Chapter 8
Eight
ROME
Standing in the shadows, I watch the light in the first-floor room that Lulu disappeared into. It’s a wonder my teeth don’t break from clenching my jaw so fucking hard.
She walked here, more than a mile from my club.
This motel, if you can even call it that, is seedy as fuck and in the worst part of town.
It would have shocked me if she hadn’t gotten mugged, now that I know where she’s staying.
But she won’t be staying there long.
I want to know everything there is to know about my little firefly.
I press my phone to my ear.
“Hey, boss,” Luke says.
“I need you to bring me my car,” I tell him and give him the name of the motel.
“What the fuck are you doing there?” he demands. “Are you by yourself? Jesus, Rome—”
“Just bring the car.” I cut off the call and slip the phone back into my pocket.
If she’s staying here, she won’t be doing it unprotected.
No one’s ever going to touch her in anger again.
The mere thought of the bruises on her precious skin makes my blood heat.
I want someone to pay for them with their blood.
And I want to march into that room and make her leave with me, take her back to my place, and keep her safe.
And I will. But not quite yet.
Less than ten minutes later, Luke pulls into the parking lot, and I meet him as he shoves out of the vehicle.
“What the fuck?” he asks me, and I simply stare at him. “Seriously. I’m your head of security. You never leave without me.”
Going out alone is careless, and I’m not a careless man. But I had to follow her.
He looks between me and the motel.
“Are we taking care of someone in there?”
“Not in the way you mean. Her name is Lulu Monroe. She’s the new bartender. And from this moment on, she’s never alone. I’m going to stay here tonight to watch over her, but I want a man on her, from a distance, starting tomorrow morning.”
Luke scowls. “Why?”
“Because I fucking said so. She’s mine. No one touches her.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa. I’m sorry, I was looking for Roman Alexander.”
“You’re a riot. And you’re walking back.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
I huff out a breath and get in the driver’s seat. Luke walks around to the passenger side and climbs in.
“If you’re here all night, I am, too.”
“I have an eight o’clock meeting.”
He eyes the clock. “That’s in four hours.”
I don’t reply.
“You’re fucking grumpier than usual tonight.”
“Handle the detail for her. Now.”
“Yes, boss.” He sighs and pulls out his phone, and the light in the window goes out. My hands tighten on the wheel.
She’s lying in bed in a disgusting motel on the wrong side of Vegas. Fuck that. She should be in luxury—in my bed, naked and spread open for me.
And you will be soon, my little firefly.
You were made to be mine.