More than ten years had passed since he’d last seen his twin brother, and the man still looked just like him. They had the same haircut and the same muscular build. How? He didn’t want to think about other personality similarities. Growing up, they’d liked the same foods, same music…and the same men.
Raising a shaking hand to his face, Dom roughly rubbed his eyes while leaning back against the brick wall. Thicker shadows cloaked him from the view of the table. He needed to get his head together. There was no doubt now. James was in Cincinnati, and he wasn’t alone.
He looked at the circular table again and did a quick count. His father wasn’t there, but again, he was sure the old man was probably gone. He’d been old when he’d fathered them. Besides James, there were five other men. None of them were familiar, he noted with a feeling of relief. None of Dom’s acquaintances had mistaken James for him, but that was only a matter of time the longer James remained in the area. Dom knew a lot of people, both former clients and friends. He couldn’t risk James impersonating him.
The other five men were muscular bruisers with matching cold, angry expressions as they leaned close over the table, talking. This wasn’t a relaxed bullshitting session where they conversed about a sporting event. They were planning something.
Fuck, six against one were horrible odds. He didn’t stand a chance if they caught sight of him. He should have brought backup. But who the hell was he going to ask to drag into this mess?
Abe.
The man’s handsome face came to mind instantly at that question. It both caused Dom’s heart to race and a chill to break out across his arms. He wanted to go to Abe with his problem, to share it with him and get his advice on what he should do next. But the idea of telling him about James, about everything from his life in California, was terrifying. The guy had just barely survived a horrible marriage. He had a perfect life now with his son and his woodworking business. Abe Stephens did not need the shitstorm that was crashing down on Dom’s life.
Swearing under his breath at himself, Dom looked back at the table where James and the other men continued to talk. It was hard to look away from his brother. Now that he’d gotten over his initial shock, it was becoming easier to see little differences between them. His brother’s expression was colder, harder. The lines around his mouth and eyes were deeper, making his face appear harsher than his own.
Watching James was like watching a ghost of himself, a talking image of what he would have been if he’d stayed in California and continued to steal and work cons with his brother. How much innocent blood would have been on his hands by now? How many lives would they have destroyed together?
He had to get out of there. He needed to go home, regroup, and come up with a smarter plan. James had a fucking crew now that he ran with. A low, bitter laugh rose up. James had needed to bring on five guys to replace him.
Regardless, he had to get out of there before someone noticed him. Tracking down James and telling him to get the fuck out of Cincinnati had to be a one-on-one conversation. He couldn’t win against James the way the odds were currently stacked.
Heading back the way he’d come, Dom carefully made it around the dance floor, keeping his head down. Being tall with red hair made him too damn easy to spot in a crowd. Progress slowed as he reached the bar. The number of people ordering drinks had increased, and no one was willing to let him ease his way through for fear that he was going to steal his place in line to get alcohol. He was sorely tempted to just shove his way through, but that was the last thing he wanted. Glancing to his right, he could see the front door not more than a few hundred feet away.
A heavy arm landed on his right shoulder from behind while a forearm came across his chest, pulling him in tight to another tall, large frame.
“Babe, I said I’d get the drinks on my way back to the table,” someone said in a laughing tone in his left ear.
Dom froze. His first instinct was to throw the arm off, but the stranger’s words proved that he thought Dom was James.
“I’ve got it. Go back to the table,” he replied in what he hoped was a tone that matched James’s.
“Or you can come back to the bathroom with me now. They’re not too crowded.” The stranger’s other hand slipped across Dom’s side, along his stomach, heading down toward his crotch. “I’ll get on my knees for you.” Disgust crawled along Dom’s skin. His brain panicked. What the fuck was he supposed to say?