Page 43 of Hard Wired

Chapter Fourteen

Dominic woke on a cold, hard floor. His head was fuzzy, and his stomach was in knots.

He would’ve spent most of the night prowling the hallways, but Maureen had asked him to sleep on the floor beside her bed. He’d offered to put her up in a hotel after the police finally left, but she’d refused.

There had been a small chance he could get permission to stay somewhere else himself, despite his bail restrictions. But nobody had seemed to have the answers or any interest in seeking them out.

The officers hadn’t arrested him for the weapons they found, either. So maybe they’d split the difference by just letting him stay put.

He’d called an emergency repairman to secure the door the SWAT team busted in, and he and Maureen had barricaded themselves in her bedroom.

Dominic had slept with another gun under his pillow. The police hadn’t found them all.

He kicked off the blanket and got up, stretching his back. Maureen was still asleep. But she sat up as soon as he started moving the armoire he’d placed in front of her door.

“Dominic?”

“Sorry. I need to go to my room. I should get cleaned up.”

“You go ahead. I’ll do the same, and then make breakfast. We’ll do better if we keep to our routines.” She waved him away.

Dominic didn’t know exactly what this day would bring, but he was sure it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

At least he’d gotten in touch with Raymond and knew his brother was safe.

When Dominic had first seen the blood painted on that door… He shivered at the memory. He hadn’t even allowed himself to face the possibility that the blood belonged to his brother.

Thankfully, a forensics team had quickly determined the blood came from a pig, rather than a human.

Of course, he hadn’t told Raymond about the blood during their phone conversation. He hadn’t even mentioned that someone had tried to shoot him. But he’d reminded his brother to be careful and not trust anyone, not even people who claimed to be family.

Dominic felt completely helpless. He’d never had much control over his own life, not really. But this uncertainty was worse than anything he’d experienced before.

And then the texts with Sylvie last night—those had really driven the knife in. He’d predicted she’d probably want to stay away from him. But it hurt to know for certain.

He’d sounded like an asshole, pretending he could help with the computer thing. She’d seen right through him. But the real life threat had been so much worse.

If those men had wanted to get into the house to hurt Sylvie or Maureen, they could’ve done it. They’d simply chosen not to. The attack was proof they could do whatever they wanted to the people he cared about when he least expected it.

But Dominic still didn’t even know if Uncle Charles had been behind it, or what the man might want from him.

All he could do was wait to find out.

* * *

His first visitorsarrived around ten in the morning: two prosecutors from the West Oaks District Attorney’s Office.

Maureen answered the bell. Dominic walked in from the living room, where he’d been nervously flipping through cable channels.

The DA, Stephen Abrams, walked into the entryway, followed by Lana Marchetti, his second in command. Lana nodded at him. They’d spoken several times, though not in person.

He’d flirted with Lana in the past, shamelessly, but he’d been putting on a show, pretending that nothing really got to him. Better to seem like a jerk than let them guess how freaked out he’d been over the arrest and what happened after. But Dominic had helped Lana, too, so he hoped she might be willing to hear his side of things.

But Dominic was far less encouraged to see his former attorney, Aaron Sandford, stroll in behind them.

“What are you doing here?”

Dominic had been looking at Sandford, who just a few days ago had threatened him on his Uncle Charles’s behalf. But it was the district attorney who answered.

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