2. Dominic
Dominic
“Dominic, hello, are you fucking listening?” Bryant waves his tattooed hand in front of my face.
I blink and look at him, snapping myself back to this dreadful reality.
“Yes, you fucking idiot.” I smack him away and adjust the cuff of my shirt, pivoting my body toward him.
“Shipments are running slower. Numbers are down. Total anarchy. I get it.” I take in an annoyed breath.
“Tell me something I don’t already know. What can we do to fix this mess?”
Bryant looks to Hayes. Hayes raises his brows and shrugs.
I rub my temple. “What good are you two for anyway?”
Hayes speaks up. “You don’t know what it’s like out there. The guys are scared. They don’t know which side to choose.”
I cut him off. “Then draw a line in the sand. Force their hand. If they pick Beckett, put a bullet between their eyes.”
Bryant side-eyes Hayes, clearly skeptical of my order. “You want us to kill anyone who defects?”
“Did I stutter?”
For someone covered in ink head to toe, appearing like a total badass, Bryant sure is a fucking softie.
Had I known that from the get-go, I would have thought twice about hiring him.
In our line of business, there is no room for weakness.
Everything about right and wrong blurs, and suddenly, you understand, it’s a dog-eat-dog kind of world out there.
And if you want to survive, to thrive, you must be more ruthless than the other guy.
That alone is why I always come out on top—why I will win this war and claim the throne that is mine for the taking.
It should have been simple. An easy transition.
Our leader was taken out, and I was supposed to be named the successor by his wife, who no longer wants to oversee the operation.
The obvious choice. It’s what I’ve spent most of my adult years working toward.
I sacrificed everything for this career.
Gave up having any kind of life outside of this, and never once put my needs above it.
But, with so many hungry up-and-comers, it's no surprise that the normal order was challenged.
Not by one, but by many. Most have been handled, but there are still a few that threaten to take what is rightfully mine.
Simon Beckett is my biggest concern.
He's a child. Barely legal drinking age, and somehow, he dares to assume he should gain control over the largest criminal enterprise on the west coast instead of me.
I know the ins and outs of our organization better than anyone, hell, possibly better than our previous leader. I was his apprentice, often leading when he would be out of town on business. People know me, respect me.
What does Beckett know other than being an arrogant, spoiled little boy?
He spends most of his time driving around his Lamborghini, flaunting his money, and buying bottle service.
How could he possibly be better equipped for this position than I am?
His status is based on his blood connection to some of our council members, not because of his management skills.
Why would anyone in their right mind want him to oversee things?
“If that’s what boss wants, that’s what boss gets.” Hayes finally speaks up.
I tip my head at him and bring my hand up to rest against my jaw. The same hand I had buried inside that woman from the bar. It's a shame I've cleaned up numerous bodies since then, otherwise, I might be lucky enough to have her scent still on me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and replay the event through my mind.
I was certain she would have freaked out.
Absolutely convinced that nearly beating that man to death would have terrified her, but instead, she walked straight into my arms and did something not a single person has ever done before.
She saw me, for the brutal and sick man I am, and she didn’t run away.
I shouldn’t have intervened. I should have let things play out the way they were going to, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit back and watch that piece of shit objectify her the way he was.
I had watched it too many times. I’ve spent more nights than I can count in that dive bar the last few weeks, my meager attempt to escape the chaos and think with a clear head.
I witnessed countless guys try to pick her up, but not once did she give in to their demeaning ways.
I could sense her confidence, and despite wanting to step in all the other times, I knew she could handle her own. It wasn’t until that douche bag followed her into the bathroom that I was certain he was about to take things too far.
And I couldn’t let that happen. Not to her.
I was sure it would ruin whatever image she had of me. That she would finally fear me for the twisted man I am. But that was the furthest from what actually happened.
I should have stopped there. Let her walk out of that bathroom and go about cleaning up the mess I had made, but no. I had to lose all my control and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. Even going so far as to make her climax a second time, just because I could.
God, what I would do to bury my face in her and smother myself to death with her tight little…
“Dom, buddy. Where the fuck do you keep going?” Bryant snaps his fingers in front of me.
“I’m going to chop that fucking hand off if you put it in my face one more time,” I snap at him.
He brings it to his chest and pouts. “Dude, this is a nice hand. Come on, now.”
Hayes leans back in his chair, folding his fingers together and propping them behind his head. “I’d like to see this happen. I’m thinking machete. What about you, Dom? What would be your weapon of choice?”
Leave it to Hayes to actually daydream about maiming someone.
“You’re both fucking psychos.” Bryant glances at both of us
Hayes grins his pretty-boy grin. "Thanks, appreciate that."
Bryant slowly takes a step backward. “I’m sleeping with one eye open tonight.”
“Just tonight?” Hayes tilts his chin.
“I hate you so much right now.” Bryant bumps into the wall behind him. “I’m going to go hide all the weapons.”
Hayes exhales dramatically. “And I’ll find more. Trust me. I’ll get creative if I have to.”
“Can you two focus a little more on winning this war instead of fucking with each other? If we lose the lead to Beckett…” I trail off, thinking of the endless scenarios that would follow if he gained ultimate control.
Things are rocky enough as it is, there’s no telling how quickly we would crumble in his hands. “Trust me, it’ll be bad.”
We’re being hit hard from all directions.
The east is coming at us with immense pressure, given they took out our leader.
The story is still a bit unclear on what the hell happened, but the second we got wind that he was down, complete mayhem ensued.
Honestly, it’s a genius plan on their behalf.
Sit back and watch our empire crumble, then swoop in as the dust is settling and take full and utter power.
They'd rule the two biggest markets, the east, and the west, and have a solid foothold if they wanted to push in any other direction.
My only saving grace is that their leader was taken out, too.
Causing issues on both sides with who will grab onto the reins and steer away from total annihilation.
I’m not sure how dire things are going on their end, but if it’s anything like what we’re going through, it’s enough to keep them busy while I regain my authority here.
I’d like to think I’m well equipped to overcome whatever is thrown my way, but I’d rather handle one massive problem at a time than two.
Both looking more and more like my demise with each passing day.
“They’re afraid of you,” Bryant adds from his spot far away from us.
“Your point?” I ask him.
Before he can elaborate, the buzzer to our front door goes off.
I immediately shift to Hayes and wait for him to tell me who it is.
He fumbles with his phone, nearly dropping it. “Sorry man, had it on silent.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “You're the lead point on security, Hayes. Need I remind you that if you provide no value?—”
Bryant pushes the button to our gate, letting whoever it was in. “Come on up.” He turns to us. “It’s just take-out. Chill.”
I sigh, running my hand through my hair and seriously considering why I ever took either of these idiots in.
Loyalty, that’s what I remind myself.
An impossible to find trait. Unfettered, absolute, loyalty.
They may get on my nerves, do the dumbest shit ever, but never once would I question whether they had my back.
And in this line of work, that is a rarity to have.
I am their boss, but we are a team. A dysfunctional one, but a highly effective unit that has managed to climb the ranks and never once question each other.
I tap my fingers across the table and check the time on my watch.
Hayes jumps from his spot and rushes over to Bryant, stealing the bags from his grasp. “What did you get, dude? I’m starving.”
“You two are always hungry.”
Like toddlers. Or a pack of wild dogs.
Bryant reaches into the sack and pulls something out. “Heads up.” He tosses the thing to me. “Chicken wrap, extra bacon, hold the onion.”
At least he’s good for something.
My stomach growls quietly but I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that I haven’t had lunch yet. “Thanks.”
I stroll over to the first-floor kitchen a few feet away to wash my hands.
I pop open the fridge, only to realize the drinks I had him stock for me are on the second-floor kitchen.
The one downfall of living in such a massive house, you forget where you leave stuff.
The price you pay to maintain privacy while keeping your closest associates around.
The reason we work so well as a team is because we’re practically an extension of one another.
We each have our roles and we stick to them to keep things running smoothly. Well, for the most part.