Page 13 of Depraved

I’d spend years pushing her away. Years ignoring the way she chased after me, thinking I had time. That was the problem with waiting. You always think you have time when you just fucking don’t. When she took that bullet at the docks, regret hit me square in the fucking chest. So much waiting, and for fucking what? So much time wasted, when I already knew I was in love with her. I had been for years.

My mind was upstairs, imagining what was happening in that hotel room. Layla's body writhing in pleasure. Her breathy moans as Alex fucked her senseless. The way her back would arch as she came undone.

I clutched the glass so tightly my knuckles turned white. Envy twisted in my stomach, as bitter as acid. It was supposed to be me up there, touching her soft skin and hearing her moan my name in pleasure. I knew the others craved her too, and that was okay. Layla was a grown woman and she deserved whatever she wanted, but I still needed her to understand that she belonged to me—or, I belonged to her.

I drained the last of my whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. The bartender appeared with another, but I waved him off. I'd had enough. Any more and I might do something stupid, like storm upstairs and interrupt whatever the hell was going on in that hotel room. maybe I should. Maybe I should barge in and fuck her into oblivion. Maybe I’d have those boys watch how a real man fucks.

The bar had emptied out, leaving just me and my brooding thoughts. Every muscle in my body was coiled tight, thrumming with pent-up frustration and need.

I sensed movement beside me, someone sliding onto the adjacent barstool. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something wasn't right.

"You come here often?" a familiar voice asked softly.

My blood ran cold. Without thinking, my hand flew to the gun concealed at my waist. But before I could draw, I felt the press of cold metal against my ribs.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Gage murmured. "I just want to talk."

I turned slowly, meeting his eyes. He looked different—hair longer, stubble darkening his jaw. But those eyes were the same. Calculating. Unreadable.

"You've got thirty seconds to explain yourself before I risk taking that bullet just for the satisfaction of watching you bleed out," I growled.

Gage's lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile I'd always hated. "Now, now, Sarge. Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Friend?" I spat the word like poison. "You're a fucking traitor. A rat. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet between your eyes right now."

His eyes hardened, all traces of amusement vanishing. "Because I have information Layla would want. Information about her mother."

Ice rushed through my veins in an instant. Layla's mother had been a ghost, a painful absence that haunted her every step. She never spoke of the woman who'd lost her child to sex traffickers. The woman she decided not to return to even after she was free. I knew the wound still festered.

Layla told me she didn’t want to soil her mother’s memories of her with the knowledge of who she’d become as a result. I lost count of how many times I’d told her that her mom wouldn’t care. She thought her daughter was dead. She even had a funeral for her after so many years passed. But Layla wouldn’t hear it.

"You're lying," I said, but doubt crept into my voice that I knew he could hear.

Gage shook his head slowly. "I'm not. And if she wants to know the truth, she's going to need me alive to get it."

I studied him carefully, searching for any sign of deception. But his gaze remained steady, unflinching. But what the fuck did that even mean? He’d been lying since I met him. Lying to Layla even while he shoved his dick in her time and time again.

I looked him up and down in disgust. “Tell me you’re not about to use her mom as a pathetic way to keep yourself alive. That’s low even for you, Gage.”

I fought the urge to wrap my hands around his throat. The bar suddenly felt too small, the air thick and warm.

Looking around to make sure we were clear of any wandering ears, I leaned in, gritting my words out through clenched teeth. "You've been lying since the day we met. Why the fuck should I trust a word out of your mouth now?"

In the dim light of the bar, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He looked tired, I realized. Haunted, even.

"I know you have no reason to trust me. I wouldn’t trust me. But it doesn’t change the fact that I'm telling the truth. I've been pretty much stalking Layla's mother since before my cover was blown. Layla might say she doesn’t want to know her, but she’d still want her to be taken care of. I made that happen. But now shit’s gotten fucking messy, and…"

He trailed off as if he’d already said too much.

“And what?” I pressed.

Gage leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Carlos is going after her mom. I have reason to believe he's planning to use her as leverage against Layla and Raul."

Carlos was a ruthless bastard. He was currently locked up under watch back at the villa, but that didn’t mean shit. He had just as many men as Raul did, even if he tried to pretend he wasout of the family business. We all knew he was gunning for Rauls position still.

"How do you know that?"

Gage's eyes darted around the bar before settling back on me. "I've been keeping tabs on her ever since I left. Making sure she was safe, you know? A couple weeks ago, she filed a police report. Said she thought some men were following her, watching her house."

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