Pursue (Portland Street Kings Book 3) (7 page)

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 straight 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.
 

“Just be honest with me for once, Dom. I can see how miserable you are. You hate this. So just go. I won’t stop you or hold it against you.”
 

Dom stills with the glass in the air. He swings his gaze to me. “Now is not the time to try and push me away, Della.”
 

My mouth falls open and I take a step back, shocked. I force out a laugh. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m giving you an out, and I think if you’re honest with yourself, you want to take it.”
 

Dom’s face contorts into pain and then anger as he hurls the glass into the sink. He jumps back quickly as glass shatters and water sprays back at him.
 

He spins and strides toward me, his stare a raging thunderstorm. “You want the truth? You want brutal honesty all the fucking time. Fine. It seems there is nothing in this world I can protect you from, not even yourself.”
 

For each step toward me, I take one backward until Dom halts. “Of course I want honesty.”

“My best friend is dead.” My eyes widen and a heavy weight hits my chest. “His funeral was today and I missed it.” Suddenly it becomes hard to fill my lungs with air. “I left him alone in Mexico when I came back to tell you about your real family. My energy to stay away from you was depleted, and I had a perfect reason to come and see you. Without a thought for anyone else, I left my best friend in a dangerous situation to follow my own selfish desires. And he died for my mistake. Another person to add to my list of fuck-ups.” Dom’s voice is thick and rough, agonized.
 

“That’s why you needed to get to Hastings so fast?” I say in a whisper, more to myself, but Dom answers anyway.

“Yes, and that’s why I needed the comfort of whiskey today. Why I needed space. I had to say good-bye to Nick in my own way.”
 

With glassy eyes, I look up at Dom. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood and told you to keep heading north. We could have made it.”
 

Dom’s shoulders slump and he sits on the edge of his bed. “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. If I told you at the hospital, you would have refused to go and told me to fly. And this morning, you would have demanded we keep on the same path, but deep down, I knew the right thing was to do whatever it took to lose Paulie. Whatever it took to save you. I already lost my best friend. I couldn’t handle losing you as well.”