I need him, and I don’t know that I deserve it, so I’m not voicing it out loud.
He’s warm, and for the first time today heat seeps through my skin, coating me—on the surface at least.
I lay my forehead against the fabric covering his shoulder, breathing him in. His scent is light today with only a faint hint of burnt wood. It’s more him rather than the cologne he usually wears. I doubt he put any on whenever he changed clothes from the ones he was wearing yesterday. He smells good though. I prefer him over a synthetic scent any day. There is something about his natural smell that appeals to me; it soothes and comforts me.
“Mmm,” I hum, not meaning to.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks, loosening his grip, mistaking my sound of enjoyment for pain. I just shake my head without lifting it off him.
The lighting changes when he walks through the door of his bedroom. It’s brighter inside his bedroom. My eyes are automatically drawn to the open drapes where the sun is shining through.
Drago’s feet eat up the short distance to the bed where both of his dogs jump off to the carpeted floor and instantly they’re dancing at his feet, obviously excited to see him.
I’m placed gently on top of the mattress at the head just before the pillow. His bed is neatly made with the covers already turned down. I can’t help but wonder if he slept here last night after storming out of my hospital room or if he even slept at all . . .
“Come on, boys,” he calls to the dogs, bringing me back to the present. As if to purposely disobey him, one jumps back on the mattress, coming up and plopping down behind my back rather abrasively at that.
“No,” I interject. “They don’t have to leave. This is their home, not mine,” I tell him when the other one, not remembering what their names are, hops up, joining the other dog.
“Trust me, you don’t want them in the bed with you. They’ll trample all over you, vying for your attention.”
“Maybe I could use the attention,” I mutter.
Something darkens in D’s eyes, but he quickly looks away, peering out the window as he cups the back of his neck, squeezing. Eventually he sighs, sounding every bit as exhausted as I know I am.
“Suit yourself, but if they get on your nerves, shoot me a text and I’ll come get them out of here.”
“D,” I whisper, stopping him as he turns to leave. He doesn’t turn back around to face me or look over his shoulder like he knows what’s coming next. He’s probably expecting it. He should anyway. “It’s time to tell me when we had sex without a condom and why.”
“Just rest for now. We’ll talk later.”
“Turn around,” I say slowly so the words don’t come out like an order even though that’s exactly how I mean them.
Forcing out a breath, long and hard, he pivots, crossing his thick arms over his chest and taking a firm stance from across the room. Even though he looks every bit of the strong, dark man I saw in that first photo all those weeks ago, his eyes aren’t the same. They aren’t scary, but they are weary and maybe even a bit uncertain.
I wait a beat, expecting him to talk, but when he doesn’t, it only amps up the irritation I don’t have the energy or patience for.
“Just tell me.” Even if I do know, I want to hear him tell me.
Drago’s eyes have taken on a haunted look I’ve never witnessed before. If he’s battling half of the emotions I am right now, this is gutting him too.
“That first night.” His eyes finally meet mine, and there is more than just anguish flickering through them. There’s guilt. I recognize it because it matches my own, but for a different reason.
“We had unprotected sex?” The one night I don’t remember is the one night he didn’t wear a condom and he’s just now telling me this? Sure, it was already on my mind that it had to have been that night, but it still doesn’t diminish the shock factor of hearing it out loud.
He nods, confirming what I already assumed.
I was drunk that night, so my guess is he was just as wasted and forgot to put a condom on.
Does he think I’d blame him for the pregnancy—or the loss neither of us has spoken about? I wouldn’t. It’s not his fault. Not the loss of the child neither one of us knew I was carrying. That fault lies with someone else, but I shove that thought away before it materializes fully.
“I’m just as responsible for that night as you are. All I’m asking for are the details since I only remember small fragments of what happened once we arrived here.”
“Bri,” he starts, but I cut off his objections. There is no way he’s getting around this.
“I don’t blame you. Jeez, D, just—”
“I blame me!” he yells, cutting off my words and startling me so much my body jolts. “Fuck,” he says, seeing my reaction.
He blames himself? What the . . . Why?
The ache in the center of my chest deepens at the sight of him. It’s clear this isn’t something he wants to willingly address and it’s affecting him emotionally. It’s instinctual that I want to stand and go to him; offer him the comfort he was giving me when he was carrying me, but my body is fighting against me.
“I don’t blame you,” I offer with the hope of putting his guilty conscience at ease and rid his eyes of the self-loathing look that’s staring back at me.
“You should. It is my fault. All of it.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes.
Letting my feet fall to the floor, I stand, shaking off the wince that breaks from my lips when I take my first step toward him. Closing the distance between us, I place my hands over his forearms, wrapping my fingers around his hot skin and look up.
“We both drank a lot. We screwed up and had unprotected sex once. It’s not like you did it purposely.”
“You think we just fucked once that night?” He shakes his head, stepping away from me and almost out of the door. “I was hell-bent on fucking you out of my system. Once wasn’t going to cut it. And . . .”
“And what?” I prompt when it doesn’t seem like he’s going to finish.
“And,”—his voice cracks—“I was drunk but not so much that a condom never crossed my mind.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I straighten my spine, ignoring the pain it causes to my abdomen.
“I was already in a pissed-off mood that night, so when you showed up it only added fuel to the fire. I didn’t know you, B, not really. Not like I do now. All I saw was another cop that thought I was the same dirty drug lord your people see my father as.”
“Are you saying he’s not?”
“No.” His head moves from side to side. “He’s a lot worse than the police could ever imagine.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you fucked me without a condom.”
“I had it in my mind that you thought I was dirty. Another dirty Acerbi a cop wanted to lock up.”
Dirty.
Is that why he keeps using that term? He thought I saw him like his father—a dirty rotten criminal. That is how I see his dad, but I’ve never once seen Drago like that. Not until now.
Everything I’m piecing together in my head still doesn’t make sense.
“What does that have to do with us having sex without a condom?”
Why would he deliberately be that stupid? We’re both nearly thirty years old.
“I wanted to make you as dirty as you thought I was.”
I know the doctor said I have a head injury and I’m sure if it weren’t for the drugs still lingering around in my system, I’d understand more clearly.
“I don’t understand, D.”
“I drank a lot that night, Bri, but I wasn’t drunk enough to have forgotten to use a condom. I chose not to use any.”
“Why?” My question comes out more like a whoosh of air than a word. “Why would you do that?”
“I just told you why.”
Oh, he thinks that makes sense to me? It doesn’t. I’ve never once done anything that should have given him that impression. I’ve always given him the benefit of th
e doubt. Hell, I’ve risked my career in doing so, and he never once divulged the details of that first night.
Fucking Christ. I don’t know what to make of all of this.
I take a step back, disgusted with him for the first time. My expression must show it because the shock in his eyes makes him stumble back, hitting the doorframe.
“Was it your plan to get me pregnant then?”
“What? No,” he whispers and I’m about tired of watching his head shake. “I don’t plan on having kids—ever.”
For some reason that comment feels like a slap in the face, making my empty stomach plummet to the floor.
“Really?” My words come out harsh. “Because lack of protection often leads to knocking a woman up, or is that not something you learned before now?”
“I figured you were on birth control.”
“I’m not. Not that you ever asked.” Birth control makes me sick, so I haven’t taken it since my early twenties. “And forget about that; what about diseases?”
“I’m clean.”
“And you somehow know my medical history then?” He just stares at me, making it damn near impossible to tamp down my anger. “What in God’s name made you think I see you the same as I see Vincent Acerbi? What have I ever done that led you to believe that?”
“Nothing.”
“Then fucking help me out here. Why? Why the urge to make me dirty and have to fuck me out of your system?”
“It’s not an excuse, Bri, but every local cop I’ve ever encountered has treated me like I’m just like him and I figured you were just like the rest of them. What I did was wrong. I knew it the second the thought of fucking you bareback came to my mind. It felt malicious when I bathed you afterward, and then fucked you again in the shower. I’ve known it was wrong from the beginning.”
“Why haven’t you come clean before now? You know me now. You’ve known me long enough to know how I feel. So why?” His head falls back against the wood of the doorjamb, looking up at the white ceiling above us, blinking repeatedly. “Drago!”
“Because when I woke up with you in my bed that next morning, all I wanted to do was keep you in it.” His head rolls forward, our eyes locking again. “I never lied when I told you I liked you. And that has only morphed into something much more.”
What the fuck am I supposed to do with all of this on top of everything else?
Jesus fucking Christ, this is fucked-up.
7
Two days have passed with no additional information on Gabriel’s whereabouts. Statistics show if a child isn’t located within the first forty-eight hours the chances of finding them are substantially lower.
My mind has been completely focused on him, so I won’t allow other thoughts to break through. And since I’ve only spoken a couple of words here and there to Drago, my missing little angel consumes most of my thoughts.
I have to do something. I need to do something. I can’t continue laying in Drago’s bed resting like he keeps asking me to do. It’s driving me mad. It would drive anyone mad I’d imagine, but me—I’m not used to resting. It feels like a lifetime ago that I’ve even had a good workout but I know I haven’t recovered enough to get back to the gym. Which reminds me, I need to shoot Nikki a text message. Since it’s the week of a holiday, she probably hasn’t given it much thought that I’ve missed a workout this morning.
Thanksgiving.
It’s usually a holiday I enjoy. I’ve only missed one Thanksgiving event at Jackson’s house since becoming a police officer.
The mere thought of my brother and his family—my family—has me missing them. I know I won’t be able to dodge my sister-in-law’s calls much longer. There are only so many text messages she’ll accept before she get suspicious. Not coming home is going to be a red flag to not only her, but my brother too.
I can’t.
Right now, today, I don’t feel thankful for a damn thing and I hate that I feel that way. I have my life when I shouldn’t, yet, I can’t bring myself to feel grateful while Gabriel is still missing and my baby . . .
I shut my eyes, closing them as tight as I can.
My phone rings, releasing me from the hellish thoughts that plague my mind.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, holding my cell phone to my ear.
“How’s my girl feeling?”
His girl? I’m momentarily stunned. He hasn’t called me that since before my mom passed away. I don’t know how to respond.
“Brianna?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess.” I try my best to make my voice sound more like me, but I fail. I don’t sound like the confident person I’ve always thought I was. I sound sad and I’m not so sure that’s something I should be feeling.
Do I have that right?
He isn’t mine. At some point Gabriel was going to leave me. I know this. It was only a matter of time before they transferred him out of my care. Sure, he was mine to keep safe and I failed, but he isn’t my son. Yet, there is an ache in my chest I don’t understand.
And the other thing? I didn’t know about him or her until it was gone. Who misses something they really never had, or didn’t know they had?
“I’m going to come see you today.”
His statement pulls me back to our conversation.
“You want to come here?” I ask, scooting up in bed, resting the top of my back and head against the headboard.
“Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?” His tone sounds a bit hurt.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I object.
Drago’s already in a bad mood and they don’t like each other as it is. My father showing up could add fuel to the fire, and that’s something I don’t need.
“I don’t give a shit,” he says in a matter of fact tone, making me scowl even if he can’t see me. “He’ll have to get over it. I’m laying eyes on my daughter today whether either one of you likes it or not.”
“Dad . . .” I start to reason, but he says nothing. There is complete silence, making me bring the phone away from the side of my face.
The call is no longer connected. He hung up on me. What the hell is his problem? Doesn’t he realize I have enough shit to deal with without adding him to the mix?
I blow out a breath of frustration.
Looking at the phone, I decide to call Mike again. I need an update. Fuck, I need an actual status to begin with before I can get an update.
I understand that getting involved with D on a personal level when he was my assignment was pushing boundaries I shouldn’t have been pushing. But from the moment we met, everything was different. He affected me like no other person ever has. I was instantly drawn to him. There was a spark, and no matter how hard I tried it was going to light. It’s like it was kindling before we ever met.
Even now, with the distance he’s placed between us, I feel it. It’s stronger the farther away he gets from me. But instead of it being a scorching feeling of excitement, it’s a stinging burn of pain.
The phone goes to voicemail after only two rings, telling me he declined my call.
Heat washes over my chest, pissing me off. What the fuck? Mike has never declined a call from me.
While I’m staring at my phone in disbelief a text message comes through.
Mike: I told you when I knew something I’d call you.
Me: That was yesterday.
Mike: You need to let this go. That kid shouldn’t have been in your custody.
Me: That’s irrelevant at this point. He was taken, Mike. What the fuck is anyone doing to find him!?
Mike: I’m going to get my ass handed to me for discussing this shit with you.
Me: I don’t fucking care, dammit!!! Gabe is more important than Tom bitching at you.
Mike: You need to take a step back. You are way too close to this when you shouldn’t be. You are a cop. Or at least I thought you were until I entered your apartment Friday.
I throw my smartphone across the room in frustration. It’s obvious he isn’
t going to tell me a damn thing. And the fact that he is questioning my capability to still be a good, by-the-book, police officer stings. I feel like I’m letting everyone around me down.
I slam my head backward, colliding with the wood of the headboard and regretting that move instantly. Pain slashes through my skull, making me wince. The cut above my eye throbs, protecting my fit of haste.
Two warm furry heads land on my stomach simultaneously, pulling my eyes down to see Hulk and Thor looking up at me with their weird dog eyes. Bull Terriers certainly have odd shaped heads. What I’ve learned about these two is they are either being lazy, laying on the bed or another piece of furniture, or they are going zero to sixty, spazzing out. Luckily for me, they are currently in a lazy state, which is the majority of the time—until they get excited.
I glance up, seeing Mona entering D’s bedroom. The dogs jump off, leaving me. Cool air hits the warm spots they were both lying against, chilling me.
“Hi, honey. How are you this morning?”
She doesn’t acknowledge the two beasts on the ground jumping up and down and doing crazy circles on the floor. A quick laugh bubbles out as I watch them, shaking my head. Drago’s dogs have a lot of character.
“Restless,” I say honestly. And heartbroken, I think, not willing myself to verbalize the thought.
I force a smile when she continues to stand there, holding a mop and a bucket with cleaning supplies.
“Well, if you need anything at all, you just tell me and I’ll get it. Okay, honey?” Her smile is sincere and not at all sympathetic like everyone else’s.
That’s why I’m up here and not downstairs with Drago and his siblings. They all look at me like I’m going to break at any minute. They don’t know me. I’m a lot stronger than I look. Sure, I haven’t allowed myself to feel the things I know I should, but I really don’t have the time to face them. I don’t know what my department is doing to find Gabriel, if anything at all. I can only allow one person at a time in my heart and right now my focus needs to be on Gabe.
Dirty War Page 4