Page 48 of The Dominator

I couldn’t catch my breath; I was hyperventilating. I couldn’t settle down. I was gasping and I was going to throw up. Until now I knew Tommy Ferrano was scary, crazy scary, but I had no idea he was this horrifying.

“Pull over; I’m gonna puke.” I always threw up when I got super stressed.

He pushed his foot down and the car started moving even faster. I put my head in my hands, leaned forward and took a succession of slow and deep breaths, but it was no use, whatever was in my stomach was coming up,

“Pull over!” I hollered, and started to wretch, the puke came up into my throat and I managed to stop it from going projectile all over the windshield. I yanked off my seatbelt. He slammed on the brakes, jerking me forward, making me bump my head on the dashboard. I shoved open the door and he reached for my arm, but I shrugged him off and got my head out and threw up all over the road.

After a minute, once I was sure there was nothing else coming up, I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes. I wish I’d had the nerve and the strength to run. But, he had a gun. A gun.

Fuck my life.

He sat for a minute and in my peripheral vision I could see his chest was heaving. Finally, he let go of the hem of my dress, which I hadn’t realized he had in his grasp. Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number, then put it to his ear, opening the glove box with his free hand and flinging a stack of napkins in my direction.

“Dare? Yeah. Tell Pop I can’t make dinner. No. Yeah. Yup. Right, bye.”

Then he dialed again. “Earl? You there yet? Yeah, I’ve got her. We’re on our way there. See you in fifteen. You have back-up? Still? Whatever, just keep a watchful eye. I’ll see you soon.”

He started the car and then leaned over me. I flinched but he just fastened my seatbelt and then we were back on the road. I was relieved to not have to meet his family and sit at a table with them, pretending nothing was wrong.

What I was not relieved about was getting to the master bedroom, the place that had become my torture chamber. Because even when he wasn’t torturing my body, he was torturing my brain.

The ride was quiet, but the air was thick with tension. Tommy’s face was stone cold and he was white-knuckled all the way back to his house. I was petrified and wished I could either just disappear into thin air, or that we’d get pulled over and get a speeding ticket so that I could beg the cop to rescue me from this maniac.

The gate at his place opened and the car squealed to a halt. I saw Earl with a frown on his face. He looked at Tommy, then me, and I swear I saw what looked like pity. Tommy and I both got out of the car and just as I was about to round the front of the car, Earl approached me from the side. His hand came up over my mouth and I was being pulled backwards. I caught Tommy’s expression and the look on his face was utterly murderous.

I heard a loud bang. Oh God, that was Earl shooting at Tommy! Tommy hit the ground, halfway behind his car, produced his gun, and fired it in our direction. Earl fired back at Tommy and Tommy’s gun hit the ground. I saw a man come up from around the back of the house and Earl shot him. A dark red hole formed on that guy’s forehead and the man fell face-first onto the ground.

I was dragged backwards past the gate and tossed into the back seat of a big, older car out on the street. I heard a few more shots.

There were two men in the car with Earl and me. What on Earth? Earl had a gunshot wound in his shoulder. Were they rescuing me? I looked at Earl, confused. He leaned over in the back seat of the car, wincing. There was another man on my left side, a slim Black man with a mustache, and there was a man in the front seat driving who sort of looked like the Machete movie actor, Danny something or another. Tall, Mexican, long ponytail. But younger.

“Are you rescuing me?” I asked.

The driver spoke. “Be quiet, miss. All will be revealed.”

* * *

They drove to the airport. The airport? Then we drove into a hangar and there was a lot going on: people rushing everywhere, forklifts; it was mayhem. I was ushered into a big white plane with no lettering. There were only a few seats in the back; the rest of it was wide open with just a few skids that were shrink-wrapped on it.

“Are you rescuing me, Earl?” I asked again.

The slim Black guy ripped Earl’s shirt sleeve off and was inspecting the wound on his shoulder.

“Good, there’s an exit wound.” He reported and pulled out a first-aid kit.

Earl closed his eyes and shook his head as the door to the plane was closed. “Afraid not, Miss O’Connor.”

The Mexican guy pulled a gun and put it on his lap, giving me a look that shook me to my core. Oh no.

“What?” All the air left my lungs.

“Ferranos have enemies,” the guy working on Earl’s arm said, glancing up at me. “A lot of enemies. The fiancée of Tommy Ferrano is an extremely valuable commodity.”

“Earl?”

Why did I keep looking to him? I thought we’d sort of bonded over tea. There wasn’t much of any conversation or anything like that, but he’d had kind eyes. He’d been sort of nice to me. He was working for Tommy’s enemies? Was Tommy dead after those gunshots? He glanced in my direction, pain on his face.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

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