comments and tosses a wink in my direction.
“A little?” I retort on a snort. “You’re, like, over one hundred and thirty episodes deep, my friend.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to fall asleep after a long day of detective work.
” He shrugs. “And I haven’t watched all of them.
There’s this fandom group I joined online that’s filled with experts,” he answers, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“I asked one guy to give me a rundown of all things Tony and Ziva. Clearly, he followed through.”
He joined an NCIS fandom group? Because of my mother?
I don’t even know how to wrap my head around that. It’s such an unexpected gesture, but at the same time, it’s completely Dom. He has this intrinsic way of making me feel seen.
He also kissed you this morning in the kitchen.
My lips tingle at the memory. And my mind wants to swirl with questions. Two months ago, I didn’t even know Dominic Dunn, but in such a short time, he’s become someone I see every day. Someone I enjoy spending time with and actually look forward to seeing.
Because you’re falling for him.
The thought blooms in my mind, soft but undeniable, and I try to push it away, but it’s persistent. Practically concrete. And it’s terrifying to admit, even to myself, but it’s also the most natural thing in the world. Falling for Dom feels inevitable, like gravity has pulled me toward him.
Dom drives through a gated entrance and begins a long and windy path up a private drive. I still have no idea where he’s taking us, but when a mansion-size house comes into view, my brain starts to buffer.
“Um . . . Dom? Where are we exactly?”
“This is my parents’ house,” he whispers for my ears only, like it’s no big thing. Like it makes complete sense for him to bring me and Mom here.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask as he pulls his Range Rover to a stop on the beautiful pavestone driveway that showcases a giant, ornamental cast-iron fountain in the center. A three-car garage sits off to our left, and everything that I can see about the yard screams expensive landscaping.
My mother’s farmhouse is gorgeous in its own right, but it’s not this. It’s not . . . a seven-figure property that sits within the prime real estate of Belle Meade. If there’s a country music star or celebrity or athlete looking for a home in Nashville, they’re looking here.
It’s more than well-to-do. It’s straight-up deep-pocketed affluence.
And his parents live here.
He wants me and my mom to meet his family?
Dom hops out of the driver’s side and steps to the back to open my mother’s door. And I have to lift my jaw off my kneecaps to follow his lead. Once I’m standing beside him and my mom, I start to open my mouth to ask the obvious, but sweet Sherry has other plans.
“Is Gibbs coming?” she asks, eyeing the house suspiciously. “The property is big. We’re going to have a lot of weak points.”
Dom smiles at my mom and gently wraps his arms around her shoulders. “This is just a little reconnaissance mission, Sher. The owner is having a birthday party, and we’re just here to see if we can get any information about his business.”
“You think he’s dirty?”
“Possibly. Might have some ties to the cartel.”
My mother nods, pursing her lips as she spins on her heels to survey the property. “I shouldn’t have come unarmed.”
I’d say it’s pretty clear that my mom has zero access to weapons—especially guns—in our home, but her mind has other ideas about what her day-to-day life looks like.
Inside Sherry’s world, every day is an exciting experience of solving crimes and catching criminals and being a sidekick to Ziva and Tony and Gibbs.
“Don’t worry, Sherry.” Dom discreetly lifts his crisp white T-shirt to reveal the concealed gun on his hip.
My mom nods and then looks over at me.
I just shake my head, and she sighs in disappointment. “One day, Ziva, you’re going to realize that Tony is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. He’s always thinking with his head.”
“Yeah, Ziva,” Dom comments with a tickled grin. “Sherry’s spitting straight facts.”
I roll my eyes, and he just laughs as he guides my mom toward the front of the house, the entire time giving her a quick rundown of the man she “needs to keep an eye on.”
“They own Dunn Coffee,” he tells her, and my mind races in confusion. Is he just making this shit up, or does his family actually own one of the biggest coffee chains in the whole freaking world?
I mean, he’s brought you Dunn coffee in the morning more than a few times . . .
Ever since my college days at MTSU, I’ve loved Dunn coffee. I’d grab one before nearly every class. The only reason I stopped doing it was to save every nickel and dime I could to pay for my mom’s caretaker.
“Good coffee,” my mom says, and Dom nods.
“They do pretty well. Jared Dunn is currently the head honcho,” Dom continues. “His father, Louie Dunn, is supposed to be retired, but I have my suspicions that Louie still has his hands in the cartel cookie jar.”
“That’s how it usually goes.” My mother tsks.
“Patrick Dunn is Louie’s brother. He’s too clueless and dumb for us to busy ourselves with. But Dakota, Jared’s daughter, and Laura, Jared’s wife—they’re another story.”
“I’ll focus on Louie, Tony,” my mom states, just as Dom opens the massive front door.
“Never afraid of a challenge,” Dom comments and smiles over at her. “This is why I’m glad we have you on our team. I’m not so sure Ziva is up to it, you know?”
“Ziva’s good, Tony,” my mom replies as we step into the beautiful foyer. “But sometimes she gets a little too busy on men, you know?”
“Mm-hmm,” Dom answers and flashes a cheeky grin at me. “She needs to think less with her heart and more with her head.”
I sneak my hand out to pinch his bicep . . . hard. Though I’m not at all prepared for the layers of muscle that sit beneath his skin. I swear, the man has no fat. Just thick cords of muscles atop bone.
Dom grimaces when I manage a real good pinch of skin, but he lets out a quiet laugh at the same time.
He guides us out of the foyer and down the main hallway, which opens up to a big kitchen. The room is filled with people. Instantly, when they spot Dom’s smiling face, they burst out into friendly greetings.
“Everyone, these are my friends Sherry and Hannah. They came to join in the festivities.” My mom is too busy surveying the room to notice Dom introducing us.
She even walks toward the massive island in the center of the kitchen and sits down on a barstool beside a man who appears to be in his eighties.
I can only assume this is Louie, and my mom has been TV-trained by too many episodes of NCIS and other crime shows not to pick out the person she’s been told is the current conversation target.