Dominic (Made Men Book 8) Read online

  Four

  One Bad Motherfucker

  Dominic, Age 8

  Dom narrowed his eyes at the minuscule target that Lucifer had placed in the knot of a tree. He tightened his grip of the Glock as he prepared to pull the trigger.

  “Aren’t you afraid he’ll shoot his eye out?”

  The voice he heard from the back door didn’t break his concentration. He waited until the bullet shot out before turning.

  Dominic couldn’t put a name to the man coming outside to stand next to his father, having only seen him a few times before and always in the dead of night.

  The man had never been allowed to come inside, nor had Dom seen him in the day. He looked like a shady character at night, but right now in the light of day, Dom stared at him in awe.

  The brown leather jacket he wore looked soft from wear while the inside looked warm, lined in a wool. The ginormous collar of cream sheepskin framed the man’s unshaven face and shaggy brown hair. He looked like a character all right, but not your typical, shady one on this side of Blue Park. He reminded Dominic of the men in his westerns. It wasn’t only his coat giving him that vibe, but his matching brown leather boots and tight-fitting, washed-out Levi jeans.

  Whoa, he looks like one bad motherfucke—

  “No,” Lucifer answered, staring at the tiny target his son had nailed.

  The man reached inside his brown leather coat to take out a long thin box, pulling out cigarillo, he narrowed his eyes on Dominic. “No one will ever be able to say you’re father of the year, heh, Lucifer?”

  Dom’s young eyes widened, amazed at the way the man was speaking to his father.

  “What are you doing here, Anthony?” Lucifer wasn’t angry at the sarcasm, which continued Dominic’s amazement.

  The man turned and stared directly down to his hazel eyes as Dom swallowed hard at the tall man towering over him.

  “Good shot. Can you do it again?”

  It was Lucifer who answered. “Dom can do it every fucking time I tell him to.”

  Anthony continued to stare him down through the smoke he blew out. “He doesn’t take after his old man, does he?” Anthony winked at him as he insulted Lucifer. “Your old man couldn’t hit a target unless he put his glasses on. He’s nearsighted as fuck.”

  Dom turned his head back and forth between the two men, waiting for Lucifer to shoot him dead at the insulting way Anthony was talking.

  No, he is one bad motherfucker.

  Anthony started laughing, turning back toward his father. “The kid looks like he’s about to piss himself. Don’t worry, kid, Lucifer knows I’m just joking.”

  “Your jokes will get you buried six feet under one day,” his father warned.

  “You wouldn’t kill me for a harmless joke.” Taking another puff of his cigarillo, he asked, “Who can you trust as much as me, and who would do your dirty work for you?”

  Lucifer must not have had a good answer, as his face got red in anger. “What are you doing here? You’ll be no use to me if we’re locked up in prison.”

  “Chill. I borrowed a car to drive here.”

  “Whose?”

  “Urie.”

  “He didn’t want to pay?” Lucifer’s face went a deeper shade of red.

  Anthony shrugged under his coat. “No. I told you he wouldn’t. He has principles.”

  “You left him alone in the car?”

  Flicking the ashes off the thin cigar, Anthony shrugged again. “Don’t worry; he’s not in any shape to take off, even if he could manage to get out of the trunk.” Reaching inside his pocket to take out a set of car keys, he tossed them to Lucifer. “Figured you might want to give the final pièce de résistance in person. He called you a wannabe Caruso.”

  Dominic stood perfectly still, making sure not to draw Lucifer’s attention to him at the apocalyptic rage that overtook Lucifer’s face.

  “Stay here with the kids; DeeDee’s out at the liquor store,” his father hissed.

  Dom didn’t release a shaky breath until Lucifer stormed out of the backyard.

  “So, can you make the shot again?” Anthony asked with a smile, looking back down at him.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Show me.”

  Dominic turned on his heel to face the target, raised the gun to the tree, and fired off another shot.

  Anthony nodded at him approvingly. “Damn. You’re good, kid. Better than me, for sure.” Dropping the cigarillo to the ground, he crushed what little was left under the heel of his leather boot. “Has your old man taught you the most important lesson about guns?”

  He quickly thought back to what Lucifer had taught him, trying to determine what would be considered the most important, when the gun was suddenly ripped out of his hand and his feet swiped out from under him.

  Anthony laughed down at him, tucking the Glock into the front of his pants. “Any motherfucker can take it away from you unless you have the muscles to hold onto it.”

  Dom watched as Anthony bent down, holding out his hand, but he didn’t take it.

  “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t punish you when I give a lesson.”

  Those words still didn’t stop him when he rolled to his side, getting to his feet without any help.

  “Always expect someone to kick the ground from under you. If you let a motherfucker put you on the ground, you’ve already lost. Stand like this.” Anthony stood with feet braced apart, one foot slightly forward. “That way, you’ll be able to keep your balance.”

  Nodding, Dominic carefully kept his eyes on Anthony’s feet, not seeing the slap coming until it was too late. He kept his hand from reaching for his stinging cheek.

  “Lucifer might have taught you how to use a gun, but he hasn’t taught you shit about protecting yourself, has he?” Anthony said casually, reaching into his coat to pull his cigarillos out to light another one.

  “No,” Dom admitted after a few moments.

  “You know why?” he asked through lips pursed tight, as he blew smoke at him.

  He shook his head slowly.

  “Then let me educate you. He gave you a weapon that he can take away anytime he fucking wants to. Knowing how to fight, now that’s something he can’t take away from you, and Lucifer can’t control how you use it against him. You might want to spare a few minutes from target shooting to strengthen those puny muscles of yours.”

  “You know how to fight.” Dominic found the courage to state after checking to make sure Lucifer wasn’t within hearing range.

  Anthony laughed, flicking ashes off his cigarillo. “You asking for my help?”

  “Would you?”

  Anthony narrowed his gaze down at him, then lifted his gaze to stare off in the distance, as if debating his response.

  The man might have talked back to Lucifer, but Dominic saw fear cross Anthony’s face before he returned his eyes to his. “Why not? As long as we keep it between us.”

  “I can do that,” he agreed.

  “That means you don’t tell anyone, not your brothers, and especially not DeeDee. The sorry bitch will break a leg running to tell Lucifer so fast.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Dominic solemnly promised.

  “Then why fucking not?” Anthony gave him a hard pat on his shoulder that nearly sent him back to the ground. “My apartment is across the street from your school. Number 234. I’m usually home on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. You could stop by for about fifteen or twenty minutes before walking home.”

  Dom didn’t know if it was the cold wind blowing or the cunning way that Anthony was looking at him that sent shivers down his back.

  “You better get inside, kid. You look like you’re freezing your ass off.”

  Looking down at his feet, Dominic killed a dead tuft of grass. “I can’t go back inside until Lucifer tells me to.”

  Anthony gave him an eye roll as he took his coat off to place it around his shoulders. The heavy weight swallowed him in layers of warmth. “That will keep you warm. I’m
going to make sure the other rugrats aren’t about to burn the house down. Go see how many times you can lift that log over there until I come back.”

  Watching him leave, Dom stared at the thick muscles exposed under Anthony’s short-sleeved T-shirt before he went to pick up the log after shrugging his arms into the large holes of the coat. The coat was heavier than the log.

  On the doorstop, Anthony stopped to laugh at him, seeing his predicament.

  “The coat makes the man,” Anthony quoted. “Your muscles are strong enough to either wear the coat or hold the log,” he said derisively. “Choose which one is more important—freezing your nuts off or working up a sweat.” Going inside, Anthony didn’t wait to see which one he chose.

  Dominic carefully took off the brown leather coat and placed it on a rusty old lawn chair before picking the log back up. He was still lifting the log up and down when Anthony came back outside when it started getting dark.

  Anthony walked over to him to take the log away before putting the coat back on his shoulders. “How many?”

  “Two hundred and three.”

  “Better than I expected. Take a hot bath when Lucifer comes back. Your shoulders are going to hurt like a motherfucker in the morning.”

  Moving the lawn chair, he placed it behind Dom. “Take a seat. You look like you’re about to drop.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Let me guess; you’ll get in trouble if you sit down.”

  Dom was nodding his head when Lucifer came back, yelling, “Dom, get your ass inside. DeeDee needs help carrying the groceries from the car.”

  Heading toward the door, he warily passed Lucifer. Just as he started to walk through the door, Lucifier flung him against the door jamb and jerked Anthony’s coat off his shoulders.

  “If I wanted him to have a jacket, I would have given him one,” Lucifer snarled at Anthony.

  Anthony shrugged, taking the coat away from Lucifer and putting it on. “My mistake.”

  “Don’t interfere with the way I raise my son.”

  “Like I said”—Anthony raised both hands up apologetically—“my mistake. You get rid of Urie?”

  “Yes. Drive his car back to his business and make sure no one sees you getting out of it. I can’t have my enforcer getting locked up right now.”

  Enforcer. The title of the man ricocheted like a bullet through his mind.

  “Won’t matter if anyone does; they’ll keep their mouths shut,” Anthony muttered, ignoring Dom as he walked between him and Lucifer.

  “Anthony …” Lucifer stopped him before he could leave. “Next time, don’t fucking bring anyone to my house for me to finish them off.”

  “Will do. You’re the boss.”

  “Remember that,” the Luciano boss warned threateningly.

  “Won’t have to. You’ll never let me forget it.”

  Dominic lowered his eyes when his father’s glare returned back to him.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Nothing,” he quickly mumbled, racing inside, then running outside the front door to bring in two paper bags that DeeDee had left in the back seat. The liquor bottles inside clanked together at the unsteady way he was holding them, the soreness in his arms and shoulders setting in.

  “Don’t forget to take a hot bath,” Anthony informed him as he got in the front seat of the stolen vehicle.

  “I won’t,” Dom whispered, as if Lucifer could hear him from inside the house.

  As Dom used his hip to close the car door, Anthony started the car, silently rolling the window down next to him.

  “Loose lips sink’s ships,” the enigmatic character told him ominously.

  Dominic pressed his lips together at Anthony’s meaning, giving him a silent understanding.

  Carrying the so-called groceries inside, an overwhelming feeling hit him for the first time in his life …. He might have just made a friend. But not just any friend, a secret friend whom Dom felt would be in his corner. Even if it was only the two of them who knew.

  Dominic could deal with that, it was one more than he had ever had before.

  Five

  The Little Secret Held In The Barrel

  Dominic, Age 10 - 11

  Dominic sat in the darkness, blindly reaching into his jean pocket. He pulled out one of the pieces of candy he kept on him at all times. Unwrapping the foil, he popped it into his mouth, slowly sucking on the cherry flavor so he could make it last as long as possible.

  It was a trick he learned that day so long ago. His old teacher, Mrs. Smith, had called his father right after school, concerned that Dominic might not be eating enough at home. He would never forget when he came through that door to find Lucifer waiting for him. He had dragged him into the closet to sit for another night without food or water.

  The candy his teacher had given him had saved him, and since then, he hadn’t gone a day without a few in his pocket. Whenever he ran out, he stopped by the gas station and bought them with the change he managed to scrounge up around the house. Change was the one currency his father didn’t bother to count, so he never noticed when a few nickels went missing from his pockets.

  Sucking on the candy until the last sliver disappeared on his tongue, Dom stood in the tiny confines of the closet, stretching his legs, before he began a set of exercises. He kept it light, careful not to sweat as he did sets of ten jumping jacks, high knees, squats, pushups, sit-ups, and even pull-ups on the wooden pole that once held the old suits.

  Letting go of the rail, his feet hit the ground in the darkness, and then he decided to pass the time in the only way that kept him sane. Dominic lay on the cold floor, having to scrunch his legs to his chest more over the years as his legs grew. He felt bad for finding his own sort of peace in here, where he was safe from his father. Where all the responsibilities he placed on himself for caring for his brothers were gone. He hated that about himself, that a little part of him liked it when he was locked away while Angel and Matthias were forced to fend for themselves. And while that had it’s allure, he hated it more each time he was forced to visit the closet, when he was forced to look within himself. It might’ve been black in here, but the mirror on his reflection was visible in the darkness ….

  Dominic’s tenth birthday wasn’t like any other ten-year-old’s. There was no cake or celebration, not even a “happy birthday” from his father. Instead, Lucifer saw the day not as a day to celebrate but as a milestone that Dominic was mentally capable for what was next in his training.

  “Anyone can shoot a gun,” Lucifer told him as he took a seat at the old kitchen table. “And just because you can hit some fucking target a few yards away, that doesn’t make you special.”

  That was a saying he heard almost every day. His father constantly reminded him just how un-special he was, no matter how many times he hit a bullseye or how far out the targets were placed.

  “But learning how to care for your weapon, knowing what every piece is for … that makes you a master.”

  Nodding, Dominic listened carefully, prepared to memorize every step he was about to teach, because if he failed, the punishment would be severe.

  “Cleaning your gun seems easy, but this is where men make the stupidest mistakes, because it’s supposed to be simple. It’s also where you’ll pay the biggest price if you accidentally fire a gun in your home. So, when you sit down to clean your guns, safety first. You unload it, then check the chamber.”

  He watched his father release the empty mag, and even though Dominic was certain there hadn’t been a bullet in the chamber and knew his father was certain, as well, Lucifer still checked, racking the gun to see no bullet pop out.

  Continuing to watch him, Lucifer then broke the gun down slowly, showing him how to do each step until all four pieces were laid out on the table. Four pieces that were nothing but scraps of metal apart, but together, they made a deadly weapon.

  Dominic didn’t think he’d ever forget it. Something about it was meaningful, even to a ten-year-o
ld boy.

  The light touching his face always woke him up when the closet door was opened, unlike when he slept in his own bed; then it was his father’s footsteps.

  Lucifer stared at him for a hard second like he always did. Dom never understood why he did that or what he was looking for, but he always walked away unsatisfied.

  Leaving the closet, it was never his body that betrayed him; it was the light. He hadn’t yet found a remedy for that and didn’t think he ever would.

  His first stop was always the bathroom, using it and cleaning the filth off. The second stop was checking in on his brothers, but when he entered the living room, they weren’t there.

  “Where are the twins?” Dom asked Lucifer, who was sitting at the table, counting his money while all his guns were laid out in front of the empty seat where he usually sat.

  “They laid down for a nap, but you can go wake them up. Dinner’s ready.” It was DeeDee who answered with her rough voice.

  Lucifer shook his head, pointing for Dominic to sit down. “We don’t eat until after Dominic cleans the guns.”

  “Okay then.” DeeDee closed the pot, then grabbed her cigarettes and lighter and headed to the sofa. If his mouth could water, it would, even for the gross spaghetti DeeDee liked to make with ketchup. It was like drinking the thick red liquid out of the bottle with a side of noodles. But with his stomach growling, even that sounded good right now.

  His dry throat barely let him swallow as he took a seat in front of his father.

  Picking up his favorite gun first—the Glock—he felt the weight of it instantly. Instinctively, he knew the little secret held in the barrel.

  “How long was I in there?” he asked his father as he dislodged the empty mag.

  Lucifer’s black orbs coldly stared at him before he looked down to the Glock. “Three days.”

  His trigger finger, which was safely under the barrel like his father had taught him, made the slightest waiver … right before he racked the slide, sending the golden bullet that had been hidden in the chamber safely flying out.