Page 53 of Love JD

I slammed the door and crossed the room in two strides before kneeling down in front of Isla. “Isla, honey,” I murmured, ignoring the woman whose leather pants were drowning in big, fat tears that trickled off Isla’s smooth cheeks.

Isla sniffed, lifting her head with unfocused eyes. “Zev?”

I helped her to sit up, and a waft of alcohol and sugar caused me to glare at the stranger. “She’s drunk?”

“Very,” the blond woman confirmed with a flare of her almond eyes. “But I had them water down her drinks after the third or so.”

Isla slumped forward, and I caught her, pulling her to my chest. With her mouth loose and muffled against my button-down, Isla mumbled, “They attack’d me.”

“Who did?” I gave the blond woman another harsh glare.

Completely unaffected, the blond brushed moisture off her pants. “You’d think I would have recognized her, but I’m not the most observant, honestly. If I had, I wouldn’t have left her out in the open for everyone to see.”

“Who are you?” I demanded. Isla had grasped my vest with both hands, and I tucked her under my chin.

“I’m her driver,” she smiled blandly.

I glowered. “If you weren’t a woman, I’d give you a black eye for taking her to a place like this.”

“Oh, I’m not a woman,” she replied easily, standing. “I’m like sixty percent nacho cheese and the last forty is a messy conglomerate of impulsivity and sass.” She gave us an up-down appraisal. “Damn, I sure can read humans, though. I should go into fortune telling next.”

“She’ssfine,” Isla slurred, lifting her head with all the grace of a newborn colt. “She safved’me.”

I gave the stranger another questioning flick of my eyes. She blew out a sigh, puffing out her cheeks. “A few people figured out who Isla is, and the waitresses helped me get her to this room. There’s a nasty article that just got out, I guess, so she was fresh on everyone’s mind.”

“I’m aware,” I said tightly.

“Well, a fucking lot of good that did her,” the blond woman said with another flare of her eyes. “I don’t know what you said to her, but she was pissed enough that she asked me to take her somewhere so she could get wasted. I did my best to pick somewhere less obvious for her to rebel.”

I shifted Isla so I could pick her up easier. “Then you suck at your job,” I grunted, standing. I adjusted Isla’s limp body in my arms, and she didn’t fight me. In fact, she hummed happily and burrowed her face into my chest. Something inside of me clicked, like a safe on its way to a combination.

“That’s true,” the blond admitted, as if conducting her own quarterly review. “Rideshare driving might not be my thing. I might try beer maiden next. I hear Oktoberfest is fun.”

I gave her a look like she ought to be in a padded room somewhere. “Whoever you are, don’t go anywhere until you sign an NDA.”

“No can do.” She clicked her mouth to the side. “I don’t do signatures. It’s been fun, though. Tell your shortbread cutie that I had a good time, and I’m glad she got what she wanted.” She held open the door for us. I memorized her features so I could send people after her.

“What did she want?” I asked.

She gave me a wolfish grin. “You.”

Chapter eighteen

Isla

I wasn’t sure why I had boarded a ship. I hated ships. They made me seasick, and the open ocean gave me panic attacks. But I rode one anyway, swaying violently back and forth, my stomach churning and cold splashing my skin with relentless, icy slaps. I shivered and desperately wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t. The ship plunged into heavy darkness over and over again. Each time I emerged from the gurgling black water, I wanted to puke, but then I dove in it again.

“Come on, Isla,” a familiar voice grated out. Why did his voice sound so rough? “Wake up.”

Oh, I’m drunk, I realized, surfacing with sudden awareness. My blood pressure was probably all over the place because of it. I forced my eyes open. I couldn’t make out much. A dimly lit ceiling. Someone’s arm under my neck supporting me upright. I closed my eyes again with a groan.

“Oh, thank God,” Zev gusted out. “Isla, drink this.”

My stomach rebelled, and when a cup was pressed to my lips, I shied away from it.

“It’s this or the ER.” Zev’s voice sounded colder than my icy fingertips. He meant it. I swallowed a sports drink and cursed my idiocy with every gulp. I would never drink alcohol again, I resolved. This misery afterward wasn’t worth it.

A warm blanket—too warm to just be a regular one—covered my body and hugged me back down to sleep.

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