Chapter 23
Dominic
Three days passed before he saw Knox again. This time he hadn’t been keeping his distance on purpose; he’d simply been too busy. Mercer had made sure of that.
He stood in front of the long window of his office, phone pressed to his ear. “Run it again,” he said.
“We already checked that warehouse twice,” one of his men replied.
“Then check it a third time.”
Dominic ended the call before the protest could continue and set the phone down on his desk.
For the last three days, every spare moment had been spent learning everything there was to know about Victor Mercer.
His men were watching every warehouse Mercer touched and every trucking company he leaned on.
Phone numbers were being traced, shipments followed, and middlemen questioned in places where questions tended to produce honest answers.
Mercer had spent months studying Dominic’s territory. Dominic was returning the courtesy.
Across the room, Cassian lounged in one of the leather chairs, flipping a knife through his fingers while he watched Dominic. “You’ve got half the city digging through Mercer’s trash right now,” he said.
Dominic didn’t look up from the papers spread across his desk. “That’s the idea.”
Cassian watched him for another moment, then flicked the knife closed and tossed it aside. “Mercer’s going to feel this soon.”
“Also the idea.”
He shifted his weight and reached across the desk for a folder. The movement pulled along the wound on his arm. It wasn’t much, just a brief ache where the stitches dragged against healing skin.
The information had been coming together faster over the last twenty-four hours. Mercer’s operation wasn’t particularly elegant. It relied on small pieces spread thin across the city, but patterns always emerged eventually. It was just a matter of patience and pressure in the right places.
“You’re mapping the whole thing?” Cassian asked.
Dominic didn’t look up. “Yes.”
“That’s a lot of work just to kill one man.”
Dominic slid another folder aside. “I’m not just going to kill him.” He moved to the next page. “I’m taking everything he thinks belongs to him. By the time Mercer finally decides to step out of hiding, there won’t be anything left for him to run to.”
Cassian’s grin slowly appeared. “And then?”
Dominic grabbed his keys from the desk and headed for the door.
“Then I kill him.”
* * *
The warehouse was very much alive when Dominic arrived. He stepped inside and let the noise settle into its familiar rhythm around him. His eyes moved across the space: a truck was backing slowly toward one of the loading docks, two of the crew were arguing over a pallet near the wall.
And near the center of the floor, standing beside one of the long tables covered in paperwork and manifests—Knox.
Dominic slowed without meaning to.
Why was it so difficult to keep his distance from this boy?
Two weeks earlier he had managed it—barely, and with considerably more effort than it should have required.
Knox had a way of slipping into his thoughts at inconvenient moments, surfacing without invitation and refusing to leave.
Annoying. Which was precisely why he’d stayed away.
Distance solved most problems, time usually did the rest.
And yet here he was. Three days later. Standing in his own warehouse because, for reasons he hadn’t bothered trying to untangle, he had needed to see him. And this time, for once, he hadn’t felt like fighting it.
Knox had his sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and was leaning over the table, listening while Mendez pointed something out on one of the sheets between them. The two of them were deep enough in conversation that neither had noticed Dominic.
He watched the exchange for a long moment.
Three days ago Knox had watched a man bleed out in his basement without flinching.
Now he stood in the middle of Dominic’s warehouse, arguing over paperwork with one of his most trusted men, like he’d simply always been here.
Most people needed time to adjust to the reality of his world.
Knox stepped into it like he’d been walking toward it his whole life.
Dominic didn’t like how much he respected that.
Mendez finally noticed him. “Boss.”
Knox turned, surprise flashing across his face before he caught it, and their eyes met across the table.
Christ. The boy’s gorgeous.
He had the kind of looks that pulled attention without asking.
Maybe it was that stubborn, defiant mouth paired with light blue eyes that saw far too much.
Or the way his body moved with an unpolished confidence.
Whatever it was, it caught Dominic’s attention every single time.
There was just something about him that refused to be ignored.
Dominic was staring.
He was aware, with a clarity that was both unwelcome and impossible to ignore, that Mendez had everything under control. He’d known that before he’d even left his office. Which meant the only reason he’d come down at all was Knox.
The implication settled in with uncomfortable precision. He wasn’t in the habit of being distracted by anyone. Women came and went without leaving much of an impression, interest burning out quickly. Men had never held it at all.
Until now.
Apparently, he wasn’t quite as straight as he’d always assumed.
His muscles tensed at the thought. Not because the idea itself bothered him—it didn’t.
He’d never cared much about what other people did in their own beds.
But the world he operated in did. These were men who measured respect in dominance and bravado, who lived inside a culture where masculinity was constantly tested and loudly defended.
It was a world where anything that could be twisted into weakness got pounded on the moment it appeared.
Dominic had spent years building the kind of authority that depended on the image he projected. That didn’t leave much room for complications like this.
And yet he couldn’t deny it any longer.
He was attracted to Knox.
That was—new.
Knox was still looking at him. Dominic met his eyes for a beat longer than was wise before he ripped his gaze away, fixing it on the paperwork spread across the table, as if that had always been his target. “What’s this?”
Mendez straightened. “Inventory adjustments from the north dock.”
Dominic took a step closer and scanned the sheets. He gave a single, curt nod, a gesture of acknowledgment or perhaps approval. Then he let the silence stretch before looking back at Knox. “You’re done shadowing Mendez.”
Both men looked at him. Knox’s brow creased. “What?”
“You’ve learned what I needed you to learn here,” Dominic said evenly.
Knox glanced at Mendez, who was watching the exchange with undisguised curiosity.
“Did I miss something?” Knox asked.
“No. You’re shadowing me for a while.”
“Shadowing—” Knox blinked. “You?”
Dominic ignored the question and started walking toward the exit. “Come on.”
Knox hesitated half a second, then followed.
They crossed the warehouse floor in silence.
Dominic was aware of Knox beside him without looking.
He had walked in here with no intention of pulling Knox from Mendez.
None. Yet the moment he’d seen Knox leaning over that table, he’d opened his mouth and done exactly that.
He ground his teeth together as he pushed the warehouse door open. “You ever fired a gun?”
Knox’s eyes darted to the side. “No.”
“Then that’s the first thing we fix.”
A short laugh escaped Knox. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s practical.”
Knox tilted his head. “Why now?”
Dominic opened the car door. “Because my world is about to get more dangerous.”
Knox watched him carefully. “Because of Mercer?”
Dominic paused, then nodded once. “Yes.”
A beat of silence before a slow grin spread across Knox’s face. “Okay. This I’m actually looking forward to.”
* * *
The shooting range was empty, exactly the way Dominic preferred it. The room smelled of oil and burned powder, the long row of lanes stretching ahead under harsh fluorescent lights. At the far end, paper targets hung motionless downrange.
Knox stepped in behind him and looked around with open curiosity. “So this is where you come to practice killing people.”
Dominic ignored the comment and set the case down on the counter. “You listen carefully,” he said as he opened it. “You do exactly what I tell you. No improvising.”
Knox leaned against the counter beside him. “Yes, sir.”
Dominic glanced at him. “Don’t start.”
Knox’s mouth twitched.
Dominic lifted the handgun from the case, checked the chamber automatically, and set it down on the counter. “First thing,” he said. “Respect for the weapon. You treat it like it’s loaded even when it isn’t. Every time. No exceptions."
Knox nodded, the humor fading from his face.
Dominic reached into the case and set a magazine beside it.
“Seventeen rounds,” he said. “You load it like this.” He picked the magazine up and pressed it into the grip with the heel of his palm until it clicked into place.
“Always confirm it’s seated.” He ejected it again and held it out. “Now you.”
Knox took it, turned it over once, then pressed it in. It clicked. He looked mildly pleased with himself.
“Safety’s here,” Dominic said, reaching over and guiding Knox’s thumb to the small lever on the side. “Up is on. Down is off. You check it before you do anything else and you check it again before you put it down.” He paused. “Say it back.”
Knox glanced at him sideways. “Up is on, down is off, check it constantly.”
“Good.” Dominic reached for the ear protection hanging on the partition and held out a pair. Knox took them without argument. Dominic put his own pair on and picked the Glock up from the counter. “Now,” he said, holding it out. “Show me how you’d hold it.”
Knox took it and wrapped both hands around the grip with the easy confidence of someone who had no idea yet what he was doing wrong.