Page 4 of Laila Manning
“Are you daft?” The woman asked with a sneer as she took the large coffee from my hands, spilling it over the edge and burning my fingers. I didn’t remember my runner even handing it to me, yet there I stood, holding onto it, and gazing off into space.
“Shit.” I cursed, wrapping my hand in my apron as tears burned my eyes from the pain.
“That was your fault.” She accused. “You’re so stupid you can’t even hand someone a coffee the right way.”
My boss, Nate, walked forward to the counter and handed her a pile of napkins.
“I’m so sorry, Victoria. Your next one is on the house. I’m sorry for all this, she’s—difficult.” He said in a nasal, heavy voice that drove me absolutely insane.
He was eighteen and had been promoted to manager by his dad, the owner of the store, but he was the worst kind of boss out there.
I held my burned hand to my stomach still, even though he didn’t spare me a second glance.
Victoria started to say something to me, no doubt another insult, when a shadow descended on her, and a large, imposing man walked right up against her back. I looked up into the eyes of the scariest man I’d ever met .
“I think you need to think twice about whatever that cunt mouth of yours was about to say to her.” He warned in his dark tone.
“Diesel.” I hissed, my eyes jumping from the woman who went as white as a ghost as she looked up into the face of the notorious president of the Reaper MC. My boss stood next to me with his mouth agape and was also silent for once in his pathetic life.
Diesel Ames turned to me and raised an eyebrow as he let his eyes drop over my body from hair to toes and back. I should be revolted by his gaze, or at least wane under it, but for some reason, I never shrunk around him.
And he had been coming around more and more lately.
“Laila. Is there a problem here?” He turned, looking down his nose at the woman who probably had never been looked at like that before a day in her life.
“What?” She stammered and stepped back away from him as he came to stand at her side, cocking his hip against the counter. “No! No problem.” She finished in a whisper.
“Good, because I know of about ten different ways off the top of my head to make a cunt like you beg for forgiveness, and not a single one of them leaves you alive in the end.” Diesel snapped back at her. He turned his attention to my teenage boss, “Your employee is hurt, and you ignore her pain to take the side of your bitch-ass customer? Do you have any idea who the fuck she is?” He challenged the kid and, as expected, my boss shrunk under his intense stare and menacing words.
“Uh, my apologies–” Nate the snake said, looking away from Diesel to me, but I just rolled my eyes.
“I’m done,” I said, realizing that even without Diesel stepping in and scaring my boss, there was no way I could do this stupid job anymore. “I quit.” I took off my apron and threw it on the counter before going to the back to get my bag and walking back out around the front counter. The entire coffee shop was silent as patrons and employees watched on in morbid fascination while Diesel stood rooted in place with his arms crossed over his chest and his leather vest hanging open over his clean white tee.
I didn’t stop to talk to him or anyone else as I walked to the door, but on my way, I heard his warning loud and clear. “Laila Manning is protected by the King of the Shadeport Crew himself, as well as the Reapers MC. Fuck with her again and I’ll skin you alive.”
I pushed my way out onto the sidewalk and gasped a deep breath of fresh air to calm my spiraling nerves. The tingling in my hand was fading, so I knew it wasn’t severe, but my chest was tightening more and more, and I knew if I didn’t get out of my head, I’d be falling face-first into a panic attack in minutes.
“Hey, wait up.” Diesel said as I ran my hand through my hair and looked around for a way out of this mess.
“I have to go,” I said quietly, looking anywhere but at him. I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and pulled up a ride-share app, but my hands were shaking so badly that I dropped it and the screen shattered on the rough concrete. “Shit!” I hissed and clawed at the collar of my shirt. It was suffocating me.
“Laila, hey!” Diesel tried again, putting both hands on my arms, and turning me towards him. He leaned down to look at me, and I focused on the top of his man bun for mere seconds before turning away and looking for an out. “You’re having a panic attack, aren’t you?” He asked. His voice lost the edge that I usually heard in it and softened.
I nodded quickly and closed my eyes as tears soaked my lashes. “I have to get out of here,” I whispered, keeping my eyes closed.
“Let’s go.” He said, pulling me towards his bike parked a few spots away. Red flags flew into my vision like a downhill skier as I followed after him, but I didn’t know what else to do. My phone was useless, and I couldn’t wait for the bus to take me home. I just needed to get home and intomyspace, and I’d be able to calm down.
Diesel swung his leg over the large hunk of matte black metal, and I froze. The seat on the back was tiny, and I fought the memories trying to assault my brain that associated motorcycles with pain from my experiences with the Youngblood MC.
But they were all dead.
Because of Jed and Diesel’s men.
I could trust him. He killed for me.
“Get on, Laila.” He commanded, and my feet moved again without thinking as I threw my leg over the back and pressed my chest against his body. He smelled of leather and cigarette smoke, and I closed myeyes and tried to ground myself to that one single sense instead of paying attention to all five. Wrapping his hands around my ankles, he lifted my feet onto the pegs behind his legs before taking my hands and wrapping them around his stomach. “Hold on to me, and don’t let go. Got it?”
“Got it,” I nodded and kept my eyes closed. My crossbody bag rested against my back as he turned on the bike and it roared to life. I felt him move his legs, and in seconds we were pulling away from the curb and thundering down the busy city street. He weaved in between cars, and my arms wrapped tighter around his stomach as the bike leaned from side to side.
