No one spoke to Drew Tucker like that and got away with it.
Especially not Ayda Hanagan.
Stepping back into the room, I went over to the closet in the corner, pulling out three or four hoodies before slamming the door shut and marching myself back out into the corridor. I knew my face was set like I had a thundercloud hanging over me. It was pretty obvious by the way the sea of people parted out in the bar area the second they glanced in my direction. When my eyes landed on the first group of women I could find, I smirked, cleared my throat and rolled my shoulders back. Then I made my way over and whispered quietly in the first brunette’s ear. “Hand these around to your friends and keep them on all day. Apparently it means the four of you aremine, which also means tonight, we get to party. No matter who the fuck wants to bitch about it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ayda
Ididn’t tell anyone I was leaving. Each footfall fell harder than the previous one and carried me to the door. I ignored any comment and snide remark thrown at me as I kicked the barrier out of my way and stepped into the glorious sunshine of a brand new day.
“I’ll pay you for last night,” I mimicked in a deep baritone as I jumped off the porch and headed to the gate. “Fucking prick. Thinks he’s God’s fucking gift when he’s the devil. The fucking devil himself.”
I tried to open the gate as fast as I could, but got frustrated when it resisted, and I kicked the damn thing with fury before gathering myself together and sucking in a breath. I was torn between tears and growling out a string of profanities. The tears were from frustration, but I wasn’t going to let him see he’d got to me. How could I have seen two completely different sides of the same man in less than twenty-four hours? The man that had just spoken to me like I was a hooker wasn’t the same man I’d shared a bed with. The Drew I’d been introduced to this morning was bitter and cold. There hadn’t been an ounce of remorse for the way he’d treated me.
He had more sides than a dodecahedron—kind, hurt, bitter, in pain, angry, open, shut, drunk, sober, hot and cold.The list was becoming endless. I knew how he’d made me feel last night; he’d made me feel that way before. But all of that was pushed further and further away the more he spoke that morning, until all I felt was cold, solid anger.
This wasn’t who I was, and it was the very reason I knew I could never go back there. I didn’t like who I was when I was with him. My fingers tangled with the gate as a ghost of mourning the loss of that comfort fled my system. I was gripping the thing with my head hung when I felt someone reach around and flip the lock for me, his sad sigh echoing the one that forlornly left me.
“Go back inside, Deeks.”
“You know I can’t do that, sugar.”
“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to because this makes your life easier.”
“It also keeps you alive while you have a target on your back.”
Stepping through the gate, I headed toward my car while Deeks headed toward his bike. He knew there was no way in hell I was going to let him in my car with his logic. I wasn’t in the mood to listen, and I sure as shit wasn’t in the frame of mind to dwell on the fact that the threat on my life was very real. All I was interested in was getting home, washing the scent ofhimoff me and working myself into oblivion.
I’d barely unlocked my car door when my hands slapped on the roof of my car. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Deeks.”
“Honey, you know I respect the shit out of you, but that’s just bullshit. Those fools in there can’t see past their own noses, but I see more than you think I do.”
“I’ve never underestimated you.”
“Oh, but they have.”
I raised an eyebrow in his direction before climbing into my car. This had started out a really bad day, and it wasn’t going to get any better.
Drew’s expressions played on a loop in my head all morning. My thoughts replaying the whole argument again and again, my own look now matching the scowl he’d worn. It didn’t improve my mood in the slightest, and although Deeks seemed to accept that he was the target for my irritable disposition, it didn’t mean he was the only one on the receiving end. I’d thrown a plate at Rusty because he scrambled rather than poached an egg order. I’d snapped at Janette for being kind enough to deliver my order, while accusing her of thinking I was incapable. Poor Sam had used the wrong swinging door, almost sending a tray of coffees over me and had to leave the kitchen for thirty minutes after I called her a babbling idiot.
My anger was misdirected, but volatile, and the moment Maisey Sutton strolled through the door, it reset itself and aimed its crosshairs directly onto her. If ever there was a perfect time for her to walk in, I felt as though she’d been served to me as an act of divine intervention. Nothing could abate the anger I was feeling in my chest.
“Sweet Jesus,” Deeks mumbled as I rested my hip on the counter where I’d been grumbling about refilling his cup for the millionth time. He apparently hadn’t felt the same way about her being there. “You picked the wrong day to walk your ass back up in here, Sutton.”
“Shut up, watch dog,” Maisey said haughtily, with a yappy bark added on for effect. She was wearing another one of her polyester blend wannabe outfits, which was being tugged into shapelessness by her discomfort. She slipped intoa booth, set her bag on the surface, and eyeballed me with attitude. “Well?”
“Well what?” I snapped back, folding my arms. “You want me to applaud the fact that you made it to the other side of the room in your fake ass shoes without them breaking under your fat ass?”
“Careful, sweetheart. You’re looking a little green around the edges.”
I barked out a laugh. “Sorry,honey, delusional isn’t my style.”
“Whatever. I want a sweet tea. Think you can manage that?”
She wasn’t sitting in my section, but in that moment, it didn’t really matter all that much. Deeks watched me, half with curiosity and half with concern as I tipped an imaginary hat in her direction and went about filling her request.
I ignored the mumbled speech from Deeks and sauntered across the linoleum floor with purpose, stopping short of the booth before tipping the ice and tea filled glass on its end, directly over her head. She was on her feet as quickly as she had been the last time she’d been in, her screech of indignation making me laugh aloud. I think what scared me the most was my lack of remorse in that moment. There wasn’t so much as a twitch of guilt for what I’d just done, even as she skated around like a deer on ice.
