Page 6 of Dark Prince

I suckat my job today.

Hell, I’ve sucked at it for the last few days.

Ever since Lucas Hale knocked me out of the street before sauntering into Rinata, I’ve spent every shift distracted. I serve my tables while keeping one eye on the door, hoping he’ll come back and kicking myself for not returning to work that night and begging for a double in hopes of waiting on him.

He hasn’t, of course, because why would he? With the sort of money he has, I highly doubt our gazpacho and chocolate mousse wowed him enough to have him return so soon.

I force myself to focus on the table in front of me, wincing as I have to ask the woman to repeat her order. She takes a minute to cuss me out in French to her companion—or at least, I assume that’s what she’s doing—which I probably deserve. I finally get both orders and head back into the kitchen, forcing myself to keep my eyes in front of me instead of scanning the damn room for the billionth time.

I pin the order and call it out, then turn to go back to my tables. Taylor, a friend and fellow waiter, stops me before I get there and jerks his head toward the back door.

“Someone’s here looking for you,” he says.

My heart skips a beat as my mind dares to race to assumptions. Could Lucas Hale have come back to see me? Doubtful. I don’t think I mentioned that I work here. And…why does Taylor look frantic?

I frown, confused, and hurry to the door to see what’s going on.

When I open it, it feels like a bucket of ice water was dumped over my head. Cassidy is standing in front of me, beaten, bruised, bloody, and sobbing. Her blonde hair is stained rusty red by her ear and one of her big gray eyes is swollen partway shut. Her tanned skin looks purple where the bruises are beginning to darken.

“Cassidy? What the hell happened?” My voice is strained as I rush forward and touch her gingerly, afraid I’ll hurt her if I hug her.

“Th-they think I owe them money,” she says, wiping her face with her sleeve to get rid of the tears. It doesn’t work and only serves to smear blood over her cheek. “But I don’t! I don’t do any drugs, and I sure as hell don’t sell them! I’ve never even seen these people before, but they know me. How is that possible? I mean, I—”

I brush her sticky bangs out of her eyes and make her meet my gaze with her good eye. “Take a deep breath,” I tell her. “Start from the beginning.”

With a little confirming nod, Cassidy clears her throat, lets two more tears fall, then starts to speak slower.

“I was jumped,” she says, her voice steady as some strength returns to her. I hope it’s because she knows she’s always safe with me. “I was walking to the store, and a bunch of big guys came out of nowhere. Th-they dragged me into an alley, the one behind the yogurt shop on Wilshire. They beat me up and threatened my life if I didn’t give them their money or return the drugs.Whatfucking drugs?”

She starts shaking again, her eyes filling with confused tears. My mind is racing, trying to keep up with everything she’s saying, but I keep a brave face and squeeze her hand tighter.

“They knew my full name,” she whispers hoarsely. “They knew what I looked like. It’s not like they had the wrong person—they were looking for me. But I don’t know what they were talking about!”

She’s crying again, her momentary clarity gone under a wave of confusion and pain. My heart nearly stops as the agony in her voice breaks me just as much as the sight of her injuries.

I completely believe her; I know Cassidy would never get involved with shit like that. Somebody must have set her up to take this fall. Who would do that to someone like her? Cassidy has always been friendly and kind, albeit a little too sassy for her own good at times. My mind is spinning, trying to find a rhyme or reason to why this would happen to her. She doesn’t even hang around people involved in that sort of scene.

A lump forms in my throat with a sudden realization.

We don’t hang around people like thatanymore.

But I know exactly one piece of shit who does, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility to imagine him doing something like this.

My panic and confusion give way to a nearly blinding rage. I’m beyond pissed just at the idea that Jason could be the one behind this. If my fucking dirtbag ex set up my little sister to get jumped by his drug dealer buddies, I will make his life a living hell.

Anger has to wait, as does doing anything about it. For right now, I need to focus on getting Cassidy home safely.

“Let’s get you out of here,” I tell her, then take my sister’s arm and lead her around the building to hail a cab. “Do you think anything is broken?”

“No,” she says through her sniffles. “Just bruised.”

“Good. Go back to your apartment. Wash up, ice up, and stay there with the door locked. I’ll fix this.”

She blinks at me, confused, as I wave down a taxi. “What do you mean, you’ll fix it?”

“Trust me.”

She clearly isn’t happy with that answer, but it’s the only one she’s getting right now. I don’t want to tell her what’s going on in my head right now, like the vicious fantasies of tearing Jason’s dumb ass limb from limb and beating him with his own dismembered arm.

---