Page 166 of Wicked Minds
“Oh my god.” A gasp from behind has me realizing the girl followed me, but I’m too focused on the sight of Riley bent overthe table in front of me, that slimy fucker on top of her as she whimpers helplessly.
I’m moving before I’ve even registered it, fisting the back of his shirt and pulling him off her as I wind my arm back and send it flying into his face. The momentum sends him spinning backward, and I follow as he crashes into the wall, pressing my hand against his chest and holding him there as I deliver punch after punch. I barely register the pain, my vision burned red as I decimate his face.
“Grayson. Grayson!” I don’t know how long someone has been calling my name, but I’m breathing heavily, my hand and face splattered with blood, when I finally loosen my hold on the shitbag. He drops to the floor with a satisfying thud as I turn away.
“I need your help,” the girl says, cradling a hysterical Riley. “She’s having a panic attack. I can’t get her to calm down.”
The sick fuck is forgotten as I close the distance between us, cupping Riley’s face in a firm grip. “Breathe with me, Riley,” I say, struggling to keep my voice calm. “Breathe in. Breathe out.” I take it slow, watching to see if she syncs her breaths with mine.
“It’s not working,” the girl pointlessly states.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pulling Riley from her and dropping to the floor as I bundle her into my arms. I press her ear to my chest so she can hear the thudding of my heart as I focus on slowing it to an average pace and encourage her to breathe with me. “Breathe in. Breathe out,” I repeat, stroking her hair with one hand and holding her tightly with the other.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you. He can’t hurt you. I won’t ever let him hurt you again.”
I repeat my mantra over and over, sending up a silent prayer when she stops hyperventilating. The rasps of her breathing are replaced with soft sobs that break my heart as I squeeze her tighter. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay,” I murmur softly.
“G-Grayson?” she eventually croaks.
“I’m here.”
“Get me out of here, please.”
“Anything, Tempest.”
Holding her as gently as possible, I get to my feet, on a one-track mind, as I stride for the door. It’s only when the girl calls out, “What do you want to do with him?” that I remember I left the shitstain unconscious on the floor.
Keeping Riley’s face tucked against my shirt, I turn, noticing the savage look on the girl as she glares at Ben’s mutilated face. “Leave him. Pretty sure Royce will want to pay him a visit once I fill him in.”
She nods but makes no effort to leave. “I can’t leave you here alone with him,” I say, not truly caring, but I know I’d feel like shit if I left her here and something happened.
She scoffs, smirking at me. “That’s disgustingly chivalrous of you, but you don’t need to worry your pretty little head. Just get my girl out of here.”
“Tara?” Riley hiccups, craning her neck.
The girl—Tara’s—face softens as she smiles at Riley. “Hey, babe. When I told you I wanted the deets later, I was thinking more along the lines of you making out with your boy here.”
Riley’s laugh is more of a sniffle as she wipes at her nose.
“What are you doing here?”
“Picked one hell of a night to leave my phone behind.” Stepping closer, she runs her hand over the top of Riley’s head. “You go home and let this one take care of you, yeah? He looks like he’s going to hulk out if he doesn’t get you out of here, and green is just such a vile color.”
As Riley huffs out another watery laugh, I swear eternal devotion to this woman who has managed to make her laugh twice in the last few minutes.
“I can’t?—”
Tara waves me off. “I called a friend. He’ll be here in a few. We’ll keep an eye on fuckface here until we hear from you about what you wanna do. Riley has my number and Royce probably has Rome’s.”
I hesitate for a moment longer, but she looks happy enough to be left alone, and it’s not like Ben is in any fit state to do anything. Relenting, I walk out of the office with Riley in my arms.
As we reach the front of the building, the door is yanked open, and a wide-eyed Roman comes striding in, looking like he’s about to rip someone limb from limb. We’ve never spoken much, but I recognize him from Royce’s fight nights at The Depot. “You looking for Tara?” I ask when he spots us, his gaze dropping to where Riley is curled up in my arms. I instinctively pull her closer, on the verge of snapping at him to stop staring, when he nods, brows furrowed in confusion. “She’s back there.” I tilt my head down the hallway.
“Thanks,” he grunts before striding past me, and feeling happier now that Tara won’t be alone, I shove out the door and into the night.
I get Riley settled in the car, buckling her in before gently closing the door. She doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly out the window. I hate how fucking fragile she looks. Not once since I spotted her in this club have I seen her looking so lost and breakable. It’s disconcerting after all the shit we threw at her—Ithrew at her.
Walking around the hood, I pull my phone out and send a quick 911 message to the guys. Logan is probably asleep, but Royce is likely waiting up to talk about how his meeting with Xander went tonight.
