Kill Game

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Kill Game Page 12

by Cordelia Kingsbridge


  As she snuffled at his hand, smelling Dominic on him, her whines grew higher pitched and her front paws scrabbled at the door. “Settle,” he said gently. “Settle.”

  She relaxed a little. He continued to speak quiet nonsense words until her sniffing became less frantic and she quieted down.

  He firmed his tone. “Rebel, sit.”

  She dropped her front paws from the door, and he would swear that she spent a moment weighing her options before she backed up and sat in the passenger’s seat, still facing him. Though she watched him with alert, attentive posture, there was nothing aggressive in her body language, so he unlocked the cab and climbed inside.

  In his free hand, he held a bag containing Dominic’s unloaded gun and its magazine. He stored it in the glove compartment for now, ensuring his movements were slow and deliberate, and then leaned back in the seat.

  With responsibility for the crime scene handed over and Rebel calmed, he could no longer keep back the rush of sense memories from the fight. The charge of adrenaline, the thud of flesh against flesh, the thrill of triumph when the men who’d hurt Dominic and threatened him had been defeated . . .

  God, he wanted to get fucked.

  Levi groaned and raked his hands through his hair. What was wrong with him? He didn’t feel guilty about how he’d handled the fight itself; the men had badly injured Dominic, threatened to do the same to him, and he’d only hurt them enough to incapacitate them. It was his physical reaction in the aftermath of the fight that gave him pause. Arousal after sparring was one thing, but getting so powerfully turned on by something like this?

  He wondered what Natasha’s opinion would be.

  Shaking it off, he turned the key in the ignition and tapped the GPS integrated into the dashboard. Dominic didn’t have his home address pre-programmed—probably in case of theft, a security measure that Levi approved of. He typed in the address he’d memorized from Dominic’s license and headed off on the highlighted route.

  While he drove, his thoughts strayed back to Dominic again and again. Dominic had thrown himself over Levi to take the hit like it was as reflexive as breathing. There had been a few seconds after Dominic had collapsed on top of him when Levi had been terrified he was dead. And then after the fight was over, seeing Dominic unconscious with blood seeping across the linoleum underneath his head . . .

  If Dominic hadn’t been in the parking lot when Levi arrived, if he hadn’t ignored Levi’s order to stay put, if he weren’t such a generally infuriating gung-ho idiot, Levi might be dead right now.

  Levi expelled a shaky breath.

  Dominic lived in a slightly beat-up building with exterior hallways and staircases like a chain motel. Levi found Rebel’s leash on the floor of the truck, brought her inside the chain-link fence, and went in search of 2G.

  It was late enough that he felt rude knocking on the door, but it couldn’t be helped. “Just a minute!” a voice called out from inside. In short order, it was opened by a startlingly beautiful woman with dozens of rainbow braids and colorful tattoos that scrolled across the smooth brown skin of her arms and chest.

  She met Levi’s eyes with a sort of wary politeness at first, but when she noticed Rebel by his side, her face went ashen and she caught herself on the doorjamb. “Oh my God, what happened to Dominic?”

  Levi cursed himself for not anticipating what this would look like. “He’s fine,” he said quickly. “I mean, he’s injured, but he’s going to be all right. He asked me to bring Rebel here. I’m a—a friend of his. Levi Abrams.”

  “Jasmine Anderson.” She shook his offered hand, seeming to regain some of her composure. “What—”

  “Who is it?” said another voice from further inside the apartment.

  “Why don’t you come in?” She stepped aside. “You can let Rebel off her leash.”

  Levi did so, and then followed her inside. Rebel ran happily toward a lanky Latino man with floppy brown hair and a stubbled jaw. He held himself stiffly and moved with care as he knelt to pet her, as if he’d recently been injured himself.

  “Carlos, this is Levi Abrams, a friend of Dom’s,” Jasmine said. “Levi, my boyfriend Carlos Guerrero.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Levi said, shaking Carlos’s hand when he stood up. “I’m sorry to bother you so late. Dominic took a bad blow to the head, and he’s on his way to the hospital. He was speaking to me clearly before the paramedics took him away, though, so I think he’ll be fine.”

  “How did he get hurt?” Carlos asked.

  Levi kept the story brief and pared down to only the basic details. After he’d finished, Jasmine rolled her eyes and said, “That’s just like him,” with great fondness.

  “So you’re a detective with the LVMPD?” Carlos studied Levi. “Dom’s never mentioned you.”

  “We don’t work together very often.” Levi shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling awkward standing in the living room of two people who obviously knew Dominic well—he could see Dominic and even Rebel in many of the photographs hung all over the walls. “He thought you’d be able to watch Rebel for him. Is that all right?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Thanks. Dominic has his cell phone on him, so you may be able to reach him that way. I know the paramedics were planning to call his mother.”

  “Do you want something to drink?” Jasmine eyed his waist in a way that wasn’t terribly subtle and added, “Or to eat, maybe?”

  “Oh, no thank you.” Levi took a few steps toward the door. “I really need to get home.”

  “Okay. Well, we appreciate you bringing Rebel over, and I know Dominic will too.”

  Levi nodded, said, “Have a good night,” and slipped out the door. As he trotted down the staircase, he steeled himself to deal with Stanton.

  This night was far from over.

  “You could have died,” Stanton said, breaking the tense silence in the breakfast nook.

  Levi sighed and set his fork down next to his poached eggs. They’d fought so badly last night that he had slept in the guest room, and they’d only been managing breakfast together because they’d both been refusing to speak.

  “Are we really going to get into this again?” He didn’t have it in him to go another five rounds this morning.

  Stanton’s newspaper rustled as his grip tightened. “I just don’t understand how you can be all right with that.”

  “I’m not all right with it. It’s not like I want to die. But risk is part of the reality of being a cop. No matter how careful I am, that will never change.”

  Stanton shut his paper, tossed it onto the table, and reached for his coffee mug. Deep unhappiness was written all over his face, and even angry with him as Levi was, it hurt to see him in pain.

  “I’ve been a cop the entire time we’ve known each other,” Levi said. “We met at a police benefit, for God’s sake. Why is this only starting to bother you now?”

  “It’s always bothered me.” Stanton cradled his mug in his hands. “I just knew what it meant to you, and that used to make it easier for me not to think about it. But now, when we’re trying to plan our future . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can make peace with my husband putting his life in danger every single day.”

  Clearing his throat, Levi shifted in his seat. It made him uncomfortable when Stanton spoke about them getting married, but in Stanton’s defense, Levi had never told him that—and he’d had plenty of opportunities to do so.

  “That’s an exaggeration,” he said instead.

  “It’s—”

  “I’m not quitting my job, Stanton.”

  With an exasperated noise, Stanton said, “You don’t even need to work. I could—”

  “Do not even begin to go there,” said Levi, his voice ice-cold. “How can you think I’d accept that?”

  “How can you think I’d accept what happened last night?” Stanton shot back.

  Levi huffed and turned his face aside to look out the window. “I am not your kept
man.”

  “That’s not what I’m— You’re not even listening to me, not really. I don’t know why I even try.” Shoving his chair back from the table, Stanton stood and grabbed his suit jacket. “I have a meeting.”

  He strode out of the kitchen. Levi felt a moment of petty vindication that he hadn’t been the one to run out on the argument this time, and then was immediately ashamed of himself.

  He spent the next couple of minutes dragging his fork through his eggs, trying to convince himself to finish eating them. Just as he was about to admit defeat, his cell phone rang. The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello?”

  “Levi? It’s Dominic Russo.”

  “Oh.” Levi straightened up. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. No swelling or bleeding in my brain, so they let me go home with my mom in the middle of the night. I’ll have a bitch of a headache for a couple of days, but nothing worse.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” It was only then that the oddity of Dominic calling him on his cell struck Levi. “How did you get this number?”

  Dominic chuckled. “Seriously? I am a bounty hunter, you know.”

  “I thought you were a bail enforcement agent.”

  This time, Dominic’s laugh was full and honest. A smile tugged at Levi’s own lips.

  “Little bit of Column A, little bit of Column B,” said Dominic. “Listen, I was going to ask my mom and brother to pick up my truck and take me back to my apartment. They just need to get the keys from you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can pick you up and take you home.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to drop you off anywhere. I’m not supposed to drive for twenty-four hours.”

  “Stanton’s car service can take me to the station.”

  “No, I don’t want to be an imposition—” Dominic started.

  “It’s not.” When Dominic continued to protest, Levi said, “I can’t give your gun to your mother or brother unless one of them is licensed to carry.”

  “They aren’t.” Dominic sighed. “All right. If you’re sure it’s not too much of a bother.”

  “It’s no problem. I already told my sergeant to expect me in late today, anyway.”

  Dominic gave him the address, and after they hung up, Levi suddenly found himself hungry again.

  Levi had moved to Las Vegas from New Jersey as an adult, and he still wasn’t quite used to the desert environment, especially out in the suburbs. These tile-roofed ranch houses were entirely different from the Colonials and Tudors in the neighborhood where he’d grown up, and even something as simple as seeing different trees and flowers than his subconscious expected was jarring sometimes.

  He snorted at the sassy welcome mat and rang the doorbell. The woman who answered was of a height with him, with olive skin and friendly brown eyes just like Dominic’s.

  “You must be Detective Abrams,” she said before he had a chance to speak. She took his hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “I’m Rita. Please, come in, come in.”

  Levi stepped into a tiny, spotless foyer. Odd that he’d known Dominic in a professional capacity for years only to meet his next-door neighbors and visit his childhood home all in the span of twenty-four hours.

  Another woman, much older and shorter, came around the corner. “Nonna, this is Detective Abrams,” Rita said to her.

  Levi had a vague recollection that nonna was Italian for grandmother, so there was no need to ask her relationship to Dominic. “Please, call me Levi,” he said, shaking her hand as well.

  Once the pleasantries were taken care of, Rita smiled at him. “My God, aren’t you stunning? Look at those cheekbones.”

  “Oh, I— Thank you,” Levi said, flustered.

  “Too skinny.” Dominic’s grandmother patted his arm. “You want pancakes? I’ll make you some pancakes.”

  She’d already started for the kitchen by the time Levi could say, “I ate breakfast this morning, but thank you.”

  “Dominic!” Rita shouted, taking Levi by surprise. “Your friend is here!”

  “I’ll be right out!” Dominic yelled from the back of the house.

  This was so similar to the reception Levi would have received in his own parents’ home that he was caught off guard by the parallels. Of course, his parents’ house had fewer crosses on the wall, but that was really the biggest difference.

  “That means he won’t be ready for another ten minutes.” Rita turned back to Levi. “You’d better go give him a kick in the pants to get him moving. Down that hallway, last room on the left.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Levi headed down the hallway, he heard footsteps behind him going in the opposite direction and Rita saying, “Nonna, he doesn’t want any pancakes.”

  “Waffles then,” she said.

  Dominic buttoned his jeans and grabbed his damp towel off the bed, scrubbing it over his bare chest and arms before very gently blotting his wet hair. His head wound had ceased bleeding in the ambulance and hadn’t needed stitches, but it was still tender to the touch, and he didn’t want to risk reopening it.

  There was a knock on the half-open door. Dominic draped his towel over his shoulder and turned toward it.

  Levi took one look at him, blanched, and whirled around, banging into the door so hard that it flew back and hit the wall.

  “Wow,” said Dominic. “That’s flattering.”

  “I’m sorry.” Even with Levi’s face averted, Dominic could see his rising blush. “I didn’t mean— It’s not that—” He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and turned back, his eyes fixed on Dominic’s face. “I didn’t know you were changing.”

  “I’m shirtless,” Dominic said with growing amusement. “Not naked.”

  Levi’s eyes darted down to Dominic’s chest, jerked away, and then snapped back. “Is that a bullet wound?”

  “Yeah.” Dominic glanced at the small puckered scar where his right shoulder met his chest. “Happened my second tour in Afghanistan. It was a clean shot, through-and-through. A few months of physical therapy, and it was almost as good as new.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been injured while serving.”

  Dominic laughed. “Well, it’s not like I walk around flashing my Purple Heart at people.”

  He was tempted to drag this out, give Levi a good eyeful, but Levi was so obviously torn between interest and intense discomfort that it would be too cruel. He put his back to Levi instead, leaning forward to retrieve his shirt from the bed, and he knew he didn’t imagine Levi’s sharp intake of breath. Since Levi couldn’t see his face, he didn’t bother hiding his smile.

  Dominic’s size caused him a lot of problems, from struggling to fit in an airplane seat to intimidating people without his intention, but all of these muscles were good for a few things.

  “Nice tattoo,” Levi said.

  “Thanks. Jasmine did it for me, actually.”

  The colorful tattoo splashed between his shoulder blades was the Rangers’ crest—a shield bearing a sun, a star, and a bolt of lightning—with the banner of the 3rd Battalion above and the Rangers’ motto, Sua Sponte, below. Of their own accord.

  “Maybe I should wait outside—”

  “Nah, I’m ready to go.” Dominic tugged his shirt over his head and picked up the bag containing his jacket, shoulder holster, and his clothes from last night. He’d never been so happy that he kept some spare clothing here in the bedroom he’d shared with Vinnie as a kid; both yesterday’s shirt and jacket were stained with blood.

  After checking to make sure he had his phone and wallet, he led the way out of the bedroom and back toward the front of the house, stopping in the kitchen to say goodbye.

  “We’re leaving now— Nonna, what are you doing?”

  Silvia looked up from the bowl of batter she was stirring. “Nothing,” she said cagily.

  “I’m sure Levi already ate breakfast.” Dominic looked to him for confirmation.

  Levi nodded. “I do apprec
iate the offer, though. Maybe some other time?”

  Dominic kissed both women goodbye. Rita gently smacked his cheek and said, “Try not to get pistol-whipped today, would you?”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said.

  Once they were out in the driveway, Levi said, “Your mother seems to be handling this well.”

  “You didn’t see her last night.”

  Rita had been beside herself in the ER, hovering over Dominic like a protective mother bear. It was only after the test results had come back with good news that her fear had morphed into anger, and she’d laid into him for a good straight hour about how stupid he’d been. He hoped Levi wasn’t planning on giving him the same lecture.

  Levi just shook his head as he unlocked the truck, an odd half smile on his face.

  “What?” Dominic couldn’t help but ask. He opened the door and climbed in, feeling weird sitting in the passenger’s seat of his own car.

  “She reminds me of my own mother a little bit.” Levi buckled his seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition. “They don’t look anything alike, but it’s . . . something about the way she talks, I guess.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Dominic remembered how exasperated Levi had seemed on the call with his mother the other day.

  “Good.” Levi’s smile broadened. While he backed the truck out of the driveway, he added, “My mother thinks I’m too skinny, too.”

  Dominic waved a hand. “You’re not skinny; you’re wiry. There’s a big difference.”

  He’d always vaguely admired the long, lean muscles Levi covered up with his fancy suits, but after seeing what Levi was capable of last night, he knew those muscles must be even more toned and defined than he’d imagined.

  Levi glanced sideways at him, his mouth open as if about to speak, but then he bit his lip and returned his attention to the road.

  Dominic closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Though the dizziness and nausea had passed, his head still ached abominably, and the pain was compounded by exhaustion from being up most of the night. The doctor had told him it was all right to sleep if he had someone to keep an eye on him, so he was planning to ask Carlos if he could crash at his apartment for a few hours.

 

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