Rock Chick Revenge (Rock Chick #5)(43)

I blinked. “What did you do to me?” I asked.

“Stun gun. Sorry, Ava, but we need to talk and I didn’t want to put up with your mouth.”

Stun gun?

Stun gun?

Dom stun-gunned me?

I’d never even seen a stun gun. I saw a video of someone getting Tasered on YouTube (and I might add I was not at all happy that Dom had done that to me) but I’d never seen a stun gun.

What a jerk!

“You stun-gunned me?” I asked.

“We need to talk.”

I was getting back to fighting fit (read: could control my hands) and I shoved against him but his fingers wrapped around my wrists and he held on tight.

“We don’t need to talk,” I told him then said, “What are you doing here? Where have you been? The police said you were missing.”

His eyes narrowed. “You talked to the police about me?”

“No, the police talked to me about you. Your living room was shot up and for some reason a Mister Zano sent some henchmen to kidnap me and it has something to do with you. Is this Mister Zano related to you and Uncle Vito?”

A weird look crossed his face before he muttered, “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right!” I snapped. “What’s going on?”

“I got a problem at work, I’m fixing it,” he said, passing it off like it was nothing. “Listen, Ava, you and me –”

“There is no you and me,” I interrupted him.

His hands tightened on my wrists. “Listen!” he clipped. “I know you got a problem with the whole Sissy thing –”

The whole “Sissy thing”?

Oh… my… God.

I vowed quadruple-revenge against Dom, rat-bastard.

He went on. “I’m leaving her.”

“You can’t leave her, she already left you,” I reminded him.

“Then I’ll give her a divorce, no contest.”

Well this was good news.

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to tell her. She’ll be over the moon.”

Obviously, Dom didn’t care that his wife of five years would be thrilled at his granting a no-contest divorce.

I knew this mainly because he said, “Then you and I can hook up.”

I blinked again.

Was he insane? Why were men such total ass**les?

“We’re not hooking up,” I snapped.

I watched as his face changed in a soft, sexy way and I felt a weird moment of sadness. Mainly because he was hot and that look on his face was even hotter. If he’d been a good guy, some woman (read: Sissy) would have been very lucky. Instead, he was a rat-bastard, tore through women’s lives and left devastation in his wake.

“You changed. Noah f**ked you over and you changed,” he said, his voice just as soft and sexy as his face and I stared at him. “You got this… attitude,” his eyes dropped to my mouth. “Fuck, makes me hard just thinkin’ about it,” he muttered.

Ho-ly crap.

I pulled at my wrists. “Let me go!” I shouted.

His fingers tightened and it kinda hurt. “You and me will be good together. Explosive,” he told me.

“You’ve got a screw loose! You’re my best friend’s husband!”

“Not for long.”

“Fuck off!” I yelled.

Then he yanked me forward by my wrists and kissed me. Dom had a lot of practice at kissing. He was, I noted with some detachment, a good kisser.

I noted this right before I bit his tongue.

He reared back. “Stop doing that!”

“Stop kissing me!” I yelled and began struggling in earnest.

This didn’t go well for me. Yes, I had lost seventy-five pounds, but I was not a lightweight. I worked out, was fit and did strength training. But Dom was six foot tall and all lean, compacted muscle. He had me on my back and was on top of me in no time.

This was not good.

It was then I began to panic. “Get off me!”

“Ava, you want it, I want it and I’m gonna f**kin’ take it.”

“No!” I shouted and bucked.

Then the door was thrown open and, to my utter disbelief, Mr. Kumar leaned in, pounding on Dom’s back with both his hands clenched together to do it.

I stared, momentarily stunned.

Mr. Kumar was a Middle Eastern guy who owned a corner store about a block and a half away from my house. Pre-weight loss, I went in there regularly to get provisions. I also went there to have a good old gossip with Mr. and Mrs. Kumar. They were good people, they struggled against the odds to keep their little corner store open and they looked after the neighborhood. Post-weight loss, since the corner store was stocked mostly with junk food, pop and smokes, I went in there just for the gossip and to buy diet soda and gum.

How Mr. Kumar was in Dom’s car was beyond me but I wanted to jump for joy.

“Unhand her!” Mr. Kumar shouted.

“What the f**k?” Dom muttered, letting me go and turning to Mr. Kumar.

I got over feeling stunned and we all started wrestling in the backseat and, because there wasn’t a lot of room, fell out the open door and started wrestling on the concrete. Mr. Kumar was a little guy and I guessed on the wrong side of his fifties and, I must repeat, Dom was strong. Dom took both of us on and seemed to be winning.