Dominate

by Godwin, Pam

  Cole led the caravan on his motorcycle, shooting down the dark highway in the dead of night. Around one in the morning, four hours into the thirteen-hour drive, he pulled off at a vacant rest stop.

  “Bathroom break.” Tomas nudged Rylee beside him, reluctant to wake her after it had taken her so long to fall asleep.

  She rubbed her eyes and followed him out of the car.

  Parked behind them, the second SUV rocked wildly on its frame.

  What the hell?

  The doors flew open, exploding in a whirlwind of swinging arms and heated voices. Lucia’s roar was the loudest, her rapid-fire Spanish shuddering the air.

  With a snarl, she raced around the vehicle and attacked the smirking driver.

  Tiago.

  “Oh, shit.” Tomas gripped Rylee’s hand, prepared to toss her into the SUV if guns were drawn.

  Tiago stood like an impenetrable mountain, chin up, feet braced apart, as he absorbed the force of Lucia’s punches.

  “They need to knock that shit off.” Cole charged toward the commotion.

  Liv’s hand shot out, stopping him. “There’s no one around for miles. Let it play out.”

  Tate and Van yelled, too, quieter, calmer than the woman who unleashed unholy hell on her nemesis.

  “Deep down,” Luke said to no one in particular, “Tiago feels regret for what he did to them.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Cole scoffed and walked off.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Luke started toward the small building of restrooms. “Satan has no feelings.”

  Rylee tilted her head, eyes locked on the fight. “If everyone hates Tiago, why is he here?”

  “He’s here for Kate.” Liv lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “The longer he avoids us, the more he isolates her from her family. Isolation breeds resentment. He might be the devil, but the devil is intelligent.”

  “Happy wife, happy life,” Tomas said.

  Rylee cast him a strange look. “So he wants to be part of this family?”

  “I don’t know if want is the right word.” He tensed as the fight grew more unruly.

  Tiago’s patience was dwindling. He caught Lucia’s next punch, knocked it away, and cuffed her throat, choking her. Tate went ballistic, jumping into the fray and tackling Tiago to the ground.

  “As an outsider,” Rylee said, hugging her waist, “it looks like you’re your own enemies.”

  “You’re wrong.” Tomas turned toward her, putting his face in hers. “Forget everything you learned in school. We’re not your case studies. We don’t need your therapy.” He stabbed a finger at the brawl. “This is how we deal with things.”

  “With your fists?” She stood taller, meeting his glare head-on. “That’s going well, I see.”

  “We work out our issues with communication. Yes, we communicate with fists. And words. And sex.”

  She pressed her lips together, but her eyes argued loudly.

  “We don’t want to be fixed, Rylee.” He straightened, glanced at Liv, and returned to her. “We can’t do what we do and be normal or safe or sane. Think about it. We hunt monsters. We break laws. We torture and kill. Hell, we even fall in love with our prisoners. Or abductors, depending on the perspective.”

  Her eyes widened as they darted around, taking in his team. He could see her mind working, recalling the stories of how each of his friends found love. Liv and Josh, Van and Amber, Camila and Matias, Tiago and Kate, Luke and Vera—they all began as captor and captive, evolving from vicious enemies to lifelong mates. Every single one of them.

  The Freedom Fighters needed to be coldblooded and crazy to do their jobs. They also needed some of that madness to fall in love, evidently.

  “Our story isn’t any different.” He caught and held her gaze.

  “We’re not in love, Tommy.”

  “I’m not opposed to the idea.”

  She set her jaw. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Call me that again, and I’ll kiss the shit out of you.”

  Her breath stuttered, and she cleared her throat. “I need to pee.”

  He glanced in the direction of the restrooms just as Luke strolled out. With a chin lift, he signaled Luke to wait. Having already swept the small building, his friend would stand by while Rylee was inside.

  “Go ahead,” he said to her.

  “I wasn’t asking.” She strode off, stubborn to a fault.

  Behind him, the drama with Tiago fizzled from smacking fists to emotional words.

  A quick sweep of the perimeter gave him a view of shadows, dark tree lines, and in the distance, an empty highway. Everyone present carried weapons, and no matter what they were doing, they were all on high-alert.

  “We’ll get through this.” Liv touched his forehead, brushing the hair from his eyes. “No matter who we’re fighting. There will always be another fight, and we’ll always stand together, righting our wrongs.”

  “And the wrongs of others.” He glanced over his shoulder, finding Van, of all people, standing between Tiago and Tate, speaking to them in calming tones. The argument was over. “Van’s come a long way.”

  “So have you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve always been more closed-off and secretive than the others. I used to worry about your happiness.” She smashed her cigarette beneath a boot and offered him a rare smile. “I’m not worried anymore.”

  Her sharp brown eyes used to give him nightmares. Now they regarded him with an affectionate sort of intensity that told him their decade-long friendship was invaluable to her.

  “I’ve always been your favorite.” He grinned.

  “Josh might have something to say about that.”

  “I can’t believe the boy scout let you out of the fortress without him.”

  “He wasn’t pleased. But Matias’ plane won’t hold all of us, and I’m sick of being the one who stays behind.”

  She’d spent the better part of the past decade raising her daughter. Livana was an adult now. A badass little vigilante in training. Considering who her parents were, he wasn’t surprised.

  “Everyone wanted to come on this mission.” Liv stared at the dark horizon, the scar on her cheek glinting in the moonlight. “To be back in Texas, where it all began? It’s nostalgic.”

  “Most of us grew up here, but honestly, I never had a desire to return.”

  “Well, we’re headed to Missouri now. I didn’t even know Cole had a safe house there.”

  None of them knew. Cole was a goddamn mystery.

  He was also a lifesaver. They needed a safe place to regroup, analyze the evidence they’d collected, and determine how to proceed. That could take weeks, and Tomas’ shabby little safe house in the desert was too small and no longer safe. When he’d suggested that they camp out in the desert, Cole shot down that idea and offered his house in southern Missouri.

  Tomas’ attention flitted to Luke, who paced in front of the restrooms. “I’m surprised Luke left Vera in Colombia, given how new their relationship is.”

  “She was pissed. But he wanted to be here for you.”

  “Vera stayed behind because she has a gunshot wound?”

  “He refused to let her travel. He’ll have a lot of groveling to do when he gets home.”

  Home. In Colombia, Texas, or Timbuctoo, it didn’t matter. Home was wherever his fucked-up, overprotective family was. And Rylee.

  “She’s one of us now.” He nodded at the restrooms.

  “You think she’s a good fit?”

  “For the team? Or for me?”

  “Both.”

  “She’s mean enough.” He chuckled. “Yeah, she fits. She’s carrying her weight in issues.”

  “Oh, good. I was starting to think she might be too normal for this crowd.”

  “Nah, she’s batshit crazy.” A warm whoosh filled his chest, lifting it. “She wouldn’t be a psychologist if she wasn’t.”

  “Look at you.” Her enigmatic brown eyes roamed over his face. She
stepped closer and trailed her fingers along his jaw. “You’re falling, and my God, it’s stunning.” She smiled wickedly. “You’re so fucked, Tomas.”

  He cupped her hand to his cheek, cherishing the connection.

  Footsteps approached, and they turned.

  Rylee breezed past them, followed by Luke. She shot Tomas a withering glare and stormed to the SUV, slamming the door behind her.

  “Jealousy. I don’t miss that stage of a new relationship.” Liv patted his cheek. “Good luck.”

  She strolled toward Van and the others, where they’d calmly gathered near the other SUV. Tomas headed to the bathroom to take a piss. Then he joined Rylee in the backseat.

  “You want me,” he said in greeting.

  “I want you to fuck off and leave me alone.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah.” She huffed. “You think I’m hypersensitive and over-reactive because the man I loved cheated on me. Here’s a news flash. You can fuck whoever you want because I. Do. Not. Love. You.”

  “Love me or hate me. Either way, I’m yours.” He grabbed her jaw and forced her eyes to his. “I will never fucking cheat on you.”

  Her swallow jumped against his hand, her eyes round and heartbreaking.

  He was pushing too hard, too fast.

  “Get some sleep.” He released her, giving her space. “We have a long way to go.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Cole’s safe house was a lakefront estate in rustic Missouri. Any doubts Tomas had about finding a place to comfortably and safely accommodate their party of nine were immediately quashed when he stepped inside the sprawling mansion.

  It sat on a dead-end road, where the asphalt met acres upon acres of woodland. No other houses. No sounds of traffic or life for miles around. Total isolation.

  “Bedrooms are down that hall.” Cole paced through the main living area, flicking on lights and tapping codes into a screen on the wall. “Eat. Get some rest, and we’ll reconvene tonight.”

  No one moved. Tomas didn’t know what the others were thinking, but Jesus, it was surreal, this glimpse into Cole’s private life. Even Rylee, who had only met Cole a week ago, looked shell-shocked by the grandeur of the place.

  Fireplaces dominated both ends of the living room. The cathedral ceiling and natural color schemes directed all attention to the wall of picturesque windows between the hearths.

  The view of a private cove, illuminated by the late morning sun, was nothing short of mesmerizing.

  “You own this? The estate? The land?” Tomas watched Cole move through the open kitchen. “By yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Clearly, we paid you too much for your services.” Van prowled along the windows, gnawing on a toothpick and taking in the view.

  “Seeing how I’ve been saving your asses for free for the past year, I’d argue you’re not paying me enough.”

  “You’re either with us, or you’re not.” Liv lowered into an overstuffed chair. “It’s not a monetary decision.”

  “Am I with you?” Cole stalked toward her and bent into her space, nose to nose. “Spell it out. What do you want?”

  “Secrets don’t keep well for long in this family.” She was a fraction of Cole’s size and managed to look more threatening as she leaned in, forcing him back. “We hide nothing from one another.”

  “Except Tomas’ emails,” Cole said.

  “Which are no longer a secret.” Tomas clenched his jaw.

  “Like I said.” Liv raised her chin. “Secrets don’t keep in our family.”

  “If you let me in, I’ll do the same.” Cole straightened and shrugged off his leather jacket. “This property is the entirety of my wealth. An accumulation of the side jobs, the risks I’ve taken over the past twenty years. But it’s more than that. This is my retirement. My sanctuary. And now, I’m offering it to you. To the cause.”

  Tomas glanced at Rylee beside him, the surprised look on her face mirroring his thoughts. For whatever reason, Cole had just made an exorbitant bid to be part of their exclusive team.

  He’d been working alongside them for a year, but always as an outsider. He wasn’t forced into this by way of Van’s attic. Nor was he marrying into the family. Before now, those had been the only avenues into becoming one of their kindred.

  But apparently, he wanted this badly enough to invest his entire future in them.

  “How is the kitchen already stocked?” Tiago rummaged through the built-in commercial fridge, his nefarious presence as out of place as his question.

  “You’re worried about my secrets,” Cole said to Liv, “when you should be worried about the Venezuelan kingpin who carries razors in his pocket.” He turned toward a scowling Tiago. “I have a caretaker, vetted and trusted, who’s been looking after this property for fifteen years. He prepared the bedrooms and stocked the kitchen this morning.”

  Tiago nodded, his expression brooding. Pensive. “You’re already in the fold, Hartman. They need you. Most of them care about you. Trust will take time.” He grabbed his bag and strode into the hallway, vanishing around the corner.

  Silence descended in his wake. Looks were exchanged. Someone blew out a breath.

  “That was awkward.” Tomas rubbed his nape.

  “Fuck him.” Lucia crossed her arms. “He’s just sore because he has no friends.”

  “Fix it.” Van pointed a toothpick at her.

  She made a growly sound. “Why me?”

  “Because Tate and I made our peace with him. You’re still hanging onto the past.”

  “Fine.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to follow Tiago. “I’ll do it for Kate.”

  “You’ll do it for you.” Tate swatted her butt. “And not until you’re ready. Let’s grab a room.”

  The massive living space slowly emptied as everyone wandered off. Between Colombia, Texas, and Missouri, the team had been traveling nonstop for four days. Two weeks before that, they’d been in California, taking down La Rocha Cartel.

  Now that they were safe, the first order of business was food and sleep.

  Within minutes, only Tomas and Rylee remained.

  “I’m hungry, not tired.” She stepped into the kitchen and snatched an apple off the counter.

  She’d slept most of the way here and missed the meal they’d grabbed through a roadside drive-through.

  “Eat.” He collected their bags and ambled toward the hallway. “I’ll claim a room.”

  “Two rooms.”

  He didn’t bother acknowledging that ridiculous request.

  A gradual slope of stairs ascended into a long corridor, the flooring tiled in an artistic mosaic of slate stones. He lost count of how many doors he passed, all with keypad entry. Christ, there must’ve been eight or nine bedrooms in total. Unless something else was hiding behind these locks.

  He stopped at the first open door and gaped.

  Inside, racks of guns covered one wall. Dozens of firearms of every size, shape, and caliber. File cabinets, desks, and worktables filled the rest of the dimly lit room, the surfaces covered in laptops, camera equipment, and high-tech clothing and gear.

  Cole stood at a table, sifting through stacks of burner phones, all plugged into a power strip that ran along the wall.

  “Last room on the right is mine.” He didn’t look away from his task. “The one on the left is still open.”

  “Thanks.” As Tomas turned to leave, his gaze caught on a transparent garment bag that hung from a hook behind the door.

  White satin and lace.

  A wedding gown.

  Damn, it looked eerily spectral and downright sad amid the plethora of guns and spy tech.

  “I should burn it,” Cole said behind him.

  “I don’t know, man.” He pivoted, meeting the starkness in Cole’s brown eyes. “I burned everything, but the ghosts clung.”

  “Are they still clinging?”

 
; “Yeah.” He scratched his jaw, rethinking his answer. “Actually, I’ve been too distracted to notice.”

  “Your dick’s been distracted.”

  “More than usual, and more than just my dick. That woman has her claws in every part of me. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure she scared the ghosts away.” He chuckled and quickly sobered. “Do you think her ex-husband hired hits on her and Evan Phillips?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Cole turned back to the table of burner phones. “Get some rest. Recharge. We have a lot of work to do and need to be clearheaded.”

  With a nod, Tomas made his way to the last room on the left. An airy, tidy space with a large bed and private bathroom—all decorated in simple, natural hues. Beyond the windows, trees rippled on hillsides that stretched to the horizon.

  He could see why Cole chose this place to retire. It was lush and green. Peaceful. Calming. Completely void of sand, desert heat, and hatred.

  With Rylee, he would take her hatred over indifference. Her fire was irresistible, addictive, and he wouldn’t dare try to control it if it made her happy.

  But it didn’t. Her anger made her miserable. He accepted the blame for some of that, not all of it. Nine days ago, she walked into his house with a block of ice around her heart and a grudge against men that was ten years in the making.

  Enough was enough.

  He dropped their bags near the door, brushed his teeth, and found his angry little hellcat sitting alone at the kitchen island. She’d fixed herself a salad with pre-grilled chicken.

  Lowering onto the stool beside her, he reached toward her bowl to steal a meaty morsel.

  “No!” She jerked it away, hugging the dish protectively to her chest. “Please, don’t.”

  He yanked his hand back, scalded by her reaction. “Jesus, Rylee. I’m not going to take your food away.”

  She didn’t move, her glare distrustful and defensive.

  He’d done that. Adding to her fears of intimacy and commitment, he’d instilled a new one.

  Starvation.

  What kind of monster was he?

  “Fuck.” He shoved away from the island and paced through the kitchen. “I fucked up. Cole warned me. He told me if I harmed you and learned you were innocent, that I would wear the scars.” His chest hurt, and his stomach coiled in a turmoil of guilt. But he wouldn’t give up. Pausing a few feet away, he looked her square in the eyes. “You have every right to hate me. I know you’re pissed. So yell at me. Let me hear it. Act like a fucking adult and confront me.”