Page 13 of Restore Me

As if I could.

“Chase, honey. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, okay?” Mal’s voice is sugary sweet, but I can tell she’s been rubbed the wrong way by his lack of consideration too. She presses a kiss to his cheek then smiles at me and Dominic. “You guys ready?”

I nod. I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this club. Mal waltzes over and takes our hands in her own, breaking the contact so she can step in between us and link our arms together. She looks up at Dominic, ready to fire off a thousand questions at him as we walk out.

Warm summer air caresses my skin as we step onto the sidewalk. It’s late, at least two in the morning, but the street is still buzzing with people. Groups of friends who are staggering into another club. Their laughter filtering through the night. I’m staring a little too hard at a couple devouring each other on the corner when Mal finally lands on a question.

“Anyone want to tell me what the hell happened?”

Dominic fixes her with a hard stare. It’s clear to me he’s still pissed, that there’s reckless anger still simmering in his veins, but Mal doesn’t seem to register it.

“Not now, Mal.”

It’s a clipped, gruff response. Something I’ve rarely seen him give her. Usually, when she speaks, he’s all warm indulgence and brotherly annoyance, but I guess he doesn’t have the capacity for it tonight. Not when he still has violence swirling in the inky depths of his eyes.

Mal must realize it isn’t smart to push him any further because she lets go of his arm and turns to me. Her soft, brown eyes assessing. “Are you okay?”

A mixture of guilt and concern has her brows furrowed. It tugs on my heart and brings my need to reassure her to the surface. I give her arm a gentle squeeze and nod. “Yeah. A little shaken up, but okay.”

Or at least I will be. As soon as I get home and scrub my skin raw, so I can no longer feel the man’s hands on me.

“I should have been there with you. I would have kicked the bastard in the balls.”

The image of Mal sinking her red bottoms into that man’s crotch makes me smile. I know in my heart of hearts she wouldn’t have hesitated to do that. Just like Dominic didn’t hesitate to put the man on his ass the second he saw his hands on me.

“Of course, you would have.” I smile over at her, letting her see she doesn’t need to worry. “But I think what Dominic did to him was a lot more memorable than a kick to the balls.”

I chance a glance at him to see if he heard me, but he’s walking ahead of us now. Hands shoved in his pockets, spine straight as a board as he leads us away from the club. I have no idea where he’s going but I’m not about to question him.

This night is just full of surprises.

Mal gives me an impressed look. “Shit. Did he actually hit the guy?”

“He punched him. Twice.” I’m whispering. Hyper aware of Dominic’s presence in front of us. I don’t know if he wants me to give Mal a play-by-play of his heroic efforts. “And then he choked him. I think the guy might have passed out.”

She stops walking. “He did what?”

Her shrill tone makes me glad I didn’t mention the part where Dominic threatened to find and kill the man if he ever thought about what it felt like to touch me. Just thinking about the dark thread of danger that was his voice when he said those words makes my knees weak.

“It was bad, Mal. He was so angry, and the guy just wouldn’t stop talking. Then the security guard came and instead of helping, he just made it worse. I had to stop Dominic from knocking him to the ground.”

“Nic? Our Nic?” She throws an astonished glance up the street to him. He’s stopped walking too. The picture of impatience as he taps his foot on the sidewalk, silently telling us to come on. Mal starts moving again, pulling me along with her.

“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I’ve never seen him throw a punch. Ever.” She purses her lips like she’s searching her memory to make sure her statement is accurate. “You know how he grew up. He’s not exactly a fan of physical violence.”

That’s right. Somewhere in the back of my mind, where I store all of my knowledge of Dominic, a file on his tumultuous childhood pops up. It’s full of facts shared with me by Eric or Mal in their crusade to help me understand him better. The most important fact is highlighted in neon yellow: Dominic’s father was an abusive drunk.

An angry man who lied, cheated, and beat his wife and son every chance he got. The only good thing Gabriel Alexander ever did was allow his son to spend time at the Kent home. Where he learned not everyone used their fists to express their feelings and decided he would never be the kind of man who did.

But tonight, he abandoned all of that. For me.

“Right…I guess that kind of goes out the window when you see a woman being dragged into a dark corner by a creepy stranger.”

We’re catching up to Dominic now. Only a few steps behind him as he turns into a parking lot. His strides are quicker now. Smooth, quick steps that eat up the pavement as he approaches his car, a midnight black Range Rover that matches his eyes. Mal leads me to the passenger side.

“Do you want to get in front, Sloane?” It’s a question, but she already has the back door pulled open and one leg in the car.

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