“No shit, Sherlock,” she said, staring at his face as he looked Coates over again. “Making my call,” she said, sliding her thumb across the surface to unlock the phone and dialing. Lifting it to her head, she watched him angle towards the door as she heard the canned phrase, “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency…”
Chapter Two
Domino
“I’m telling you, the bitch wasn’t lying about anything.” Domino glared at Deke. Nathan Williamson wasn’t used to his brother Grant being such a hardheaded asshole about something this important. “If you’d seen her face, brother, you wouldn’t question what I’m sayin’.”
There were half a dozen men gathered in the club’s office behind the bar at Marie’s. It was the same place they’d kept Annie cooling her heels earlier today. Domino winced when he realized that the death of her friend had happened while they were posturing and making a statement to the woman who’d politely asked for their time per protocol of a riding club approaching the dominant club presence in an area.
Shaking his head, he told them, “CSI is going to have hours of work to clear that room. There was…” He paused a moment, deciding to keep some of his observations to himself, these men didn’t need to know the details of how the female had been violated, “a big fucking mess.”
Understatement of the year, he thought. The instant he’d seen the disarray of Coates’ clothing, he had more than a suspicion of who the perp was. They’d seen evidence of his work before, mostly for-hire shit for an asshole no one believed would ever return to the area.
“I’m going to call up my contacts.” Any contact with law enforcement, what the club called LEO, required he provide advance notice to the chapter officers. It was an entirely understandable measure, given what his previous line of work was. That didn’t mean the requirement didn’t rankle, even if his blood brother, Deke, had told him it wouldn’t be in play forever. Still, he’d worked autonomously for so long, being held to a rigid framework of protocol was grating on his nerves. I knew what kind of hill I’d have to climb when I quit the force and joined. He just had to remember there were reasons the club members were unsure of him, even if he’d been their go-to cop. Someone so many felt was in the club’s pocket because of his relationship to Deke.
Slate nodded, the lines in his face twisting with the anger the man didn’t try to hide. “We need to know what the cops know.” He turned to drill Deke with a glare, and Domino was relieved to have that gaze off him for the first time since he’d walked back into the office. “And we need to know what happened at the motel, where our fuckin’ men have disappeared to. Three goddamned men don’t just get up and walk the fuck off, brother. You assigned ‘em, you fucking find ‘em.”
Deke didn’t respond, just turned on his heel with a brusque gesture towards Domino and walked out of the room.
Chapter Three
Annie
Seated in a metal chair along the long edge of the interview room table, Annie looked up when the door swung in, admitting one of the last people she expected to see. “Domino,” she breathed, feeling her brows pull together in a frown. He hadn’t hung around for the cops to hit the motel, ghosting out almost before her thumb had lifted from dialing. Not that she blamed him, but he had left her standing alone in a blood-soaked room with her sister. So again, she wanted to dislike him.
She hadn’t mentioned him at all, much less by name, just saying that she had returned to the building from a meeting and found Victoria Coates dead upon arrival. It helped that Annie had a sheepdog brother who had oathed in, proudly wearing blue to protect and serve. So in her gut she knew even if the questions from the local boys seemed brusque and hard, they were men who were just trying to do their jobs. Not out for her, regardless of her knee-jerk responses to their intrusive and rude inquiries.
Domino lifted his chin and allowed the door to remain ajar, placing his shoulders against the wall next to the opening. “I called, offered to come in for a chat. Boys out there didn’t know what I was talking about.”
She turned pointedly to the glass wall and back to him without speaking, her thoughts churning wildly even as she gave him poker face. Is he trying to fuck me over? The desk jockeys had given her enough of a hassle about her concealed carry, even with the papers in her bag. She didn’t need them wondering if she had hedged her statement, pulling her back into the lights for their investigation.
He seemed to read her anxiety, telling her, “Boys out there say you’re good to go.” She again turned to the one-way mirror, and then held out her hands, shrugging her question to the invisible man. A loud rapping came from the glass and she dropped her hands, turning to stride to the door. In the hallway, she went to the next door down and knocked hard, pounding the surface firmly with the side of her fist, the zippers on her jacket sleeve adding a metallic rattle as she moved.
It opened, and she saw the face of the detective who had interviewed her, eyebrows lifted in a question. “I’m good to go?” He nodded and opened his mouth, but she bulldozed over whatever he was going to say. “My girl, when do I get her?” Pulling out her phone, she waited, thumb over the response button on the group chat she had started with her officers before the cops showed at the motel. Keeping her sisters in the loop, letting the Gypsy Queens know Coates was down, and she would soon be headed to the station. Their desolate and anguished responses had nearly done her in.
The detective sucked in a breath on a wince, saying gently, “Miss Robbins…Kathleen, it will be several days before Miss Coates body can be released. We have your numbers, as well as the next of kin information you provided. Someone will be in touch, I promise you.” He handed her piece over, butt first, magazine in his other hand. She cleared the gun then shoved it unloaded into the holster at her back, pocketing the clip when she took it from him. She knew her nod was jerky as she tried to fight back the anger and grief threatening to crash over her. “Let me call a car to take you back to your vehicle.”
She didn’t answer right away, thumb moving over the screen as she kept her eyes on the phone in her hand, anchoring herself to the reality of updating her sisters. “I got that covered” came from behind her, just as heat settled onto her hip, Domino’s fingers curling around, anchoring her.
“Is that okay with you, Kathleen?” The detective’s voice was still gentle, and that tone nearly took her legs, but she fought that back, too. Nodding, she automatically lifted her hand to take the card he offered, tucking it along with her phone into a pocket as she listened to him say, “I know it’s not much, but I am sorry for your loss. Call me if you need anything. My cell number is on the back.” His fingers squeezed hers and continued to hold tight until she lifted her gaze from the center of his chest, where it had settled when she asked her first question. She saw his eyes were bright and his sad smile as gentle as his voice. A genuinely nice guy. Taking a step backwards, she ran into a hard barrier that had to be Domino, feeling her body plaster fully against his.
Moving away from both men, she aimed herself towards the front of the building, quickly weaving and winding her way through the scattering of desks and chairs that made up the office area. There were a dozen other interview rooms and offices with open or closed doors on the outer ring of the room, leaving no wall surface for windows, but the light in here was still blinding, her eyes stinging. Behind her, boot heels clattered down the three steps to street level as she hit the door at a run, suddenly desperate to be out of there, away from the space where people had mastered the art of sympathy, knowing the exact tone of voice needed to convey guileless compassion.
“Annie.” She heard Domino’s voice call behind her as she sprinted down the sidewalk, dodging between the few pedestrians browsing the storefronts in the crisp, late fall air, their faces startled by the sudden loud noises echoing down the street. A hand caught at hers, tugging and slowing her so she turned, ready to strike out, but his arms reached first, wrapping around and folding her into him. “Hush, Annie. I got you.”
/> At his words, she realized the noise was coming from her, dry, harsh sobs that ripped from her chest as if the air was forced out. Eyes clamped shut, she burrowed into his chest, shoving her arms up until she could cup her hands across the bottom of her face, covering her mouth in an attempt to control the sounds.
“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he crooned into her ear, and at his soft words, she found more sobs locked inside, fighting their way to the surface. Standing on the sidewalk in the middle of smalltownsville Indiana, there were more tears and more misery ripping through her than she thought possible. The numbness was completely gone, in a bad way, shredded away by memories that left her raw again. But she wasn’t alone. Sheltered in his arms, a man she had seen exactly three times, and disliked on at least one occasion, she gave it to him. She gave it until there wasn’t anything left to give, until she was wrung dry, weak with the violence of emotion, aching and unkempt inside.
“Annie, I’m going to take you home, okay?” His arms began to loosen, and she scrabbled at him, forcing her arms up and around his neck. Holding on tightly, not wanting the connection to break, not knowing if she could survive this on her own. “I got you, sweetheart. Gonna take you home.”
“Can’t go home,” she said, her voice breaking at the memories sweeping over her again of Coates’ face, her hands bloody and torn, knees spread wide—
“Taking you to my home.” He interrupted her thoughts, and startled, she pulled back, bringing her arms down, flattening her palms on his chest, eyes focused on that point of contact. Heat and firmness, both things she liked right now, under her hands. “I had your bikes trailered to my place. Blues wouldn’t let me in to get your stuff, but the bikes were outside. Figured you’d rather they be at my place than in impound.”
Makes sense, she thought, body tensing as she readied herself to stand on her own, surprised when his arms didn’t move. Him not shifting meant her pushing had no effect, but he made a noise that drew her gaze up to his face. His expression was gentle, and her stomach lurched because she couldn’t take any more gentle today. Not without losing it again, and her throat was still throbbing with her last efforts of swallowing down her pain. She pushed again, harder, and he leaned his head down, eyes scanning her face before he nodded, satisfied with whatever it was he saw. His hands moved to her upper arms where he held on, steadying her.
“You okay to ride with me?” His question surprised her, and that surprise deepened to confusion when he then said, “I can call for a cage if we need to. Anything you need, Annie.”
“I—” Her voice cracked, so she stopped a moment to clear her throat, then continued, focusing on simply answering the question. “I can ride.”
“Good,” he murmured, his hands slipping down past her elbows, releasing to slide one of his arms around her waist as he turned them. “Bike’s over here.”
She nodded, feeling their hips bump as they walked in step down the sidewalk, back the way she had fled from, towards the cop shop nearly three blocks away. The heat from his arm across her back, palm cupping her hip, thigh pressed to hers, the friction of their jeans rubbing as they strode along…that all felt good, so good that she let a little of her pain go.
Chapter Four
Domino
Jesus. He straddled his motorcycle, bringing it upright and holding it in place with his thighs. The big bike was heavy but well balanced, and it was the work of moments to get Annie settled behind him. The raw pain she’d exposed a few minutes had dug deep into his gut, setting up a rolling anxiety. Hearing her cry like that nearly made him crazy, filled with an unreasonable desire to find out whoever had hurt this woman and kill them.
I actually think I’d kill them. Try, anyway. Jesus. Domino had been a cop for a long time. He’d been one of the good ones, working to make the world safer for everyone who lived in his city. There might have been some skating along the lines of propriety a time or two when Deke had special requests, but his principles had him shying straight away from doing anything with even a taint of illegal. Even those few times he’d worked along the edges of the organized force, he’d still upheld the spirit if not the letter of the law. However, when Annie had turned to him, baring her grief, he would have gladly committed murder to help her heal.
The trust she’d shown in him was unreal, and Domino knew in his gut it wasn’t a momentary convenience. No, that wasn’t just because he was there and at least semiknown. It ran deeper than that. If circumstances were different, maybe, just maybe, there be something here.
But they weren’t different. Annie was here to make an official request from the club he’d sworn loyalty towards, and knowingly, or unknowingly, she’d brought trouble with her that could have devastating ripples of backlash. If it is Manzino, he’ll have weight behind him. Tony Manzino had been a drug dealer in Fort Wayne once upon a time. Slate, the chapter president here, had worked long and hard to make the Fort an inhospitable place for Manzino to ply his trade. Nathan had known about more than one death on both sides of the equation before the Rebels resolved things to their satisfaction. There had been the official ones the FWPD knew about, a department which had included Nathan in their detective ranks back then. But even more hidden deaths had occurred than the official count; something he’d found out when he took the name Domino and joined the Rebels.
He felt her rock forward and caught his breath. Heat covered his back, blazing hot, unfamiliar, and yet so right. No one had ridden with him for years, and he had somehow forgotten the intimacy of the act. Her thighs spread for his hips, nestling in alongside his legs, her breasts pressed tight to his back, fingers laced together just above his belt buckle. Annie’s arms were strong, corded muscle holding her in place, and he tried to focus on the mechanical things he needed to do in order to ride the bike.
He flubbed shifting twice, pulling away from red lights, his toe lifting only far enough to put the transmission into neutral, the bike revving wildly when he rolled the throttle. Jesus, how the fuck does she have me so off center? By the time they were halfway to his house, he’d regained the sense of control, relaxing into the moment. She made riding effortless, anticipating every move in ways even his wife, Dionne, never had.
The expected pang threaded through his throat and to his gut. It did every time he thought of Dionne, no matter the reason. What surprised him today, though, was the fact it wasn’t as acute as usual. Annie’s presence seemed to cushion him from the pain, maybe because she was so riddled with it right now. Still, it was him recognizing his grief in her that had caused him to hold her like he had, to want to protect her. Even if Coates wasn’t her lover, they were partners in every other way, and that kind of loss left a hole big enough to stuff the moon into.
I can help her. He could. He’d been studying his own loss for years, knew the routes to take around the most painful rapids. Maybe, just maybe, he could help himself, too.
Chapter Five
Annie
When they rolled up in front of his house, she stepped off the bike first. She stood, stretching as she looked around, waiting for him to turn the bike around and back it into his garage. Her bike was there, as was Coates’. Looking at the scoots sitting side by side as they had so often caused a wave of anguish to sweep through her that must have been visible, because before it even settled, Domino was there, hands to the sides of her neck, pulling her into his body. “I got you,” he said softly, guiding her into the house.
Inside, he didn’t waste any time shedding his jacket, and she accepted his assistance at removing hers, slipping it down her arms, feeling the glide of buttery soft leather heated from her skin followed by the brush of his palms. Exquisite sensation. Easy as that she felt at home, fitting into his space without a stutter. Tossing the coats to the countertop, he bent down again, getting into her face and staring at her for a moment.
“You’re not that much taller,” she blurted with a hitching laugh, and he frowned, then straightened and looked down at her, grinning. “Okay, maybe you are,
” she muttered when she realized there was probably eight inches difference in their height. Coates would have fit with him.
“Yeah, maybe I am,” he said, stepping back. “Want a beer?”
She shook her head, reaching up to ruffle through her short hair, fingers snagging on a couple of wind tangles she easily smoothed out. “Water is fine.” Men liked long hair. Coates was always telling her to grow her mop out, teasing Annie that she’d score more. Her chest gave a—thank fuck—silent hitch, and she looked away.
“I got booze, Annie. After today, you need a way to relax.”
“Water is fine,” she repeated, studiously not looking at him, taking this opportunity to glance around the room for the first time. “No old lady?” Her question was rhetorical because it was evident from the state of the kitchen that it would be highly unlikely for one of the sisterhood to live here and not have a better hand at keeping up with things. There were dishes piled on the counters on either side of the heaping sinks, and the countertops that weren’t stacked with dishes were covered with takeout boxes and bags.
“No.” This came out clipped, nearly rude, and she looked up at Domino, wondering if she was reading him right because that one word sounded wounded, tattered…pained. He turned his head, his hard swallow audible in the quiet of the house before he murmured, “Wreck nearly three years ago. The car pulled out, never saw us. I made it. She didn’t.”
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