by Evie Harper
Not bothering to stick around for his reply as there’s no reasoning within his psychotic mind, I grab the Do Not Disturb tag and close the door, positioning the door handle as best I can to appear normal.
With fast steps, I make my way back to the stairs and find the bag with the items I bought still strewn across the carpeted floor. I pick it all up, leaving the change behind and exit the hotel, and race to the Dodge.
I spot Della turned in the driver seat staring out the window looking nervous. I also notice the Mercedes parked next to us now has four flat tires.
“Move over, Dell. I’m driving,” I request gently as I open the door. I notice she’s thrown on a jumper over her torn shirt, and quietly, I thank the gods I got to our room in time before Paulie or Greg could hurt her. My mind rebels at the thought that had I come even a few minutes later, Dell might not be sitting beside me right now.
I am an over-the-top control freak with most things in life, and that includes this woman, whom I class as my own. My body and heart urge me to touch and comfort Della, but I push those impulses aside because my first priority is showing her I respect her choices. Patience and protection.
“Your leg,” Della states.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Nowhere near as bad as your hand. You helped me out yesterday, but I’m good now.”
Della hops over the hand brake into the passenger seat.
“You knew that was their car?” I ask as I jump into the driver seat and start the Dodge. The engine comes to life, and already my body begins to calm from the vibration of this beautiful machine.
“Yeah, at the gas station I saw them running for their car and I took out the two front tires when you were in the back crying.”
I’m driving out of the parking lot when my head, complete with gaping mouth, instantly spins to Della. I knew she’d fired shots, but I couldn’t see what she was shooting at while I was lying down. The scene in my head just got a whole lot hotter knowing she blew out their tires.
She’s grinning, and her eyes are sparkling with mischief. I laugh loud and harder than I have for a really long fucking time. It feels good, as if it is cleansing all the dirt from my soul.
And the best part is seeing Dell with a smile on her face. No tears, no frown, no hard features or pain in her eyes. Della’s beautiful on any given day, but when she smiles, it’s as if the sun warms my skin for the first time after a long hard winter. And right now it seems too bright, but I don’t dare look away. I never want to miss a second of her attention.
She breaks eye contact with me and fidgets in her seat. We had a moment and again, it’s freaked her out. I grin and check the traffic before pulling onto the main road.
That’s okay, baby, one step at a time.
Chapter Eight
Della
Dom and I agreed to head west. He’s worried Paulie may have an idea on where we’re going and I think he might be right since he’s found us twice already. After looking around on Google maps, we decide Iowa City is our next stop. That’s where we’ll stay tonight. It’s only three hours out from Aurora, but if the enforcers do decide to go west or somehow find out we did, they’ll think we would drive all day to get as far away from them as possible. So stopping after only a few hours will hopefully cause them to go straight past us, and tomorrow, we’ll head north again for Hastings.
Driving past Iowa City gateway sign, I glimpse at Dom for what feels like the millionth time. Ever since we decided on a new direction, he’s been quiet, and when he has spoken, his voice is flat as if with sadness. I’m confused by his sudden change of mood. I shouldn’t care, but while he has a new name, the man still broods the same. It unsettles me as I need clear definitions of who Brett was and who Dom is.
I want to be able to tell the lie from the truth, except he keeps blurring the lines. When I can sense my own vulnerability… it scares me. History has proven to me that heartbreak and torment follow exposing yourself to those you trust. I can’t let those feelings revert or evolve. My mind screams to throw up the strongest walls I can muster and look the other way, anything to strengthen my resolve. Closing my eyes and fighting down the desire to comfort Dom, I send a promise through myself, restoring the weak spots. I’ll never fall prey to lies again. I’ll protect myself and my heart at all costs.
Opening my eyes, I look out the window and admire the historic buildings as we drive through the city of Iowa. It’s large and beautiful. When I spot colorful trees, I sit forward, my head almost all the way out the window. My mouth falls open. The trees have colorful sweaters wrapped around them. I’m stunned and awed. It’s a sight I doubt I’ll ever forget.
Dom and I choose to stay at the Country Inn, but he drops me off with our bags and his credit card again, while he drives the car two blocks away and parks it at the large MainStay Suites. Dom thinks if Paulie does come to Iowa and searches motel car parks and if by chance he finds the Dodge at a big hotel and the wrong one, it would give us the time we need to get away.
Stuffing my face with chips in the hotel room—starving from having missed breakfast and it now being close to lunchtime—Dom walks in with the same frown etched on his face. His eyes don’t search me out like I’m used to them doing, and a weight hits my chest from the sensation of missing his attention. Stop caring. Stop playing games with yourself.
Dom drops the car keys on the dining table and turns back toward the door without a word. He pauses at the door and speaks over his shoulder to me, “Heading downstairs for a while. Stay up here.” Never looking back at me, he exits the room and locks the door.
I swallow roughly, not at all liking this side of him. Or how it makes me feel: weak, as doubts race through my mind. Does he regret helping me? Is he remembering why he hurt me in the first place because I’m not worth saving?
My stomach rolls and nausea tumbles through me like a storm. I hate the way I think of myself. Deep down I know I’m worth so much more, but it’s hard to believe such a small and insignificant voice who no one else can hear but me. I can steel my resolve to shoot a gun, but having belief in myself as a woman, a human being has moved out of reach, always seeming too far away to grasp.
Remembering back to Jae and that fateful day, where only moments before he stole my right to choose, my freedom to say no, that girl had so much potential. She’d overcome so much. At the prime of her life, when things were finally falling into place, he'd taken my future and marred it. He'd destroyed that woman who had so much potential in only minutes. It only took seconds of realizing what he was going to do for that same scared little girl to come screaming back, yet there is no door for her to return through. No way to push her back to the past where she belongs. She has to stay with me forever now because there is no hope in this world for either of us, girl or woman. We’re doomed for shattered hopes and broken dreams.
Grasping my stomach as it rolls mercilessly, without notice, my mouth fills with saliva; the one sign my body gives me before vomiting. I race into the bathroom, fall to my knees, and empty my ugly thoughts and feelings into this strange hotel room's toilet. When my body settles, relieving my muscles of forcing bile from my body, I slump against the bathroom wall, sweat coating my neck and hairline. Bringing my knees up to my chin, I cover my face with my arms, and I cry silent tears. I don’t dare make a sound. Unable and not wanting to give voice to my pain, I don't want to yet again be this broken and scared of my past and my future, to live every day knowing I am frozen in time with these thoughts seared in my memories. I'm unable to move on, unable to be that woman who had so much potential. I’d give anything to fall asleep on these cold bathroom tiles and wake up with amnesia.
***
Waking up shivering, I pull the blanket up over my shoulders and then suddenly I remember my nightmare, the pain. Chills race up my spine, and I decide I’d rather stay awake than go back to that place.
Slowly becoming more alert, I remember where I am and wonder if Dom’s returned. I roll to my back and search the bed next
to mine. Empty. Looking up at the bedside table the clock reads 11:00 p.m. My eyes pop open. I’m now wide awake. Dom’s been gone for a long time, almost ten hours.
Pushing the blankets back and standing, I bite my thumbnail, afraid of what this could mean. Did he leave me behind? Were my instincts right about him? My heart pounds and I take deep heavy breaths.
Glancing around the dark room, panic swirls inside me and then up through my body, as if two cold hands are slowly climbing up my back and around my neck, tightening on my throat. The room appears bigger, and the darkness seems blacker than ever before. I’m thrown back to being that little girl standing in the dark, hearing shouts and screams, bangs and slaps. My head swings right from left, not knowing what to do, where to hide or when to run.
My chest pumps so heavily that my eyes begin to blur. I need to escape this room. Searching and finding the door handle, my body propels forward and within seconds, I’m pushing the cold, metal handle down and fleeing through the small gap, not able to wait even the mere seconds it would take to open the door wide.
As soon as I’m out, I lean against the wall, squeezing my eyes closed. My chest screams for air even though I’m giving it as much as I can, all it could ever need.
Desperate for the panic attack to cease, I open my eyes, hoping the hallway lights and open space will calm my fears. Slowly, my breaths go from deep to shallow with a slight wheeze. My head spins and dizziness takes hold, but only for a moment. Within minutes, my mind and body are back in my control. How something so terrifying can dissipate so quickly, is beyond unfair.
Pushing my head back and bowing my body, I stare at the ceiling, exhaustion taking over. I’m tired. Not sleepy but drained with my fears. Sick of remembering a childhood that felt like a lifetime ago.
Hearing quiet footsteps, my head swings in the direction and I spot a couple walking down the hallway. Dressed up and appearing a little tipsy, their eyes hooded and their steps sluggish. As they pass me, they smile and without a thought, I smile back at them. I’m smiling on the outside, but I’m ruined on the inside. They continue walking until they stop three rooms down from me. They giggle and touch each other as they enter the room and close the door.
I lean my head against the cold cement wall and blow out a big breath. My heart screams for what they have, but my soul is weary. Exhaustion calms my erratic heart and reminds me I shouldn’t wish for something I’m not destined for.
Suddenly the realization that the door is shut and I don’t have a room key dawns on me, and I start shaking the handle desperately, hoping it might just miraculously open for me. When it doesn’t budge, I kick the bottom of the door and pain shoots through my bare foot. I hop on one leg while I try to soothe my big toe.
When the pain subsides, I decide to walk down to reception and ask for a spare key.
A gust of cold air breezes through me, and I cross my arms and rub my biceps, trying to warm up. Also, I thank my lucky stars that after ordering room service and eating an early dinner, I was too full to change into my sleep shorts and singlet, and I fell asleep in a pair of jeans and my black tank top, my last top, thanks to Paulie ripping my other one. Bastard.
Zooming down two floors in the elevator, the doors open and I spot the reception desk right away. I stride out purposefully, but after only a few steps the sounds and lights of the hotel bar catch my attention. I halt and stare at the men sitting at the bar, all in suits, deep husky laughter filling the air. Behind the men is a group of stunningly dressed women sitting around a small table filled with empty martini glasses, their high-pitched giggles causing the men at the bar to turn their way.
The scene in front of me makes me miss my brothers even more. Our favorite hangout, TK’s Pub. Some of my favorite memories of my family are laughing at our table and playing jokes on each other. Laughter to last a lifetime. I miss them so much. I wish things could go back to the way they were. It wasn’t easy or carefree with Rex on the loose for blood, but compared to running from the mafia and knife-wielding enforcers, that was a piece of cake.
A blonde woman wearing a tight red dress stands and walks toward the bar, but she doesn’t stop to talk to the gentlemen sitting on the stools, she bypasses them and walks to the very end of the bar, to a man I hadn’t noticed before.
Tingling explodes in my chest as if fireworks are shooting off. Dom. He’s still here. Seeing him sitting there, not having left me behind, my strength returns full force, and I hate myself for it. Why can’t I have that faith in myself? Why does he being here give me the courage I should already own?
Dom’s eyes are pinned on me through a mirror attached to the wall and bar. With his arms slumped on the bar, an empty glass in front of him, his body is still, as if he’s been staring at me since I stepped off the elevator. Dom’s stare is intense. The weight of his emotions in this one look almost causes me to buckle and look away, but I don’t, curiosity wins out because I don’t understand why he’s glaring at me as if I’m his enemy.
The woman in red approaches him. I can see her lips moving, but Dom doesn’t move, his eyes still trained on me, like a lion eyeing his prey. I’m not sure if my heart is racing because I’m afraid of what he’ll say or do with the blonde or because it seems things have changed between us and I don’t know when or what I did to make that happen.
The woman continues to talk, but it’s easy to see agitation creeping into her as Dom continues to ignore her and stare at me. She places her hands on her hips, a few last words and then she storms off back to her friends.
Dom stands from his stool and pulls out his wallet, his eyes still focused on me as he drops money on the bar. He pockets his wallet in the back of his jeans and with smooth, purposeful strides, he turns and comes right to me.
I want to move. Go to the reception desk and ask for my spare key so Dom won’t think I came looking for him, but I’m stuck. Unable to move my eyes from this man’s powerful body moving toward me.
Dom has always had a way about him. He does everything with determination and skill. When I first met him he was the mysterious bad boy all my brothers had told me to stay away from. But not even God himself could have stopped me from noticing Dom. His presence is overwhelming—he walks into a room, and suddenly it’s interesting. It’s where I’m drawn to, even if I have no need to be there. I used to sneak a look at him here and there; catch a small smile, watch as his eyebrows almost touched his hairline when he was shocked. And sometimes I would catch him staring at me. The adrenalin, which coursed through me in those moments, was priceless. It could never be replicated.
“I told you to stay in the room,” Dom hisses furiously. His words hurt, and they’re coated in whiskey, but his tone stings the most. It’s as if he’s annoyed at me and I’m some naughty child who’s bothering him.
Straightening my back and stealing my emotions, I reply, “I accidentally locked myself out. I only came down to see reception for a spare. That was the only reason for leaving the room. I didn’t realize you weren’t there. I thought you might have been in the shower for the past ten hours.” I’m proud of myself as my voice comes out even and uncaring.
Dom’s lip curls up into a snarl and he glances away from me, appearing to try to calm himself or find a way out maybe.
I don’t wait for his retort or next instruction, I spin on my heels and make my way to the desk.
I don’t make it far before I’m abruptly turned around by a tight grip on my elbow. Dom walks us both quickly to the elevator and presses the button furiously three times.
“You’re hurting me, Dom,” I state while swinging my arm around trying to get loose. I’m lying. He’s not hurting me, but being manhandled is seriously the last thing I want tonight.
Dom doesn’t reply. The moment the elevator door opens, he walks inside with me in tow. He presses our floor number and as the door closes, he lets go of my arm as if I’ve just now burned him. It takes me by surprise. My arm falls fast, and my head spins to look at him. He’s staring straigh
t ahead at the doors with no movement at all.
“What the hell is your deal?” I grit out. “You’re pissed because I came down for a spare key, yet you’re sitting at a bar, getting yourself shitfaced at a time like this?” Dom doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but I notice his jaw begins to tick.
The elevator door opens and sensing him reaching for me, I step back and put my hands up in the air. “Don’t. I can walk to the room on my fucking own.”
Hastily stepping out of the elevator, I cross my arms over my chest and quickly make my way to our door. I don’t look back or up at Dom as he pulls out his card key and swipes it, unlocking our door.
We enter and the door closes. Dom walks over to his bed and takes off his watch then places his wallet on his bedside table. I’m standing by the door, unsure of what to do, what to say. Something has changed, and I don’t think it’s just Dom having consumed a lot of alcohol. Is this when he will show his true nature? Is now the time to question him on his real feelings to get the truth? Will no filter be what I’ve needed all along to prove my thoughts correct about him?
“You’ve been gone for most of the day. Have you been drinking that whole time?” My question goes unanswered. Dom ignores me, walks into the bathroom and splashes water on his face.
I don’t give up. I follow him and stand just inside the room but face the bathroom when questioning him. “I thought you’d left. Is that what you want to do? Is that why you had to drink yourself stupid because deep down you don’t want to be here?” Again, Dom doesn’t reply. He bows his head appearing defeated.
I’m trying to think of other ways to goad him into speaking the truth, to finally being honest that this was more than he bargained for. In the end, I’m not worth all the trouble to protect. But I’m not quick enough, and Dom walks out of the bathroom and past me to his backpack where he pulls out the Advil he picked up today when he refused to take any more of my pain meds for his graze. He moves to the small kitchenette, grabs a glass and fills it with water.