10. Dominic
TEN
DOMINIC
Did I go too far?
Luca’s murderous expression seemed to say yes, but he faced the wrong direction. His sights locked onto someone across the restaurant, a guy with a shaved head. He looked directly at Luca.
I nudged Luca. “Who’s that?”
“Alexei,” Luca growled.
His body coiled like a spring, and then he bolted. He shoved people aside as he sprinted toward the back.
Shit .
I ran after Luca, my shoulder slamming into the employees-only door. I burst into the kitchen, my vision filling with stainless steel before I registered Luca, yanking the fire alarm. A piercing shriek sliced into my ears.
The pale man stood, his face twisted in fury as he gritted his teeth and drew a gun.
I reached for mine.
Luca slammed into me, knocking me off balance. My back hit the rubber floor hard, the impact exploding through my ribs and stealing my breath.
Luca pushed himself off me. He drew his gun, aiming. He fired around the corner, his face taut with focus.
Gunfire cracked like thunder. Shots ricocheted off the walls. I rolled onto my side, scrambling for my Glock. My fingers wrapped around the grip. Another shot rang out, too close. Sparks hissed across the countertop.
I ducked, swearing as I sank back behind cover.
Luca sprinted toward Alexei.
I swung out from cover, laying down suppressing fire. The shots erupted from my Glock, but I barely heard them. My focus was on Luca—stupid, reckless, infuriating Luca—darting between stainless steel cooking stations like he’d lost all sense of self-preservation.
What the fuck are you doing?
I needed to drag him back. His shadow slipped in and out of sight as sparks skittered across steel surfaces. I gritted my teeth, my pulse thundering.
He was going to get himself killed.
He didn’t even flinch when another bullet hit the counter inches from his head. A sick knot tightened in my stomach.
“ Luca, stop! ” I squeezed off another shot, emptying a round at Alexei to give Luca cover.
Luca bolted.
Alexei kicked open the back door and disappeared into the dark, the metal frame swinging behind him. Luca was on his heels.
“Luca!”
Swearing, I holstered my gun and ran. I shoved the back door open. It slammed against the wall. Cold air stung my face as I stepped into the alley, my gun drawn.
Where the fuck is he?
My gaze darted through the shadows. There—Luca sprinted away from me, his figure backlit by the weak glow of the streetlight. I took off after him.
Dark shapes peeled from the walls, swarming him. A sickening crack split the air as a fist connected with his face. Luca staggered, his arms jerking up, but there were too many of them.
Boots. Fists. A knife flashed through the air.
Luca grunted and went down.
I raised my gun, red bleeding into my vision.
Kill them all.
I fired. One. Two. Three. Each shot rang out like a hammer against steel. Bodies hit the ground. Alexei turned tail, his shadow slipping around the corner. I fired after him, missing.
A low groan clawed my attention back to the alley.
Luca was on the ground, curled onto his side. His fingers clutched at his shirt, blood spreading between them like a dark stain.
“Luca.” I sprinted to his side, dropping to my knees. “Jesus, what were you thinking ?”
I ripped his hands away. His button-up shirt was sliced open, dark crimson spreading fast. My palm pressed against the wound, trying to staunch the flow, but the warmth seeped between my fingers. My chest constricted.
Too much blood.
Luca’s head lolled back, his glazed eyes drifting toward the sky.
“Hey. Stay with me.” I leaned over him, my other hand cupping his face, forcing him to look at me. “Luca. Stay with me. ”
He groaned. Each shallow gasp tore at me. He can’t fucking die here.
The back door of the restaurant flew open with a bang.
“Dom!” Santino and a few others rushed into the alley. His eyes fell on Luca, and his expression darkened. “What happened?”
“Ambush,” I bit out. “One of them got away.”
Santino barked orders, and men scattered into action. He dropped beside me, grabbing Luca’s arm.
Luca groaned as we hauled him upright, his weight sagging between us like dead weight. I swore under my breath, sheer panic squeezing my ribs.
“Hang on, Luca. Hang the fuck on. ”
We stumbled toward the street, carrying him. The roar of a car engine grew louder, headlights slicing through the dark. A black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb, the back door flying open.
Santino shoved Luca inside. I climbed in after him, cradling his head in my lap. My hand ran through his hair, trying to soothe him as much as I was trying to steady myself.
Blood smeared across the leather seats. His breathing came in ragged bursts, each one shorter than the last. He was too pale. Too still.
His lashes fluttered, but his lips didn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
The car shot forward, tires screeching as it peeled out into the street. I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. I kept my fingers in his hair, trying to block out the sick terror bubbling up inside me.
Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Luca.
“Four to six weeks, and he’ll be back on his feet, good as new. Just keep the wound clean, no heavy lifting, no stress.”
I barely registered the doctor’s words. His blood still stained my hands, dried in thin lines along my fingers. Luca lay on the bed, breathing steadily.
The doctor snapped his bag shut, oblivious to my pounding headache.
Four to six weeks —just enough time to pretend like he hadn’t almost bled out in my arms.
“Thanks, Doc,” Santino muttered.
The doctor nodded before heading out, leaving us standing in the bedroom-turned-makeshift-clinic. Luca lay out on the sheets. His eyes squeezed shut like he tried to block out the pain.
Santino hadn’t stopped staring at Luca. “We just got him back. Now this.”
I kept my mouth shut, fighting the knot in my throat. Luca was so reckless, charging into danger to prove what? His valor? His loyalty? That he could bleed like every other goddamned Costa?
Santino rubbed his chin. “Vinn’s worried. The Russians are gearing up for war, and Luca’s in the middle of it. He thinks Luca should lay low for a while.”
“How long?”
Santino exhaled. “Until he’s recovered.”
“Here? By himself?”
“No, you’ll stay with him.”
I gaped at him. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the only one he’ll listen to.”
I scoffed. “He doesn’t. He nearly got himself killed out there.”
“And he will get himself killed if no one holds his leash.” He gestured toward Luca’s still form. “He listens to you, even when he doesn’t want to.”
“Yeah, when he’s not busy mouthing off to me.”
Santino’s stare sharpened. “Vinn said to keep him alive, and we all know he won’t sit still long enough to recover unless someone makes him. That someone is you.”
I looked at Luca. Even unconscious, he managed to look defiant, like he’d wake up swinging if he could.
Santino softened. “You’re the only one who can get through to him, Dom. Vinn doesn’t trust anyone else with this.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “So I’m his babysitter?”
“More like his handler.” Santino’s lips tugged into a humorless smirk. “You don’t let him get away with shit. That’s exactly what he needs.”
I turned to stare at Luca, blood-streaked and pale, sprawled out on the sheets. The tightness in my chest wouldn’t let up. Control him? The guy didn’t want to be controlled, and the idea of me being stuck with him felt like a recipe for disaster.
Santino was right. Luca wouldn’t recover unless someone kept him in check, and I didn’t back down when he pushed me.
“You’re lucky I’m not a quitter,” I muttered.
“Vinn wants one of the floor managers to run the casino until things calm down. Do you have anybody you can recommend?”
I rubbed the back of my head. “I’ll pass along some names.”
“Good.”
I imagined the weeks ahead. I’d have to bathe Luca. Dress his wound. Santino gave me way too much credit. I’d never do anything to a straight man, but Luca…could I keep my hands to myself?
I swallowed hard.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”
“The doctor will stop by to check on him. All you have to do is change his bandages.”
“I’ll take care of him.”
“I know you will. I trust you.”
You shouldn’t .
We stepped out of the bedroom, the only one in this damned shoebox. It had a bed shoved against the wall, an old dresser that looked like it’d seen too many fistfights, and a nightstand with peeling paint. His comforter was the only comfortable thing in his apartment.
A tiny kitchen bled into an even smaller living room. The couch where I’d be crashing barely held itself together, covered in a threadbare blanket that smelled like Luca’s aftershave. Not exactly five-star living, but it’d have to do.
Santino walked out.
I shut the door and locked it.
I wandered back into the bedroom, the door creaking as I pushed it open. Luca was still knocked out. I dragged a chair over, sitting beside him, and watched him. He looked younger, like the twenty-four-year-old he was supposed to be. How long had he been fighting to keep that hardness in place?
“We’re stuck here together for a while, huh?” I whispered, stroking hair from his eyes. “Bet you’ll bitch about it when you wake up.”
Luca shivered.
I pulled the blanket to his chest. “You better get your shit together.”
No response.
I gritted my teeth. “You got yourself stabbed, and for what? Why did you do it?”
He didn’t move.
I exhaled, running a hand over my face. I’d taunted him. That’s why he ran headfirst into danger. I’d made him feel like he had something to prove, and still…he’d protected me. Luca had tackled me in the kitchen right as that man opened fire. He’d saved my life.
I leaned down and kissed his forehead.
I needed to keep my distance. I wasn’t here to fall for him. I was here to keep him alive.