Chapter 4 Sloane #2
With one last withering look at the security guard, Dominic nods his head then turns to walk away. It isn’t until I’m running to keep up with his long strides that I realize he’s holding my hand. His palm is rough and warm, and his fingers cradle mine in a grip that’s firm but gentle.
“Stop. You don’t need to…” I fight against his hold, barely slowing our progress as he parts the crowd with the sheer force of his will.
He glances back at me, disbelief marring his features. “Do you want me to go to jail, Sloane? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if I let you go and another fucking person in this shithole touches you tonight.”
“What? I—”
Words fail me. Disbelief and alcohol have made my brain sluggish, and Dominic uses my delayed processing skills to his advantage, tightening his grip on my limp hand and barreling back toward the booth where Mal and Chase are still sitting.
Her mouth drops when she sees us, and I can only imagine what we must look like. Me, shell-shocked and disbelieving, being dragged around by Dominic, who looks no worse for wear after his physical exertions but still has murder in his eyes.
“Sloane, what’s going on?” she shrieks, attempting to stand.
Dominic gestures for her to sit back down. He’s still holding my hand, using his free one to grab my clutch from the table. “We don’t have time to go over all the minute details, Mallory. We have to go.”
I grab my purse from Dominic and glance at Mal, who’s looking more confused by the second.
“Some drunk guy got a little handsy with me when I was heading to the bar. Dominic saw and—” Six eyes land on me, watching me struggle to find the right word for what my supposed enemy did for me.
Turns out, there’s only one. “—saved me. But things got a little violent, so we’ve been asked to leave. ”
“Oh, shit. I guess that means…” Chase trails off awkwardly, standing to free Mal, who is scrambling out of the booth.
I can’t believe he’s leaving an opening for Mal to invite him back to her place after hearing her sister-in-law just got groped.
And from the look of disgust on Dominic’s face, he can’t believe it either.
I’m increasingly aware of his skin on mine.
He’s applying steady pressure to my wrist. Like he doesn’t want me to forget for one second that his hand is there.
As if I could.
“Chase, honey. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, okay?” Mal’s voice is sugary sweet, but I can tell she’s been rubbed the wrong way by his lack of consideration too. She presses a kiss to his cheek then smiles at me and Dominic. “You guys ready?”
I nod. I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this club. Mal waltzes over and takes our hands in her own, breaking the contact so she can step in between us and link our arms together. She looks up at Dominic, ready to fire off a thousand questions at him as we walk out.
Warm summer air caresses my skin as we step onto the sidewalk.
It’s late, at least two in the morning, but the street is still buzzing with people.
Groups of friends who are staggering into another club, their laughter filtering through the night.
I’m staring a little too hard at a couple devouring each other on the corner when Mal finally lands on a question.
“Anyone want to tell me what the hell happened?”
Dominic fixes her with a hard stare. It’s clear to me he’s still pissed, that there’s reckless anger still simmering in his veins, but Mal doesn’t seem to register it.
“Not now, Mal.”
It’s a clipped, gruff response. Something I’ve rarely seen him give her. Usually, when she speaks, he’s all warm indulgence and brotherly annoyance, but I guess he doesn’t have the capacity for it tonight. Not when he still has violence swirling in the inky depths of his eyes.
Mal must realize it isn’t smart to push him any further, because she lets go of his arm and turns to me, her soft brown eyes assessing. “Are you okay?”
A mixture of guilt and concern has her brows furrowed. It tugs on my heart and brings my need to reassure her to the surface. I give her arm a gentle squeeze and nod. “Yeah. A little shaken up, but okay.”
Or at least I will be. As soon as I get home and scrub my skin raw, so I can no longer feel the man’s hands on me.
“I should have been there with you. I would have kicked the bastard in the balls.”
The image of Mal sinking her red bottoms into that man’s crotch makes me smile. I know in my heart of hearts she wouldn’t have hesitated to do that. Just like Dominic didn’t hesitate to put the man on his ass the second he saw his hands on me.
“Of course you would have.” I smile over at her, letting her see she doesn’t need to worry. “But I think what Dominic did to him was a lot more memorable than a kick to the balls.”
I chance a glance at him to see if he heard me, but he’s walking ahead of us now. Hands shoved in his pockets, spine straight as a board as he leads us away from the club. I have no idea where he’s going, but I’m not about to question him.
This night is just full of surprises.
Mal gives me an impressed look. “Shit. Did he actually hit the guy?”
“He punched him. Twice.” I’m whispering. Hyperaware of Dominic’s presence in front of us. I don’t know if he wants me to give Mal a play-by-play of his heroic efforts. “And then he choked him. I think the guy might have passed out.”
She stops walking. “He did what?”
Her shrill tone makes me glad I didn’t mention the part where Dominic threatened to find and kill the man if he ever thought about what it felt like to touch me. Just thinking about the dark thread of danger that was his voice when he said those words makes my knees weak.
“It was bad, Mal. He was so angry, and the guy just wouldn’t stop talking. Then the security guard came and instead of helping, he just made it worse. I had to stop Dominic from knocking him to the ground.”
“Nic? Our Nic?” She throws an astonished glance up the street to him. He’s stopped walking too. The picture of impatience as he taps his foot on the sidewalk, silently telling us to come on. Mal starts moving again, pulling me along with her.
“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I’ve never seen him throw a punch. Ever.” She purses her lips like she’s searching her memory to make sure her statement is accurate. “You know how he grew up. He’s not exactly a fan of physical violence.”
That’s right. Somewhere in the back of my mind, where I store all of my knowledge of Dominic, a file on his tumultuous childhood pops up.
It’s full of facts shared with me by Eric or Mal in their crusade to help me understand him better.
The most important fact is highlighted in neon yellow: Dominic’s father was an abusive drunk.
An angry man who lied, cheated, and beat his wife and son every chance he got.
The only good thing Gabriel Alexander ever did was allow his son to spend time at the Kent home.
Where he learned not everyone used their fists to express their feelings and decided he would never be the kind of man who did.
But tonight, he abandoned all of that. For me.
“Right… I guess that kind of goes out the window when you see a woman being dragged into a dark corner by a creepy stranger.”
We’re catching up to Dominic now. Only a few steps behind him as he turns into a parking lot. His strides are quicker now. Smooth, quick steps that eat up the pavement as he approaches his car, a midnight-black Range Rover that matches his eyes. Mal leads me to the passenger side.
“Do you want to get in front, Sloane?” It’s a question, but she already has the back door pulled open and one leg in the car.
I hesitate. “Umm, actually, I think I’ll—”
What? Wait in a dark parking lot for an Uber?
I’m not sure what I was going to say, but the thought of sitting in the front with Dominic gives me pause.
The palm of my hand is still tingling from being exposed to his skin in the club.
His scent is still clinging to me, reminding me of the firm, unforgiving planes of his chest. I’m not sure I can survive being in such close proximity to him.
Not when my heart is singing with overwhelming gratitude for him.
But the alternative is quite ridiculous, and apparently, Dominic thinks so as well.
He prowls around the car, keys jingling in his hand as he approaches us, looking like an exasperated father who’s having the damnedest time getting his unruly kids in the car.
Mal swings her body into the back seat and slams the door shut.
I roll my eyes internally. She’s such a little coward.
Dominic sighs. “Get your ass in the car, Sloane, or I’ll put you in there myself.”
He wouldn’t really do that, would he? A day ago, my answer to that question would have been a solid, resolute no because Dominic never touches me, but now, I’m not so sure.
Can’t be when the feel of his hands on my waist is still fresh in my mind.
He touched me with a familiarity and possessiveness that wasn’t at all in line with the nonexistent relationship we have.
I study him, looking for an answer to my unspoken question. The hard set of his jaw tells me yes, he actually would use his bulging biceps to lift me off the ground and place me in the vehicle. And his dark expression suggests he might enjoy it. My cheeks grow hot.
“No need for the caveman act, Alexander. I’m going.” I scramble for the door, somehow knowing my body can’t handle another encounter with his.
“What the hell is that?”
He closes the distance between us in the space of a heartbeat.
Heat sparks in his gaze, which is focused somewhere along the spot where my skirt hugs my waist. Dominic reaches for me, his fingers gentle as they caress the skin of my hip.
I look down, shocked at the contact and the warm rush of recognition dancing down my spine.
Like my body knows him, like it recognizes his touch.
“Dominic.”