31. Zayne
CHAPTER 31
Zayne
“ A we, come on sugar.” The smell of alcohol on the woman’s breath turns my stomach.
Blinking, I take in her heavily made-up face, bright red lipstick smeared around her mouth as she bats her long, fake lashes at me.
“You look like you’d be better than any amusement park ride.” She lets out a loud, coarse laugh that reeks of someone smoking two packs of cigarettes a day since she was in her teens.
“You’re drunk, Jayleen. You need to sober up and go home.” I try to extract myself from her embrace, but it’s as though she’s turned into a damn octopus. As soon as I extract one arm from her vice-like grip, the other one latches onto me even tighter.
“Where’s your sense of fun and adventure?” She leans into my personal space. I cringe, trying to gracefully get out of this situation without resorting to violence.
Fucking Ian. How long does it take to get fucking booze from the back room?
“Oh, I love this song.” She stumbles forward, knocking me against the table that I’d been wiping down mere seconds before she accosted me.
“Come on, handsome. Let’s dance.” She starts wiggling against me, too drunk to dance to the rhythm of the song. It’s a fast song, but she’s pressed against me like a love ballad is playing.
Her loud voice begins screeching the lyrics in my ear, drowning out all other noise.
Jesus Christ .
I try to push her away, but she’s holding on like a drowning person holding onto a life raft.
“Jayleen, you need to go home. Talk to Roger and try to work things out.”
“F-Fuck, Roger,” she slurs.
Even though I cut her off twenty minutes ago, she hasn’t sobered up. “Let me call someone. Do you have any friends I could?—”
“Noooo!” she wails, her long fingernails digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt. “They all got tired of me… spending all my time with him… and abandoned me.” Fat tears slide down her cheeks as she sobs.
Oh, Christ. I just made things worse.
I pat her back like I would an unconsolable child, wondering how the fuck I can get her out of the bar. I meet Ian’s gaze over her dark, overly teased hair and shoot him a pleading look.
“You know what, sugar?” She stops crying as though everything is suddenly fine and takes advantage of my distraction by spinning me away from Ian and closer to the pool tables in the back. “I could show you a good time. Roger said I give the best head.”
Oh, fuck no.
The only one I want to give me head is the dark-haired beauty I abandoned in a restroom at the lake a couple of days ago.
Maybe I should hear Delaney out. I sure as hell haven’t shaken her from my system.
Lost in thought, I’m not paying attention to the octopus latching onto me. My mind is reeling with possibilities of how I can see her. Going to her house will never work. The Warners despise me.
Jayleen mistakes my distraction and silence for consent. The next thing I know, she’s squeezing my face between her palms, her lips pressed against mine.
Jesus Christ. What the hell is happening?
I’m in a stupor as she keeps her lips locked on mine like a damn vacuum cleaner. The taste of whiskey and cigarettes makes me gag, and I shove her away.
She stumbles back, a hurt look on her face.
“Jayleen. What the hell are you doing?” I take a few steps backward, not allowing her to speak. “I’ll have Ian call someone to pick you up.” Spinning on my heel, I wipe my hand over my mouth, feeling disgusted.
“Zayne. I?—”
“Not now, Ian. I need to go rinse my mouth out.” I stride toward the bathroom, yelling over my shoulder. “Call someone to get Jayleen. Get her the fuck out of the bar.”
“Zayne. You need?—”
“Now, Ian,” I bark before pushing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind me. I head to the sink, turn the water on, and splash my face, not caring that the water is freezing.
Looking in the mirror, I frown at the red lipstick. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, I wet them, vigorously scrubbing my mouth. When that doesn’t work, I put some hand soap on it, finally getting it off, then rinse my mouth with the water flowing from the facet.
Grabbing a small cup, I press the Listerine dispenser on the wall, throwing it back like a shot, swishing rapidly until I can no longer tolerate the burn. Then I spit it out.
As I dry my face, there’s a pounding on the door.
Tossing the paper towels in the trash, I stride to it and jerk it open. “Did you call someone?—"
There’s a wildness in his eyes. “Zayne. It’s Delaney. She came into the bar while Jayleen was kissing you.”
Oh, fuck. My hand moves to his chest, pushing him out of my way as I hurry from the bathroom. “I’ll go after her.”
He grabs my arm, stopping me. “She was bloody and bruised. Someone beat the hell out of her.”
“What?” I gape at him like a fish, my mouth opening and closing as my thoughts whirl.
“She looked bad, man. Her eye was nearly swollen shut. There was blood running from her nose?—”
I don’t wait to hear anymore.
Yanking from his hold, I sprint to the door, shove it open, and dash into the parking lot. My wild eyes search the area rapidly, my heart banging in my chest.
“Delaney,” I yell.
But there’s no sign of her.
A dark-haired guy climbs out of his car and hurries over to me.
“She’s gone.” He’s slightly breathless as he spits out the words. “I was with Callie. Delaney texted her and told her she was coming here. Once Callie and I said our goodbyes, she asked me to drive her here to meet her friend.”
My mind is whirling with too many questions to say a word.
“Delaney was staggering toward Callie’s car when we arrived. She looked like shit. Someone…” His face is pale, and he looks like he will be sick. “Someone beat the shit outta her.”
“Was it that fucker, Tim? I’ll kill him.” My hands curl into fists, rage coursing through me before the horror sets in.
I let this happen to her. If she were still with me, this never would’ve happened.
He shrugs. “No idea. Callie hugged her, and Delaney said, ‘We need to go before he returns.’ They jumped in the car and raced away.”
“Where were they going?”
“Cape May. Callie told me she and Delaney were hired as lifeguards this summer.”
Fuck. Cape May is nearly four hours away.
“What’s your name?”
“Mark. Mark Dixon.”
“I’m Zayne Morine.” My breath stutters as I imagine an injured Delaney leaving town.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who the fuck hurt her?
Was it Tim? Her brother? Aidan? All three of them? My panicky thoughts spin wildly . Did she come to see me? Oh, fuck. She needed me, and I wasn’t there.
Anxiety courses through me, making the world spin. I take deep breaths in and out, trying to gather my composure and quell rising emotions inside me. “Can I text you any questions I have? I need to call my dad and get him here to cover the bar.”
“Sure.” He pulls out his phone, his hands shaking. “Sorry, man. It just sucks seeing a woman beaten like that.” He heaves out a breath. His fingers tremble, and he curses before he says, “Okay, go ahead.”
I give him my number, and he enters it. “Sending you a text now so you have my number.”
Running a hand through my hair, I nod. “My phone’s in the bar. I tucked it under the counter earlier.”
“Do you work here?” He nods to the bar. “Why do you need to call your dad?”
I nod. “I’m going after the son of a bitch who hurt Delaney.”