I swallow thickly.
“Seems like our Brad is going to be spending his night with two whores, only, the one out there takes straight-up cash.”
Anger burns through me and an argument about me not being Brad’s whore teeters on the tip of my tongue, but I fight it back.
It’s not worth it.
He’s not worth it.
“Goodbye, Nico.”
I swing the door closed behind me and flip the lock—not that I really think it’ll keep him out if he wants to get to me.
Hiking my dress up once more, I lower my arse to the toilet and pull a whole heap of loo roll from the dispenser. My frustration with the man who’s caused this mess burns through me, and it only gets worse when I don’t hear him fucking leave.
I clean up and I’m about to flush when the buzz of my phone cuts through the silence, reminding me of what I was doing before I was rudely interrupted.
Finishing up, I unlock the door once more and step out.
As I predicted, Nico is still here, only now, he’s standing with my phone in his hand, his face tight with barely restrained anger.
“Why are you still here?” I ask, ignoring the fact that I’m pretty sure steam is literally about to billow from his ears.
My voice seems to bring him back to himself and he rips his eyes from my phone and glares at me. Although, I’m not even sure he’s really seeing me, but instead looking right through me.
Stuffing my phone into his pocket, he reaches for my bag and then my wrist.
“Let’s go,” he barks, his grip on my arm instantly painful.
“Nico, what the fuck?” I shriek, having little choice but to be dragged along behind him as he marches from the bathroom. “Slow down,” I beg, barely able to keep upright with the height of my heels and his speed.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls as the level of danger that emanates from him makes even me a little wary.
I’ve yet to be physically scared of this brutal soldier. But I have it on good authority that he’s capable of things that would horrify me.
As much as his aura might turn me on, I’m not sure I want to witness him in action. I think I like the idea, the fantasy, of it more.
He blows through a fire exit at the back of the building and we immediately get pelted with rain.
It might be almost summer, but the cool, stormy air makes my exposed skin prick with goosebumps and sends a shiver skating down my spine.
Nico drags me through the dark back alley and I stumble and trip over the uneven ground, but he never lets up or attempts to help me.
“Nico, please,” I beg when my shoe gets stuck in a crack in the concrete and I almost face-plant in a puddle.
“Keep moving,” he demands, his low voice barely audible over the pounding rain.
Eventually, we spill out of the alley a little way down from the entrance to Twenty-Five and right in front of Nico’s Mustang.
“You followed us here, didn’t you?”
“Get in,” he demands, gripping the back of my neck and practically shoving me inside.
My soaked hair sticks to my face and neck, and rivulets of water run down my cleavage.
I glance up just in time to see him swing the door closed, and I can’t help but notice that while I’m here looking like a drowned rat, he looks as hot as ever.
Prick.