“Keep the pressure on this,” I ordered Asher, nodding to the pashmina.
He gave me a long look before doing as I asked.
This got another laugh from Lucky, who I swear muttered, “whipped,” under his breath.
I ignored this, my attention going to Bex, who was sitting rigidly on the sofa. My fingers gently touched the marks on her neck, my eyes examining the purplish tint on her cheekbone.
“Becky,” I whispered brokenly.
“I’m okay, Lilmeister, promise,” she reassured me in a strong voice.
“You’re far from okay,” I protested. I slowly lifted her shirt to reveal a bruise blossoming over half of her stomach. Lucky let out a hiss, his smile gone.
“I’ve changed my mind. Fucker is going to the ground,” he growled, standing and yanking the gun from his pants.
I opened my mouth to argue, but Bex beat me to it.
“Stop. Lils was right. You can’t murder him,” she argued. I sagged with relief. “I don’t want any more blood ruining the carpet,” she deadpanned.
Lucky gave her a long stare but put his gun away.
“I never get to have any fun,” he muttered.
I ignored this disturbing comment, focusing on making sure Bex didn’t have any internal bleeding.
“I think you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs,” I surmised.
Bex raised her eyebrow. “A couple? I’d say all of them,” she bit out. “Which means I won’t be able to work unless I want to do private stuff for fucked up men who enjoy battered woman,” she said with a scowl.
Lucky stepped forward with a stormy face. “That’ll happen in no universe,” he declared firmly.
She scowled at him. “It’ll happen in the universe where I have to pay rent and feed myself, which happens to be this one,” she shot back.
I whipped my gaze between the two of them in confusion. We didn’t need that right now.
“We’ll figure it out,” I reassured her. I’d pick up extra shifts, cover both of our rents if I had to. She was the only family I had left. Though I didn’t accept handouts from anyone, I would give Bex my last dollar if I had to. She was all I had left. “What happened?” I asked softly.
Bex sighed. “Turns out Dylan doesn’t handle rejection well,” she stated. “I don’t handle being pimped out too well either, hence the rejection,” she explained.
All of the air seemed to be sucked from the room with her words.
“Pimped out?” I repeated with a shaky voice.
Bex nodded. “You know Dylan’s connected with Carlos somehow, and they’ve been trying to diversify their whores,” she explained with a scowl. “Dylan thought I’d be perfect for his little scheme. I disagreed.”
There was a loaded silence that followed her words. I could feel the male fury in the room. I wasn’t exactly feeling calm either.
At that moment, Dylan decided to emit a moan and wake up.
With reflexes that stunned even me, I pushed off the sofa and shoved Asher’s hand away from his shoulder. I pressed my finger into the hole, and Dylan screamed in pain.
“You lay a hand on her again, try to pimp her out again, I’ll shoot you myself,” I hissed into his pain-drenched eyes.
I was gently pulled back from his twitching body and evil glare.
“He won’t breathe your air again,” Asher whispered in my ear.
I sank back into Asher’s body, squeezing my eyes shut. I decided to believe him. To trust him. To let him take care of this. Whatever that meant.
“You come near either of those women again, we won’t be dropping you home, you piece of shit. We’ll be digging your grave,” Asher hissed at the fucker they’d thrown on the side of the road.
He clutched his shoulder and chuckled. “The big, bad Sons of Templar,” he sneered. “Do you have any idea who my family is?”
Lucky stepped forward. “I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States’ long lost son, you come near them again, I’ll rip your cock off and make you eat it,” he promised. He then reared back and kicked the fucker savagely in the head, knocking him out cold.
He looked around. “Let’s bounce, this isn’t a place we want to be stopping for ice cream,” he stated casually, climbing back into the van.
Asher gave the body one more look. His hand touched on the gun in his cut, thinking of the blood on Lily’s face. Of her beautiful skin bruised. Of the haunted look in her eyes when she had been pressed against that wall clutching a gun.
“Bro, as much as I want to say otherwise, your Old Lady was right,” Lucky called from the van. “Killing him would not be smart. It’d most likely start a war.”
Asher realized the truth behind his friend’s words and nodded, turning his back and climbing into the van.
There was silence as they pulled away. “Still might start a war,” Bull muttered finally.