I shrug. “We’ll see.”
“Your girl on her way?” Jake asks, taking a swig of his drink.
“Coming with two of her friends, yeah.”
“Fuck, is one of them the blonde from the bar?” Kai asks like an eager fucking dog.
“I think so.”
He pulls a smoke out of his pack. “Fuck yes, it’s a good day, boys.”
“Alright, let’s go have a drink with Flip.” Wolfe snaps the gavel down and we all stand as another photo comes in from Layla. This time she’s fucking wearing the red lingerie I picked out, and my dick instantly twitches. Her perfect tits spilling over the top, mixed with her shiny copper waves and pretty pink lips, are enough to make me change my plan entirely. I push through the clubhouse door, my mind already made up. I snap a photo of my best grimace and send it, telling her to call her girls off. I’m gonna need to fuck her before the night even gets started.
I haven’t even made it to my bike when my phone rings. I pick it up, only waiting a split second to speak as I tuck it between myear and my shoulder, but I freeze when I hear a muffled scream and a man’s voice.
“I had to get to you before they got to me …” I hear him say.
She cries out my name once and then I’m muting the call so whoever is there can’t hear me but I can hear them, and I’m on the back of my bike before my brain even has time to think.
Ramos. He’s gotten to her first, and I wrack my brain trying to figure out how and why. My mind races and my hands flex as I ride, and by the time I reach her street I’m ready to fucking gut him for thinking he can just show up and threaten her without his certain death following.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Layla
We stand in suspended silence for a beat before I make a move, trying to get behind the door and doing my best to slam it shut, but this man is faster, pushing his hand out to stop me. I swing frantically, and some of my punches connect and he grunts, but then he grabs me by my shoulders and begins to pull me down the hall to the living room.
“Layla!” he says. The fact he knows my name shocks me, and I look up at him in horror. How does he know my name? “We need to talk, you and me.” He smells of cologne and I can’t place it but I’ve smelled it before. I claw at him with my nails and I kick, trying anything I can to get free, and all the while he begs me to stop as he holds me. I grab for a picture on the wall of my mom and me when I was small, and hit him with it over the head as I cry out. The glass shatters, falling to the floor, and he yelps. “Fucking Christ!”
I make a run for it but I don’t get far before he’s cornered me in the living room, his hands holding my shoulders tight. He’s strong, so I can’t escape. My house is growing darker with the setting sun and I know my property is big enough that no one will hear me scream.
“You need to fucking listen to me! I knew this was the only way I could get to you withouthim.” He pins me against the wall, and he takes a moment to look me over, slowly. My mind races with all the reasons he’d want to get me alone. “Fuck, you have her eyes,” he says as he searches my face, and I can’t make sense of why he’s here. “It’s like … seeing her fucking ghost.”
I hate what I see when I look at him. It’s not rage. He’s looking at me like heknowsme.
“I’mnotlistening to you! Let me fucking go!” I cry out, closing my eyes as I struggle, waiting for a fist or an assault that doesn’t come.
Instead, he loosens his hold. I try to run and he slams me back against the wall, speaking clearly. “I don’t have to hurt you if you just fucking cooperate! You’re looking for answers and I’m gonna fucking give them to you … but you can’t fucking run!”
“I don’t want anything from you!” I bite out, trying to raise my leg to knee him. Then a shadow catches my eye and I suck in a deep breath of relief when I see Sean over this sick fuck’s shoulder. I didn’t even hear him come into the house but he’s here, pulling back my attacker’s head in a blur.
The look in Sean’s eyes is terrifying, like a monster has been set loose from its chains. It’s as if he doesn’t even see me while his fist connects and a sickening crack fills the air. I know by the sound that my attacker’s nose must be broken and then Sean’s arm is wrapped around the man’s thick neck and he’s dragging him toward the back door. He didn’t even get a chance to fight Sean at all.
Sean pushes through the back door and I follow quickly, trying to stop him from killing this man out in the open, but when we reach the yard Sean pulls him behind a thick row of cedars, away from any eyes or visibility.
Sean doesn’t hesitate, tossing him to the grass behind a bush as the man mumbles around a mouthful of blood.
“Motherfuck—” I hear him mutter as Sean hits him again.
“Alex fucking Ramos,” Sean growls at him. “I was fucking coming for you. But here you are, offering yourself up to me.” He hits him again before the man can even speak, and the sound of his jaw cracking seems to fuel Sean. I watch Sean hit him over and over. I should stop him but I don’t. I don’t know how long Sean beats him for, but I know that, as long as I live, I’ll never forget the sound of Sean’s fist connecting with his face. Ramos goes limp and stops trying to fight and I know if I don’t say something Sean will kill him. I want to stop him. Not because I don’t want this man to die but because I have some questions for him first.
“Sean.” My voice is steady and calm from behind him. Sean stops, as if he’s come out of a trance, as he looks down on Ramos, letting go of his bloodsoaked t-shirt collar, and turns to face me. “That’s enough,” I order softly. Sean looks up at me and stands, moving toward me with a look on his face that I can’t quite place. Just before he reaches me he drops to his knees, hitting the earth with a heavy thud as he wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face in my stomach.
“I’m so sorry, baby, did he hurt you?” There’s a guttural sound that leaves him as he chokes out, “I’ll fucking kill him,” over and over until he’s quiet. I have no idea how long we hold each other for. His arms grip my waist, clutching my shirt then moving under it as I kiss the top of his head before he looks up at me from his knees. I run my hand over his head and bend down to kiss his lips.
“I’m okay,” I whisper as his eyes come back to me from somewhere else entirely. As if he’s reliving something I can’t understand.
Sean rises and moves on silent feet to the side of my house to turn on the hose. He washes his busted and bloody hands and then rips a piece of fabric from the bottom of his t-shirt. Heruns it under the water carefully and comes back to me, wiping away the tears I didn’t even know were streaming down my face, and what I assume is Ramos’s blood from Sean’s first punch. He takes his time, making sure every speck of me is clean, washing the places he once painted me with in his own blood.
