I kiss Kayla and Gage on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” We wave them off, and then Ryder takes my hand, following Mike into the house.
Half-empty bottles and cans litter the hallway as we walk toward the main living area. Music is blaring throughout the house, and the sights and sounds accosting my ears are making me ill. Sweat coasts down my spine and in the gap between my breasts, and my head spins. I clutch onto Ryder’s hand harder as we round the bend, almost barreling headfirst into a couple fucking against the wall.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Ryder roars, grabbing the guy by the shoulders and yanking him off the girl. She starts mouthing off until she sees who ruined her fun and her facial expression changes so fast it’s comical. She reaches for Ryder, but Mike intervenes, stepping in front of Ryder and blocking him from view.
“Get your clothes and leave,” Mike tells them before shouting into his earpiece.
“Where the fuck are Danny and Marc?” Ryder demands, rounding on Mike. “You’re supposed to be in charge of security, and those assholes should never have let this happen.” While Mike is Ryder’s personal bodyguard, Danny and Marc also came with us from New York, and they fill in where needed as well as taking turns patrolling the house and the grounds at night. I’m not sure why it’s necessary because Ryder has a state-of-the-art security system installed with alarms, panic buttons, a panic room, and cameras all over the exterior of the property.
“Agreed, and I’ll deal with it.”
“I want them gone,” Ryder snaps. “Radio for replacements asap.”
Keeping hold of my hand, Ryder brings me through to the main living area, and it’s almost like stepping back in time. A cloud of noxious smoke hovers on top of the room, and my nostrils twitch at the scent of marijuana in the air. The room is littered with people, most of them in various states of undress. Bodies are draped over all the available surfaces, indulging in a variety of sexual acts. Booze, cigarettes, and mirrors with lines of coke cover the tabletops.
“Ryder!” A skinny redhead with mammoth fake tits waves her hands in the air at my boyfriend. “We came in from the city to surprise you!” She acts as if it’s completely normal to speak to him while she’s currently grinding on top of Gar’s cock. “You can take my ass again if you want.” She makes an obscene gesture with her hand and her tongue, and bile swims up my throat.
After a beautiful romantic night out, the last thing I wanted is such a visual reminder of Ryder’s old lifestyle and a flashback to my past. I send her a murderous look, wanting to bitch slap her so bad I could scream.
“Hey, Zeta.” Gar waggles his brows at me, licking his lips as his gaze roams my body in my tight-fitting red minidress. His eyes are rolling back in his head, and he can’t maintain eye focus. “You look fucking hot. Come sit on my face, baby, and I’ll show you a good time.”
My stomach churns sourly, and any warmth I was starting to feel toward him evaporates on the spot. He’s a fucking tool and the last person I want around Ryder. Ryder’s entire body exudes anger like it’s visibly seeping out of his pores. I grip his hand tight, flattening myself to his back, keeping him with me.
Micah winks at me as he pounds into a buxom blonde he has bent over the arm of the couch. She’s eating out a brunette who’s being ass-fucked reverse cowgirl style by some guy with dreads and nipple piercings.
My eyes scan the room, taking in all the debauchery, and I’m transported back in time. The sounds, sights, and surroundings are replaced, and I’m back in that ramshackle house in Garden Grove, being forced to watch as my mother is fucked every which way from Sunday. Ryder lets go of my hand, and I’m vaguely conscious of shouting. Memories assault me, and I stumble on my heels, falling to the floor, scurrying backward until my spine hits the wall. I pull my knees into my chest, shaking all over as fear and disgust swirl around me.
I can smell him—my stepfather—breathing on me with his whiskey fumes, eyeing me up with dollar signs in his eyes, and I feel numerous eyes leering over me and men brushing past and copping a sneaky feel when Bob isn’t watching.
“Don’t touch me!” I mumble, wrapping my arms around my legs in a feeble attempt to ward off my shivers.
Shouting and screaming pierces my eardrums, and I close my eyes, covering my ears with my hands, trying to drown it out.
Glass shatters, and there’s more yelling. Loud thuds startle me, and I’m sobbing, desperately trying to hold myself together, my arms squeezing my torso, my nails digging into skin. A sharp pain stabs me in the foot, but I barely feel it. I’m shivering all over, praying to God to get me out of here, as tears silently cascade down my face.
The commotion seems to last forever. Then someone is crouched over me, and I scream, cowering back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” Someone brushes their hand across my cheek, and I swat their hands away, screaming and shaking. “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I distantly hear someone ask.
“She’s having a flashback, you selfish motherfuckers! This is all your fault! Didn’t you listen to a word she told you about her past?!”
“Ryder?” I gulp, my senses slowly returning. “Ryder!” I scream, panic racing through my veins.
“Shush, baby. It’s me. I’m here.” Ryder’s warm breath fans my face. “Can you open your eyes for me, baby?”
I force my eyes open, blinking profusely before my gaze focuses on his concerned face. “Ryder!” I sob, throwing myself into his arms in grateful relief. He scoops me up, cradling me gently against his chest. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“Zeta, I’m really sorry, I—”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Micah. I don’t want to hear it,” Ryder snaps, interrupting him.
I glance over Ryder’s shoulder and gasp at the state of the living room. The people are gone, and the music is off, but the room is trashed. Furniture is strewn around the place, glass bottles are smashed and broken all over the beautiful hardwood floors, and cushions, throws, ornaments and picture frames are littered all over the space. “What happened?” I whisper.
“Your boyfriend went fucking psycho,” Gar snarls, struggling to stay upright.
I scrutinize his face with little remorse. His left eye is swollen, blood gushes out of his nose, and he has a split lip.
“You’re lucky I’m holding Zeta right now,” Ryder grits out in a clipped voice, his tone menacing and low. “Or I’d finish what I started.”
