22. Gage

Chapter Twenty-Two

GAGE:

I’d never been so happy, and it scared the hell out ofme.It was a high better than the wildest fight or smoothest whiskey, but I knew better. A crash always followed, and this time, with the altitude I'd hit, the fall would be lethal. The worst part was that I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. Wyatt had been right the day before: all we could do was hang on and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.

The countdown had already started when I walked into Dom's restaurant the next afternoon.

Saxa Fracta smelled like power, but not the obvious kind. It didn't reek of sweat and iron like the rough places I knew. This was subtle. It reminded me of Boone's office when we were kids: polished wood, expensive leather, and secrets. The rich, savory scent of gourmet food barely masked the undertones of wealth and influence.

This was Dom's playground.

Dinner service hadn't started yet, but deliveries were coming in, so I slipped in behind a crate of seafood. Plush carpets absorbed my footsteps, and that was no accident; they were designed to muffle backroom conversations.

Saxa Fracta was more than a place to grab a bite to eat. It was a temple to deals made in the dark...and Dominic sat at the altar.

No surprise he'd opened a restaurant. Dom had been experimenting in the kitchen since we were kids, forcing his creations on us like a science experiment. To this day, I couldn't look at chicken and sausage gumbo without getting queasy. Not since I was fourteen and he'd pinned me down, sat on my chest, plugged my nose, and force-fed me that junk.

My stomach turned as I spotted his specialty listed on the menu above the hostess stand, right beneath the pan-seared catfish and duck confit beignets. I stifled a gag.

"Don't let him catch you making that face," a familiar voice drawled from behind the bar. The deep Creole accent hit me first, and then the grinning face followed.

"Marcel, you sneaky bastard."

"Long time, no see, man.?a va?” Marcel's massive frame barely fit behind the bar, a drastic change from the scrappy kid who'd always been getting his ass kicked in high school. He'd been more brain bowl than super bowl, easy prey for bullies, until Dom sent two of them to the hospital. After that, Marcel had stuck to him like a shadow. He may have grown into a bear of a man, but warmth still gleamed in those dark eyes. Funny that Dom, of all people, was the one to inspire such loyalty from a man like him.

"Still babysitting Dom, huh?" I asked, clapping him on the shoulder when he pulled me into a bear hug.

"Lord knows someone's gotta do it," he said, pounding me on the back with one meaty hand. "Some days I protect him from the world. Other days, I protect the world from him."

He turned to a wall of gleaming bottles and reached for a black label on the top shelf, pouring it neat and sliding a glass across the bar.

"What's the duty today?" I asked, glancing down the hallway toward Dominic's office. A low murmur leaked from behind the closed door.

Marcel scratched his jaw, considering his words, and decided, "Today, I'm letting nature take its course."

The door creaked open, and the tail-end of strained conversation carried down the hall.

“—the door? Do you think it will keep you safe?" I’d recognize Dom’s icy voice anywhere.

A man's shaky response came tumbling out.“I-I just have another appointment. They k-know I'm here. I just need?—"

“You have twenty-four hours,” Dominic interrupted, calm as death.“This is the only warning you get. We won't be having this conversation again."

"I need some more time!"

"Time is one thing you don't have. Twenty-four hours. Sooner, if you want to keep me happy—and trust me, you do."

A shocked silence followed. A moment later, a man hustled down the hall and bolted out the emergency exit. He looked like a junior city employee: young, cheap suit, bad haircut. His shoulders were hunched like he was trying to outrun death itself. Maybe he was.

"Nature's a real bitch sometimes," Marcel said, stone-faced.

I reached for my whiskey glass and bolted half of it in one gulp. Tears sprang instantly to my eyes, and I coughed, gasping as the burn hit my throat.

A hand intercepted me and plucked the glass from my hands. "Careful, little brother," Dominic drawled, knocking back half the shot without so much as a flinch. "This whiskey's barrel proof. You'll be crawling out of here if you're not used to it."

He dropped onto the stool beside me and shot a meaningful look toward Marcel, who wiped his hands on a clean towel and discreetly vanished. Then he turned those amber, unblinking eyes on me and asked,"What brings you to my corner of the world?"

So much for small talk, but I took a shot anyway. "The place looks good," I offered, gesturing at the dark dining room. "Expanded the menu, huh? About time you dropped the gumbo, though."

His brow lifted. "I like gumbo."

"God knows why," I muttered, fighting my gag reflex. "Most traumatic fuckin' food I ever ate."

His mouth twitched in amusement, and although he didn't say it, I knew he was remembering the same thing I was. He never liked to give away too much of what he was thinking—him and Gideon both. They acted like being human was a weakness. The rest of us burned hot while they watched coldly from the shadows.

I sighed and cut to the chase.

"I need a favor."

His gaze sharpened. "Do you, now?"

"Not for me," I clarified, irritated by his smirk. I kept my gaze forward, watching his reflection in the mirror instead. "It's for Ivy."

"The girl you brought to Eden," he said, but it wasn't a question. "Paulie Tibbs’s handiwork, right?"

The hair on my arms prickled in warning. "How do you know that name?"

"When you refused to tell me what happened, I asked around." His gaze flicked over my body, like he'd memorized every injury the day he visited. "Tibbs is just a street thug, but he's useful to men far above his pay grade. He thinks he's protected, and that makes him dangerous."

"This fuckin' town," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I forgot how fast news travels."

“Faster than you think.” He swirled his whiskey and took a quick sip, like he was trying to wash away a bad taste in his mouth. "You need to start thinking before you act. You've been lucky so far, but luck runs out fast in a town like this."

I ignored him. "That's why I'm here. Ivy knows that Tibbs thinks he's untouchable. She deserves to feel safe without worrying about looking over her shoulder all the time. I was hoping you could put some security on the house, just until she gets her footing."

"Why not ask your little boyfriend?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "It's complicated. Wyatt would do what he could, but you and I both know Tibbs would be out on bail before the ink on his fingerprints even dried."

Dominic drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think it over, but he couldn't fool me. I knew from the calculating gleam in his eyes that he'd already decided to help; he was just weighing the reward now. He never did anything without strings attached. Finally, he said, "You're asking me to cross a line. You realize that?"

“With Gideon, you mean?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed, and he gave a slow nod. “We have an agreement. I don’t interfere with the program at Eden, and he doesn’t interfere with… other business.”

"Who put both of you in charge of everything?"

He didn't blink. "Boone."

The darkness in his tone chilled me. Dom and Gideon had always been different, maybe even a little frightening, but I wasn't sure how they'd evolved from my big brothers into...whatever the hell they were now.

"We're family," I said flatly. "Figure it out. We're all on the board of directors, and we all have a stake in how those kids turn out."

His humorless laugh didn't even shake his shoulders. "Fine. But I want something in return."

"Name it."

"I want you to bring Wyatt to dinner tomorrow night. Mason called. He has news about Ben."

My stomach sank. "His last appeal was denied, wasn't it?"

Dominic's lips thinned, and something that looked an awful lot like frustration flickered across his sharp features. "I don't know all the details," he admitted—and oh, how that must have killed him to admit. "But Mason has been working on the state prosecutor's anti-corruption task force for almost a year now. He might have found some leverage that way."

"He hasn't said anything to me."

"Why would he?" Dominic finished his drink and set down the glass with a snap. "You're dangerous without the full picture—especially when it comes to Ben. But he must have big news, or he wouldn't have called a family dinner. Bring Wyatt."

That set me on edge. "Why?"

"Because he's a liability. Cops always are." His tone was casual, like we were discussing the weather, but the lack of all emotion iced the blood in my veins. "His whole department is crooked, and if he's not involved himself, he sure as hell doesn't lift a finger to stop it. I haven't decided what to do about him yet."

I had him by his shirt and up against the bar before he'd even finished speaking. He didn't fight me, not even when the empty Glencairn glass tumbled off the bar and shattered.

"You don't do anything about him," I snarled right in his face. "Don't look at him. Don't touch him. Got it?"

Dominic didn't flinch. He just smiled, slow and cynical, and asked, "Handle it? How? By smoking his cock every night and letting him wrap you around his finger? You really want to believe you're suddenly irresistible to him right when Vanderhoff's started sniffing around our family again?"

"It's not like that," I said through clenched teeth.

"Maybe not." He peeled my fingers away from the expensive fabric of his shirt, and I allowed it. "But you've always had a blind spot when it comes to him. Bring him. If he's loyal to us, he's an asset. If not..." he shrugged. "He's a threat none of us can afford right now."

My skin crawled as I shoved past him.

Dominic was a paranoid asshole, but somewhere deep down beneath my anger was the creeping fear that he might be right. I wanted to believe in Wyatt. I wanted to believe that he cared about me exactly how I was, mess and all, but I knew love wasn't given freely. It was earned, and I'd only ever made his life more difficult.

If I stepped over the line one day, Wyatt would have those cuffs on me just as quick as he'd slapped them on Ben's wrists.

Dominic's words felt like a wake-up call.

Sooner or later, Wyatt would realize I hadn't changed; I was still the same messed-up kid he'd rejected all those years ago. And when he did, I wasn't sure I'd have the strength to watch him walk away.