Page 40 of Devotion

I’m reminded of how I’ve been protecting him, withholding pertinent information from Chief that could make a huge impact on the case. On too many occasions to count, I’ve dropped the fucking ball.

“Shit!”

As I spiral, I’m starting to earn the attention of a few onlookers, but I don’t care. I have to find him, have to finally do what’s right and turn him in. Deep, erratic breaths surge into and out of my lungs, but just when I think I might hyperventilate… I spot him.

Not rushing toward an exit or watching his back like someone might think. In fact, from where I’m standing, he doesn’t seem the least bit frazzled, oozing arrogance as he saunters toward the VIP section where he leans toward one of the bouncers and whispers. A moment later, he’s finished speaking and ascending the steps.

Even in heels, I’m nimble on my feet, moving with urgency. It feels like I don’t blink the entire walk over, fearing that even a short, passing moment without eyes on him will result in him slipping away again. I reach the bouncer and clear my throat, keeping track of Damien the entire time.

“Hey, I know you’ve got a job to do, and you’re not supposed to let just anyone in, but…”

“Are you Layla?”

The guard’s question throws me off.

“I’m… I am. Why?”

He arches a brow, then shoots a look toward Damien settling into a dimly lit booth in the corner.

“I’m paraphrasing, but he said that if a knockout named Layla with dark hair and a gold dress came looking for him to let her up. So…”

He reaches toward the green velvet rope, unlatches the clasp, then nods toward the steps for me to go through. I’m not sure what to say or think, but as I storm toward Damien, I know I have to get closer despite knowing who and what he is.

“Is this a game to you?”

I toss the crumpled napkin at his chest and a swell of anger churns in my gut when he smirks again. As calmly as if I’d walked over to take his drink order, he places the napkin aside.

“I should call the cops and have your ass arrested. Right here. In front of everyone.”

With one painstakingly slow motion, he spreads his arms across the back of the booth, their span nearly stretching from one end of the curved seating to the other.

“What’s stopping you?”

The question is spoken calmly, but there’s a challenge buried within the words. With how I’ve kept vital information out of the right hands, he doesn’t even believe me now. And honestly, I’m not sureIbelieve me now. I’ve all but given him an invitation to misbehave, continue using this city as his personal playscape of pain and carnage.

“Sit with me.”

My feet stay planted, and he holds my gaze, never blinking.

“How’d you even know I’d be here?” I hiss. “Oh, right. You’re a fucking stalker.”

His tongue slips out, wetting his lips before one corner of his mouth curves upward.

“Layla, admit that my being here tonight was a good thing. If I hadn’t been, who knows what might’ve happened. I protected you.” His expression darkens. “And I think we both know I’m the only one who seems to take that seriously.”

His words bring the taco joint on the seedy side of town to mind again, and the fact that I’ve been here alone for forty-five minutes now. No sign of Martinez. No sign ofanythingfrom him but excuses. Then, my thoughts shift to John, the malice barely hidden in his eyes. However, I won’t give Damien the satisfaction of knowing he might be right. But only on this point. Nothing else.

“Sit with me,” he beckons again, and I hate how badly my body wants to obey. How badly my feet want to walk in his direction, bend to his will.

He seems to notice I’m at war within myself when his eyes briefly roll toward the ceiling.

“Tell you what,” he says with a sigh. “Join me, and I’ll answer two questions of your choosing. Within reason, that is.”

“Three.”

He holds my gaze. “Fine.”

At first, I’m channeling my father’s stubbornness, standing my ground. But then Damien’s offer becomes just a little too tempting. Hence the reason why, only a few seconds later, I’m scooting into the booth beside him. I’m keenly aware of where his arm remains across the top of the seat, behind me now, close enough to touch me if he decided to be so bold. His heated stare never leaves me.

---