Page 74 of Laila Manning
So, I stayed.
I stripped down to my boxers, and slid in behind her, molding my body to hers and feeling her unusual calmness settle into my bones like it was my own.
I was always calm.
Calculated and in control.
Yet from the first moment I touched Laila, I was a wreck. I was unhinged. I was desperate. For whatever she would give me, while trying to protect her fragile soul and heart from the darkness inside of me.
It was exhausting and rewarding in ways I’d never experienced before.
It was themoreI’d gone my whole life without feeling that others did when they found love.
It was everything.
She was everything.
And she was hurt. She had been hurt, because of a number of men that I couldn’t even comprehend. And believe me, I had tried. I had forced myself to do as much digging into Laila’s past as I could. Beating heads together and peeling skin from muscle in search of a list of names to turn my attention to so I could offload some of the fury in my heart from her pain.
But there was no list.
The men who had abused and assaulted her were so plentiful, there was simply no way to track them down. She had been abused so regularly that the faces of men who went into her room blurred until the people I interrogated simply couldn’t name them.
It was single-handedly the most helpless feeling I’d ever endured before.
I had to do something. I had to even the score;it was what I fucking did. It was what was ingrained in my DNA at this point in life.
So as the early morning sunlight started peeking in through her blinds, I slid from her bed, having not slept a wink as my mind ran all night long, and began my search for answers.
And stop number one was in Ryker’s kitchen.
I walked in, surprised to find Jed and Carly at the counter, both nursing cups of coffee like they’d been up all night long as well. The bags under Jed’s eyes said there was far more at play between the two of them than I was privy to, so I didn’t bother asking.
“How is she?” Carly asked, skipping pleasantries.
Before I could answer, Ryker walked in, tying the string on a pair of pajama pants as he flicked his glance at all of us. “You all look like shit.” He went to the fancy coffee machine and pushed the button, filling a cup and handing it to me before starting another for himself. “How’s Laila?” He asked.
“She’s fine.” I responded, angry, that they all seemed to know how close to losing it she came last night. “But I need to talk to Ellie.”
“She’s on her way down.” He replied, turning his attention to Jed and Carly, “You two figure your shit out?”
Carly wouldn’t meet Ryker’s stare, and Jed just clenched his jaw. “We’re fine.” He turned his attention back to me, deflecting as usual. “What the fuck happened last night?”
I bristled at the accusation in his tone and fought the urge to throw my cup of steaming coffee at his face for the fun of it. If Carly wasn’t in the splash zone, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.
“Enough.” Ellie called, walking into the room wearing a cream-colored lounge set and looking rested, but angry. “I won’t have any of your bullshit in my kitchen at this hour.” She pointed her finger at Jed and then turned to me. “How’s Laila?”
“Will everyone stop fucking asking me that?” I snapped, clenching my jaw to keep from screaming through the anxiety building inside of me with each passing minute spent away from her. I took a deep breath, noting Ryker’s glare over his wife’s shoulder as she leaned back against his chest and tried again. “She’s sleeping. She has been out all night.”
“Good.” Ellie nodded.
“I want to know what happened.” I cut to the chase. “Before you brought her to me.”
Ellie sighed and flicked a glance over at Carly, “Let’s start at the beginning then, because I only have part of the story.”
I turned to Carly, “What happened when you two got to the bar?”
She ducked her head again, and Jed tensed, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like Carly brushed away a tear as she pushed her hair back and sat up straighter. “She talked me off a ledge about Jed and hisobnoxious flirting—”
