Page 108 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“Someone sold you out, but I’m your best friend.” He pocketed his phone and held out his hand. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Now you’re helping me?”

“Now? I followed you all this way to make sure you were okay. You didn’t sound right on the phone. I opened your door.” He angled his head. “It’s raining, Nash. We need to leave.”

“What about my Jeep? And the cops? There should be an accident report—”

He waved that all off. “Of course. You can call from my dry car. Although it probably doesn’t matter now. You’ll catch your death.”

The phrase harkened back to his ma. She’d said that to us so many times when we were younger.

The longing for her and what I’d lost grabbed me in a vicious chokehold, cutting off my oxygen. I only realized I was gasping when Kyle stepped forward and hauled me up.

“Get yourself together, man. Are you hurt?”

I pushed him away from me. “I’m okay.” I rubbed the knot in my forehead. Maybe I had a concussion. That was why I couldn’t remember calling him.

Why everything about the night was sketchy and out of focus.

“Let’s get in the car and make your calls.”

I looked around blearily. “I have to—my phone’s in there. It’s dead. Lindsey texted me—” I cut off the words but it was too late.

“Oh, remember that well enough, do you?” Kyle’s smile was suddenly blinding. “Priorities then, is it? I understand. I’d be the same if I had a woman like her shagging me.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He only arched a brow and crossed his arms. “You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to. You’re free to wait for whomever out here if you prefer.”

The slight taunting edge to his tone made my jaw lock. “I’m sorry. Yes, thank you. I’ll call the cops from your car.”

“I’ll grab your stuff for you.” He was already skidding down the side of the ditch to yank open the passenger door. He emerged with my phone and my soft-sided briefcase. “This good?”

“It’s fine. Thanks. Let’s go so I can make that call.” Time was passing and I knew the cops didn’t appreciate a delay when reporting an accident.

“And Lindsey? You should call her too, let her know you’re okay. For now.” The last bit he said as he turned away to head back to his vehicle.

“For now?”

He shrugged. “Let’s be real. She’s not exactly your type. Do you really want to get her mixed up in all of this?”

Even though I told myself variations of the same thing on a regular basis, hearing him say it made me want to lay him out.

“Let it go,” I gritted out.

He held up his hands as he slowed down to walk beside me to his car. “Sure. Whatever you say. I’m sure she didn’t sell those photos for a little tour publicity. You know, hot shot producer fucks rockstar gets good coverage.”

I stopped walking and shook back my soaked hair. “Why would she do that? She could’ve been exposed in those photos too.”

“Her photog was smart. Didn’t capture her. Funny how it didn’t work out her way though. They think you were banging Angel instead.” Kyle rubbed his scruffy jaw, coming to a halt as if he was impervious to the rain. “Unless there are other pictures…”

“That’s bullshit,” I spat out. On that one point, I was crystal clear. “This isn’t the time for this. Why are you even talking about those stupid photos?” Even if they weren’t stupid. Somehow had captured and tried to cheapen one of the best days of my life. “I just fucking spun off the road.”

“Of course. I just want you to know I’m the one who’s there for you. Who’s always been there.” He clicked the key fob. “Go on, get in. There’s a clean towel in my gym bag. Get dried off and I’ll call the cops.”

I grabbed the door and swayed, then sucked in a breath. “Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. “Thank you for being there.” My throat burned, and it wasn’t just because I was still so thirsty.

I owed him a lot. I just couldn’t quite reconcile what I owed him and the weirdness I couldn’t make sense of.

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