Page 11 of Murder & Mayhem (Bloody Desires #9)

Dominic tried the screen door, which opened. He knocked directly on the yellow door, this time less friendly neighbor and more bookie demanding his money.

“O’Malley! Open the fucking door.”

When no one came, Dominic drew a gun I hadn’t even noticed, which was kinda terrifying. I prided myself on being aware of my surroundings and I hadn’t seen a fucking pistol. No wonder he’d had no issues giving me the knife.

“Why didn’t you use that earlier?” I asked incredulously.

Dominic shot me a mischievous smile. “I avoid guns when I can. Too loud and too easily traceable. Although, I generally don’t do what I did at Byrne’s either.

There’s a reason the cops haven’t caught on to Gid and me yet.

” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t really want him to.

The less I knew about his little business, the better.

Holding the gun like a fucking pro, unlike me, Dominic pushed me behind him and tested the door. It opened, which . . . wasn’t good.

“No . . . ,” I whispered before Dominic could open it. “There are like 6 different locks, ones that you need a key or a passcode for. They always lock the door.” So their toys couldn’t escape.

Dominic didn’t ask how I knew that. “Did you get that, Ari?” he murmured instead. I’d forgotten he was back on with his brother. Then he turned to me. “Stay behind me. If bullets start flying, drop to the floor, understand?”

There was no arguing with that tone, and I didn’t want to. I curled my toes in my beat-up sneakers. “I-I understand.”

Dominic smiled. “Good boy.”

He pushed the door wide and stepped in, weapon leading the way.

When nothing happened, he held up his hand to me. “Wait here.” And then he slipped out of my view, door closing behind him and in my face.

I rocked back on my heels, indignation and indecision warring inside me.

He’d left me out here! After he’d said I could go in.

But what if he only wanted to make sure the place was clear?

Could that be it? Could he be protecting me?

Should I go inside anyway, or should I listen to the dude who knew what the fuck he was doing?

The internal battle raged on while I stood paralyzed.

I couldn’t see shit—the one and only window on this side of the house was boarded up, and it was eerily quiet.

Shouldn’t I be able to hear . . . something?

Shooting, yelling? Dominic busting down doors and kicking ass? But there was only silence.

Just as I finally decided I was going in no matter what Dominic said, the door opened. I held the knife in front of me, jumping back another step and nearly falling into that fucking hole.

Dominic leaned against the doorframe, looking like cocky confidence and sex, and I wanted to punch his smug, smirking, sexy face. “Careful there.”

I glared. Dominic smiled.

Finally, his expression turned serious. “You can come in. It’s all clear.”

My heart sank. “No Bailey?”

His expression softened. “No. No O’Malley either. But there’s someone. I’m about to wake their high ass up to get information. Wanna join me?”

Did I? Part of me wanted to avoid the house altogether if Bailey wasn’t there, but that wasn’t fair.

First off, I could never be 100% convinced until I saw it with my own eyes, and secondly, this was my problem, not Dominic’s.

I already owed him more than I could ever repay.

I didn’t care how fucking good I was at giving blow jobs, I’d be on my knees for the rest of my life trying to repay him if he changed his mind and demanded payback.

I had to be careful and take responsibility.

“Yeah, okay.” I followed the man inside.

The door closed behind me with finality that had me jumping. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hand against my chest, trying to ease my racing heart. I was okay. I was safe.

I opened my eyes, taking in the place I’d hoped to never see again, even if I’d blocked most of it out of my mind.

It looked the same. The same ratty couch that had probably been tan or white at some point but was so covered in stains you’d never be able to tell.

The same cheap Walmart table filled with ashtrays, empty beer bottles, and remnants of drugs I couldn’t even begin to identify.

I found myself scanning the filthy carpet, and yup, there it was, the blood stain in the corner against the wall with all the peeling wallpaper.

It had come from my nose when I’d been slammed against it.

The hole from my face was still there too.

I was going to be sick. How had this place not been condemned by now?

A hand on my shoulder had me jumping out of my skin.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. You weren’t answering.” Dominic looked so guilty, like he was the one responsible for smashing me through the wall, not pirate pervert.

“It’s fine. You don’t gotta apologize for touching my fucking shoulder. I’m the one who’s a mess.” I didn’t want to talk about it, though, and sure as fuck didn’t want to explain to this god of a man why I was freaking out. “You said someone was here? Let’s go.”

Dominic watched me for so long that I started to fidget. What the hell was his deal? Why was he acting like he cared so damn much? Finally, he tore away his gaze. “Yeah, he’s in the bedroom. This way.” Like I didn’t know where the bedroom was.

Dominic headed into the hallway and right past the closet. The door was broken, the handle kicked in and lying on the floor, and the wood was cracked where it used to be. I could see right in and Bailey wasn’t there.

Who had broken the door? Bailey or Dominic or some other poor kid that had been locked in there? I’d always wished I had the courage to kick the door down, but just staying awake and breathing had taken all my energy and . . .

Dominic had kept walking, and I wrenched my gaze away and followed on wooden feet to the bedroom.

Dominic strolled through the open bedroom door like he owned the place. I stood in the doorway trying not to throw up. This room was different. The bed was gone and now there was only a filthy mattress on the floor in its place. The cage was still there though. Thank fuck, no one was in it.

A guy I didn’t recognize was lying on the mattress, passed out and in nothing but dirty tighty-whities.

He was kinda young, maybe around Dominic’s age, which was weird because most of the guys Joey had run with were in their forties and fifties like him, sometimes older.

This guy was maybe 30, skinny as a rail with long, dirty brown hair matted to his gaunt face.

He didn’t move at all when we came in. There was still a fucking needle in his arm.

“Is he alive?” I asked quietly, even though it probably wouldn’t matter.

“Yeah,” Dominic answered. “Barely, but I got something to help with that.”

He dropped his backpack on the carpet and squatted next to it, digging through before he pulled out a needle and a little vial. It was fascinating watching Dominic work. He was all precision and confidence. No extra movements, no shaky hands or double-checking to make sure he didn’t fuck up.

This wasn’t the first time I’d watched someone prepare a needle, but it was so different than anything I’d ever seen. This wasn’t a junkie desperately trying to get a fix. He was a professional. I swore I could watch this guy all day and never get tired.

He stood, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Ari just told me Gid’s at Byrne’s house and is almost finished. No problems there. He also wants to know if you recognize this guy. There’s no identification.”

I had nothing but gratitude for the mysterious Ari, whom I had never heard or seen but somehow felt connected to already. Maybe because of how much he helped, or maybe because of the easy familiarity when Dominic talked to him.

“I’ve never seen him before. He’s too young.”

He grimaced. “I guess we’ll find out the hard way.”

Dominic went over to the guy, ripped the needle out of his arm carelessly, and replaced it with the one in his hand. “This might get ugly,” he warned me, and then the guy let out a bloodcurdling, brutal scream as his body shook relentlessly.