"I don't know, Dom. Have you? Because this fucking guy has been running amuck for over six months and hasn't been captured." I scratch at my neck, hesitant to say the next words that leave my mouth. "You're right to be concerned. About what people will think of you. About what will happen when they find out. But what are you more concerned about—that or June? Because you have to decide. If you choose to not involve everyone, this will only take longer. And time is not on our side. I think you forget that you're human. You can't do everything, and it's showing. Asking for help is not a weakness. There's only so much that Maggie and I can do. We have a small team, but even they have limited information. We have to pull more resources. We need all hands on deck if we're going to take this fucker out. Savini is a great asset, but we need more."
Dominic lowers himself onto the seat, his cuffs unbuttoned and rolled up to his forearms. His entire outfit is disheveled and nothing like the put-together man I've grown accustomed to. He's stressed, and it shows.
Is this what he would be like even if June weren’t in the picture?
Taking over a multi-billion-dollar criminal enterprise is a lot for one person, especially given the circumstances of our late predecessor. Factor in the fallout of his brother, the leader of the east coast syndicate, and you have a recipe for fuck-shit-pie. But finding the love of your life in the midst of it, at the ripe age of fifty-something, and it’s bound to take a toll on a man.
Dom is a powerhouse, but there’s only so much he can handle.
I’d be losing my mind if I were him, too. Hell, I am in my position and it’s nowhere near as important and influential as his.
But something has to change. Because if it doesn’t. We’re going to lose everything. The business. The money. The girl.
And even though I hate agreeing with Bryant, I’m on his side on this one—about her being the priority.
“Give me a week. That’s all I ask. Another week. If I can’t neutralize the threat, we come clean.” Dominic looks up at me, his hand resting along his scraggly beard.
“When was the last time you fucking ate?” I ask him.
He looks like shit. Sunken in eyes, pale, a bit thinner than usual. All of it so very unlike him.
“Does it matter?” Dom shakes his head. “I don’t know. Earlier. Yesterday.”
“What do you think, Maggie?” I turn toward Bryant who’s fuming in his seat. “Can we handle seven more days?”
Bryant glances at me then Dom. He sighs. “Seven fucking days. No more. Then me and June and Simon are running away together. Not a fucking second more.”
At this point, I’d go with them if it meant escaping from this fucking nightmare.
I used to live for this shit. The chaos fueled my restless soul. But now, I just want it to be over.
When we finally involved June in all of this, I thought that was going to be the turning point. No more lies. No more betrayal. No more hiding who I am. She would know the truth about my past, what I did, and why I had to leave her behind.
But the second Dom got wind that her attacker was still out there, he ordered us to keep our mouths shut about our business. Said the less she knew the better. He’s not wrong, but if that’s the decision he was going to make, he should have kept it that way from the start and let her go her separate way.
Instead, she took a fucking bullet to secure him the win and then he pushed her into the arms of our enemy because he didn’t know how else to handle things.
I’m usually on Dom’s side about business matters—but this was the stupidest choice he’s ever made. And his judgment might be what risks everything we’ve worked toward. Our careers, and her love.
“You need to fucking stop with the Beckett shit,” Dominic tells Bryant.
Bryant shrugs. “You can’t get mad about the truth.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, the both of you, just shut the hell up.” I glance at my watch. “When’s Johnny going to be here?”
Bryant checks his phone and must get distracted by something shiny because he doesn’t answer me.
“Soon,” Dominic confirms. “Any minute now.”
A knock sounds on the door, like fucking clockwork.
“Get your shit together if you want to be taken seriously,” I tell them both. “Enter!” I call out toward the door.
A young guy walks into the room, about medium build, not much to him. A baby face and a stone-cold stare. Yeah, he’s definitely been in this world long enough to have the light stolen from him.
The meeting was scheduled to be with Johnny Jones, but this is his advisor, Miller.
With my hand outstretched, I stalk toward him. “Afternoon. When should we expect Mr. Jones?”