Afraid to Fly (Fearless #2)

  Whatever I had meant to say before coming in here quickly dissolved on my tongue, leaving the bitter aftertaste of embarrassment. He was still angry at me. My words had cut him deeper than I thought. And in turn, he was lashing out.

  But not only that, he was leaving Toby. He didn’t realize it, but he was. And that kid had been acquainted with abandonment for far too long.

  “He needs you.”

  “What?” he sneered, still fuming.

  “Toby . . . you can’t leave him. He needs you.”

  Dom shook his head, but I could see that my admission had cooled him. “Apparently, he doesn’t. You said so yourself.”

  “I was wrong.” There. I said it. Without the use of a curse or scowl, I might add.

  “You were wrong?” He half snorted, half laughed and shook his head. His expression was . . . odd, to say the least. As if it hadn’t dawned on him that he was right all along, and that he really wasn’t all the hateful things I had spewed at him in my rage. “You were wrong.”

  “I was. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” I took a step forward, so I was just a few feet away from the front of his desk. I was sincere, and I wanted him to see it. And if it took me showing some humility and vulnerability to get him to keep working with Toby, then so be it. “It was completely out of line to speak to you like that and accuse you of those horrible things. I don’t think that about you, and neither does Toby. He likes you, and you need to know that’s not easy for him. So please . . . you can hate me all you want. You can think I’m the biggest bitch this side of the Mason-Dixon. But please don’t let my brother suffer for my mistake. He’s suffered enough.”

  I sucked in a breath and waited for his reaction. Would he laugh? Would he humiliate me further by telling me to get out?

  “Dammit,” he muttered before running a hand through his jet-black hair.

  Breath held, heart racing, I watched as he came around his desk, closing the distance between us in just a few long strides. He still moved like a man who had full control of his body. As if he were comfortable in his skin. I envied that.

  Dominic stopped directly in front of me, leaving just inches between the tips of our shoes. It was closer than what was socially acceptable, but I didn’t step back. I didn’t retreat. Not then, and not now.

  “I could never hate you, Raven. Believe me, I tried.”

  His words were confusing, but his face wore a mask of resignation. As if he had given up—or given in—to whatever friction crackled between us. On one hand, it seemed like animosity. But on the other, there was sexual tension so thick you could slice it with a knife. I’d always felt it when in his company. And maybe Dom was feeling it too, after all this time.

  “Knock, knock, handsome!” a feminine, melodic voice trilled from behind us. I spun around just in time to see a beautiful brunette step past the threshold of the door. She looked at Dom, then me, then back to Dom. And as realization dawned on her, her mouth dropped into an O and her almond-shaped eyes grew twice in size. “Oh, uh . . . ? Oh!”

  “Kami,” Dom said, stepping around me as if I were nothing more than a pothole in his path. Embarrassed, my gaze dropped from the gorgeous woman’s stunned expression, and that’s when I realized . . .

  She was pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  And considering the way Dom rushed to her side and slipped an arm around her waist protectively . . . lovingly . . . it was his baby.

  Oh my God. Of course. Of course, he would have a stunningly exotic girlfriend. And, of course, she would be pregnant with his child. And, of course, I would be standing here, looking like a fucking idiot in duck-printed scrubs, thinking that there were remnants of the past still lingering between Dom and me.

  I heard him say, “Kami this is Raven. And Raven, this is—” But I didn’t let him get any further.

  “Yeah. Got it,” I mumbled through a tightly clenched jaw. I was hurt. I was humiliated. I was pissed at myself for doing this shit once again! What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with him? Why be so adamant about being around me if he had a girlfriend and a baby on the way this entire time? Oh, shit, could they actually be married? Ugh! That lying, cheating sack of shit!

  I collected what was left of my fractured pride and brushed past them both, not allowing my legs to stop moving until I was revving the engine of my car.

  Fuck Dominic Trevino. And I didn’t mean that in the way I wanted merely two minutes ago.

  “WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?” Kami asked, still watching the door just as I was.

  “I have no idea.” And I didn’t. I was just about to introduce Raven to Kam, maybe even invite her to join our standing Monday lunch date. I thought the two would really hit it off. Apparently not.

  “She seems . . .” I knew what she was thinking. Bitchy. Rude. Stuck up. “ . . . pretty.” Good ol’ Kam. Never one to make a snap judgment.

  “Yeah. She’s usually much . . .” Well, shit. I couldn’t say nicer. Raven was never nice. Tolerant, yes. Decent, ok. But nice? “ . . . more . . . polite?” Even I didn’t sound convinced.

  “Don’t you think you should go after her? You may be able to catch her if you run.”

  Me? Run after a chick? My name attached to that action didn’t even make sense.

  “When have you ever known me to run after a woman?”

  “Well, I’ve never seen you this intrigued by one you weren’t sleeping with either. Funny how that works, huh?” she smirked.

  Funny as fuck.

  “Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “Just let her go.”

  If only it were that easy.

  Today’s lunch special was BBQ brisket, and Mr. Bradley did not disappoint. We sat at the bar, shooting the shit with Blaine and CJ and listed potential names for Baby Jacobs, who was due for an appearance in only a couple short months. The proud parents had chosen to be surprised with the rest of us over the baby’s sex, so we had to be prepared for whenever he or she arrived.

  “Dude, you totally have to give your kid a badass name, especially if it’s a boy,” CJ said between unceremoniously shoving French fries into his mouth. “I’m talking Falcon or Hawk. Or how about Bullet?”

  We all just stared, waiting for him to break into guffaws and say, “Just kidding!” But he was dead ass serious.

  “We’re having a baby,” Blaine deadpanned. “Not a superhero.”

  “How do you know?” CJ retorted with a straight face.

  Blaine returned his unflinching stare for a good ten seconds before turning to the rest of us and announcing, “Well, that settles it. CJ is officially out of the running for god-parent.”

  “Thank God,” Kami mumbled beside me before swiping the pickle spear off my plate. She had already eaten hers and the three extra Mr. Bradley had added to her plate.

  “If it’s a boy, how about the name Luke?” Blaine offered as he fulfilled a drink order brought over by Lidia.

  Kami cringed. “Luke? As in Luke Skywalker? All I can imagine is Star Wars.”

  “Then how about Wyatt? Or Liam?”

  She made another face, expressing her disapproval at Blaine’s suggestions. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, is there a name you do like?” he asked, exasperation in his tone.

  “Well . . . I like the name Blaine,” Kam said meekly, her smile sweet and sheepish. “What if we named him after you?”

  The pride on B’s face shone like rainbow rays of prismatic sunlight. “Blaine Junior,” he mused, testing it out. “Yeah, I like that too.”

  “We can call him BJ for short!” his crude cousin added with boisterous laughter. Leave it up to CJ to turn baby names into something dirty. I was starting to believe that the guy genuinely lacked an Off switch.

  “Um, make that Blaine-the-second,” Kami corrected over CJ’s howls. Of course, he was the only one laughing at his dumb joke.

  Moments later, Angel strolled through the doors of Dive, her face somber and her eyes wet with watered down mascara. She leaned i
n to kiss both me and Kami on the cheek before sliding into the stool beside me. I reached over and took her hand, telling her that I was here for her, whatever the problem may be, but I wouldn’t press. And I damn sure wouldn’t ask her to rehash whatever shit was on her brain in a bar. I didn’t have to. The three of us were bonded so deeply, that those social nuances weren’t necessary. She knew I would be waiting to listen when she was ready. And if she needed me to be a punching bag, I could do that too.

  “Hey, I was thinking,” Kami said, switching everyone’s focus off Angel’s evident pain. “I want us to start getting together for dinner every week. We can take turns hosting and cooking. So since it’s my idea, how about dinner this Sunday? I’ll cook!”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was bombarded by appreciative hoots and hollers and even a few requests. Kami was half Filipina, and the girl could cook her ass off. Not just Asian food either. She was just a natural in the kitchen. A few weeks ago, she had even suggested a special once-a-week that would feature her famous pancit, adobo and lumpia. But of course, Blaine wouldn’t allow it right now. He wanted her off her feet as much as possible.

  “Great! So it’s settled. Dinner this Sunday.”

  “Aw, aren’t y’all sweet. Looks like my invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

  Damn.

  And we almost made it through an entire meal.

  We turned around to face Amanda, each of us displaying our irritation without remorse. She seemed not to see it, or maybe she just didn’t care. I had decided on the latter. Any person that delusional and self-absorbed didn’t give a damn about aggravating others.

  “But I have plans anyway,” she explained, as if someone had asked her a fucking question. “I ran into Kenneth Walters today. Remember him from high school, Blaine baby? Anyway, he’s a successful lawyer now, driving around in a Maserati, and he looks amazing. He asked me to join him on a Sunday drive down to this little vineyard he frequents. The weather is supposed to be beautiful, and you know I love to ride with the top down.”

  Barf.

  “Good for you,” Blaine stated flatly, not meaning any of it.

  “I told him it may not be a good idea, considering you and him weren’t the best of friends, and given our relationship—”

  “There is no relationship,” he corrected, his tone clipped.

  Amanda waved it off with a chuckle before twisting a lock of hair between her fingers. She wanted to believe it was a flirty move, but it was actually a sign of insecurity. “You know what I mean. Anyway, he assured me that you wouldn’t mind, considering that he was once very, very good friends with Miss Kami here. Isn’t that cute.”

  The smugness in her over-tanned face was the icing on the shit-filled cake that she had just served Kam. I was seething mad, and considering the heat I felt from both Angel and Kami on either side of me, I knew that shit was about to go down.

  Blaine wasn’t taking the bait. “And your point?”

  “Oh, just thought that was interesting, is all. Someone like him with someone like her.” She flipped her hair on the word her, which looked every bit like a dismissal.

  “Someone like her?” Angel sneered, her voice eerily calm. Oh fuck. I knew exactly what that meant. And considering she was already in a mood, this would not end well for poor, personality-stunted Amanda. “What the fuck do you mean, someone like her? Someone kind? Beautiful? Compassionate? Because you are fucking right that some pretentious dick-knuckle like Kenneth “Minute Man” Walters has no fucking business with a girl as amazing as Kami Duvall. Just ask Blaine baby over here. Obviously, he likes it. And that’s why he’s putting a ring on it.”

  Amanda reeled back like Angel had just slapped the taste out of her mouth. “What?”

  “What?” Kami gasped, just as stunned.

  My eyes darted from her to Angel, who had her hand clasped over her mouth, and then to Blaine, who was frozen in place, his eyes as wide as his mouth.

  “Daaaaaamn!” CJ howled, slapping his hand on the bar. It served as the war cry that set all hell loose.

  “You didn’t hear that!” Angel trilled at the same time Kami said, “I didn’t hear that!”

  Amanda demanded an explanation for Angel’s heinous claim, as if someone here actually gave a fuck enough to even remember she was still standing here. CJ continued to laugh his ass off. And I turned to a pale white Blaine to apologize on Angel’s behalf.

  I felt horrible. This was not how he wanted that news to come out. He had been waiting for the right time, and that time could not occur as long as Amanda was still sniffing around, trying to proposition him at every turn. She had tried it with me the first time I saw her, hoping to get him jealous, but I quickly shut her down, letting her know where my loyalties lie.

  “Dammit,” Blaine snapped, before throwing a dishtowel at CJ to shut him up. “You cover the bar.” When he looked at Kami next, his gaze softened immediately. He extended his palm to her. “And you . . . come with me.”

  Tentatively, Kami rose to her feet and slowly walked to the half door on the side of the bar. Blaine met her there and ushered her to the back room. They needed privacy, and as much as I wanted to stick around to find out if Blaine would officially pop the question, I needed to get WikiLeaks Cassidy out of here before she got another bout of verbal diarrhea. I pulled out a few bills and slapped them on the counter.

  “CJ, tell her I’ll call her later.” I didn’t have to specify her.

  Then I slid off the stool and went to stand before Amanda, a mocking grin on my face. “Your open case with social services . . . interesting. I happen to be tight with most of the staff over there. Be careful. All it takes is a phone call . . .”

  I didn’t even wait to witness the horror. I just grabbed Angel and got the hell out of there.

  “Open case? Social services?” she asked as soon as we burst through the door.

  I shook my head. “I was bluffing.” Just as I had bluffed with Raven. I had never passed Toby on to another mentor. But she didn’t need to know that. “But considering she didn’t refute, it tells me that she has one. Hopefully that’ll be the motivation she needs to quit coming around.”

  “Genius, Trevino,” Angel mused, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You’re a fucking genius.”

  “And you’re a fucking Chatty Cathy. Seriously, Ang?”

  “I know, I know,” she groaned, smacking her forehead. “Shit, I wasn’t even thinking. I fucked up.”

  “You did. But your ass-chewing is going to have to wait. Some of us have jobs to get to.” I leaned over and pressed my lips to the soft skin of her cheek, tasting the salty remains of tears. “We’ll talk tonight, but I have an errand to run after work. Think you can meet me?”

  “Sure. Where?”

  I ignored her question and simply said, “Bring singles.”

  Judging by the wicked gleam in her eye, no further explanation was necessary.

  YOU’D THINK MOFOS HAD better things to do on a Monday night than be holed up in a strip club. But nope. They were here—which was why I was here—balancing a tray of drinks while wearing something I’d probably wear to the beach. And to top it all off, I was still reeling from the news of Dominic being very taken by his very pregnant girlfriend/wife/significant other/what-the-fuck-ever. So as usual, I was in a mood. But at least Toby was back to not hating me, so that was a plus. Actually, it was the only thing that was keeping me going at this point, and the reason why I put up with this bullshit job.

  I never wanted to work in a strip club, but being a student by day and raising a kid meant that my options were limited. And say what you want, but pervy guys were good tippers. So I did what I had to do to pay the bills, even if it did make me feel like I had bathed in the sweat, spooge and shimmery body oil every night.

  “Hey, love. What’s up?” Velvet greeted me, as I loaded my tray with beers for a table full of guys in suits. They looked nice enough on the outside but had been way inappropriate. I had had to
slap a few hands already.

  “Nothing much,” I sighed before nodding at the table in question. “Dickhead alert.”

  Velvet turned around to catch one of them pretending to deep throat an invisible cock. His friends cracked up like it was comedic genius and not something baby pricks did in middle school. She shook her head and looked back at me with a frown. “Did you tell Tiny?” Tiny was one of our bouncers, and at 6’7 and pushing 300 pounds, he was anything but tiny.

  “Nah. They’re just assholes. Hopefully, they’ll drink their bottled piss and go home to their wives soon.”

  “Well, if they keep bothering you, don’t put up with that shit. You know Tiny will have them shitting themselves in a heartbeat. It’s been a while since he’s had a good barney.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “You Brits and your verbiage.”

  “Well, this Brit is going to set you up this weekend. You need a date, love. I love you, but you get pissier and pissier every day.”

  “Not this again,” I groaned, hoisting the tray on my shoulder. “I am not going out on a date with a guy you’ve slept with. That is just skeevy as hell.”

  “It’s not like that! Honest!”

  I rolled my eyes and peered over at the table of guys who stared back expectantly, thirsty for both the beer and the opportunity to harass me some more. “Look, we’ll talk about this later. The longer I stand here and stall, the more those idiots will ogle me from across the club.”

  “Ok. But we will talk about it.” Then she pecked me on the cheek before slinking towards the exit, hips swinging.

  I braced myself before scurrying over to the table, eager to get it over with. As I expected, the guys started in on me as soon as I got in earshot. I didn’t get it—they had a whole club-full of naked, available tits to stare at. Tits that wanted their attention. So why were they ogling mine? I mean, they were pretty decent tits, but they were nothing like the huge racks on display.