Pursue (Portland Street Kings Book 3) (11 page)

Swallowing past my dry throat, I fidget with my hands as Dom speaks all my truths. Things he shouldn’t know. It leaves me exposed and causes overwhelming pressure to build in my chest.
What else can he see?
The scared girl who still has panic attacks in the dark when she’s left on her own? The weak woman who can’t trust her own instincts? How easy it would be for him to break me.

“You hurting me to keep yourself at a distance changes nothing. I’m still not going anywhere. If it comes to it, I’ll take down the entire mafia for you, Della. Paulie is a walking dead man. I warned him. His death sentence has already been written. The next time he breathes the same air as you, I’m wiping him from this world. Not a single bone or speck of blood will be left of him when I’m done. The others who follow and threaten to hurt you? I’ll do worse to them. I’ll make them suffer, so every single mafia member knows with each man they send, their deaths will only get more brutal, animalistic. It will take a blade to my heart or tearing off all of my limbs before I’ll give up protecting you.”
 

When Dom stops speaking, I realize my mouth has fallen open, and my eyes are wide. I can’t conceal my shock. I sit up, trying to control the fluttering in my stomach and to regulate my stalled breaths.
 

Dom leans forward and boxes me in between his arms. “Keep trying to break my heart, baby. Add your cracks and painful scratches, create irreparable damage and if you need to, completely shatter it completely. I’ll piece it back together with tape and hope, and return to you with just as much love and patience as if my heart were whole and new.”
 

The fluttering has disappeared and now my heart freezes and then pounds once, hard against my chest. My skin tingles and I almost feel as if I’ve drifted to a different time, a whole new universe where all the rules have just been changed.
   

“You forget I know what it feels like to think you’re dead. No other pain could ever compare.” Dom sits back, stands from the coffee table and stares down at me. “One day, Della, you’ll see I learn from my mistakes. Dominic Haynes never gives up, not on love.”

He moves to the light, pulls the string and the barn is thrown into darkness. Even so, my eyes adjust and I watch as Dom spreads himself out on the blanket, his back to the floor with his hands thrown up and under his head. He lies there silently gazing up at the ceiling. I’m frozen, staring at him. Trying to remember the hurt I felt from his betrayals, needing to pull strength from the heartache, except nothing comes of it. All I can summon to the surface is the heartbreak and torment I’ve put myself and Dom through these last few days.
Is it possible to be confused about which one of us has hurt me more?
 

I lie back down, my eyes never leaving Dom. All I wanted was to shut off my emotions. Become numb. Protect what I’d carelessly given away. Me. I needed another way, but it seems this way isn’t for me either because ever since deciding to cut off my emotions and push away my feelings, all I’ve done is suffer. And I’ve dragged Dom down with me.
 

That man has well and truly knocked through my walls, like a bomb with a timer, as if my wall never stood a chance. Timed to go off at the right moment when the explosion would rock me to my core and no matter how hard I fight Dom is determined to be blown to pieces with me.
 

My eyes slowly close, and I fall asleep thinking about where I wish to be in sixty-five years' time. I want the full package: Dom, children, and grandchildren. I want the walls of my home filled with sixty-five years of memories. I want to build what I never had. But how?
I don’t have faith in myself.
How do I trust Dom if I don’t even trust myself?

Chapter Twelve

Della

Distant voices penetrate my deep sleep, but it isn’t until I hear the familiar click of a gun being loaded that my eyes fly open. I find an elderly man standing over Dom with a rifle to his face.
 

I sit up quickly, pushing the blanket off my body. The heat from the sun beaming through the windows heats my skin and I wonder how late we slept in.
Why didn’t my alarm go off on my phone to wake us up?

Dom hasn’t moved from where he fell asleep last night. His hands are raised, showing the man he doesn’t want any trouble and that we mean no harm.
 

“What are you two doing on my property, boy?” The gun shakes in the man's hands, but not from fear, from his age. Holding a heavy gun seems to be taking its toll on his body. The old guy's voice is gruff with a small stammer. The rough, deep tone goes with his appearance; he looks mid-to-late sixties and fills out his jeans and blue plaid shirt enough to see he’s quite fit for his age.
 

“Sir, my name is Dominic and this is Della,” Dom informs the man while pointing to me. “We mean you no harm. We had car trouble about a mile down the road, and we had nowhere else to go. We saw your farm and came here for help, but when we realized no one was here, we decided it was a good place to stay for the night.”
 

The man grimaces, his deep ingrained wrinkles on his face becoming more noticeable with his expression. They almost look like a map carved out into his skin, a journey of his life, the happy and hard times. “Well, pack your things and be on your way then. You’ve rested on my property long enough.”
 

Not wanting to further upset the man, I hurriedly pack our stuff. As I’m throwing in my phone, I realize why my alarm didn’t go off; my battery is dead. I finish packing and zip up our bags, throwing one over each of my shoulders. “Do you know any mechanics close by?”
 

The old man lifts his blue eyes to mine and at the same time, I notice his thin powder-white hair peeking out from under his blue cap. “Only one good mechanic around here and he’s usually booked out weeks in advance.”

My shoulders slump. Dom and I glance at each other, knowing we’ll have no other choice but to call a tow truck and have the Dodge taken to a mechanic in town. Back to where we last saw Paulie and Greg.
 

“Okay, thank you. We really are sorry we trespassed. Thank you for not calling the police. We'll be on our way.” While I’m conveying how truly grateful we are, a woman’s voice rings out in the barn.
 

“Jared, did you find anyone? Where are you and what are you doing?”
 

“Abi, head back to the house. I’ve found the trespassing vegetable stealers. They’re leaving right now.”

“Well, don’t let them leave yet. They left money under the pot at the back door, and it’s too much. I need to give them change.”
 

Still staring at the man with the gun, I blink repeatedly, trying to process that the woman wants to give us change and that Dom left money behind for the vegetables we ate.
 

“You paid for the veggies you took?” The man's incredulous tone pulls me out of my stupor, and I swing my gaze to Dom.

“I don't steal, sir. You weren’t here for me to ask and we were hungry.” Dom’s voice is steady, his tone sincere. My lungs expand to the fullest they’ve ever been as pride radiates through me.
 

“At least you got some morals. Too bad they don’t extend to not trespassing on another man's property,” Jared grumbles. “I’m going to climb down the ladder now. You two have exactly one minute to follow after or I’ll start shooting at you both from under the floorboards.”

Dom doesn’t waste any time. Standing, he comes straight to me as Jared climbs down the ladder carefully with his rifle. The pulse in my throat is pumping quickly. Between the woman wanting to give us change and the man with the gun, I’m utterly confused at the seriousness of this situation.

“I'll go down first. I don't want you on your own with them,” Dom states as he takes the bags from my shoulders, leaving me with nothing to carry.
 

I roll my eyes. “They're old. I'm sure I'll be fine. But I'm not going to argue with you because I don't particularly feel like dancing when he starts shooting bullets at my feet, so move your ass down that ladder.”

Dom gives me a small grin and moves toward the ladder. Remembering something, I quickly grasp Dom's arm to stop him. “My phone battery is dead. We might need to ask them if we can use their phone for a tow truck.”

Grimacing, Dom says, “I think we’ve pissed this guy off enough. We might have to walk to another farm and ask to use their phone.”

I give a quick nod. When Dom is halfway down the ladder, I start my climb as well. On my way, I notice the old couple is quietly arguing with each other.
 

As soon as I reach the ground, Dom steps in front of me as Jared swings his shaking gun between us.
 

I peer around Dom to get a better view of the lady Jared called Abi. She’s studying us as I observe her. Abi’s hair is a gunmetal gray and it’s tied up into a bun. She stands confidently in jeans and a white sweater. She spots me staring and smiles at me with rosy cheeks and wrinkles which show a lifetime of laugh lines and her ability to age with grace.
 

“Before you go, let me get you some change,” Abby offers, but before she can take a step, Dom stops her.

“Not necessary, ma’am. Consider the rest payment for us staying the night.”
 

“Hush,” Abi says with a wave of her hand. “You two seem like nice people. I’m glad our barn could give you shelter when you needed it. Where were you two off to when your car broke down?”

Jared appears frustrated and grumbles under his breath to his wife, “Abigail, let's not stick our noses in their business.”
 

Abi smacks Jared on the arm causing me to jump, latching onto Dom's shirt and hiding behind him.
 

“Jared,” Abi says firmly. “Put down the gun. They paid for vegetables for goodness' sake, and you're scaring the poor girl. Look, she already has a hurt arm.”

A giggle threatens to escape when Abi says I'm scared of the gun. I am afraid of any gun being pointed at me, but I’m more frightened of Abi smacking her husband's shaking arms and Jared accidentally pulling the trigger while he’s pointing it at us.

I hear movement and Jared sighs heavily. “I may be old, but I have quick reflexes. Don't try anything.”
 

Dom nods and I step out from behind him, wanting to reassure them we mean no harm. “I promise we aren't here to hurt either of you or anyone, ever.”

Abi claps her hands and smiles. “That’s settled then. Why don’t we move this conversation into the house over a cup of tea.” Not waiting for our reply, Abi spins on her heels and waves at us to follow.

Dom and I step forward to follow, but Jared swings the rifle up in front of us at waist height, stopping us in our tracks. “My wife is very trusting. However, I am not. I'll be watching you two.”

A wide smile spreads out on my face.
He reminds me of my brothers.
Jared's head jerks back, obviously not expecting my reaction. “I like you,” I announce and then walk around the gun and follow Abi.
 

As I'm walking away, I hear Jared mutter, “Christ. Your girl and my wife might get on better than I want them to.”

“That’s Della. She’s full of surprises,” Dom states proudly, and my smile grows bigger, wider than I ever thought it possible to smile.
 

***

Abi sits us down at their mahogany dining table as she makes the tea. The kitchen is a large space filled with mahogany cabinets, silver appliances, and a marble countertop in the center of the kitchen where a blue apron and dish towel sit disheveled. The living room, which we can view from our seats, is similar: Mahogany furniture with two blue sofas which match the cushions we're sitting on. From outside, the house shows its large size, but inside, it seems smaller. It has a homey warmth to it. It’s impeccably clean; however, it’s filled and almost cluttered with a lifetime of accumulating trinkets. Their ivory walls are covered in memories with picture frames; photos of their family as they’ve grown, children, and I think what must be their grandchildren as well. Every inch of what I’ve seen so far shows a loving home, a childhood anyone would be lucky to have.
 

Abi places a cup of tea in front of me; the movement pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up to thank her, but she’s already gone, moving toward the wall where I was staring.
 

She removes one frame and places the photo in front of Dom and I. The picture holds what I assume to be Abi’s family as the man resembles Jared and there’s no mistaking the woman is a young Abigail. She points to the children in the picture and my body stills. A tightening in my chest appears as all the air in my lungs disappear.
This can’t be.
Impossible.
 

“They’re handsome, aren’t they?” Abi states, misunderstanding my reaction.

Warmth hits my back, and I turn my head quickly realizing it’s Dom. His hand is resting on my back, and he’s leaning in, his eyes asking me if everything is all right. I’m frozen. My mouth unable to move. My mind's unable to fathom how this could ever be possible. Noticing my shock, Dom glances between me and the picture, his forehead wrinkling and his eyes narrowing as he silently tries to figure out what’s going on inside my head.
 

“As you can tell, they’re identical twins,” Abi informs us, drawing my attention back to the picture. I run my finger over the little boy on the left. “That’s Jacob. He was born first.” Abi points to the other little boy. “Mason came only eight minutes later.”
 

Narrowing my eyes on the second born, my heart beats brutally, feeling as if it’s about to explode out of my chest. “Mason?” The word slips out of my mouth. I don’t mean to say it aloud, but since my brothers and I found out we weren’t in the foster system—instead we were either stolen from our families or like me, given away—we’ve talked about our names, wondered if they are the names our parents gave to us. Slater and Pacer, the two oldest, and only a year apart, say they don’t ever remember us calling ourselves another name or struggling with new names.
Could I be wrong about who I think this little boy is?
My memory is skewed. The bad parts highlighted and the rest blurred. The few things I do remember well are the stories and songs Mia and Slater used to tell and sing to me before bed. I would have thought faces as well, but right now, I second guess myself. Kelso and Mack said the same about their memories; they may have lied. None of us would hold it against them if they couldn’t bear to dig through their minds and go back to that horrifying time.