“What?” Asher frowned down at me.
I didn’t have time to reply.
“Lily! Oh my God is she okay?” A pale looking Bex leaned against the door, regarding us in horror.
“Get her inhaler, now,” Asher barked at her, and she scrambled to comply.
“I’m fi-fine, it’s n-not bad,” I tried in vain to reassure him.
He frowned down at me once more and settled on the sofa, positioning me so I was on his lap.
Bex thrust my inhaler at me, and I self-consciously puffed on it, aware of the many sets of eyes focused on me at that moment. As my breathing calmed, I felt Asher’s hand on my chest relax, though his body stayed tight and his hand didn’t move.
“Okay, I had a fuckin’ internal struggle the entire way back in here,” Lucky said, bursting into the room, his attractive face worried. “I know handbags are like a chick’s sacred space, and no man should venture in without express permission, but it seemed like life or death. Someone tell me what the fuck I’m looking for in here before my hand gets bitten off by some handbag urchin hiding in the depths of this colossal thing,” he pleaded with his head bent, riffling through my bag.
His head snapped up, and he focused on me, on what was in my hand and realization dawned.
I couldn’t help the giggle that burst out of me at his face, and the fact he was holding my baby pink tote, one tattooed hand still elbow deep. When he saw where my eyes were focused, the muscled arm immediately retreated. A tampon came attached to that muscled arm, he looked down in horror and quickly dropped it. He gingerly held the bag by its handles, holding it slightly away from his body like it was an undetonated bomb. This made me laugh even more.
“Is she okay? Are there drugs in that? If so, I’ll take a toke when you’re done,” Lucky deadpanned, nodding to the bag.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Asher shake his head and Bex rolled her eyes from her spot in front of me. When my laughter finally faded out, the seriousness of what had just happened crept back in.
Asher lightly touched my chin so I was focused on him. Despite everything, I drank in every aspect of his features, as if we’d been separated for months. I was aching for my fix. For his lips on mine. His body on mine. My need almost outweighed everything else around us. Almost.
“What was that? Why are you guys here?” I asked before he could go all alpha and demand to know if I was unharmed and untraumatized. I was sitting on his knee close enough for him to see no immediate bloody bullet wounds.
His face searched mine, resting on my mouth for a moment. “Want to tell me if you’re okay first, flower? Then we’ll get into explanations. On both sides,” he added ominously.
See? Alpha male protectiveness. There must be classes on it.
My back straightened, and I felt my face flame upon the realization that both Lucky and Rosie, who was unusually quiet in the corner, had seen me sucking on my inhaler after having a small tussle with random men and running a couple of meters. These guys dodged bullets without a breaking a sweat, maybe not Rosie, but I knew she could take care of herself. Me? I wheezed and whimpered after a minor altercation.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly, my eyes moving downward self-consciously.
Again, Asher’s hand moved to make our eyes meet once more. I noticed his hand was still resting lightly on my chest.
“You were just attacked in your own parking lot, no one expects you to be fine, Lily,” he told me quietly.
I met his eyes. “I am,” I replied firmly. “I won’t be if someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on.” I moved my eyes around the room. Lucky had gingerly put my handbag on the ground and was watching me with knitted brows, his gaze kept flickering to Bex, with something that looked like annoyance and concern. It was something I’d never seen on him. Granted, I didn’t spend huge amounts of time with him, so I wasn’t exactly flush with knowledge of his facial expressions, but it seemed unusual. Rosie was sitting across from us, her eyes were glued to Asher and me, her brows knitted with worry. Bex looked at her hands.
The silence hung heavy in the room for a moment before Bex looked up with watery eyes.
“It was because of me,” she whispered in a voice I didn’t recognize. Broken. Defeated.
“It is not because of you,” Lucky interrupted with a face like a hurricane. “That’s the last time you’re laying the blame of this shit at your pretty little feet, got it?” he commanded roughly, his eyes locked in some sort of stare off with Bex. I watched in amazement as she held it for a moment then nodded, looking away. Lucky’s jaw was hard and he kept watching her. Bex never lost stare-offs, never. Even though Lucky may have been a scary, albeit well-tempered biker, she normally wouldn’t have flinched at his stormy gaze. But today she did. Her mask had been ripped off, now she was battling with her demon, and the vulnerable girl underneath peeked out. It broke my heart. Reason number a million and one why I wished my mom was still here. To heal her. To help me fix her.