Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

He seems kinda smarmy and talks to Dominick like they’re old pals, even making it seem like he’s a big shot. Maybe he is, but Dom doesn’t seem impressed.

“And you found out about the shipment when?”

Pete flushes a little but answers. “Got word about a bit of trouble earlier today, but wasn’t sure it was real until we actually saw the truck.”

Dominick purses his lips, pinching his left shirt cuff to pluck off an invisible piece of lint, and when he answers, his voice is emotionless.

“I see. So you had intel but didn’t feel the need to tell me. Instead, you decided to choose your own course of action, also without authorization. Have you forgotten that there’s a proper way to do things? Seems you’re taking a lot of liberties. Just like these guys.”

Without warning, Dominick’s right foot pistons out, kicking who I’m guessing is Chambers dead in his chest. He’s knocked back, rolling over, but Dom’s foot meets him in the gut, driving the wind out of him. Though it’s Chambers on the ground coughing and moaning, the threat is obviously to Pete and everyone knows it.

“I was watching my South Side, like I’m supposed to,” Pete says defensively, still trying to sound strong but wilting by the word. “My guys stopped the truck, like I told them to.”

He’s emphasizing everything about this seeming like his territory . . . me, my, I’m, which feels dangerous. East Robinsville’s Dominick’s, not his. He’s just the store manager.

“Dom, I knew it was a big night at the club and I didn’t want to interrupt your night of dancing,” he says, more than a little disrespect in his eyes as he glances at me. In that moment, it’s apparent that he knows exactly who I am by the way he leers at me.

Though I’m fully dressed in sweats, I’ve never felt more naked, which pisses me off. I glare back, my fists bunching at my sides, telling him with my eyes to fuck off and hoping Dominick tells him out loud because I’m not real sure of the rules here.

Not that I’ve ever been one for rule following.

“Fuck you, Pete,” I say, disrespect and dismissal dripping from the words.

There’s a tiny piece of me that acknowledges it’s a stupid thing to do, but I’m secretly curious how Dom is going to respond.

My heart leaps as I see the slightest uptick of his lips, not a smile, but enough of one that I know he approves of my outburst and might even be a little amused.

But when he turns back to Pete, there is no smile and his neutrally impassive expression has given way to a clenched jaw and stormy eyes.

“It seems that you’re getting a false sense of your importance, your power,” Dominick says, pulling everyone’s attention back to him. “That’s something I can’t have. I have given you some slack because of your experience, but let me be clear. You are a pawn trying to claim a crown that doesn’t fit. I let you ‘run’ the South Side as my eyes and ears, but in doing so, you are to share that insight so that I can actually do something with it. Perhaps stop us from having an evening like this at all. Something avoidable with a single phone call.”

Dominick tsks as he steps closer to Pete, who’s watching with true fear in his eyes now. In a blur of movement, Dominick backhands him across the face, his ring popping the skin open at the point of contact as a thin line of blood instantly appears.

I gasp, my hands covering my mouth as my eyes shoot wide open.

I feel Logan place one staying hand on my shoulder, lightly but enough to remind me that this is a test, as much for me as it is for Dominick.

Pete wipes his cheek, and though he’s cowering slightly, I can see the fury in his eyes. Dominick leans into Pete, forcing him to tilt back and putting him at a disadvantage. His voice is cold and sharp, cutting through the night air like a laser.

“Do not fool yourself, Pete. We are not friends. This is not your territory, and these are not your men. Everything you see, everything you eat, everything you touch . . . it’s mine.”

Pete starts to say something but freezes when Dominick cuts his eyes over to the three guys with guns. Instantly, they point their weapons at Pete.

To his credit, Pete stands tall in the face of the threat, head held high, but his retreat is complete as he takes a step back and adjusts his jacket lapels.

“My apologies, sir. Won’t happen again, Mr. Angeline.”

The moment stretches, and I’m holding my breath, waiting for the sharp cracking pop from my nightmares, the sound of a pistol going off and someone suddenly blooming red from some part of their body. But the silence holds as Dominick stares Pete down, searching his face for something, and whatever it is, he must see it because he relaxes incrementally and the tension in the small group lowers.