Chapter 1 #2
I didn’t imagine anything. He is trying to drug her.
The pill had dissolved instantly. He stirred the drink once, with his finger.
It happened so fast, like it wasn’t a first-time occurrence.
The piece of shit then glanced around the lounge a second time.
I briefly wonder if Ethan made him do it, but from what Harley has said about him, he was head over heels for Kennedy.
The fucker doesn’t see me. I’m on my feet before I’ve even thought it through. Rage fills every fiber of my being.
“Hey,” I snap, crossing the space in a handful of strides.
The guy straightens, eyebrows up, smirk already forming like I’m an inconvenience. “What’s up, buddy?”
I point at the glass. “What the hell did you just put in that?”
He laughs like I didn’t just catch him in the act of trying to drug a girl before taking a step in my direction, shoving me back. “Relax, man. It’s nothing?—”
I don’t let him finish.
My fist connects with his jaw so hard I feel it in my shoulder.
He stumbles, tripping over the table and going down hard. Glass shatters on the floor around him.
People gasp. Someone screams. And despite the bass pumping through the room, the floor still shaking beneath my feet, in that instant, the music doesn’t stop, but everything else does.
Then chaos explodes.
“Easton!” someone yells. Harley’s not back yet. She hasn’t seen the mess before me.
The guy scrambles to get up and pathetically defend his honor.
He slips on the broken glass, and when he finally finds his footing, he lunges, wild and sloppy.
I duck the first swing, catch the second, and then slam him into the low table.
Bottles crash, ice scatters across the floor, and more people scream. The music never falters.
“Back off,” I growl, holding him down with my forearm pressed to his chest.
He spits blood, eyes wild. “You’re dead, man. You don’t know who you’re?—”
“Try it again.” My voice is steady, colder than I feel.
Hands grab my shoulders, yanking me back. Security. Two of them.
“What the hell’s going on here?” one shouts over the music, already wrenching my arm behind my back.
I twist, but not hard enough to fight them off. I’m not about to give them more reason to snap my wrist.
“He drugged her drink,” I snap, nodding toward Kennedy’s tipped-over glass. “I saw him.”
The guy coughs, rolling onto his side and clutching his jaw. He glares at me like I just ruined his weekend. “He’s lying! He jumped me out of nowhere.”
Security isn’t listening. They’ve got me face-down against the couch now, a knee in my spine with plastic zip-ties biting into my wrists.
“Harley!” My voice cracks as I shout. I can’t see her yet.
And then I do.
She’s pushing through the crowd, Kennedy right behind her, eyes wide as they land on me.
She doesn’t see the drink.
She just sees me pinned down, security grinding my face into the cushions like I’m the problem.
“Easton!” she screams, voice ragged, panicked.
“Stay back!” one of the guards barks, holding an arm out as she tries to reach me.
The guy I hit is already talking to another guard, still clutching his jaw and gesturing wildly toward me. His friends circle like sharks, all versions of the same slick smile, the same expensive watch.
I see one of them bend low. He whispers something to the security chief and slips a bill into his pocket, along with something else. A nod passes between them, too quick to be anything innocent, and I know I’m fucked.
Then the radio crackles. “Physical altercation.” Radio static. “We’ve got Miami PD 2 minutes out.”
I jerk against the cuffs. “What? That’s bullsh?—”
The guard shoves me forward. “You’re lucky we don’t break your damn nose before they get here.”
Harley’s voice cuts through the noise. “He didn’t do anything! Please, he’s innocent. Ethan do something!” She demands, screaming at Kennedy’s boyfriend who is standing there in shock.
“Miss, please step aside,” the guard says, like she’s invisible.
“Harley,” I call, twisting to look at her, to find her eyes, needing her to hear me. “It’s not what it looks like. Stay calm. Please.”
Her mouth is trembling, eyes glassy. She nods, but I can see the confusion and fear.
The cops come too fast. Red and blue lights are flashing just outside the tent. The guards hand me off like I’m nothing.
“Easton Diggs?” one officer says, like he already knows the answer.
“That’s me,” I grit out. He pats me down.
“You’re under arrest for aggravated assault.”
Cold metal cuffs replace the zip ties. The officer reads me my rights, but I barely hear them over Harley’s voice, desperately calling my name, and the pounding in my head.
They pull me through the crowd. People watch, and whispers follow.
And Harley, she’s still there, just out of reach, eyes shining under the strobe lights, lips forming words I can’t hear.
She’s trying to follow the mass of uniforms that drag me away, Kennedy hot on her heels and Ethan following close behind.
I can only hope, and pray, he gets them out of here safely, because there’s nothing, I can do with this cold metal pressing into my wrists.
When they shove me into the back of the squad car, I meet her eyes one last time through the tinted glass.
I promised her I’d never leave her again.
And here I was, in handcuffs, breaking that promise all over again.
I just hope she’ll believe me when I finally get to explain my side of things.