Page 61 of Full Throttle

He twisted his neck, looking at me with sadness in his eyes. “It gets crazier. My dad passed away on the same street, almost in the same spot, from a heart attack.”

I tried very hard to school my features. That was crazy. What the hell?

A depressing chuckle came from him. “Yeah, I know. It’s insane.”

Silence settled between us like a heavy winter snow.

Then, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I stepped forward suddenly to wrap my arms around him. I was a tall woman, but he was tall man, and my head fit right underneath his chin. When our bodies collided, he staggered back slightly, only causing my arms to tighten around his middle. “I’m so sorry about your dad,” I told him in a broken whisper.

Instantly, his arms wrapped around me. “It’s alright,” he told me. After a few more moments, I let him go, stepping back as he gave me something special. “I don’t take her out much because she’s a piece of him, and if I were to do something to lose this piece of him, the only part of him I have left…” He trailed off, his throat working.

My eyes began to sting. “You don’t have to explain anything else to me,” I assured softly. “I apologize for prying.”

Dontell shot me a look. “You’re family. You’re allowed to pry.”

All I could was nod, feelings swarming around me like sharks in a deep sea of humanity. In my gut, I knew he read me, and for my benefit, he changed the subject. “So, how long have you had the Mazda?”

“Since I landed in Denver a few years ago,” I answered.

“And before that?”

I smiled, walking back to his toolbox. “A little Honda my dad bought me.”

“Are you close with your family?”

Looking over my shoulder, I nodded. “My dad, yes.”

About a year after I’d left Detroit, my father finally moved out of that house, leaving my mother to suffer in her own damn misery. They were still married, and he still provided for her, but he had his own life. Divorce was never going to be an option for him, because, despite everything, he still loved her.

Dontell nodded, not asking anything else, which I was grateful for.

For the next few hours, while Mina was in the house working on a project and Cleo was sleeping, we worked on the Camero and his Porsche.

All the while, Cain sat in the back of my mind.

Chapter Thirteen

Cain

I stood outside of Dontell’s house, leaning against my car, ready to light a cigarette.

There was a rule I made for myself when it came to smoking—I only smoked if I needed to take a life. Tonight, I wasn’t taking a life. Everyone in the house in front of me meant something to me—including the pain in my ass known as Dominique Wells.

The temperature was dropping by the hour, winter not showing any signs of letting up. I was freezing my fucking ass off, waiting for the light in the living room to go out. It was after midnight, and I’d been stewing all day. This morning, after working on Sullie’s generator for over an hour, the power came back on throughout the whole street. Relief had washed over me, and I’d rushed back up to the loft to check on Dominique.

Imagine my fucking surprise when I found her gone.

Now, I was here, waiting to drag her ass back.

I looked away from the house to study the cigarette I’d been twisting in my fingers for the last twenty-minutes, my phone beginning to vibrate in my pocket. Taking that as a sign, I tucked the cig behind my ear and pulled out my phone.

Mina calling.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Sup, traitor?” I greeted, keeping my voice neutral.

“I—I know you didn’t just call me that,” Mina snapped.

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