“So I take it that what I’m thinking you’re tied up in is probably correct.”
“Think what you like, Layla. Most people do.”
“I don’t usually spend this amount of time thinking about people, Donovan, but you’ve got me intrigued.”
Her use of my real name jolted me back eight years. Ashley used to insist on calling me that.
I stood abruptly. “Thanks for the drinks.”
She looked up at me. “Thanks for sorting Mario out for me.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmured, giving her a long, last look.
Layla Reed could be dangerous. I savoured the deliciousness of that knowledge because danger always attracted me. I’d be back, but tonight, the ghosts of the past haunted me and I needed to be alone to deal with that.
Chapter Five
Layla
My cousin, Annie, lived in squalor, and as much as I tried to help her, she wouldn’t help herself. Ever since that fateful day nine years ago when I’d discovered her shocking secret, I’d been scrambling to help her make changes in her life. Hell, I’d fucking committed a crime for her in amongst everything else I’d done, and yet she still couldn’t pull her head out of her ass.
I stood in her kitchen, assessing the mess of dirty dishes and rubbish strewn everywhere. Annie sat at the table, her head in her hands while she sobbed. The desperation of her life clung to the air around us and my skin crawled with the need to escape. But Annie needed me, so I stayed.
“Do you want some tea?” I asked. Tea always made me feel better.
Her tearstained face looked up at me and she nodded. “Yes,” she choked out her answer in between sobs.
I had to wash dishes and clear space to be able to make tea. That pissed me off, and when I placed the tea in front of her, I did so with a little more force than necessary. Tea spilt over the edge of the mug, and Annie looked up at me apologetically. She knew how furious I was.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes avoiding mine.
I sat at the table with her and sighed. “Annie, you know I love you. I mean, I almost fucking killed a man for you, I took you in, I paid for you to go to college...I’ve done every-fucking-thing I can to help you have a better life, so why the hell do you throw it in my face and continue to accept shit in your life?” My voice grew louder, more forceful. “Your boyfriend is an asshole who doesn’t love you, and he treats you like you’re the shit on his shoes. He does nothing for you and expects you to do everything for him. Fuck, look at this place. It’s disgusting. You were doing better before you hooked up with him, and now you’ve taken so many steps backwards. I find it heartbreaking to watch.”
She stared at me with wide eyes and listened to everything I had to say before starting to cry again. Her body heaved with sobs and I let her get it all out without saying a word. A very fucking hard thing to do. Eventually she said, “It’s my fault. I don’t want to have sex with him . . . I can’t do it . . . and it upsets him . . . ” Her voice trailed off as more tears fell.
My skin heated with anger and my shoulders tensed. How fucking dare he! “Annie, look at me,” I demanded.
She didn’t do what I said so I repeated myself, louder this time, “Annie, look at me!”
She jumped in her seat and quickly moved her gaze to mine. The hopelessness I saw there made me want to rip the balls off her boyfriend. I softened my voice. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Your father fucked you up, Annie, to the point where you have major issues with sex. That is not your fault. If you had a boyfriend who loved you and actually cared enough about you, he would help you through that. It’s not your fault he chooses, instead, to screw around on you and emotionally abuse you. Do you understand that?”
She stared at me. It was an almost vacant stare. When she slowly nodded, I knew she didn’t mean it. Annie had no self-esteem.
Fuck.
I shoved my chair back and stood. Looking down at her, I said, “We’re leaving.”
Her eyes turned frantic and she madly shook her head. “No . . . I can’t leave . . . where will I go?” Tears began falling again, and I moved to her so I could place my hand on her shoulder.
I squatted so I was at her eye level. “Annie,” I said in a gentle tone, “you can stay with me. I will look after you and help you get back on your feet.” I should have made her come live with me years ago, but I was always focused on helping her gain independence. What I should have focused on was getting her mind to a good place before sending her out into the world on her own. I’d do that this time. She needed to see a psychologist to begin working through the shit weighing her down.
She didn’t seem convinced, but nevertheless, she stood and nodded. “Okay.”
I quickly packed some clothes in a bag for her. I didn’t want to risk her changing her mind, so I worked fast to get her out of there. For a twenty-five year old woman, she owned very little so it didn’t take me long. Fifteen minutes later, I bundled her into my car and made the half-hour drive home. Annie sat next to me staring out the window, not saying a word. I prayed like hell she would run with this plan and not slink back to her boyfriend.