“She’s fine,” Luca says, infuriatingly casual. “Shaken up, a touch battered, but—”
“What the fuck doesa touch batteredmean?”
“Nothing serious. A few cuts on her face and a few bruises at most. They just scared her senseless.”
Just?Hisjustis more than I can handle. “Get her over to Delta. Meet me at the underground parking lot.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he heaves, annoyed with my curt, commanding tone. “We’ll be there in ten.”
I can hardly keep myself from hurling my phone at the wall when he cuts the call. Instead of a dramatic response, I down the last of my whiskey and light another cigarette. The last time I felt so out of place was six years ago when I restrained Dino minutes before Frank, Morte, and I threw him into Lake Michigan.
“Is everything alright?” Spades asks, every word worth its weight in gold with how slowly he speaks, aware of my short-temper and a shitty attitude. “You look like you’re about to fuck someone up.”
“Layla got cornered by two junkies on Riverdale.”
“Someone’s definitely getting fucked...” he murmurs under his breath. “Should I call Cai, Luca, and Jackson?”
“Luca’s with her.” Thank fuck for that, or I’d be climbing the walls right about now. It’s crazy how protective I am toward her. “And I’ll take care of the fuckers myself.”
I grip my leather jacket, then take the lift to the underground parking lot, lighting one cigarette after another, waiting for Luca to arrive.
His Dodge RAM pulls up beside my Charger ten long, torturous minutes later. I yank the passenger side door open to check on my Star. Something fucking snaps inside me at the sight of mascara smudged under her red, puffy eyes. Blood is smeared across two cuts on her cheek, and a green bruise starts showing on the side of her neck. Her knee is scraped, and more blood is smeared down her leg.
My jaw locks painfully.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m okay.” She sounds better than over the phone, but a glimmer of fear flashes in her eyes, pushing me that much closer to madness.
“Always call mefirst, Layla. Always.” I help her out to drape my jacket over her shoulders, acting against instinct when I don’t lock her frail frame in my arms.
She didn’t call to see me. She called because no one else bothered to answer their fucking phone. Maybe she does trust me a little bit.
“Get in.” I open the back door, then take her place at the front. Luca starts the engine, reversing out of the parking space. I stay quiet for a few minutes, trying to calm down, but every time I blink, the bruise on her neck flashes before my eyes, demolishing my composure. “What the hell were you thinking?!” I boom, my hands shaking. “A walk across Riverdale in the middle of the night? How the fuck did you end up there?!”
Layla curls into a ball, hiding her face behind a veil of dark, curly hair. She looks like a hooker in a tiny black number that accentuates her boobs and barely covers her ass.
“I had a date,” she utters, picking her nails.
“Say what? Adate?” Jealousy makes an appearance, kicking worry to the background for a brief moment. “And Romeo didn’t fucking think to order you a cab home?”
I couldn’t cope for two weeks because of her, and she went out with some fucker? Just like that? What kind of an asshole lets a girl like Layla walk home alone at night? When I see him, and I sure will now that he failed to keep Layla safe, I’ll teach him some fucking manners.
Layla stares at her hands, chin trembling, lips sealed. I wish I could give her a few moments to calm down, but I’ll burst into flames if she doesn’t tell me what exactly happened.
I reach behind me, resting my hand on her thigh. “Baby... where’s your security? Why were you alone tonight?” I fucking hate myself as I stroke her skin with my thumb. I’m manipulating her, knowing damn well how much she craves my touch and that it’ll untie her tongue.
Her big, beautiful eyes pool with fresh tears as she shakes her head, swallowing hard. I’m this close to losing my shit. I swear, nothing has ever caused me more physical pain than seeing Layla in tears. I gesture for Luca to stop the car, resting my head on the headrest, and light up the sixth Marlboro in the last fifteen minutes.
“Start talking, Layla.” I adjust the rear-view mirror to watch as she swats her tears away.
Fuck, I want to wrap her in my arms and hold her until she calms down.
“Take me home. Please, I—”
“We’re going nowhere until you explain where Burly is, why Romeo didn’t take you home, and how you found yourself on Riverdale.”
The fear in her eyes fizzles out, morphing into a raging fire when she assumes an aggressive pose, crossing her arms, head up high.
“Frank gave Burly a night off. Allie set me up with her personal trainer for a double date. We had dinner and then moved to Copacabana.” She hurls the words at me at the speed of light. If she had something heavy to hand, it’d bounce off my head. “I had fun, but Allie didn’t feel well, so Adam took her home.That’swhere my security went. Aaron took me back to his place...” She stops, avoiding my eyes, staring at her hands and swollen wrists. “He scared me a little. I ran, which is why I ended up in Riverdale. I was walking back home.”