Dom
The main aisle was a wall of bodies–rows of booths spilling ink, merch, and noise in every direction. Dom kept one eye on the exits, the other sweeping for anyone lingering too long near Lola’s station.
That’s when he spotted him.
Rafael Bellandi. Vegas born and bred. The kind of man who could walk into a tattoo expo in a tailored suit and make everyone else look underdressed.
And he wasn’t heading toward Lola’s booth–he was coming from that direction?
Why the hell is he here?
Rafael clocked him instantly, that sharp, assessing look flicking over Dom before a slow smile tugged at his mouth–the kind that said he was already a move ahead.
“Dom,” Rafael said, smooth as silk. “Didn’t expect to run into you outside of Vegas.”
“Same,” Dom replied, voice flat. “Business or pleasure?”
Rafael didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifted back down the aisle towards Lola’s booth, eyes lingering slightly to long and then moving around. His expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker in his eyes Dom didn’t like one damn bit.
Not liking the way you’re looking over there, Bellandi.
“Little of both,” Rafael said finally, casual like they had all the time in the world. “LA’s full of… interesting encounters.”
Rafael adjusted his cufflinks, stepped around them, and disappeared into the crowd.
Gino’s eyes followed him for a beat. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Yeah, and I don’t like it.
Dom angled toward Lola’s booth. “Let’s make sure she’s good.”
Dom spotted Lola from halfway down the aisle, wiping down her station, gloves off, hair pulled back in a messy knot. The booth still smelled faintly of antiseptic and fresh ink. Gino fell into step beside him, both of them scanning the crowd without really thinking about it.
“Anyone suspicious stop by?” Dom asked as they reached her.
Lola glanced up, a towel in one hand, brow arched. “That’s your opener? Define suspicious and please tell me you love me enough to have brought me a Monster.”
“Not you,” Gino said, smirking. “Someone who doesn’t look like they’re here for flash sheets and merch and no we definitely did not.”
She shook her head. “Just clients. Why?”
Dom’s gaze swept the crowd again.
Because I don’t like that we didn’t see him leave. And I really don’t like the way he was looking at you.
“Crowds like this pull all kinds,” he said instead. “Just making sure you’re good.”
“I’m fine,” she said, tossing the towel into a bin. “You two worry too much.”
Gino snorted. “That’s literally our job.”
And Enzo’s going to have both our asses if we miss something. Especially when the last guy we saw anywhere near here is the same one I wouldn’t trust in a church full of cameras.
The convention center had finally quieted, the crowd thinning to a trickle. Booths were getting packed up, banners rolled, and the air smelled like disinfectant and burnt–out coffee.
Lola leaned against her counter, every muscle in her body staging a protest. “I’m done. Over. You’re gonna have to carry me.”
Gino shot Dom a look. “Fireman–carry or princess–style?”
“Whichever gets me to the car faster,” she said, propping her chin on her hand like even holding her head up was too much effort.
God, I feel like I’ve been ground down to bone dust. Just pour me into bed and let me die pretty.
Dom swung her gear bag over his shoulder. “You’re lucky we like you, Princess.”
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