On the Edge of Love (Mama's Brood Book 1) (14 page)

“He probably was.”

“I felt sick on the stomach whenever he came around, so Dom told him he was making me nervous. The next thing I know, me and Dom are watching a movie one night, and Zeus shows up out of the blue with a tub of popcorn. He hands it to me, sits down between me and Dom, and says, ‘Make him happy; you’re safe. You leave; all bets are off.’ After that, everything was less tense. I knew Dom was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Zeus said you were divorced.”

“We are.”

She wanted to ask why they divorced when they were still obviously together but was more curious about the role Zeus played in their lives. “Were you afraid Zeus would hurt you when you divorced?”

“It was a concern. He’s mad unpredictable, but by that time I figured we had enough of a connection he wouldn’t do anything. Plus, I wasn’t in a place to care what Zeus was going to do. During that time I was so angry and confused I didn’t care about very many things.” She smiled conspiratorially and said, “I told Zeus to stay out of grown folks business and let Dom and I get through what we needed to go through to get back right again.”

Sabrina wanted to know how two people who seemed to love each other got to the point of ending a marriage yet stayed in a committed relationship, but K.C. bounded up the three steps and opened the screen door. Sabrina only got a glimpse of the room as she trudged up the stairs. She remembered Samantha coaching her for years to be nice, to smile, to not make people angry. The first time the county tried to set up fost-adopt parents for them, Sabrina was about five and Sam seven. Sabrina had learned being difficult and defiant went a long way in destroying placements and eventually getting them sent back to their mother. She hoped to hell the control she’d developed at her sister’s urging all those years ago would help her fake an appropriately pleasant response to K.C.’s home.

Sabrina plastered what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face as she stepped into a small room. The pretend smile faded away as she took in an office that was more stylish and functional than the one Sabrina worked in at her job.

“Out there,” K.C. said, pointing to Dominic’s workshop, “that’s Dom’s home away from home, but
this
is my home within a home. This is where the rubber meets the road, baby.”

“Wow,” Sabrina said, looking around. “I thought it was going to be a dump in here.”

K.C.’s expression turned bemused. “I believe you and Zeus have more in common than I first thought.”

“We really don’t. You have to admit, from the outside this place looks a little dilapidated.”

“From the outside it looks a
lot
dilapidated. The exterior will be the final part of the renovations. If you had been here when we first moved, it would have been your worst nightmare.”

She showed Sabrina around the house, and for the second time in as many days, Sabrina found herself in a place that had the feeling of comfort and care. K.C.’s style ran more toward the tropical forest browns and greens and wide spaces of her Pacific Islander heritage, yet both she and Almaya had succeeded in making the places they lived home.

“Come on. Let’s get back out there before Zeus comes looking for you.”

As they passed through the kitchen, K.C. pulled four bottles of water from the fridge, handing two to Sabrina. Inside the workshop, Zeus and Dom hovered over a lineup of blades on what appeared to be a thick limestone tabletop.

Zeus waved her over, and she gave him a bottle of water as he placed his hand against the small of her back, guiding her to the center of the table.

“This one or this one?” he asked, pointing at two blades that looked similar, but one looked more like Zeus’s black dagger she liked so much, so she pointed to that one.

“Told him you would choose that one,” Zeus said as Dom pushed a leather sheathing case toward them. Zeus handed it to her.

“Ok, choose between this one and this one,” Dom directed her, pushing two more blades forward. These blades were double-edged and with some serration, but one, the one with prettier designs engraved into the flat of the blade, appeared to be more feminine. The other was the same blade without the ornamentation. She chose the basic one because she believed Zeus would think she’d choose the blade with the design.

When she chose, Dom cursed and Zeus smiled, which essentially was a slight muscle pull at the corner of one side of his mouth.

“She’s contrary,” Zeus told Dom. “She wouldn’t want me to be right two times. I can read her.” He picked up the adorned blade and handed it to her, Dom handing her the sheath at the same time.

“That’s not the blade I chose,” she said.

“No, but it’s the one you like. Take it.”

He placed the pretty, slender blade in her hand, and it irritated her, but she was woman enough to admit he was right. She did like this blade more.

“Okay, Sabrina, last one. You have to help me redeem my reputation here,” Dom said, pointing to the last two blades.

These two were both considerably bigger than the previous choices, at half the length of her arm. Again the blades had a certain similarity, as if they belonged to the same blade family. One side of the blade was edged and the other side was flat, curving down into a wicked point as it approached the tip. The hilts were what really distinguished the two. One had an ornate red dragon design that was so beautifully crafted the only use she could imagine was mounting it on the wall for others to marvel over. She couldn’t see getting blood on such a beautiful creation. She drew her finger over the intricate work.

“All hand done by me,” Dom said, his chest puffing out. A long-haired blond rooster in their midst. She couldn’t fault him for having pride in his craftsmanship, though.

“I can’t believe you would sell something so valuable.”

“For Zeus, anything.”

“Well, luckily you won’t have to part with it for my sake. I choose this one,” she said, pointing to the other blade.

“Well, hell,” Dom said, deflated.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did I choose a blade you didn’t design?”

“No, that one’s mine too. Everything in here is mine—my creations, my forging, my designs. Hell.” He pulled a worn brown wallet from his back pocket and peeled out three hundred dollar bills, handing them to Zeus while slanting a hangdog look over at K.C.

“How did you know I would pick that one?” Sabrina asked Zeus. She’d barely even glanced at the other blade, but she knew instantly it was the one she wanted. It wasn’t as intricate as the dragon-carved blade, but she loved the vibrancy of stones that ran opposite each other down the hilt. The first pair were hematite; the ones below, in the middle, were a smoky quartz; and the ones below, closest to the blade, were iridescent moonstones, inlaid in what looked like a weaving of steel string. The moonstone made her think of the pendant hanging from her neck. Even though it was hidden, she never took it off. It was the last gift her sister gave her.

Zeus tilted his head, gazing down at her as if she were the greatest curiosity that ever existed. She resisted the impulse to reach out and stroke her thumb over the area between the corner of his eye and his temple.

“Most people don’t look me in the eye. You don’t ever flinch away from them.” He shrugged and pocketed the money. “Figured you liked the color of my eyes, so I chose the closest thing I could to them without cutting my eyes out of their sockets and attaching them to that blade. When you hold it, you’ll remember the part of me you like so much. Besides my dick.”

“Holy shit, babe. I almost think this is worth our hard-earned money you just lost,” K.C. said.

Sabrina could only stare at Zeus in response, too stunned to even blink, too unsettled by the fact that he was partially right. She did love his eyes. She had seen them change to each of the colors represented on the blade and more, but she hadn’t recognized the link.

She stepped back, as if the motion could stop him from reading her.

“You’re an idiot,” she said. “I chose this one because…well, because I didn’t want to see us mess up the other one during our practice.”

“You’re lying.”

“Whatever, asshole.”

“You guys want to stay for dinner? I’m making steak,” K.C. interrupted.

“No,” Zeus growled, eyes like flint.

“Sorry, K.C.,” Sabrina said, happy to focus her gaze on the other woman. “We have to head back to Oakland. Zeus is taking me to the police station to report my kidnapping.”

“
You’re
the abducted chick,” K.C. nearly shouted. “We saw the news story last night, Dominic. Not that they’re saying it outright, but I think a lot of people believe you’re already dead.”

“I probably would be if I hadn’t escaped, if Zeus hadn’t found me, helped me.”

“Been here too long,” Zeus said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the exit. “I’ll call before I head back out of town to let you know when I’ll pick up the rest of my order,” he said to Dominic.

“Gotcha. Sabrina, though you lost me three hundred in less than five minutes, it was a pleasure.”

“We could have used the money for the front porch repairs,” K.C. snapped, backhanding Dominic on the arm.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry my ass,” K.C. said as she waved good-bye to Sabrina. “Call me so we can get together for lunch sometime.”

Sabrina waved back as Zeus dragged her toward his Charger.

Chapter Six

She’d gone quiet again.

He glanced at her for maybe the ninth time since leaving Dominic’s place. She’d been awake the whole drive, silently looking out the window and ignoring him. Usually he preferred silence, but he also craved the sound of her voice. He didn’t like being denied something he wanted, but he wasn’t going to coax her into talking. He probably wouldn’t want to hear what she had to say, anyway. The only thing she’d said since leaving El Sobrante was “I appreciate the knives.” They were about two miles from the Oakland Police Station, and he was feeling twitchy. It was a bad thing for him to feel this way before going into a police station. Cops got real uncomfortable with twitchy people. He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.

Was she afraid, mad at him?

As a rule he wouldn’t ask. He knew a man should never ask a woman how she felt unless he wanted to go down a long, twisted road that led nowhere but was a pain in the ass to travel. He’d expected her to ask about K.C., Dominic, or the business. He’d been prepared to answer her questions only because he wanted her to feel more comfortable around him. When a woman felt comfortable, she was more likely to lie back and spread her legs with a smile. Show a woman people could like you, that you had lots of money and generosity, and they were ready to overlook all your sins and give you whatever you wanted. Usually. At the moment Sabrina wasn’t giving him shit. It was as if he’d stopped existing in her world.

She shifted, adjusting her body to fully face the passenger door window, giving him more of her back. He parked near the Seventh Street police station and turned off the engine, though neither of them made an attempt to leave the car.

A few patrol cars pulled out of the lot as he and Sabrina sat there. People walked down the street, pressing to get wherever they were going while the hard-faced loved ones of the imprisoned left the police station displaying a mixture of emotions: anger, humor, fear, hopeless acceptance.

He turned to Sabrina and watched her finger trace a pattern over the window. His hands clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Didn’t even know if she would want him to do anything.

“Stop growling,” she mumbled.

It took a moment to realize she was talking to him, and another to realize his confusion and frustration had been translated into sound.

He stopped growling. “You ready for this?”

“We’re not going to be able to wear our weapons inside the police station,” she replied.

He snorted. He always kept a weapon on him. Whether anyone found them or not…

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“It’s not that. I just really don’t like police stations.”

“Not much to like about them.”

Her burst of laughter made his body relax a little more.

“Once, when I was a kid, my mother got arrested for stealing from a corner store in our old neighborhood. The police took me in the cop car with my mother so I could wait for CPS at the station. As bad as our neighborhood was, I remember thinking the station felt bad; it felt sick and insidious, like evil. At one point we’re in the station and my mother leans over to me and says, ‘I don’t want you to ever come back here, Bree. Don’t ever get taken to jail. Bad spirits live here, and they’ll kill you for sure if you ever get locked up.’ She was high, so I half listened to her. I always did when she was using. She died the day after she was released.”

Zeus shifted, staring straight ahead. What was he supposed to say? Sorry? Tell her bad spirits didn’t exist and kill people in jail? He didn’t know that. And why would her mother lie? He swallowed and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Relax, big man. I’m not going to break down and lose it on you.”

“Good. That’s good. Don’t know how I would’ve handled that.”

She smiled at him, and his blood hummed. “Would you have stabbed me to shut me up?”

“Would that work?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“Only as a last resort, then,” he said and followed through on his urge to reach out and run his thumb over rogue strands of her hair.

“I’m a mess, huh?”

“You look better than you did a few hours ago. You’re only swollen and bruised. You’re clean; you smell good, not bloody…”

“Okay, no more overwhelming me with your compliments,” she said, rolling her eyes. She didn’t pull away from his hand, which only made sense. His touch should have the power to pull her free from her sad memories because she was his for the moment.

“You ready?”

“I hate police stations,” she said as she took off her moonstone necklace and placed it in the glove compartment before reaching for the door handle and exiting the car.

As they moved toward the station’s glass doors, he pulled her into the crook of his arm, steadying her when she stumbled over the hem of the trench coat. They were taken to the Criminal Investigations Division without incident. Zeus asked for the detective working on Sabrina Samora’s case; then they waited on cold, functional chairs. Zeus didn’t hate police stations like Sabrina did. When he was young and inexperienced he’d had the privilege of bedding down in a few, both in France and in the States, but neither the police nor the houses they resided in held any fear for him. Cops were people with guns, authority, and handcuffs. He cared as much for them as he did for any other person, which wasn’t much at all.