Dirty Dom(35)

“I have a steam room at my house. Just clean up here and you can relax tonight.”

She turns her head slowly to look at me. I wish she’d fucking talk to me. A tight smile pulls at my lips. Really though, how much has she said to me since I’ve met her. Nothing really. She’s barely said anything to me. Other than her texts on why we shouldn’t be fucking. I may have looked her up and practically stalked her, but she doesn’t know much about me at all. And I was just doing what I needed to so I could get her in bed.

It’s painfully obvious that I don’t know this woman. I almost got her killed and I don’t even know her. And she sure as hell doesn’t know me.

“Go ahead and hop in doll. I’ll sit here and keep you company.” I try to lighten my tone.

She slips off the baggy shirt I put her in and pulls back the curtain with one hand while covering her body with the other. My eyes linger on every bruise, the bandages around her wrists and ankles.

I need to get my mind off this shit. I take a seat on the bench by the towel rack and sit back with my ankles crossed.

“Remember the bandages-” I start but she doesn’t let me finish.

“I know. I’ll leave them on until I get out.” A moment passes in silence.

“You like sports doll?” It’s my go-to conversation starter. For all occasions. It’s something I know enough about to dominate the conversation so I just run with it.

“I was raised a Dolphins fan, so I’m used to hating football by now.” Her sarcastic answer isn’t what I expected. I chuckle and grin with my eyes on her vague silhouette on the curtain.

“Dolphins? How the hell did that happen?” I ask with the smile still on my face. It’s a rare day when I suggest betting on Miami. But if that’s what she likes, so be it.

“My Dad liked them. I liked dolphins. It was an easy choice. I mean they are like the only team to go into the super bowl undefeated right?”

I huff a laugh. “That was like two decades ago.”

“Still counts.” Her up beat reply makes me grin. “I like watching the games. I used to go out to the bar and watch them every Sunday. Beer, pizza, wings. You know the way it is. It’s a nice escape.”

“Used to?”

“Life got busy.” She answers with less enthusiasm making me wish I’d prompted a different question, like who she used to go with. But I know she met her husband in college, so I can guess that answer, and I don’t like it.

I smirk at the curtain. “So you know something about football?”

“I know a little. Like I know the game. I just don’t know the players.”

“What about other sports?”

Her voice noticeably changes. More engaging, more excited. “Jax plays soccer.”

“Isn’t he three?”

“Well, you know he likes to kick the ball on the field.”

“So your little man is an athlete?” I ask her, but she’s quiet. Her hands have fallen to her side. It’s silent for a moment; the water spray is the only noise I can hear. And then I watch as her hands move to her face and a sob comes from the shower.

“Doll, you alright?” My stomach drops. I wonder if it’s finally catching up to her now. If she’s going into shock like Doctor Koleman was worried about.

“Dom?” She finally asks. Her words are muted by the flow of the water. “If something happens to me please don’t take it out on my son.” My heart clenches and my vision blurs. The smile vanishes off my face. “I have money. I’ll do anything-”

“Stop it Becca. Nothing’s happening to you.” I’m hard with my response, but I don’t fucking like the way she’s talking.

“I’m not stupid Dom.” Her sad voice carries a heavy weight. “Please just don’t hurt him.” I have to take a deep breath and cover my face with my hands. She thinks I’m gonna hurt her son? I can’t fucking believe it. “We don’t have family, but I have a friend in Texas.” Her voice is tight and full of tension. “It’s been a while, but-”

“Doll. I’m gonna need you to knock it the fuck off before I lose my self control.” That at least gets her to shut up. “I’m not gonna hurt you or your son.”

“You’re just going to let me go?”

No. My internal answer is immediate, but I don’t voice that. I don’t know what I want from her. I know I feel like shit about what happened and that I want to make it right. But that’s all I know for certain. “You can’t go until we have De Luca.”

“Is that who took me?” She asks with a hesitant voice. We don’t talk business with women. They stay out of it. Always. I don’t know what to tell her. She’s still just standing in the shower. The water’s going to get cold fast if she doesn’t hurry her ass up.