33. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Keaton
“Me?” Wentworth’s eyes shot daggers. “You’re the one who’s supposed to look after Layne. I found her in the yard behind the restaurant. She collapsed into my arms, man.”
I spat a curse. How had I missed that she was in such a bad state? I’d been too focused on pinning down that deal with Cliff, that’s how.
“I got her.” I reached for Layne, but Wentworth shoved past me and continued to march toward his Mustang. The harsh floodlights illuminating the crowded lot of the Giardino had to hurt her eyes.
“No, you don’t,” Wentworth tossed over his shoulder. “I’m taking her to the ER.”
Knowing Layne couldn’t handle yelling, I forced myself to keep my voice low as I followed him. “Wentworth, she needs to go home. She can’t handle the racket at the ER.”
“I’m the combat medic here. She needs to get checked out.”
“No, she doesn’t. She needs rest and quiet.”
“Stop.”
Layne’s voice was so weak I wasn’t sure she’d really said that or if I was imagining things. But the way Wentworth had halted in his tracks, he’d heard it, too.
“Home.”
Giving me another hard look, Wentworth passed her to me.
I cradled her in my arms. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered as I carried her to my Elysium. “I’m so sorry.”
Wentworth opened the passenger door, and I lowered her into the seat and buckled her up.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Wentworth asked, his irritation replaced by concern. He obviously cared about Layne.
“Yeah.” Or so I hoped. “Appreciate you looking out for her.”
My brother gave me a stiff nod. “Call me if she needs anything.”
“Will do.”
Thank God traffic wasn’t too heavy in Glam City, and we soon were on the road heading west along the coast. I kept glancing over at Layne, the ambient lighting of the Elysium allowing me to see her face in the dark. Ten more minutes, and we’d be at home. Ten minutes she had to endure the roar of the engine—this was the first time I hated that it was so loud. Ten minutes I got to beat myself up for being an idiot.
I wanted to punch the steering wheel. The dashboard. Should’ve paid better attention to her well-being.
Gritting my teeth, I refocused on the road—a stretch with no streetlights or homes. Just the beach to the left, the jungle to the right. The occasional car passed on the oncoming lane, but other than that it was quiet.
BOOM!
A fireball shot out of the hood, blinding me for a split second before the airbag hit me in the face. I blindly pulled to the side of the road and tapped the brakes until we stood still.
Everything went dead silent.
Head buzzing, I pushed the airbag out of my face. Black smoke billowed from the hood beyond the cracked windshield. What on earth had just happened?
I turned to Layne. The ambient lighting was still on, allowing me to see that her airbag had deployed, too. Her hands came up in an attempt to shove it away.
I reached over to help her. “Are you okay?”
Eyes wide, she looked at me. Nodded. “What was that?”
“No idea, but we have to get out of here.” Just in case the Elysium blew up. It was very unlikely, but I wasn’t staying to find out the chances.
After all, the explosion that had just blown off the hood was very unlikely, too. How had that even been possible?
I scrambled out of the Elysium and rushed to the passenger side, where I swooped Layne into my arms. She shivered as I carried her a good hundred yards away from the smoking vehicle and onto the other side of the road. Tucking us behind a cluster of palm trees, I sank into the sand, Layne nestled against me. Waves lapped the shore, a sea of stars stretching across the night sky. The air was thick with the chirps and croaks of jungle creatures.
I shrugged out of my jacket and wrapped it around Layne, then pulled her back into my arms. “You okay?” I once again asked.
The nod she gave me was lethargic.
Chest tightening, I pulled out my cell. Dialed Dalton.
He picked up on the first ring. “What’s up, Grady.”
“Hey, man, listen. Layne and I got into a car accident and need a ride home. We’re at Powder Cove.”
Keys jingled in the background. “On my way. You all right?”
“We’re good.”
“Okay. Be there in five.”
I hung up. Contemplated whether to call my buddy Noah Bancroft, a detective with the Darkwater Refuge Police Department.
But Layne needed quiet.
I pocketed my cell and covered her ears with my hands, hoping it would offer her some silence. I’d call Bancroft later.
That explosion, though. No way had it been an accident. Cars didn’t just blow up for no reason. Maybe if they were electric, which my Elysium wasn’t.
The Psycho had once again struck—this time a little too close for comfort. We could have been killed.