2. Layla
TWO
Layla
I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get close to Luke, but I never expected him to curse me out. The boy I remember was timid. He would flinch at the slightest noise. Cringe in the face of hostility. Scuttle around in the shadows to avoid everyone.
Seems he’s grown a backbone since I saw him last.
Lysander Mayberry tears his eyes from Nadia Appleton and his twin sister, Lilianna, long enough to comment, “You look familiar.”
“Not to you, I don’t.”
My dismissal piques his interest. His eyebrows draw together, and he tips his head to the side. I’m grateful for the distortion provided by the coloured lights bouncing off the walls when Sander drawls, “If you’re lookin’ for Cub, he’ll be in the alley at the back’a the buildin’... that’s where he prefers to lick his wounds durin’ a night out.”
“Thanks.”
I turn away from him, assessing the best route to hunt down my target without exposing my presence to anyone else from my hometown. Rounding the table in the blink of an eye, Perth’s favourite basketballer circles my bicep with his long fingers and pulls me to a stop before I can take a third step. Sander’s speed was documented in my brief, but it seems the intelligence team understated exactly how quick on his feet he is.
“Don’t fuck with my friend, Layla .” The suspicion in his vivid blue gaze brightens when I deny him the fearful reaction he seeks with his use of my given name. An ache radiates up my arm when his fingers bite into my flesh. He gives me a little shake, the side-to-side motion matches the cadence of his escalating threat. “Don’t think a’one of us has forgotten the shit you pulled back in the day. For some reason, you’re still under his skin.” I run my tongue over my top teeth and fight back a smile when he adds. “Not me... so much as breathe wrong in his direction, I’ll fuckin’ bury you.”
“You and whose army?” When I wrench my arm free of Sander’s grip, he sneers. My next statement wipes the smugness from his face. “Way I hear it, the Shamrocks are imploding. Brutus hates Venom, and he’ll blow up the entire club if it keeps his precious little Cherub out of his enemy’s bed.” Fear ripples through Sander’s features. His Adam’s apple bobs. “While it was smart to banish Venom to Sydney, his presence in the city hasn’t gone unnoticed—by your father or by the Maddison clan.”
My intel is world-class.
Despite that, I didn’t expect it to engender such a visceral response from the MC’s golden boy. With an audible gasp, Sander turns away from me to search the crowded dancefloor. Curious to establish all of his weaknesses, I follow his attention. We watch Anna—the aforementioned little Cherub—and Nadia dancing for a few moments. It’s easy to see that both women are high. Understanding the hierarchy of trustworthiness within the Shamrocks means the drugs were supplied by only one man, I seek out Hunter Hudson. The teenage genius has been on my radar since I was recruited into the Adjudicator’s curia, so I find him easily.
Hidden in the shadows.
His back is protected by the corner he commands.
The gun he wears in a shoulder holster is visible to my trained eye from beneath his leather cut. Noting that he sports a full patch on his left lapel, despite only being nineteen, I shift my focus to examine his face. There’s surprising shrewdness in the assessing way Hunter scrutinises the people squashed into the Shamrocks’ nightclub.
As if he feels my gaze on him, he shoots a glance my way. The clarity that rounds his eyes, despite being positioned on the other side of the room, sends a ripple of awareness up my spine. My training allows me to hide my reaction to Hunter’s perusal from the tall man standing next to me. Outwardly bemused, inwardly calculating, I quickly identify the younger Hudson sibling as my most formidable opponent tonight.
With the mission the Adjudicator has set for me at the forefront of my thoughts, I throw Sander a bone. “I won’t hurt Luke as long as none of you try to get between us if he’s open to re-connecting with me.”
“Are you here to make amends or is this just to soothe your conscience?”
I almost miss his question in the rowdiness that breaks out amongst the men within our vicinity when Anna and Nadia kiss. The girls are oblivious. They are locked in their own world, riding a wave of ecstasy that frees them of their human foibles. Nadia moves in on her best friend to instigate a second smooch. It riles up the crowd another notch.
The hollering stops when the little Cherub I mentioned as being the crux of Brutus Mayberry’s cat and mouse game with his old motorcycle club is intercepted by the Shamrocks’ Sergeant-At-Arms. My skin crawls with revulsion at the intimacy between Anna and Slash as they embrace, then sway together on the dance floor with their bodies connected from hip to chest.
Six foot eight and sporting a messy man bun, Slash is an older, taller version of his younger brother, Hunter. He's also desperately in love with Anna. The same woman who recently broke up with his best friend, Venom.
“Jesus Christ,” Sander curses. He shakes his head as he retrieves his phone from the back pocket of his designer jeans. With his index finger pressed to his left ear, he lifts the device to his right and shouts at the person on the other end, “Needa get ya arse to Mirage asap... Slash’s comin’ hella close to crossin’ the line with lil Cherub.” I’d wager good money on the recipient of his call being the twin’s cousin, Toker—a surprisingly canny man, despite his preference for facing the world through the soft focus of weed-addled eyes. “Yeah, I’ll keep my hands to myself ‘til you arrive. After that, I make no promises.”
Unsettled by the sight of Slash’s hands roaming Anna’s body while they dirty dance, I can feel my poise being knocked off balance. My pulse kicks up. The clamminess of my palms refuses to abate no matter how many times I wipe them on my jeans. Dry mouthed. Partially deafened by the pounding bass. I’m unravelling in the face of their unbridled lust. The last thing I need to do is expose a weakness while I’m documenting as many of Sander’s as I can uncover, yet I can’t stomach the idea that the tall blonde welcomes her lifelong protector’s physical desire.
Lilianna Mayberry has felt the wrath of men.
More than once.
The dossier compiled by the Adjudicator’s curia brims with details of her trauma and triggers. I have scanned the lists of scars covering her body. Winced at the descriptions of the injuries she’s sustained, and eventually recovered from, in the name of love.
I don’t understand how she can react positively to Slash’s overtures.
Surely, she understands that enflaming a man’s desire is dangerous.
She must know that being the recipient of a man’s desire only brings pain...
“Layla?” When Sander tries to touch my shoulder, I flinch away from him. Concern floods his gaze before he wipes it from his expression to glare at me. “I’ll ask you one last time... are you here to make amends with Cub for real?”
“Yes.” Swallowing deep, I force myself to lock eyes with him. “I feel like shit about what went down in Inadale.” The disbelief in the taller man’s eyes is a tick in the pros column. I want him to be wary of me. In fact, I want every single person closest to Luke to voice their suspicions over my intentions toward him. My experience in intelligence gathering has taught me that it’s the quickest way to drive my prey into my web. “You don’t have to believe me—” I drag in a deep breath and fake a shudder. “—All I ask is that you give me a chance to properly apologise for the role I played back then.”
My adversary swallows my assertion whole.
I don’t hold it against him since my sincerity is real.
One of the few regrets that have carried over from my old life is my inability to shield Luke and Nadia from the blowback my father aimed at their families to protect himself and his allies. They were victims of the same depravity that held me hostage. We were all pawns of powerful men. Stalked and stolen, then traded for influence. Used and abused. Battered and broken. Destroyed, inside and out. Discarded as soon as they’d taken their fill.
As the daughter of a key player, I should’ve been protected.
But there’s always a bigger, badder wolf.
And I was fed to him—them—without a second thought or an ounce of remorse.
Pain ricochets through me as memories from back then assault me.
It’s like being stabbed in the gut at the same time as I’m being waterboarded.
My skin prickles.
The world spins.
After inhaling for the count of four, I hold the air for another count of four before slowly exhaling. When the deliberate emptiness of my lungs becomes too much to ignore, I repeat the same process. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. Over and over. Three times. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. The moment I reach my lucky number, I feel my parasympathetic nervous system engage. Instantly, I am able to mentally remove myself from the brutal recollections of a time I would rather pretend never happened.
It almost broke me.
I almost finished off the job for them.
It was too close for comfort... until Gabriel rescued me and gave me a reason to live.
I make a note to mention this lapse to my handler.
“Don’t push him too hard,” Sander cautions in a soft voice. He seems oblivious to my emotional spiral, more concerned with his best friend than he is in threatening me. Tipping my head to one side and raising my eyebrows, I stare at Sander until he squirms on the spot and lowers his gaze to the sticky floor at his feet. He swings back and forth as he tells me, “He’s fragile. Uncomfortable with... uh , ah , affection... from women.” When I continue peering at him, he stumbles to explain, “Like he won’t let anyone other than Nadia touch him like that —and even then, he has to be drunk to even get through a blowjob.”
My objection to his crass description of Nadia and Luke’s relationship surges to the tip of my tongue. It dies a swift death when the hidden meaning in his admission dawns. Luke Hayes’ file is missing a vital detail. One that’s going to make my job harder than expected.
Blinking too fast, I extend my hand to Sander.
He’s slow to react.
“I’ll take care of him.” The agile fingers that wrap around mine are shaking. I ignore it, deciding that the temporary truce between us is more important than stamping my authority over the situation. “I won’t push him into anything he doesn’t want.” My entire body recoils from the idea of sexual intimacy. I feign nonchalance like the professional I am to offer my final caveat to our ceasefire. “And I promise he won’t come to any harm at my?—”
“I hope not,” Sander interjects as we shake hands one last time. “’Cause I meant every word I said earlier.”
Without deigning to respond to his mediocre threat, I sidestep Sander and disappear deeper into the large room. It’s easy to wind my way through the drunken partiers. I avoid sweaty bodies and handsy men. Bypass Hunter’s corner. Sidestep the tables where the youngest of the Mayberry siblings sit and drink with their biker brethren.
The back exit I breach barely offers a challenge for my lock picks.
The pair of hands that wrap around my throat and squeeze poses more of an issue.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
As I peer up at Luke Hayes, my mind is blank.
His blue eyes.
The shock of ginger hair.
Dozens of freckles decorate his chiselled facial features.
Pouty lips with the Cupid’s bow women pay for.
He is long, lanky, inflexible, and full of menace.
I should hate him.
I do hate him.
But damned if he isn’t the first ever man to make my pulse race and my core clench...