Traffic was light and we weren’t being followed, so I lowered the window once we got on the Pacific Coast Highway. The air was heavier here, the moisture of the ocean beating back the claim of the arid valley. Aside from the brininess, the desert rose, wild orchids and other organic fragrances seemed to be trapped in the denser air and I breathed it in, expanding my lungs, breaking the remaining weak hold of the invisible band.
Jason slowed and turned onto a winding, sandy driveway. I could barely make out the shape of a house which, as we got closer, I saw was more of a mansion.
“This is a second home?” Grant asked, peering up through the windshield at the three stories of glass we had stopped in front of. The Jersey Shore has some impressive beach homes, but nothing on this Architectural Digest scale.
“Ah yeah, Jason’s dad must be doing alright for himself.”
“What does he do?”
“Entertainment lawyer,” I said with a shrug and opened the door, anxious to see the inside of this modern palace.
Jason waited for me at the bottom of three wooden steps that spanned the length of the house. He tapped the bottom step with his foot and lights, set inside the risers, burst to life illuminating the dark stain of the tread. I followed him and he unlocked the wide front door, the same dark wood as the steps. Once again, a light automatically came on when we entered the foyer. Straight down the hall was the back of the house, also all glass. I recognized the twinkling lights of a boat in the distance.
“Ocean views?” I asked Jason.
“More than just views, we’re right on the beach. Wait until daylight.”
He moved deeper into the house, turning lights on as he went and I followed, with Grant and Dominic at my heels. Everything was clinical clean from the light tan tile floors to the golden granite countertops in the kitchen and the bleached wood cabinets that looked like they’d never been used. Normally, with wood that light, smudges of fingerprints became permanent over time, but these might as well have been installed the day before.
The stools around the island in the kitchen faced toward the glass windows overlooking the ocean, so did the living room furniture. The white leather sectional, covered with large green and blue pillows also appeared brand new. I imagined reclining back on the cloud of pillows and staring at the ocean for all of eternity.
Jason grabbed four bottles of beer out of the industrial sized, stainless steel refrigerator and walked over to the sliding glass doors. With one hand, he deftly slid it open, the hiss and roar of the surf greeting us. Once outside, he gestured to a metal table with ornate legs and a glass top. We sat down in the chairs around the table and each took a beer from Jason who took a long swig off of his. I watched his throat move when he swallowed. He set his bottle down on the table top, the glass clinking in an abbreviated toast.
“Okay, so I only brought you guys here because you said Nat’s in danger. What the fuck is going on? What kind of danger are we talking about here?”
This was the part I was dreading because I didn’t know what Dom and Grant planned on telling Jason or if it was up to me to come clean. I liked Jason and hated that he was getting involved at all. Finding out the truth was surely going to test, if not end, our friendship.
Dominic, who was sitting next to me, reached under the table and lightly squeezed my knee before he began to talk. “I’m involved with organized crime and unfortunately, Natalie got caught in the middle of something. We were shot at and both of us were hit. She saved my life and while I was recovering, Nat took it upon herself to leave Philly. There are people looking for her; powerful people who want her dead.”
“Are you shitting me?” Jason asked, looking right at me. Based on Jason’s reaction, I was relieved Dom left out the part of me shooting and killing a man.
I stopped peeling the label off my beer bottle and met his eyes. “That’s what happened. The scar on my shoulder is from a bullet, not rebar like I told you.”
Jason was quiet and staring at me so I broke eye contact and nervously resumed plucking at the partially shredded label.
“I didn’t want Natalie involved, but she managed to get caught in the middle of a feud,” Grant added. “She needs our protection.”
“Grant, if you and Dom didn’t kill Mr. Genovese, this wouldn’t have happened.” I reminded him.
“I’m not sorry that motherfucker is dead,” Dom muttered before taking a swig of beer.
I peered up through my eyelashes at Jason. He sat across from me and was still watching me. I mouthed, “I’m sorry” to him and he shook his head.
“Okay, so Natalie needs protection. Do the people who have the hit out on her know she’s in California?”
“Most likely,” Dom explained the appearance of Bianchi family soldiers at Dirty.
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them,” Jason said.
“You have?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yeah, you know the film industry wouldn’t be where it is today without mob money.”
Great, I thought to myself, was any place safe?
“Right now Dom and I are unarmed. At least we were able to move Natalie here, but we need to come up with a new plan and fast,” Grant said.
“I don’t want Jason any more involved. He’s done enough,” I said, looking across the table at him.
He shrugged and flashed his cocky grin. “You’re a woman of mystery and a damsel in distress. Who can resist that combination?”
Dominic tensed up next to me and it was my turn to place a hand on his knee and give him a reassuring caress, actually it was a hard squeeze to convey the message: calm down and stay in your chair.
He captured my hand with his and laced our fingers together. Since it was too dark for Jason to see this contact, I allowed it in order to keep Dom on topic. He slowly ran his thumb up and down along the side of my hand, like he used to do when we were driving around in his Mustang, and I couldn’t deny the heat that gesture generated elsewhere.
Jason continued, “I’ll work it out with my dad so you can stay here indefinitely, but that’s about all I can do, unless you need a lawyer.”
“Thanks, man,” Grant said. “We’ll need to bring Chelsea here too just in case anything happens at their apartment.”
“Chelsea knows?” Dom asked, pulling his hand away and turning to face me.
“Yeah, I had to tell her.”
Dom shook his head and mumbled a few four lettered words under his breath. “Fine, we’ll work this all out later, I need to get some sleep.” He stood and we followed suit, our chairs scraping on the wooden deck. Jason led us into the house and we set our empty bottles in the kitchen sink. He then took us upstairs to the bedrooms.
“So, sleeping arrangements?” he asked, looking at me expectantly. Dom also turned and regarded me. I stopped in the hallway, my stomach twisting in knots. Shit, how did I end up in this situation?
“Can we each have our own room?”
“I’d feel better if you weren’t alone,” Dom said, reaching for my hand, which I quickly moved to tuck a stray hair behind my ear.
“Nat, you can crash with me,” Grant offered and I immediately felt relief. Dom and Jason bore identical disappointed expressions and knew I needed to talk to them both, I just didn’t have the energy to do it right then.
Once the bedroom door clicked shut behind us, I thanked Grant for intervening. He shook his head and smirked before throwing a pillow at me. “I’m used to cleaning up your messes, Nat, but this one you need to handle on your own.”
“I know,” I admitted and sunk down on the edge of the king sized bed. Grant crossed over to the window, opening it so fresh ocean air drifted in. We got ready for bed and I lay there listening to the dull roar of the surf and Grant’s deep, even breathing, but sleep refused to come. With a heavy sigh I got up and went back downstairs for another beer.
“Can you grab me one too?” Jason said from behind and I jumped, almost dropping my bottle on the tile floor.
“Can’t sleep ei
ther?” I handed him a beer and sat down next to him on the sectional.
“No.” He took a long draw off his bottle and leaned back against the pillows.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but the fewer people who know the better.”
“It explains a lot, especially your panic attacks.”
I nodded and stared out the picture window. With the inside lights off, the ocean was more visible, white caps occasionally breaking up the dark waters.
“I’ve been trying to figure out a way to help you, but have no idea how. This is more their territory,” Jason said pointing upstairs where Dom and Grant were sleeping. “I think you need to listen to them. Not that I want to push you closer to your ex or anything.” He grinned and placed a hand on my leg that was pressing against his.
“Yeah, about that,” I said, leaning forward and setting my empty bottle on the coffee table. “I packed up and ran away while Dominic was at his parent’s house healing from two gunshot wounds. It was a cowardly and heartless move. It’s not like we broke up. I left because I was scared and felt trapped.” I told him how I found out about Grant’s involvement and how I was sworn to stay quiet.
“Wow.” Jason sat up straighter and inched slightly away from me, separating our legs that had been touching. “So you were living with Dominic. Did you love him?”
I nodded, but wasn’t able to look Jason in the eyes.
“What about Grant, doesn’t he want to see you get out of this life?”
“Sure he does, but it’s out of his control. Besides, he’s engaged to the Boss’ daughter and this has been his lifestyle for several years now.”
“What about the cops?”
I sighed and sunk back into the pillows. “I can’t rat on my own brother or Dominic. The FBI has already tried to get to me. They were the first to locate me out here. Remember that day you sent me flowers and I freaked out on the phone which caused you rush over to my apartment?”
“Yeah, you said someone from Philly paid you a surprise…” He trailed off midsentence, his mouth forming an “O” when he made the connection.
“I thought moving across the country would be enough, but as much as I try to forget, I can’t and since there’s a hit out on me, apparently I’m not so easily forgotten either.”
“It’s obvious your brother and Dominic want to protect you. Like I said, they’re probably your best option. I’ve got nothing.”
“That’s not true!” I grabbed his hand and held it on my lap. “You helped me to forget momentarily and you work magic when I start to flip out. Plus, you’re the best friend with benefits I’ve ever had.” I gave him a shy smile.
Jason snorted and shook his head. “Nat, I’m still your friend. With or without the benefits part, although I’d prefer with,” he grinned at me and I laughed. “But, I see the way you and Dom are around each other, it’s like there’s an electrical current running between you two. I can’t compete with that.”
“I never stopped loving him and it hurt like hell to leave him,” I admitted. “Which is why, even though I have feelings for you, I can’t commit to anything more.”
“So you have feelings for me, huh?” Jason teased, running his hand up my thigh. I stopped him when he reached the hem of my sleep shorts.
“Yes, but not right now. I can’t.”
“Because of Dominic?”
I nodded and slid over, stretching out on the opposite end of the sofa so the nearest body part to Jason was my toes. He got the hint and yawning, stood up. Before he left, he bent over, lightly kissed my lips, and said, “I have feelings for you too.”
Fuck, he was too good for me and the trunk-load of emotional baggage I was carting around. After a few sighs and adjusting the heap of pillows, I was finally able to fall asleep.
I woke the next morning to sunshine streaming in through the picture window, the glare reflecting off the glass coffee table directly into my sleep-deprived eyes. Groaning, I rolled away, shoving my head in between the pillows. My other senses kicked in, identifying the sounds of movement in the kitchen then the drool inducing smells of bacon and coffee. This was enough motivation for me to face the daylight.
Sitting up, I looked into the kitchen to see Dominic over the stove, cooking. He didn’t have a shirt on and his pajama bottoms hung low on his hips. What a glorious sight. I was instantly transported back to when we lived together and he cooked for me, preparing elaborate feasts with little effort. The man had inherited the cooking gene from his aunt and uncle who owned Franco’s Ristorante.
I went over to join him, opening several cabinets before locating the mugs. I handed Dom a steaming cup of black coffee before adding cream and sweetener to mine. Instantly falling into routine, I gathered plates and utensils, setting them next to the stove where Dom was scrambling eggs.
“Where’s Grant?” I asked.
“Still sleeping.”
“And Jason?”
“He left early - said he was going surfing then to talk to his dad about us staying here.”
I stood near Dominic, sipping my coffee and watching him cook. Well, actually watching him since his shirtless and muscular chest demanded attention. Standing there, leaning against the counter with the cool granite pressed against the small of my back, it was like we had never separated. If it wasn’t for the crash of the surf in the background, we could have been back at his condo in Philly. A timer beeped and Dominic, hand sheathed in an oven mitt, retrieved a sizzling tray of bacon from the oven.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, piling eggs onto each plate.
“I could eat.” My stomach growled and Dominic laughed, adding an extra slice of bacon and scoop of eggs to my plate.
We walked outside to the deck and sat at the table. Traces of early morning fog still clung to the ocean, but seemed to be pulled further out to sea with each retreating wave.
“It’s pretty here,” Dom said.
“Yes, it is. I love the ocean.”
“I know you do; I remember those paintings you did of Long Beach Island,” Dominic said, referencing my work he saw hanging on the walls when he visited my bedroom for the first time.
“Jason’s teaching me how to surf.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’m not too bad either. Well, better than Chelsea at least. She’s quite the spazz.” I chuckled and told Dom about the time when Chelsea got tangled up in her leash and hit herself in the face with her board. He laughed, tilting his head back and that’s when I caught a glimpse of the scar along his jawline. He noticed me looking and stopped laughing. I stood up and walked around the table to stand next to him. Lightly tracing the lines of the dark pink scar tissue, I noticed his pulse was strong, not like the night he was shot when I felt it weakening as his blood seeped through my fingertips. Moving from his stubble covered jaw to the pucker mark below his right pectoral; a mark that matched the one on my shoulder, I pressed my hand against his chest remembering how close I came to losing him, yet I was the one who left. A lump formed in my throat and I started to step away.
Dominic exhaled harshly and pulled me onto his lap. Then he was kissing me and I was lost.
We separated upon hearing the patio door slide open and a throat clear. “I am never going to get used to seeing you guys kissing.” Grant said as he sat down at the table across from us and started eating his breakfast. I went to get up from Dom’s lap, but he had a firm grip on my hips and I felt something pressing into the back of my thighs. Grant definitely didn’t need to see that, so I stayed put.
“Glad to see you guys have worked things out, though,” Grant admitted, smirking around the rim of his coffee mug as he took a sip.
“There are still some things to work out,” I said. “Like, what do we do now?”
“Honestly, I think we need to go back to Philly. At least there we have more protection and weapons.”
The thought of returning to Philadelphia caused my skin to break out in a layer of sweat and my heart began to race, my pulse poun
ding in my temple. Dominic pulled me against him, “Hey, are you okay?”
“I can’t,” I said with a stutter, struggling to get my breathing under control. Images of Marco pinning me up against the wall with his hand around my throat, Brittany’s battered face, Dominic bleeding out, and of the man I shot crowded my mind and I started to shake. Philadelphia, while it was home, was a place full of horrific memories. “I can’t go back. I’m sorry!” Breaking free of Dom’s arms, I launched off of his lap and ran across the deck to the stairs leading down to the beach. The sand was cool against the bottom of my feet and I ran to the water’s edge and stopped. Small waves gently lapped against my ankles. I stared out at the horizon, which was nothing but an expanse of endless ocean.
I saw the shadow of the person walking up to me before I heard him approach. “Dom, I need to be alone.”
“I’m not Dom,” Grant said and came to stand next to me. He was barefoot too, but wearing jeans and the water quickly saturated the bottoms, turning the denim almost black. Like Dom, he didn’t have a shirt on and I noticed a woman, one of the few people on the secluded stretch of beach, walk by with her dog check my brother out. Grant was built and didn’t have an ounce of fat clinging to his six-pack abs. The woman’s gaze lingered on Grant’s ass and I glared at her. She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and sauntered off, trying to walk suggestively with the sand pulling at her every step and her little fluffy ankle-biter attempting to yank her in multiple directions.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the ocean. A large ship had appeared on the horizon and I watched its slow progress.
“Nat, you have to come home with us. It’s not safe for you here.”
“It’s not safe for me in Philly either,” I pointed out and started walking down the beach away from the beach house. Grant caught up to me in two long strides.
“Nat, can we at least talk about this, please?”
The pleading in his tone gave me pause and I stopped, turning to face him. “Fine, but just you and me, okay?”
Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) Page 9