Page 48 of Vallaverse: Twist
“What?” I ask.
Brooks juts his chin to the left, keeping his gaze focused on whatever he's looking at. “That guy keeps looking at you.”
My pulse pounds, speeding up so fast that I get a little dizzy. I slowly turn my head to see whoever Brooks is looking at. When my gaze settles on the man, nausea washes over me in a sickening wave. I don't remember his name, but I know his face. I know his touch and his cruelty. “Can we leave?”
Brooks looks away from the Alpha and at me. “Why?”
“Please,” I whisper. I can't be here. “Can we go?”
Thankfully, Brooks doesn't ask me who he is; he just starts solving problems and trying to make me feel safe. “He won't bother you. I promise you that.”
“No,” I say, closing my eyes against the spinning, “I know. But, please, can we leave?” I chance a glance over my shoulder again, and my mouth goes dry. Terror is starting to set in. He's with a woman. He won't come over here, not with Brooks being a Valla. He would never risk that. But the way he's smirking at me and reaching for his phone says everything. “Please, Brooks. We need to go.”
“Alright,” Brooks says, his mouth set in a tight line.
“Please don't be angry.”
He reaches across the table and squeezes my cold fingers with his warm ones. “I'm not angry, Laz. I'm worried. There's a difference.”
“I'll be okay,” I say. “I just need to get out of here. I'm sorry.”
“You're not the only one I'm worried about. Your fear is clawing at me. I need to get us away before I react to it. We are going to walk out of here calmly, and when we get on the main road, I need to know who he is and why you're terrified of him. Let's go.”
We leave as calmly as he said we would. He leaves cash on the table for the abandoned food and wine and leads me out of the building, keeping his body between mine and the Alpha. The closer to the door we get, the more Brooks's rage beats at me. This does nothing for my violent anxiety and fear, but it doesn't matter at this point. My energy and Brooks's are bouncing off one another while also feeding each other. We are in a dangerous situation escalating in real time.
When we get to the car, Brooks shuts me inside silently and then quickly rounds the front of the car to the driver's side. He gets in, and I press the lock button several times as he starts the car and drives us out of the parking lot. The second the tires hit the pavement, he takes a breath and reaches over to spread his hand over my thigh. This is a touch to comfort, and it does. His warmth seeps into me and I cling to it.
After several minutes, he breaks the heavy silence. “Do you know his name?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Who is he to you?”
“No one.”
He cuts a glance at me. “I'm not being jealous right now, Lazarus. I need to know what we're dealing with and how I can make it disappear.”
A shudder moves through me. I know very well how good Brooks is at making things disappear. He may be a reformed bad man, but bad men are never truly, completely good. I sink into the seat and stare out at the darkness outside the window. It's a pretty rural area. Even though we're on a major highway, wehaven't passed any stores and only a handful of houses. It's the perfect area for people to disappear in.
I don't want to talk about this with Brooks. I don't want to hear myself explain it. I don't want to tell him about clients or what happened with those clients. I don't want him thinking about me with clients. I don't want him to think about or know that version of me.
“Laz,” he says softly. “You're okay. You can tell me. It's okay.”
I close my eyes and bite my lip. I don't want to do this. I know I need to, but I really don't want to. “He was a client. I don't remember his name. I don't remember a lot of their names, just their faces and how they felt... um... how they treated me, I mean. They weren't all terrible, but he was.”
“Why did we need to run? Do you think I'd ever let him hurt you again?”
“No,” I say, and swallow thickly. “I know you wouldn't. But he'll tell Kris he saw me. He was smiling. And staring. He'll tell her where I am, and she'll come back for me. I don't want to go back. I don't want—“ I can't go on. I can't finish. I can't go back.
Brooks squeezes my thigh. “She won't come for you, Laz. I promise.”
I thunk my head against the headrest, scoffing. “You can't promise that.”
“I can.”
I turn sharply to look at him. His jaw isn't even set. He's casual. Relaxed. “No, Brooks. You can't.”
“I really can, though. I know without a doubt that she will never come for you. You will never have to see her again. Ever.”
