Chapter Fifteen
Laura folded her arms over her chest and glared at Dallas and the bimbo. “I give you ten seconds for explanations. If I don’t like what I hear, I’m leaving.”
“Dallas and I were going to tell you,” the woman said in a mocking voice. “But this is easier. More clean-cut.”
Betrayal sliced and diced Laura’s confidence, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her tears at bay. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. “Shut up. If I’m getting the kiss-off, I prefer to hear it from Dallas.”
At her words, Patrick moved to Laura’s side and slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“When did Maria come back?” Quinn demanded.
Dallas cursed and hauled himself out of the bed. He wore boxer-briefs. At least that was something. The color fled his face when he twisted the wrong way, and Quinn’s hand shot out to aid him. Dallas brushed his older brother off and tottered over to stand in front of Laura. “I have no idea how she got into our bed. I didn’t invite her. She came into the pub a few weeks ago, wanting to take up where we’d left off. I told her to piss off, and I haven’t seen her since. Laura, you have to believe me. I didn’t invite her here.”
“He’s lying,” Maria said. “I arrived this afternoon and we’ve been in bed ever since.”
Laura gritted her teeth, bunched her fists, the urge to lash out making her tremble. She needed to hit something.
Someone.
Her gaze lit on Maria. “Get out of my bed. Get out of my house. Get the fuck out. Now,” she barked when the woman stared at her in an insolent manner.
Maria’s lips curled into a smirk. “Make me. Dallas wants me here.”
“That’s not true,” Dallas said. “Laura.”
Laura turned away, unable to look at the woman any longer. “This is my home and you’re trespassing. Leave or I’m calling the cops.” She was halfway down the passage when the woman shouted after her.
“No, wait. No cops.”
Laura grabbed her phone anyway and returned to the bedroom. Dallas had pulled on clothes and was muttering in urgent tones to Quinn. Laura stabbed random buttons and lifted her phone to her ear.
“No, tell her, Dallas,” Maria said. “Tell her you invited me here. No need to bring in the police.”
“Fuck off,” Dallas growled.
Laura narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you want me to ring the cops? Done something wrong and have a guilty conscience?”
The woman climbed out of the bed, flaunting her body. When none of the brothers took the slightest bit of notice, she grabbed a robe.
“Leave,” Laura ordered in a hard voice. “If I see you in the pub or near Dallas again, I’ll go to the police station and file a complaint. I’ll tell them you’re harassing us and stalking Dallas. We’ll get a restraining order.”
“You’ve spoiled everything, bitch,” Maria spat.
“Tell someone who cares,” Laura said, and she stalked from the room before she gave into her impulse to brain the bimbo.
“You can’t let her speak to me like that,” Maria said.
“Fuck off,” Dallas repeated in a hard voice. “I don’t want to see your face again.” He held her gaze, let her see the riot of his fury and fear.
“I’ll see her out,” Quinn said, and he grabbed Maria’s arm and hauled her down the passage.
“I need my clothes,” Maria squawked. “They’re in the drier.”
“Hurry up,” Quinn snapped.
“What happened?” Patrick asked.
Dallas wrinkled his forehead, shook his head. Winced. “Don’t know. I remember Quinn bringing me home. I remember him giving me my pills. I remember feeling exhausted, going to bed. That’s it.”
