Supernova (31 page)

Gabe ran out onto the porch in his sleepwear. “What in the name of Ricky-Martin-
finally
-coming-out-of-the-closet is going on!?” he screeched.

“They took her.” Dominic’s reply was short. He stormed past him and back into the house.

“Wait, what? Who took her?” Gabe asked, scurrying behind him. Dominic took two steps at a time back to his room, ignoring him.

“Dominic, stop!” he yelled.

Dominic turned to face him. His chest heaved in anger. The look on his face made Gabe take a couple of steps back from him in fear. He didn’t mean to take his anger and frustration out on him, but he needed to get to her, and Gabe was only slowing him down.

“First of all, don’t you look at me in that tone of voice,” Gabe said, waving his finger in the air as he rolled his head on his shoulders. He walked back toward Dominic and put his hands on his hips. “And secondly, who took my Kerr Bear?”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to bring her back,” he said without answering his question.

Dominic grabbed his Doc Martins and slipped them on, not even bothering with a shirt. He scribbled something down on the notepad from his dresser and ripped the top sheet off, giving it to Gabe. “If Kerrigan isn’t back by tomorrow morning, call this number and ask to speak to Ricardo. He’ll know what to do.”

He grabbed his keys and Kerrigan’s cell phone and ran back down the stairs. Gabe ran after him with his limp wrists flailing in the air and Millie jumping at his feet.

“Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll rally the troops and meet you there!” Gabe called after Dominic as he headed toward the garage. He was a man on a mission.

“I’ve got this, Gabe. Just wait here, and I’ll bring her back,” he called back and then disappeared into the garage.

A moment later, the roar of an engine echoed through the night air. The Barracuda pulled out of the garage, peeled out of the driveway, and shot like a bullet down the street. Once on the road, Dominic pulled out Kerrigan’s cell phone and dialed a number he knew by heart even though it had been over a year since he had done so.

“Who is this, and how did you get my number?” the thick Latin accent answered.

“Ricardo, it’s me, Dominic. I know it’s been a while, but I need your help.”

“Dom! Dios mio, I thought you were muerto,” Ricardo chuckled.

“I know. I’m sorry, but some pretty heavy shit has been going down, and I’ve had to lay low for a while,” Dominic said, hoping the pleasantries would end soon so they could get down to business.

“No worries, socio. You’ve always been very loyal to me. So tell me. How can I help?”

Dominic exhaled, relieved that he could depend on his mentor. He was probably the only person, outside of Availia and Kerrigan, he felt like he could trust. He gave Ricardo the short version of what happened, leaving out the details he knew would be hard to swallow, even for a superstitious fool like him. Ricardo had always had his eye on Dominic’s Colt 1911, so he offered it in exchange for his guarantee that he if he received a phone call from Gabe saying that Kerrigan hadn’t shown up, he would take care of Sinclair and her entire coven.

“I will unleash a fury such as they have never known. Every one of them, muerto by nightfall. You have my word, consorte,” Ricardo assured him.

Dominic gave him instructions on where he could find the gun and bid his acquaintance farewell. He had very little time before the stroke of midnight, and although he was sure he would still be able to drive the car, he didn’t really want to risk his baby. Not to mention, anyone passing him on the street at that late hour would surely think they had lost their mind.

Kerrigan was trapped. Her mind, once opened to worlds where inexplicable and extraordinary things could and had happened, had become her prison. There was no Light to be found, only darkness. There were no miracles, no magic, no fantasies, but most frightening of all, there was no Dominic. Mentally, she pushed and strained against the confines of the darkness, hoping to find some light, struggling to find him.

She had no idea how long she had been in that state, but it felt like forever. She could hear muffled voices in the distance, but none of them were the deep, sultry voice she depended on to lead her to him, the source of her inner Light. The voices were talking about her. She could clearly hear her name. One female and one male. She thought she recognized the man’s voice, but she wasn’t coherent enough to be sure.

She couldn’t see, she could only barely hear, but her other senses were heightened. Her skin was coated in a light sheen of wetness. She had lived in Chicago long enough to recognize the feeling. It was like walking through a low-lying cloud, a dense fog.

A hand brushed the hair off of her neck before a warm breath blew across the shell of her ear. “Wake up, my little piggy bank.” Kerrigan nearly puked in her mouth at the odor that assaulted her olfactory sense. If she dove headfirst into a dumpster full of fish heads and chum, the stench wouldn’t be as torturous.

She didn’t have to see him to know who it was. She would know that stench anywhere.

“Jackson, you must have one hell of a death wish. Dominic is going to kill you when he gets his hands on you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the female voice sang. “I mean, I’m definitely hoping he’ll try, because that means he’d have to be here to attempt it. But, I’m pretty sure I can handle him.”

Every muscle in Kerrigan’s body tensed as she struggled against the restraints that were holding her in place. She knew that voice almost as well as she knew the stench of Jackson’s breath. It had been embedded in her mind since the night of the bonfire. The question was: What were they doing there together?

“You can take the stupid blindfold off. It’s not like I don’t know who you are.”

She felt fine hairs pulling at the back of her neck while clumsy fingers worked on the knot of the blindfold until it fell away. Kerrigan blinked her eyes a few times to adjust to the sparse light. Jackson was in her face, breathing on her with his mouth partially opened, his own face hideously swollen and bruised.

“Don’t worry, Kerri, baby.” He smiled at her. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll be back to my handsome self in no time. Did you have a nice nap?”

“What are you doing here, Jackson?” She yanked her head back in a fruitless effort to avoid his putrid breath. Her hands and feet were tied together in front of her, or she would have kicked him in his fake face and maybe cause a little more damage.

Jackson backed away, allowing her to take a much needed breath of fresh air. She looked around, finding she was surrounded by headstones of different sizes and shapes. She was sitting on the ground, the grass not quite wet, but she could feel the dampness of the mist that had settled on it seep through the thin material of her shorts. Her back was pressed against a tree, the bark scraping her skin through Dominic’s wife beater. There was a platform grave marker in front of her with candles stationed at each corner like an altar. The name Drake D’Mon was carved sharply into the hard granite. She knew that name, yet she couldn’t quite place where she knew it from.

“A graveyard, Jackson? You brought me to a graveyard?” She snorted. “You couldn’t have been any more cliché if you took me to an abandoned warehouse. Untie me.”

“The graveyard was my idea.” Sinclair slinked up next to Jackson and ran her black nails through the hair on the top of his head as if he were her child. “Actually, it was pretty much a requirement for the deal Jackson and I made.”

“What deal? Jackson, what the hell is she talking about?”

“I came for you,” Jackson said, leaning into Sinclair’s touch. “I came to get you back. I lost everything when I went back to Chicago. My job, my car…everything. And it was all your fault! You owe me. I put way too much time and effort into you to let you leave me empty-handed!”

“There, there, Jackson,” Sinclair cooed. She turned back to Kerrigan. “I found Jackson, beaten and bruised, on your front lawn. He looked like he could use a friend, and I felt sorry for him. When I asked him what happened, he told me all about how you discarded him and left him without a penny to his name. Then, to add insult to injury, you got your new lover to beat him within an inch of his life.”

Sinclair clicked her tongue at Kerrigan in a chastising manner. “That wasn’t very nice of you. You Cruz women act all high and mighty, like you can do no wrong, yet here you are, breaking this poor man’s heart and inflicting physical pain on him. Violence is never the answer, Kerrigan.”

“You would’ve come back to me if it wasn’t for that asshole!” Jackson spat, his face twisted in disgust. “I was willing to take you back and forget any of this ever happened between us. Instead of minding his own business, that freak seduced you and turned you against me. I’m not leaving here without you.”

Kerrigan tried to reason with him. “Jackson, even if Dominic wasn’t in the picture, I still wouldn’t leave. I don’t want to be with you. Why can’t you understand that and just move on?”

“Because you owe me!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Kerrigan jumped, startled. “When we’re done here, you’re leaving with me. First thing in the morning, we’re going to go by your bank, you’re going to withdraw everything, and then you and I are going to elope and disappear forever.”

Sinclair smiled. “And, I’m going to make sure that happens.”

“Why do you even care?” Kerrigan asked.

“I just want to see some wrongs righted. You see, something, some
one
who was near and dear to my heart was taken away from me, too. Well, two people were taken from me, and I know I can’t get one of them back, but I can and will get the other one. Unfortunately, my means for doing that was stolen from me.”

She narrowed her eyes at Kerrigan and her voice turned to venom. “Dominic. I need him to get what I want, and
you
stole him from me. Well, I suppose it was that bitch, Availia, who took him first, but she handed him off to you like he was some sort of family heirloom. Pfft, pathetic,” she said with an eye roll.

Kerrigan was a pretty tolerant person, especially when dealing with someone who was obviously mentally unstable, but Sinclair calling Grammy a bitch, didn’t sit well with her. She tried to lunge at her, but her restraints wouldn’t budge. Sinclair and Jackson only laughed at her feeble attempt.

“My grandmother was the kindest, most tolerant person I have ever known,” she said through clenched teeth. “Please don’t fool yourself into believing that I have as much restraint as she.”

Sinclair gasped mockingly with her fingers over her lips. “Oh my! Was that a threat? I do believe she just threatened me, Jackie.”

“It’s Jackson,” he huffed.

“Whatever.” Sinclair dismissed him with a wave of her hand and walked over to a headstone where a black crow with odd colored eyes sat. She cooed and made kissy faces at the bird as if it were a puppy.

“What do you want with Dominic?” Kerrigan asked, frustrated.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Sinclair asked, and then understanding donned on her face. “He hasn’t told you, has he? You have no clue who, or what, he is.”

The cracking of a tree limb sounded in the distance, drawing Sinclair’s attention away. She stared in that direction for a few moments, shushing Jackson when he started to talk so she could better hear.

“Well, it looks like you’re about to find out, my clueless friend. This is going to be too good.” Sinclair went to stand behind her and grabbed the hair on the back of Kerrigan’s head, forcing her to crane her neck. She could feel cold steel pressed against the flesh covering her throat, and her heart began to race with fear.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Sinclair sang into the night air. “I know you’re there. You’ve been slithering around out there all night. Show yourself, Dominic!”

Dominic watched from a few feet away. He had managed to make it there as they were securing Kerrigan’s unconscious body to the tree, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since. There really wasn’t much he could do until dawn, a few short moments away. Kerrigan was still in the dark about what he was for the time being, but apparently, Sinclair was not. It had never even registered to him Sinclair might know what he was, but of course she would. It’s the reason Availia died that night. They knew where he was all along, and Availia died protecting him.

“You either show yourself, or I’ll kill her!” Sinclair shouted.