by Posey Parks
Brandon attempted to take her out of my arms. “No!” I yelled.
His hand cupped my arm. “Dillon, I need to help her.” His soft words attempted to break through my hysteria.
“Please let me.” He stared into my distant eyes.
I lowered her body to the floor. Brandon wasted no time taking her vitals. He pressed two fingers along the base of her neck. Zoey placed his medical bag at his side. She placed her hand in mine while I sat on my knees in a daze at Sierra’s side. All I wanted was a life with her, our second chance, our happily ever after.
“Dillon, the knot on her head caused a concussion. I’m hoping she will wake after I am able to give her a CAT scan. We need to move her somewhere comfortable.”
“Dillon, take her to the house,” my father directed.
My worried eyes darted upward, meeting my father’s. “No, I need to take her to a safehouse for now.”
“Of course.” My father’s eyes glanced toward the door. “Gio, take them to the closest safehouse. We will clean up here.”
“Sergio, once I get them settled I will be back to help,” Gio assured.
“No, your priority is taking care of my family!”
“Of course, Boss.”
Only Sierra mattered.
“Dillon, Brandon, and Zoey will accompany you both. I will see you in a couple of days,” Sebastian said.
“Thanks for everything, Sebastian.”
“You’re welcome.”
I didn’t look back as I whisked Sierra away into the Suburban parked outside the door. I held Sierra in my lap, stroking her tattered hair. What if she was pregnant and lost our child? I would never forgive myself. My lips grazed her earlobe. “I love you, baby. Everything is going to be all right.” Like a crazy man, I whispered in her ear, professing my love for her. “Sierra, baby, I love you. I love us. I want us all to be a family.”
“Dillon, we’re here,” Gio announced.
Zoey placed her hand on my shoulder. Her concerned eyes glanced at Sierra, then back at me. “I can help you get her cleaned up,” she said.
“No, thank you. I can manage.”
I followed Gio inside the safehouse. He stopped at the keypad off the kitchen. He tapped a button, then all of the lights popped on throughout the house. Gio began his walk through. I laid Sierra on a bed in the middle bedroom off the living room. I paced the living room floor, while Brandon gave Sierra a full exam.
“Dillon,” Brandon called, removing the rubber gloves from his hands as he walked toward me.
“How is she Brandon?” The lines on my forehead wrinkled as I waited for his answer.
“She is still resting. I’m hoping she will wake later this morning. At that time, I will check her vitals and run some test.” He ran his fingers through his brown and blonde hair.
“I ran IV fluids intravenously. I will check her vitals later this morning.”
Stretching my hand out toward him, Brandon placed his hand in mine. We shook hands. “Thank you, Brandon. I hate you and your pregnant wife halted your lives to help us. However, I am forever grateful.”
He patted my shoulder, accompanied by a smile. “It’s what we do. Before you take care of Sierra I am going to examine, clean, and rebandage your wound. Come on.”
I followed Brandon into my bedroom. “As you can see I have placed two short portable IV stands on each side of the bed. Do not detach Sierra’s IV from her arm. You will have to carry the bags with you when you move her.
“I understand.”
“Dillon lay down on the bed so I can start the examination.”
After Brandon’s thorough examination he retrieved a long bag of IV fluids. He hung the bag on the short pole.
“Dillon, I am placing a larger tube and needle in your arm to allow your body a chance to obtain enough fluid in a shorter period of time. Be sure to come get me before you go to sleep. I need to connect the tubing into the needle.” He tossed another pair of blue disposable gloves in the waist paper basket.
“Will do doc.”
Brandon laughed as he vacated the bedroom.
Staying here with Sierra day in and day out wasn’t an option. We’re at war now. Tomorrow, I need to return to my family’s side and fight. I’m not sure if my father informed my mother, I’m alive. Finally, the heavy weight will be lifted off of my mother. No more keeping my dark secret.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DILLON
The safehouse was state of the art. Bullet proof windows, security systems which monitored the grounds and roads ten miles out. The woodsy home sat on an acre of land deep in the forest. There are five bedrooms and seven bathrooms along one corridor. The safehouse is designed to keep people in close proximities. Our men are posted around the house, equipped with assault rifles. This safehouse has been in our family for generations. Contractors have worked on this home over the years, never knowing who the real owners were, intentionally. This allowed us to feel safe here. Unless we were followed here, no one knows we occupy this residence.
Our most trusted man is in charge of keeping the home stocked with food and personal necessities. He is to keep a low profile when leaving the compound. Gio also is to loop throughout the roads, ensuring he isn’t followed.
Stepping into the pristine light gray bathroom, I searched the cabinets for lavender bubble bath. My fingers popped the top, and I let the smell of lavender flowers dance under my nose.
I remembered my father instructing me to run my mother’s bath while he was away on business. I chuckled. His business always included keeping our family safe.
Uncle Mick would bring Dom, me, and his son Mario along to check the safehouses throughout New Jersey. We have safehouses in several states. My grandfather wanted to ensure we would be safe where-ever. He was my favorite uncle. Never one for sugar-coating shit. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t know that much about our family business.
Long ago, sitting outside in the driveway of this safehouse, I learned my role in this family, mob boss. I was fourteen when I learned my legacy. It was a blistering cold day. Dom and Mario just finished salting the walkway and the driveway before settling into the warm car. I was in charge of ensuring there was enough fire wood piled high in the back yard. We completed these safehouse checks four times a year. Anyway, I hoped into the passenger seat, awaiting my uncle. He slipped into the driver’s seat. His eyes roamed the car, taking in our faces.
“Everything taken care of, boys?”
“Yes, sir,” we replied.
“Good.” He smiled, placing the gear shift in drive, then back in park.
He turned to me. “Dillon, I’m going to be straight up with you.”
I smirked, glancing his way. “Listen Uncle Mick, I promise there’s enough wood back there to warm three neighborhoods.”
He laughed. “No, listen.” His eyes darted back at Dom, who was listening to music on his headphones. His eyes returned to me. “Soon you will become a made man. You are aware of your father’s position, correct?”
“Yes.”
Mario and I knew my father was the mob boss, but it wasn’t time for Dom to know.
“At twenty-five, you will take over for your father as the boss of this family.”
I remember my lungs closing and my hands sweating. “Why me?” My eyebrows scrounged together.
“Your grandfather made your father the boss. You are next in line, then, Dom.”
My hand slid around the back of my neck. I couldn’t believe my uncle was telling me about my life duties.
“Dillon, your grandfather wanted to ensure you know all the ends and outs of our world, even if your father didn’t. Sergio wants you boys to go to college and not look back. He’s being naïve. Your future is already set. There’s no turning back.”
I glanced out the window. My mind tried absorbing his words. It was fun running around when I thought it was my uncle and father’s job but not mine.
His hand slamme
d on my shoulder. “It’s going to be all right, kid. Dillon, look at me.”
My scared eyes met his. “I promise you will be the best boss. You have nothing to worry about. You’re learning from the best.”
He threw the car in drive. “Now let’s grab some meatball sandwiches.” He chuckled.
Recalling the memory brought my legacy to the forefront of my mind. I’m about to become the new boss.
The smell of lavender filled the room as I poured a thin stream into the hot tub of water. I retrieved the bleach and hand soap, pouring the contents into a large shallow bowl, adding in hot water. I placed the bowl on the nightstand. Sitting next to Sierra on the bed, my eyes scanned her filthy, bloody clothes. Slowly, I ripped her dingy dress from her body. She reeked of urine. Even though I was relieved Filippo was dead, my blood still boiled. Stabbing him wasn’t enough. I wanted to cut his hands off while he was still alive. I never would have envisioned Sierra killing Filippo.
Resting the bowl in my lap, I dabbed the wash cloth against her face, washing Filippo’s blood away. Dipping her hands into the soapy water, I watched as the blood dissipated from her skin, turning the water cloudy red. My woman, who took pride in her upkeep, appeared dirty and unkept. Sierra was still absolutely breath-taking to me. Everything was laid out for her, comb, brush, shampoo, and conditioner. After discarding her clothes, I undressed. Strolling back into the bathroom, I dipped my fingers into the hot water, ensuring it wasn’t scolding. I returned to the bedroom, swooped her up into my arms. With the IV bags in tow, I entered the bathroom, emerging us into the fragrant water. The IV lay on the side of the oversized stone white tub. Holding Sierra in my arms, I brushed the soapy wash cloth over her honey brown skin. I hated seeing her body limp in my arms. I wanted her gray eyes to stare into mine and listen to her tell me how much she loved me. Gently, I washed her face, neck, breast, arms, legs, and the other delicate areas of her body. I was careful washing her ass, the place that motherfucker violated her. I wanted to ram my fist through a wall. Myself, my dad, and Filippo turned Sierra into a murderer.
Massaging her scalp with shampoo was therapeutic for me. Knowing I was revitalizing my beautiful queen, calmed me. Her head rested on my shoulder while I stroked the comb through her long, thick black hair. My nose brushed against her wet face. “I need you, Sierra.” I was broken all over again without her. What was I going to do?
I longed for her to stir in my arms. No such luck. I held her tight in my arms that night as she slept. My eyes stared at the ceiling. The disappointment in her eyes when she glanced back at me before passing out broke me in two. Her wrath was surely going to rain down on me.
CHAPTER TWELEVE
SIERRA
My eyes fluttered open, scanning the beautiful heather gray bedroom the same color as my eyes. Dillon rushed into the room, sitting at my side. My hand flew over my head as the throbbing pain penetrated my head continuously. My other hand clutched my ass in an effort to ease the shooting pain. Pushing myself up, I rested against the headboard.
“Ouch!” I gripped my head with both hands, desperately wanting the pain to subside.
“Let me prop up the pillows behind you. I’m so happy you are awake.” His smile was weak. “I’ll see what Brandon can give you for the pain in just a moment.”
For a brief moment, I put aside our problems. My eyes softened at the sight of Dillon. He is alive. My arms slipped around his neck. Dillon held me tight. We sat in silence. No words to be said. I was relieved to know my baby wasn’t dead. He was right here with me. I hope this isn’t a dream. Despite everything we are going through, I love this man with all my heart.
Dillon smelled delicious. However, his hair wasn’t combed and his beard wasn’t neatly trimmed. I pushed back from him. My eyes took in his appearance again. “Dillon, you aren’t taking care of yourself.” My eyes darted to his shirtless chest. There was a wide white bandage wrapped around his abdomen.
My eyes widened. “You need to rest,” I stated, staring into his gray eyes.
He pulled my hand to his mouth. “No time for that. My only concern is you.” His eyebrows wrinkled. His worried eyes carried some sense of relief.
“Shit!” My eyes widened. “The kids!”
“They are fine. I have men watching your in-laws’ house.”
Our problems came back to haunt us abruptly. The anger fueled within me from his statement. Drawing my hand back, I released it across his cheek.
“What the fuck, Dillon!? You lied to me!” I shook my hand trying to ease the stinging sensation in my fingers.
Dillon didn’t appear to be affected. His lips pressed against the palm of my stinging hand. I fucking hate and love him right now.
Dillon’s brooding eyes stared into mine. He palmed my face pulling my lips into his. Dillon held me close not allowing me to break free. His loud groan awoke all my senses only he could stir. I hated to admit, I wanted to fuck him, despite all he put me through. I love him no matter what. Slowly, his lips released mine.
“Dillon, I need to pee and brush my teeth.”
“Right.” He flipped the comforter back, scooping me up into his arms, carrying me into the light gray bathroom. My eyes marveled at the decorative silver fixtures on the cabinets. The raised double squared sink was inviting. Dillon lowered my feet onto the cold two-toned light gray slated tiles. A chill rushed up my spine. He didn’t allow me to put weight on my legs.
“Dillon, I can manage.”
He didn’t listen. He pushed my night-gown up, pulling my panties down around my thighs. “Have a seat.”
I smacked my lips. Dillon stood back, giving me just enough room to use the bathroom. His eyes remained on me the entire time.
“Dillon, I need privacy.”
“No, you don’t. You use the bathroom in my presence all the time at home.”
He would bring that up. Maybe Dillon and I are a little too comfortable with each other.
“Are you going to wipe me too?”
“You think you’re funny, but I will.”
My heart melted for my big, strong man who was mush for me. I know Dillon loves me. No one could ever tell me different. His huge muscles popped out throughout his chest and arms as he flexed, followed by a sigh. He helped me to my feet. His hard-rippling muscles pressed against my dainty frame. Dillon slid my panties up, then placed his hands around my waist, guiding me to the sink so I could wash my hands and brush my teeth. Glancing at the IV bags resting beside me on the marble counter prompted questions.
“Dillon, what happened?”
I stared at my harsh appearance in the large mirror, and my fingers grazed the large bump on my forehead.
“You passed out.”
My hand ran over my puffy hair pulled back in a ponytail. The toothbrush swirled around my mouth while my eyes remained on Dillon. Yesterday played in my head like a horror movie. Dropping my toothbrush in the sink, I held my stomach. “I’m going to be sick.” I turned in his arms, facing the toilet.
“Dillon, leave. I need to vomit in peace.”
He helped me kneel over the toilet. Liquid expelled into the toilet bowl. Dillon rubbed my back as I continued throwing up what felt like the lining of my stomach. The tears were forced down my face due to the vomit choking its way out of my system. Dillon wiped my face with a wet towel.
“I wonder if the IV is enough fluid for you and our baby,” he stated.
My mouth fell open. “Help, help me back to the sink, then to bed,” I stuttered.
The baby. It was out in the open. Dillon had a feeling I was pregnant, and so did I. This time, I focused on brushing my teeth and gargling with mouth-wash rather than Dillon. I felt his stern gaze on me the entire time. Dillon dabbing my mouth with the towel forced our eyes to meet.
“Stop hovering!”
“No, I’m trying to take care of you before I leave.”
My face dropped. “Leave and go where?” My eyes followed his movements. He dro
pped his head, running his hand over his beard.
“To war, Sierra.”
Gripping my chest with one hand, my other slammed against the counter in an effort to stop my legs from giving out. I stood completely still, trying to force out the thoughts of losing him again. “Dillon, drop me off at the nearest hospital and go. Never look back.”
His eyes widened, then the tears streamed down my face. In my haste, I began walking toward the door. Dillon halted me, grabbing the IV bags, swooping me up into his strong arms again. His face tensed. “You’re going to stay right here, Sierra. Brandon and Zoey are here to help while I’m away.”
The second he laid me on the bed, I rolled over, distancing myself from him. My angry eyes focused on the dark gray curtains across the room.
“We are no more. I can’t lose you again.” My body quaked as the tears clouded my eyes.
I felt the bed sank. Dillon pulled me into his arms. His wide thumbs swiped my tears away. His warm eyes roamed my face while my fingers traced his tatted arm.
“I don’t have to be somebody I’m not any-more. I’m allowed to be me again.”
My distraught eyes stared into his. “I don’t know that man.”
“Yes, you do. You are the only woman who knew who I was. When we are together, I’m Dillon from New Jersey. Not Jeff from Portland. There is no more Jeff.”
My eyebrows wrinkled. “No! You told me you were Dillon from New Jersey; whose mother was dead.” My finger poked into his chest. “You are a fucking liar. I don’t know you at all. I could never have a baby with you; a fucking mobster!”
The blood drained from his face. He propped the pillows behind my back, resting me against the head board. Dillon rose, pacing the floor, running his fingers through his amber curly locks.
“If I told you I was the son of Sergio Magarelli, the governor of New Jersey, would you have stayed?” He halted, staring at me, waiting for my answer.
“You left out mob boss. Hell no!” I folded my arms across my chest. “It’s not right or fair for you to deceive me, telling me that fucked up lie.”