Dominic (Made Men Book 8) Read online

  It had been a test. He knew it the second he saw his father’s smug face, but he went on cleaning the gun, pretending nothing had happened. If he had acknowledged it was a test, then his father would know he had contemplated using it.

  Lucifer got a large glass of water from the sink; he set it down in front of Dominic. “Son, I think it’s time to know your purpose.”

  He quickly dropped what he was doing and picked up the glass, drinking down the glorious liquid loudly until there was nothing left. It took him a second to catch his breath.

  “My purpose?”

  “There’s a war coming, and when it comes, we’ll be ready.”

  Dom’s little bushy brows furrowed. He didn’t know much about war, other than people died, but he knew there were two sides. “Who are we fighting?”

  “Another family, like ours,” Lucifer told him, barely able to get the name out of his mouth without disdain. “The Carusos.”

  “Carusos …,” he repeated the name, liking the way it sounded against his last name. The Carusos and the Lucianos. It was like the Hatfields and the McCoys but even cooler sounding.

  “They’re like us, but with a lot more money.” Lucifer looked down at the stacks of cash he was counting as if it was nothing. “And more men. But I plan for you to have more brothers to help us fight when that day comes.”

  Dominic, who began cleaning his gun again, looked up at his father. “Is that why you don’t want girls?”

  “A woman has no place in a war,” he told him simply, making the words and the reality of what he did in his past somehow even harsher.

  Dominic saw how Lucifer treated women, and while he didn’t treat most men with respect, his behavior toward women was worse. Much worse.

  Dominic didn’t get it. The only person in the world who had been nice to him was Carla, and she was a woman. All the girls at school were nice to him, even though he thought they stared at him a bit too much, while all the boys were told by their parents not to talk to him.

  “What are we fighting for?” he asked.

  “A long time ago, there was a war, and we lost. The Lucianos who were left agreed to a truce so the name wouldn’t get wiped out, but in return, we could only control”—Lucifer looked crazed, holding up two pinched fingers together with no space in between—“a very tiny part of the city the Carusos never fucking wanted to step foot on anyway, in their fancy shoes.”

  Dom’s brows drew together. “So, we’re fighting over land?”

  “No.” His father pounded the wooden table. “We’re fighting for power. More land means more money.” He picked up a stack of cash, fanning it out. “And money gives you power.”

  Dominic nodded.

  “One day, everything that I put you and your brothers through will all be worth it.”

  Picking up his second favorite gun—the revolver—Dominic gave the barrel a spin, his voice traveling over the sound making his words seem as if they didn’t come from a ten-year-old. “Like locking me in a closet for three days?”

  “Yes.” Lucifer’s unrepentant eyes somehow turned even blacker. “Especially for you, Dominic.”

  Squeezing the handle of the pistol as hard as he could, his fingertips turned white. “Why?”

  “Because, when we win and I’m gone … it’ll all be yours.”

  Dominic’s hazel depths traveled down to his hand, seeing the tan color of his skin return to his fingers. Flipping the gun over, he stared at his hand; his father had harshly grabbed it the first time he’d ever thrown him in the closet. Since that day, he noticed his father avoided his hands, while not caring if he marked his face or torso.

  It was as if the winds had changed in the house as realization hit. He needs me.

  His father needed him. He was Lucifer’s heir, and if the Luciano name was so precious to him, he was going to make him pay for it. One thing was for sure: the twins were never going to get his approval, because Lucifer saw them as weak, and Dominic intrinsically knew, no matter how much they grew up, their father would never like them. Dom realized why he let them live—he needed them as numbers, even if they would only be casualties.

  Lucifer might say Dominic’s gunmanship was nothing special, but he seemed to think it was worth protecting.

  “Mark my words; I will be king of this city one day.” Lucifer snapped a rubber band around a stack of cash. “I won’t stop until my dying breath.”

  It’ll all be yours.

  Since finally getting to hold the gun in his hand, Dominic hadn’t wanted anything. However, if he was going to go down in history as the greatest outlaw to ever live, he needed a city to run.

  The only problem was that meant he needed Lucifer too.

  Age 11

  The banging on the door started when the final gun had been racked, and when his father didn’t make a move, Dominic got up to answer it. He almost missed it at first, seeing no one standing on the other side of the door, but then he saw something squirm at his feet and knew what lay on the porch.

  “Dad …”

  “What is it?” Lucifer asked, getting up from the kitchen table. He only looked at the thing for a second before he headed back to his seat. “Get rid of it.”

  Looking down at the snuggled-up contents, he picked up the pink blanket that was wrapped around a beautiful baby girl. The blonde hair had him wondering why in all the houses in Kansas City had they picked this one, but when his eyes met her black ones, there was no denying it.

  Taking her in the warm house, he glanced at his father. “Is she yo—”

  “Don’t know, don’t care.”

  Dominic had to think for a minute. “I think there’s some baby stuff still in the basement.”

  “I said to get fucking rid of it,” Lucifer demanded with his hot tongue.

  “But it’s dark and cold outside.”

  The devilish man stood abruptly, going for the baby. “Fine, I will.”

  “No.” The young boy did his best to match his father’s tone. “Let her stay for the night, then I will in the morning.”

  His father stared at him with that crazed look in his eyes before he threatened, “I better not see or hear that thing. Do you understand?”

  Nodding, he quickly walked to the basement door to get her out of sight before the devil changed his mind.

  The six-year-old twins followed closely behind, wanting to be with their brother instead of alone with their father.

  “What is it?” Angel asked when they reached the bottom of the steps in the cold basement.

  “Hold out your arms. Strong arms, strong arms,” he coached as he placed the chunky baby in his little arms. “It’s your baby sister.”

  Matthias looked at the pink bundle in his twin’s arms. “Our sister?”

  “Yes.” Dominic pulled a wooden cage into the middle of the room, dusting it off as best as he could before going back to his brothers.

  He bent over, meeting them eye to eye, getting their full attention. “And we have to protect her. Can you help me with that?”

  Angel was the first to bravely nod, then Matthias followed.

  Dom picked her up and placed her in the old crib that all the Luciano brothers had used. He figured she was about a year old, remembering how the twins had looked when they were younger.

  He’d been trying to keep his brothers alive since he was five years old, and he hoped he could do it again, but something told him this time was going to be different, considering the baby was a girl. Lucifer wanted an army, grooming his boys into men, who would one day control the city. The only women in his life were the many he used to try to fulfill those dreams, throwing them away when they didn’t get pregnant or had a girl in their bellies.

  There was no place for a girl in Lucifer’s world, let alone a baby girl. Just like he had told him a year ago.

  Angel looked up at him with almost the same dark eyes that she carried. “What’s her name?”

  Reaching down when she twisted the blanket open, he touched the chu
bby baby’s onesie that was light pink and covered in cute little cats.

  He’d heard a name somewhere before, unsure if it was on TV or in a book, but he had liked it, thinking from time to time of the beautiful name when he had been reminded of it.

  “Katarina.”

  Sometime early in the morning, Dominic groggily went up the basement steps, leaving the twins and their new baby sister sleeping downstairs. When he reached the top and entered the main room, he rubbed his eyes, then saw his father still in the same chair at the kitchen table like he hadn’t even left or slept last night.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Squinting, he couldn’t make out his father’s expression due to the morning sun that was shining through the dusty blinds behind him. He could only make out his silhouette, but his grim voice told him all he needed to know about his expression.

  Dom looked down at what he was carrying in his hand. It was the old, light blue bottle he had found in the basement, along with the other baby stuff that Lucifer had saved to raise his army.

  Bravely, he stuck his chin out as he squeezed the plastic and headed to the fridge. “I’m making her a bottle.”

  Lucifer took a sip of his coffee. “I told you you’re getting rid of her right now.” He emphasized that morning had come.

  Picking up the milk from the fridge, Dom then slammed the door shut. “No, I’m not.”

  Within moments of the coffee cup hitting the table, Lucifer’s grip encircled his son’s wrist. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “Go on …” Dominic’s hazel depths traveled to his father’s hand that was squeezing his shooting hand’s wrist even harder. “Break it.”

  Lucifer squeezed slightly harder until the pressure eased a bit.

  “You can’t, can you?” Dominic looked into his father’s cold, black eyes. “My wrist is worth more to you than I do, and you know it. When you crushed it the first time, it made my wrist stronger. That’s why I can hold the heavy guns perfectly straight.” A corner of his lip turned up at his taunt. “Straighter than you.”

  Lucifer’s mouth didn’t move but his silent, black eyes did.

  “If you break it again, it either won’t heal this time, and you’ll lose the best shot you got against the Carusos, or it will heal even stronger again, making me that much stronger than you.” Dom flashed his teeth as the corner of his lip went up higher. “Your choice.”

  Lucifer released his wrist.

  With his hand freed, Dominic began pouring the milk on the counter. “If she leaves”—he kept his face stoic as he made the hardest choice of his life: choosing between his twin brothers who he’d known for five years or his baby sister who had stolen his heart with one look just hours ago—“I leave. If anything, and I mean anything, happens to her, I’ll walk out that door and won’t ever come back. Then, the only army you’ll have is Angel and Matthias.”

  He hoped Lucifer believed him when he didn’t even believe himself that he could leave his twin brothers behind.

  Lucifer stared at him thoughtfully for several moments before he walked back to the table. “I don’t want to see it or hear it. You got me?”

  “Katarina.”

  Lucifer stopped before taking a sip from his coffee. “What did you say?”

  “Her name is Katarina.” Dominic announced not only to the father of the baby but to the world.

  Putting the milk back in the fridge, he managed to keep it together as his heart began to shatter.

  He was heading back downstairs when he stopped, unable to turn around as a tear rolled down his cheek. He hoped his brave-sounding voice held his secret as he made one last demand. “And you will not lock me in the closet anymore.”

  When only silence and no violence met his demand, he got his answer.

  If only he had turned around, he would have seen the pride in his father’s eyes. It was the kind of pride a king saw in his prince—of the promise that one day the prince would uphold the family name.

  Going back down the steps, tears streaming down his face, he thought about how he had escaped his father’s wrath this time, but Dom knew he was walking a fine line.

  Lucifer got off by having control over people; his children being his ultimate victims, seeing them as his property. Dominic needed to subdue his father’s dominance somehow.

  Unfortunately, when he asked not to be put in the closet, as to not leave Katarina defenseless, it meant he couldn’t protect Angel and Matthias any longer.

  He’d chosen.

  Staring at his sleeping brothers on the blanket spread across the cold, concrete floor, the tears on his cheeks fell in droplets onto his old, ratty T-shirt. The two would only have each other to protect, and he wasn’t sure if both would survive Lucifer.

  He wiped the tears with the back of his hand and went up to the old crib. Picking up the baby girl who was awake and happily content, he held her in his arms and fed her the bottle.

  It was inexplicable the way he felt about her as he looked down upon her. All he knew was he loved her very much already, and she was worth protecting.

  He didn’t know how yet, but he knew in his gut that Katarina would be more valuable to the Luciano name than he and his brothers would ever be.

  Even if it cost them Matthias’s life.

  Six

  The Little Shit Could Count

  Dominic, Age 13 - 17

  Dominic ran down the basement steps from his first day back at school; it used to be his haven, but now his thoughts were about Kat and if she was safe while he was away.

  Scrunching up his nose when he reached the bottom, he looked at DeeDee, who was passed out asleep on his sister’s tiny bed. Seeing that Kat was fine, playing with her toys, he went over to DeeDee to shake her awake.

  “I’m up!” the older woman popped herself up like the rising dead from a crypt.

  “I’ve told you a billion times not to smoke down here around Kat.”

  “And how many times have I told you I take orders from your father, not you?” she snapped at him with a bit of a slur in her voice.

  Dominic’s bushy brows furrowed, giving her a deadly look that had her taken aback.

  “And when my father steps down, whose orders do you think you’ll have to listen to?”

  “Well—” DeeDee swallowed, her dry throat making her sound even more hoarse. “—I didn’t smoke in here; you’re just smelling me.”

  “Six.”

  Both Dominic and DeeDee turned their heads to Katarina, who was playing with her blocks.

  “One, two, three, four, five, six!” Little Katarina clapped, proud of herself. “Six sticks!”

  Going over to his baby sister, he bent down so she would look up at him. “What did you say?”

  “Six blocks,” DeeDee said with a nervous laughter. Going over to where they were, she began counting the blocks. “Look, one, two, three, four”—when she ran out of blocks, she counted two of the same ones over again—“five, six!”

  “That’s right, honey. Good job! You’re so smart.”

  Dom rolled his eyes, but little Kat was the one who shook her blonde head.

  “No. Four blocks,” Kat said, pointing to her blocks. “Six sticks.” Kat brought her fingers to her mouth, mimicking the way she had seen DeeDee smoke.

  DeeDee’s face instantly dropped its fake smile.

  Dominic stood back up and folded his arms across his chest.

  “I wasn’t aware the little shit could count,” she said through another fake smile. “Let’s be clear. I promised I’d watch her and keep her out of your father’s hair, not that I’d turn into Saint Mary while babysitting her.”

  “DeeDee,” Dominic called after her as she walked away and started up the stairs. “If you stop the smoking around her, take care of Kat right from now on, and keep my father away from her, then I promise, when I get power in this family, I’ll release you.”

  “Release me?” she whispered.

  Dom pointed to his nose, closing
one of his nostrils to breath in quick with the open one. “He gives you just enough, doesn’t he? To keep you coming back? That’s the only reason you put up with his shit, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t say a word, but the deadly grip she held on the hand rail told him he wasn’t wrong.

  “Lucifer doesn’t give you the high you want, though, does he? He gives you the hit that you need to function, but not enough to fly.”

  DeeDee rubbed her nose, practically salivating at the thought of her precious white powder.

  Dom took a step toward her, promising her the world with his hazel eyes. “You do as I ask, and I promise, one day, you won’t need him or his shit for your fix anymore.”

  It took her only a second to think before nodding, then going up the steps.

  Running his hand through his brown hair, Dominic didn’t know what was sicker, promising to supply drugs to an lady at the age of thirteen, or that he had to depend on a druggie to help protect Kat. However DeeDee was his only option, and she hadn’t killed him or his brothers, so … how bad could she be?

  Not wanting to answer his own question, he went back to his sister and sat on the floor next to her. “Do you know what comes after six, Kat?”

  “Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven ….”

  “What are you coloring?” Dominic asked, sitting down in the tiny chair at the plastic, colorful little kid table that he had picked up on the side of the road and cleaned up to give Kat.

  His little sister proudly showed off her cute stick figures. “That’s me, Angle, Matty, and … you!”

  Even though she was three and talked far better for her age, she still had trouble pronouncing her twin brothers’ names, but it always made him smile.

  “I see. It’s so pretty, Kat. Good job.”

  “I love my brothers.” She pointed to Angel’s and Matthias’s stick figures, then pointed to Dominic’s stick figure. “And my daddy!”