Page 198 of LA King

I nod and blink back tears. “I need … Do you have a phone I could use”—I read the nametag on her shirt—“Janine?”

She tilts her head to one side and studies me. No doubt I have a huge red mark on my face and look a little worse for wear. She takes pity on me and pulls out her phone. “Sure, honey. Here, take mine.” She puts in her passcode and hands the phone over.

I dial the only LA number I know by heart—Alejandro’s hotel. All those hotel pens on my desk must have implanted the number in my brain.

I get through to the receptionist, who makes it clear she has no intention of connecting me to Alejandro until I tell her I’m his wife and that he’ll be incredibly annoyed if he finds out she didn’t at least check to see if he wanted to take my call.

A few moments later, he’s on the other end of the line. “Alana?”

I swallow the knot of anxiety in my throat. I’m terrified for Lucy and myself.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m really sorry to bother you at work. But I’m … Could you send a car for me? I’m at Betsy’s Diner, downtown near the shelter.”

“Why do you need a car? Why didn’t you call my cell? Where’s your security?” He fires off one question after the next.

I take a deep breath to stop myself from crying. I’m a big girl, and I’m allowed to leave the house whenever the hell I want. “I … left without any security today. Someone took my purse. I don’t have any cash or my cell.”

He’s breathing heavily like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Stay right where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He ends the call before I can tell him that all I need is a car. The last thing I want is him storming in here and shouting at me for leaving the house without a bodyguard.

“Is someone coming for you, honey?” Janine asks, and I realize I’m still holding onto her phone.

“Yes. Thank you so much for your help.” I hand it back to her. “Am I okay to stay until he gets here?”

“Of course you are, sweets. You want a coffee while you wait? On the house?”

“That’s really kind of you,” I say as a fat tear rolls down my cheek.

She leans down and squeezes my hand. “Not a problem, honey. How about some pie too? We do a killer cherry.”

I smile at her kindness. “Just a coffee will be perfect. Thank you.” I couldn’t eat anything and keep it down. My stomach is churning so hard the milk from my breakfast might turn to butter.

I look up expectantly every time the diner door opens, wondering if every person is either my attacker or Alejandro and not being entirely sure which I’m more terrified to see. It feels like an eternity passes but must be less than half an hour when Alejandro walks in. He looks so fierce that I consider making a run for the back door.

He scans the room quickly until he catches my eye. The look on his face is murderous, and it’s enough to make my knees shake while my heart thumps persistently in my throat. The adrenaline from earlier has worn off now, and it seems like my entire body might start trembling uncontrollably if I don’t get ahold of myself. Alejandro stalks across the diner. Silently, he slides into the booth opposite me, his eyes raking over my face. There must be a mark because he gently brushes his fingertips across my cheek. His touch is soothing, even if his demeanor is anything but.

He snarls, vibrating with rage. “Who the fuck did that to you?”

“Some guy named Blake. He’s the ex-boyfriend of one of the girls at the shelter. Lucy. You met her, remember?”

“Is Blake the same guy who took your purse?”

I nod.

He sits back in his seat and takes a deep breath through his nose, his hands clenched into fists on the table. He’s really working to control his temper, and I bet he’d quite like to punish me right here at this booth.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea of the danger you put yourself in? How many times have I warned you about leaving the house without protection, Alana? Sometimes it feels like you want to get yourself killed. Do you?”

Is he serious? “Of course not.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe me, his nostrils flaring and jaw clenching. He leans forward, his deep brown eyes blazing with his ire. “Half of me wants to put you over my knee right here in this diner and spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to even think about leaving the house without remembering the pain.”

“And what about your other half?”

His jaw works back and forth. “The other half is just glad you’re safe.” He scans the diner quickly. “Let’s get out of here. You can explain yourself in the car.”

He stands and I do too, feeling like a runaway teenager who’s about to get a lecture from my father. Then he reaches for my hand and squeezes gently. It’s comfort and protection and warmth. A rush of love for him completely blindsides me. Even in his anger, he can make me feel safe and loved. This man who claims not to love me.