6. Dominic
Dominic
Iput out one fire, and another ignites.
The shitstorms are endless.
They consume my waking hours, and plague any chance I have at sleep.
I knew that stepping into this role would mean taking on more responsibility, I just didn’t anticipate I’d be juggling so many things at once. I like to think I'm pretty damn equipped at handling situations, but this, this is something else entirely.
The leader of our organization was murdered in a war with his brother, which resulted in his death, too.
And if that weren’t enough, his brother was the rival head from the east coast syndicate.
Leaving both coasts in shambles to pick up the pieces and scramble to find a foothold.
His new predecessor used to be a runner for our organization, but after a faked death and secrets that continue to unravel, he found himself on the east coast, heir to a massive fortune and criminal empire.
He’s inexperienced, unqualified, and in over his head.
Between that, the feuds with factions here, and the pressure from the north and the south sectors, there isn’t a direction that isn’t coming at me with their hand out or a gun pointed to try to push me out of my position.
The stakes have never been higher. Only, I’d be wrong if I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse.
“Someone on the inside must be tipping them off,” one of my men tell me.
I turn toward him. “What’s your name?”
He shifts his gaze to the guy next to him. “Uh, um.”
“You have to ask your friend for your name?” I slam my palm onto the table in front of him. “You have one second.”
“John, my name’s John, sir.”
“John.” I roll it around on my tongue. “How long have you worked for us, John?”
I’ve never seen his face prior to today. There’s no telling if he’s the fucking rat.
“Six years, sir.”
“Hmm.” I take a step back and look him over.
Six years is a long time to commit to something, but that doesn’t equate to loyalty.
He could have easily turned but stayed here to help whoever gain an upper hand.
Or, I could just be fucking paranoid. It’s difficult to determine who to trust, and the constant issues that keep coming up have me questioning literally everyone except Hayes and Bryant.
Hell, I put more trust in Simon fucking Beckett than I do any of these men sitting in front of me today.
“Where are we at with intel?” I ask the small group of men.
John clears his throat. “Sir, we’ve taken the biggest hit on the northwest quadrant. Followed by the southwest. If I had to guess?—”
“Guess?” I crash both fists on the table.
He flinches but otherwise remains there.
“This is not a fucking guessing game, John.”
John lowers his gaze to the paperwork in front of him. “Sir, yes, sir.”
Bryant kicks off the wall and approaches, placing his hand on my back. “Clear the room, give us five,” he tells the men.
They quickly scurry out of the room like their fucking lives depended on it.
Once they’re gone, Bryant latches the door shut and sits on the edge of the table next to me. “What’s going on, dude? You’re about to blow a blood vessel.”
I run my hand over my beard and exhale. “This John guy, what’s your read on him?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he was about to piss his pants.”
I clench my jaw and turn toward him. “Not fucking helpful, Bryant.”
Bryant throws his hands up and slaps them on his thighs.
"He's just a guy, Dom. He's worked for us for a long time.
No infractions. No reason to suspect him of treason.
I didn't get a vibe, only that he's afraid of you.
" He scoots onto the tabletop. "Everyone is fucking afraid of you, Dom.
You can't mistake that for disloyalty just because they tremble in your presence.
Because if that were the case, we wouldn't have anyone left. "
“We can’t keep taking these hits.”
“I know.”
“We have bigger problems to worry about.”
“I know.”
“Any update?” My hands clench into fists.
“Nothing new, no.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “How did we let this happen?”
“You know how.”
“We’ve been distracted.” And because of it, our distraction is in danger more than ever before. “Where the fuck is Hayes?”
“Probably living his best life with the girl of our dreams.” Magnus pulls his phone out of his pocket and pushes a few buttons.
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Well?”
“Oh, sorry, dude, I was checking the weather.”
“The weather?”
“Yeah, I was thinking of taking June up in a hot air balloon for our date.”
Their date. Shit. I haven’t made arrangements for my time with her yet. I need to somehow navigate the balancing act of being a good boyfriend and making sure June stays alive—and prevent the business I’m running from crumbling.
“Everybody wants us—and June—dead, and you’re going to send her into a fucking flying bucket in the sky?”
Magnus nods. “You’re right, bad idea.” He pinches his chin between his thumb and index finger. “Hmm.”
“Does Beckett know?”
Magnus blinks at me a few times. “About flying buckets?”
“About the threat, dumb ass.”
“Oh, no. You said to keep it between the three of us.”
“Good. The less he knows, the better.”
"I still think we should tell him…tell her. The last time we tried to keep secrets, the shit blew up in our faces."
And admit that we’re not capable of taking care of her? That we made a mistake? Maybe I'm not actually cut out to be the man she needs in her life?
Never.
“I’ll handle it.”
“You don’t have to do this all on your own, Dom.”
But if I don’t, who will? It’s clear that if I’m not the one micromanaging every fucking thing, shit slips between the cracks.
Problems arise with no possible solutions.
People get hurt. My girl gets hurt. There has to be a way for me to do it all, because that’s the only way I can ensure it gets done.
“Where are we at on putting a team together?”
“It’s already done. They’ll be following all shipments in and out.”
“This better not be a waste of resources.”
Magnus shrugs. “It’s more of a waste if they intercept them and kill more of our men.”
“And Johnny, when’s the meeting with him?”
Magnus pulls his phone back out, and so help me God, if he’s checking the fucking weather again. “Miller is working with the schedule. I’ll have to let you know later.”
“Miller.” I pause and add, “Do you think he’s equipped for the job?”
“More so than, Johnny, yeah. Dude was Luciano’s right hand.”
“I don’t like this; I don’t like any of it.”
“Me either, but we’ll handle it. We always do.” Magnus rolls one of his rings around on his index finger. “I think you should hear John out, see what he has to say. Could be a useful asset.”
I drag my hand through my hair and smooth down the sides. I adjust my tie and straighten my suit jacket. “Bring them in.”
We spend the next hour discussing strategy, figuring out the best routes, and coming up with numerous alternative paths.
Because we keep getting hit on the west, we’re moving shipments further east. There’s concern that this is what our attackers want us to do—that perhaps they’re pushing us farther from the coast, but it could just be that the coast provides easier targets for them, and that’s why they haven’t been hitting our more inland routes yet.
I’m still not convinced that we don’t have a mole, but Magnus is certain that it isn’t within the small group of men in this room.
I put my faith in him since reading people is kind of his forte.
He's always had a knack for picking up on tells and minor shifts in mood.
He notices body language and is able to make swift and usually spot-on judgment calls.
It's an incredibly useful resource to have, but with pressure coming from all directions, it's impossible to have him in multiple places at once.
The guy is already overworked and spread thin—hell, we all are.
But this won't let up until we get the attacks under control and we eliminate the bastard responsible for attempting to overthrow me.
One hour turns into another, and the next thing I know, it's nearly two in the morning. My eyes burn from being awake for almost two days straight but I push through the pain and focus on the dry-erase board in front of me.
“Here.” I circle a spot on the haphazard map on the board.
“I say we send dummy cargo out. Try to catch them in a trap. We need bodies to interrogate to get more information. This is our best shot.” I look at the thing again.
“They’re hitting us in spots where surveillance is spotty.
That’s why we take those routes. But this one, there’s none.
Tell all the men you can without making it too obvious.
Don’t let on that it’s an empty shipment. We need our mole to spread the news.”
“But…” John speaks up. “That’s a death trap for whoever’s driving.”
I turn toward him. “I’ll do it, don’t worry. I won’t put any more of my men at risk.”
Bryant clears his throat. “I’m coming with you.”
"Fat fucking chance." I stare directly at him. "And that's an order." I point to the other guys. "You can ride in the convoy, be my backup."
“What the fuck, Dom?” Bryant climbs out of his seat and approaches me, as if standing in front of me will somehow get me to change my mind.
I slap his shoulder. “Glad we came to an understanding.”
He lowers his voice. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
I look into his frantic eyes. “Are you?”
That’s twice in one day these two fuckers have disobeyed me in front of others.
First, Hayes when he left a meeting after he zoned out of the whole thing, and now, Bryant, questioning my authority with these men to bear witness.
They’re setting a bad fucking example and making me look like I don’t have control over my subordinates.
It’s no wonder someone is trying to overthrow me—I look weak as fuck.
But how do I make an example out of what they’ve done when I know June will have my ass for laying a finger on either of them. What’s worse—June being mad at me, or the threat to her life gaining the upper hand because I went soft?
I can’t keep her safe if people start walking all over me. A decision needs to be made, and none of us are going to like it.
In one solid movement, I draw in a breath and force my hand around Bryant’s throat. I walk him back and slam him into the wall.
“What the fuck, Dom,” Bryant sputters.
But I shove him harder and tighten my grasp. “Who calls the shots here?”
Bryant struggles to speak but manages to spit out, “You do, you fucking psycho.”
I release him and he coughs, clutching at his throat.
“Christ, man.”
I flex my hand and turn back to the men sitting silently in their chairs.
“If any of you think for a second that I am taking this threat lightly, you are sorely mistaken. I will find and punish anyone who dare tries to take what is mine. I call the shots here, no one else. That’s why the council voted me into this position.
And that’s why Franklin appointed me in the first place.
These people will not go unpunished, and when we figure out who is behind all of this, I will skin him and send his body parts back to his family piece by piece.
Anyone involved with this movement will be taken care of. Do you hear me?”
A few heads nod and there’s a collective murmur of agreement.
“I want a list by tomorrow of everyone who was in the run for my title. I don’t care if they conceded or not. We need to scour every single person until we figure out who’s responsible.” I point to the door. “You’re dismissed.”
Magnus stalks past me but I grab his arm and hold him from leaving.
“I had to,” I tell him.
“Whatever.”
Great, now I have to deal with the consequences of hurting his feelings, too.
“If they think I’m weak, they get the idea that they can join this usurper or take the position themselves.
People were defecting to Beckett until I started smashing heads in public.
You and Hayes were the ones that suggested it.
Hayes already showed his ass in the meeting earlier, I can’t have you both defying me every chance you get. ”
“No, I get it, loud and clear.” Bryant crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m still not okay with you doing this mission on your own.
And no amount of showing your ass is going to make me change my mind.
What would June think if she found out? Or is this just another secret you’re going to keep from her? ”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Neither is making me lie to her.” Bryant brings up a solid point, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not okay with telling her any of this.
Not that I’m potentially putting my life in danger. Not that I put Bryant in a chokehold to assert my dominance. Not that the throne she helped me win is being threatened with each passing second. And surely not the biggest secret of them all.
That the man who ordered the hit to have her kidnapped and tortured, eventually to be killed—the man who we thought we eliminated…he’s very much alive and well.