Dom's bedroom
Dom stripped off his shirt and threw it on the floor. He couldn't believe it. She was sitting in his living room on his couch next to Vince. It wasn't right. Niema Cross was worming her way into his team and he couldn't stand it. She had no right. He sat down on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. From the moment she'd challenged him, he'd thought she was different, had been sure that she wasn't like the other racer skanks. As much as he hated to admit it, she was like Letty. Tough with a beautiful face and a tongue like a straight razor. He couldn't imagine anyone stepping up on Niema. But he had and she hadn't backed down from him. Just like Letty.
He laid back on the bed and rubbed his eyes. What V had said to him the other day was true. It was his fault that Letty was dead. If he hadn't pushed her, hadn't pissed her off so badly, she might not have taken off the way she did. "I'm sorry, Letty. I'm so fuckin' sorry," he murmured, closing his eyes. Dom could hear voices downstairs and wondered what they were talking about. How much in common could Niema actually have with them? She was a street racer. True, but what else was she? Was she just trying to get in good with them for the prestige? There were so many girls who'd done that and he'd tired of them very quickly. His trophy had been the one that had mattered the most to him. And now she was gone and it was his fault. He'd as good as killed her.
Silence filled the room as Dom remembered how his life had been before Letty died. All of the nights that he'd held her against him, her warm skin so soft against his and the way her eyes would spark when other women dared to look at him. He missed that feeling, missed every feeling that she'd brought out in him. There were times when he could still feel her here, feel her skin against his. More than once he was sure that he'd heard her voice in the middle of the night. He missed her so goddamn much that it hurt. That was one of the reasons he refused to let anyone talk about her. Dom wanted to keep her to himself, keep her in his heart alone, and not give up any part of her memory to anyone else. It was wrong of him and he knew it. But, as always, he did it anyway. That part of him hadn't changed in the last year.
He sat up and was about to strip off the rest of his clothes when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Boots. It was probably Vince. "I don't want to deal with him right now," he thought to himself and took off his belt. He had just unzipped his pants when his bedroom door came right off its hinges and crashed to the floor. Staring at the doorway in shock, his eyes took in the sight of Niema standing where the door used to be. Her hands were fisted and resting on her hips and her green eyes snapped in the light. Dom would've been blind not to notice that she didn't look happy. "What the fuck?" he roared suddenly, snapping out of his reverie. Niema waved a hand. "You need to listen, Dominic, and listen good. I am not Letty. I may be a lot like her but I'm not her. Since that point is taken care of, let's move on to the next one. What right do you have to be pissed because I was talking to Vince on the front porch?" she snapped at him as she crossed her arms over her chest.
He stared at her. For the life of him, he couldn't think of an answer and that scared him.
