What Makes a Man? (Sensible Hearts #1) Read online

  What Makes a Man? © 2016 by H.Q. Frost

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  This is for Laren.

  Because every action has a reaction.

  "Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

  Three men darted out of the house headed for a purple Cavalier that had the doors open and driver waiting.

  "Dom! Let's go!" one of the three shouted back toward the open door that haphazardly flapped.

  When the double shot of gunfire rang out, Nyla flinched and her attention directed toward the fleeing men. The gunman lowered his arm and glanced down the street but his attention stopped on her. Terror froze her in place while intrigue let her eyes peruse the tall man standing on her neighbor's porch with a weapon in hand.

  "Dom!" a masculine voice demanded and grabbed Nyla's attention.

  The second her eyes left his, Dom dashed down the steps and into the waiting car.

  Not surprised by the violence in her corrupt neighborhood, Nyla waited for the car to turn off the street before heading toward her neighbor's open door.

  "H-hello?" When her voice cracked she immediately cleared it and stepped one foot into the house.

  Groaning sounds pulled her farther inside.

  "Call the fucking cops," her neighbor rasped.

  The sight of his mangled bleeding arm held her attention for a little too long.

  "You fuckin' bitch! Call the fucking cops!" he screamed before dropping to his side with a moan.

  "My phone," she mumbled pointing behind her before slowly backing out of the house. "Holy shit," she whispered as she ran for her house.

  ***

  "Ma'am," the officer commanded her attention for a third time. "Can you make out any of the suspects?"

  Dom. His haunting blue-eyed glare hung in her head for a moment. While staring at the murderer holding a gun at his side, not once did her own life feel threatened.

  "Five men. Maybe four," she muttered.

  "Okay."

  "I don't really know." A shaky breath exhaled from her.

  "Did you get a good look at any of their faces?"

  "No." Her head adamantly shook through her lie before she shrugged. "They were all different heights."

  "What about race?"

  Tense shoulders lifted and dropped heavily again before responding, "All white, I think."

  "And car?"

  "It was reddish purple. No idea what kind. Four door. Smaller."

  "Five men fit into a small four-door?"

  "Uh, yeah." Her eyes met his. "They wanted to get away. I don't really think they cared about their car. Is he going to be okay?" Her head nodded toward the neighbor's place.

  The officer studied her for a brief moment.

  Her answer came days later when her neighbor's kids came to clean out his house. They didn't seem too bereft, more annoyed by the hassle. Sitting on her front porch with a pencil in hand and notepad on her lap, she watched the three adults argue back and forth about who would "throw his shit on the curb".

  "Hey," one of the women said when she spotted Nyla. Keeping to herself, Nyla didn't respond and the woman approached while lighting a cigarette with a huff. "You my dad's neighbor? You live here?" Pointing toward the house, her cigarette burned bright catching Nyla's attention.

  "Yeah. He okay?"

  "Dead." She inhaled a puff then blew it out through her nose while shaking her head.

  She mustered up enough surprise while asking, "What happened?"

  "Probably drug related." An impassive shrug lifted her shoulders. "The old man was a loser. Know anyone that wants to buy a house?" Her chuckle gave Nyla chills at how cold she was acting toward her father's death.

  "No. I'm sorry about your dad." She got to her feet.

  "Yeah." The woman sighed and looked toward her dad's house before mumbling, "Whatever," and heading back.

  Nyla fell back onto her couch and held the notepad to her chest while looking at the ceiling. A man murdered her neighbor in cold blood, and he was so sure of himself when he hesitated on the porch and held her gaze without anything hiding his face. The sickening flutter in her stomach was too confusing to analyze. Dropping the notepad to her lap, she went back to the portrait she was sketching.

  Dom.

  ***

  "She stared at us, Dom!" Jesse's grimy fingers slid through his greasy hair while he plopped into a chair.

  "She didn't see anything," Dom's calm, deeply toned response showed his impassivity. Looking up at his friend, the calm dissipated. "Go fucking shower," he snickered. "When's the last time you fucking showered?"

  "I don't fucking know," he snarled getting to his feet. "Dude, she's going to I.D. us!"

  "Shower!" Dom's steady voice boomed, sending the grubby man straight into the bathroom. "Boney, I'm outta here."

  "Sure, Dom." Boney nodded, not removing his eyes from the marijuana separated in piles across the table.

  As Dom picked up a joint, the front door opened and two girls scooted inside with his brother at their back. The exhale that slipped through his lips wasn't detected and he steeled the features on his face while he stared at his brother.

  "Where ya headed, Dom?" His brother's arms snaked around the waist of both girls and Dom took a few seconds to study him and the women who were inebriated.

  "Home, where you should be," he finally responded, walking around them until the hand of the blonde in his brother's arm slid up Dom's chest.

  "Can I come?" Her words seductively wrapped around him and squeezed his cock.

  Removing her hand from his chest he kept going and was out the front door calling back to his brother, "Jeff, get home."

  With his head down and hands in his pockets he headed back to the street where his mom's abusive ex lived up until a few hours prior when he shot him with no regret. They only showed up to scare the guy. Slap him around like the man often did their mother. He didn't lose his cool until he called Dom's brother a retard. There was no rage behind his action; he just turned back, looked his target in the eyes and fired.

  The dark street was quiet at four in the morning, but that wasn't a neighborhood for a nice stroll. His feet faltered in front of the girl's house. The girl that held him in place before Boney's voice shook him and made him run. She was a stupid woman; she wasn't even cowering. She just stared at him. The stance of her body indicated fear, but her studying face said more. None that he was threatened by, but you could never be too sure. He walked between the two houses toward the back of hers. A dim kitchen light was on but no-one was in there as he looked through the windows.

  He circled her house once before heading home. There was no doubt she could identify him, but she hadn't. The news report said anyone that saw anything should come forward, five men were still at large. Dom could put money on knowing she would never tell the details of what she saw that day.

  ***

  His alar
m was screaming at him at six in the morning, and though he hadn't been asleep long, he pulled his body from bed and into the shower.

  "Jeff?" Dom said as he approached his brother on the couch. "Get in bed, man." He nudged his leg.

  Jeff jumped up with a snoring snort.

  "Get to sleep in your bed." Dom pointed toward his bedroom.

  "I can't." Jeff groggily rubbed his face. "The girls kicked me out."

  Dom didn't let him see his sigh before he marched toward Jeff's room.

  "Party's over." His authoritative voice carried through the dark room before the lights startled three naked women awake. "Get the hell out. Party's over."

  "Where's Jeff?" The gruff voice from the naked brunette made him look away to hide his cringe.

  "You need to leave. All of you. Now."

  "Hey, Dom." A giggly blonde pulled a shirt over her head. He didn't recognize the girl but that didn't mean much. "What time is it?"

  "Quarter to seven. Come on. Get out." He gestured out of the room and the three girls stumbled their way past him.

  The blonde pulled her hand down his stomach but before she could cup his dick, he grabbed her wrist.

  When the skank brigade was out the door, Dom helped Jeff to his bedroom and made sure he was sleeping before he left.

  ***

  Approaching the house at four, Dom saw the squad car parked out front, then noticed his mom standing on the lawn in tears.

  "Mom, what's wrong?" He grabbed her arm and carefully eased her to his chest.

  He knew what was wrong. Her boyfriend was suddenly dead and she finally found out. He was surprised it took that long for her to get the news, being she worked at the precinct.

  While she sobbed a few minutes, his gaze found his brother talking to a police officer across the lawn. Dom and Jeff went over their alibi a hundred times, so he wasn't too worried.

  Sniffling, she looked up at him. "You look tired." She rubbed his cheek.

  "You do too, Mom. Why are you crying?"

  "Larry was shot and killed yesterday."

  "Holy shit," he muttered pulling her back into his arms. "By who?"

  "There aren't many leads. His kids think it was drug related. I didn't even know he was on drugs."

  "He was, Mom. I told you he was."

  She sniffled and pulled away, swiping tears from her aged cheeks. "I have another double this evening."

  "Maybe you should take the night off?" He grabbed her elbow hating seeing her in tears.

  "I can't now. I have a funeral to help pay for. I won't put all that responsibility on his kids."

  "Aren't they older? Like in their thirties?" He wanted to protest her paying for the low-life's funeral, but the less attention he drew toward his animosity for the guy, the less he was suspect.

  "Hey, I love you." The same tired smile Dom had seen for years graced her exhausted face through tears.

  "Love you too," he mumbled watching her approach the officer who walked her into the house.

  She would grieve for a while, but was better off without the money grubbing sociopath. The man only added to her already built up emotional and physical scarring that Dom's own father had put her through many years prior.

  With Dom and Jeff planking their mother, Dom's hard gaze stared down at the casket being lowered into the earth. The only remorse was for his grieving mother. He didn't understand how the smartest woman he knew could accept the abuse she did from men. It was like she was addicted to it. If she wasn't going to protect herself, he was prepared to go to drastic measures to protect her, and his brother.

  His gaze drifted up and landed on one of Larry's daughters whose eyes were glued to her cellphone. They drifted to his other daughter that was chain smoking even though the priest asked her to extinguish her cigarette. Then they drifted to the son who was staring at Dom's mother. Noticing Dom's eyes, he offered a small nod and dropped his sight to the ground.

  Most of the people in attendance were there only to offer support to his mother. They didn't even know the bastard in the casket or the vile things he put the woman through, but Dom was grateful she had other people to lean on than just him. A small crowd of eight stood behind Larry's kids. No-one Dom had ever seen before and hoped would never see again… until his eyes landed on the girl that was there the day he pulled the trigger. The same look was across her face as the day she stared at him when she saw what he had done. From the back of the crowd of eight, she watched him. He held her gaze and expected her to shy away. Show some semblance of fear. But intrigue was the expression staring back at him; the same intrigue from the day she held him frozen until Boney's voice pulled him away from the scene.

  Not until the crowd began to shuffle, and condolences being offered pulled his mother from leaning on him, did he lose sight of the girl. With a quick move, he tried to see around the crowd. He couldn't lose her. There were things he had to say to her. He wasn't a bully, but he wasn't going to go down for murdering scum like Larry Schempanelli.

  A solo figure crossing the cemetery caught his eye. He wasn't sure if it was her but the tight ass in a fitting pair of black pants guided him toward the girl who wandered with her hood up.

  Jogging up from behind, the wind blew the hood down exposing her messy and wild caramel and black ombre ringlets. Grabbing her arm, he tugged her against his side, and when she tried to stop walking, he gave her a little shove.

  "You saw us." His deep voice was quiet but the baritone sound suddenly put lead shoes on her feet. "Keep walking." A discreet shove got her feet moving again.

  Afraid the pressure on her lower back was a gun, she quietly said, "I'm sorry for your loss," and pushed the thick-framed glasses slipping down her nose back up.

  "What'd you tell the police?" That deep voice in that growl made her body start to tremble for the wrong reasons.

  Her trembles may have started from her libido, but she wasn't too stupid not to be afraid.

  With all senses heightened, she focused on his cologne and breathed the word, "Nothing."

  His hand slipped from her back while his other released her arm and he took a step away. "Keep it that way."

  "Are you going to hurt me?" She sounded like she was on the brink of tears, but he didn't want the visual confirmation so he kept his gaze forward.

  "I'm going to walk you home." It was a threat and she knew it so she kept her mouth shut and eyes forward. As they approached her house he promised, "I'll be watching you."

  "Why?"

  The man frightened her at the same time as interested her. So pivoting on her toe she looked into his face, getting a better look than she did from across the gravesite. He couldn't have been much older than her. Snakebite piercings pulled attention to his full lower lip. The softest skin she'd ever seen hid any indication of imperfection or stubble, making his face tempting to smooth her fingertips over the velutinous texture. His dark brown hair was trained to messily flip with a smooth buzz on the sides and back. But his blue eyes held iciness and dominance, hardening that angelic look to make him feared.

  "I won't say anything. I promise. I didn't even know the guy. He was only my neighbor."

  With doubt to her claim he asked, "Why were you at the funeral?"

  "Because his daughter asked if I'd come because there wouldn't be many people there for him. She asked the neighbor on his other side too, but he told her no. We keep to ourselves on this street. I won't go to the cops."

  "I can't trust you'll keep your mouth shut. You may think I shot an innocent man, but you don't know anything about the cocksucker."

  "And I don't want to," she stressed. "I don't care about him. Or you. I just want to be left alone." Her eyes stayed trained on his lips, mainly to avoid his penetrating stare, but they also looked so soft and plush that fear was a secondary emotion controlling her.

  "I'll leave you alone, just know I'll be watching you." His threat wasn't entirely empty, but he'd never stalked anyone before.

  How else was he going to scare h
er into not talking to the police though?

  With a sigh she dropped her head as sensibility resurfaced, reminding her the baritone voice that was rocking her body like she were on calm seas, and the attractive face that was blinding her to reality, was what made her lose her train of thought. The thought process that she was inappropriately intrigued by a murderer.

  "I don't want any trouble."

  The sound of a car door warned him they weren't alone and it made him nervous that eyes might be on them. "Hug me," he muttered, grabbing her elbow and attempting to ease her into his arms so it wasn't so obviously forced.

  Her rapid breathing and trembling body kept distracting him from the point of why he followed her home. His eyes skimmed the area in an attempt to see who may have been watching. She was the only person he saw on the street that evening he shot Larry, but it didn't mean she was the only one that saw him.

  Turning his head to get closer to her ear, he grumbled, "Why are you shaking?"

  "I'm scared," she whispered.

  Inhaling, his nose filled with her sugary scent and his eyes closed while he pulled her a little closer. He had suddenly become what he was trying to eliminate from his mom's life. No woman should live in fear, and he was regretting his attempt at scaring her.

  "I won't hurt you," he promised and meant it.

  "I won't tell anyone," she whispered back.

  Releasing her, she sunk back down to her flat feet from her tiptoes, pushing up her glasses and looked into his eyes. At first glance it was obvious she was attractive. Her being hot was the first thing he'd noticed that initial evening when he saw her outside her house. But being face to face with the woman trying to hold his attention put her into a different perspective. The biracial girl wasn't just hot, she was beautiful. With brown eyes that had flecks of green, and dark makeup that hid the real shape of her eyes, he was suddenly wondering how much more beautiful she would be without it. Her wide nose was pierced through with a silver hoop in her left nostril and her lips accented the shape of her nose, holding his attention too long, making him wonder what they'd feel like under his. Taking a step back, he furrowed his brows and looked down from studying her.