Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Sarge
I slouched at the hotel bar, nursing my third drink of the night. The amber liquid burned a familiar path down my throat, but did little to dull the ache in my chest. Ice clinked softly against glass as I swirled the tumbler, watching the play of light through the crystal.
I should have been upstairs. Should have been the one making Layla moan, watching her come undone beneath me. Instead, I was down here drowning my sorrows like some lovesick teenager. Pathetic.
The bartender approached, eyeing my nearly empty glass. "Another, sir?"
I grunted an affirmative, sliding the glass towards him. As he poured, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored bar back. My beard was scruffier than usual, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. I looked every bit the grizzled old man I sometimes felt like.
Christ , what was I doing? Layla was half my age, a force of nature barely contained in human form. And here I was, pining after her like some goddamn fool. She'd made it clear where we stood—friends—partners, nothing more. It was my fault though, so I couldn’t even blame her.
I’d spend years pushing her away. Years ignoring the way she chased after me, thinking I had time. That was the problem with waiting. You always think you have time when you just fucking don’t. When she took that bullet at the docks, regret hit me square in the fucking chest. So much waiting, and for fucking what? So much time wasted, when I already knew I was in love with her. I had been for years.
My mind was upstairs, imagining what was happening in that hotel room. Layla's body writhing in pleasure. Her breathy moans as Alex fucked her senseless. The way her back would arch as she came undone.
I clutched the glass so tightly my knuckles turned white. Envy twisted in my stomach, as bitter as acid. It was supposed to be me up there, touching her soft skin and hearing her moan my name in pleasure. I knew the others craved her too, and that was okay. Layla was a grown woman and she deserved whatever she wanted, but I still needed her to understand that she belonged to me—or, I belonged to her.
I drained the last of my whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. The bartender appeared with another, but I waved him off. I'd had enough. Any more and I might do something stupid, like storm upstairs and interrupt whatever the hell was going on in that hotel room. maybe I should. Maybe I should barge in and fuck her into oblivion. Maybe I’d have those boys watch how a real man fucks.
The bar had emptied out, leaving just me and my brooding thoughts. Every muscle in my body was coiled tight, thrumming with pent-up frustration and need.
I sensed movement beside me, someone sliding onto the adjacent barstool. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something wasn't right.
"You come here often?" a familiar voice asked softly.
My blood ran cold. Without thinking, my hand flew to the gun concealed at my waist. But before I could draw, I felt the press of cold metal against my ribs.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Gage murmured. "I just want to talk."
I turned slowly, meeting his eyes. He looked different—hair longer, stubble darkening his jaw. But those eyes were the same. Calculating. Unreadable.
"You've got thirty seconds to explain yourself before I risk taking that bullet just for the satisfaction of watching you bleed out," I growled.
Gage's lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile I'd always hated. "Now, now, Sarge. Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"Friend?" I spat the word like poison. "You're a fucking traitor. A rat. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet between your eyes right now."
His eyes hardened, all traces of amusement vanishing. "Because I have information Layla would want. Information about her mother."
Ice rushed through my veins in an instant. Layla's mother had been a ghost, a painful absence that haunted her every step. She never spoke of the woman who'd lost her child to sex traffickers. The woman she decided not to return to even after she was free. I knew the wound still festered.
Layla told me she didn’t want to soil her mother’s memories of her with the knowledge of who she’d become as a result. I lost count of how many times I’d told her that her mom wouldn’t care. She thought her daughter was dead. She even had a funeral for her after so many years passed. But Layla wouldn’t hear it.
"You're lying," I said, but doubt crept into my voice that I knew he could hear.
Gage shook his head slowly. "I'm not. And if she wants to know the truth, she's going to need me alive to get it."
I studied him carefully, searching for any sign of deception. But his gaze remained steady, unflinching. But what the fuck did that even mean? He’d been lying since I met him. Lying to Layla even while he shoved his dick in her time and time again.
I looked him up and down in disgust. “Tell me you’re not about to use her mom as a pathetic way to keep yourself alive. That’s low even for you, Gage.”
I fought the urge to wrap my hands around his throat. The bar suddenly felt too small, the air thick and warm.
Looking around to make sure we were clear of any wandering ears, I leaned in, gritting my words out through clenched teeth. "You've been lying since the day we met. Why the fuck should I trust a word out of your mouth now?"
In the dim light of the bar, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He looked tired, I realized. Haunted, even.
"I know you have no reason to trust me. I wouldn’t trust me. But it doesn’t change the fact that I'm telling the truth. I've been pretty much stalking Layla's mother since before my cover was blown. Layla might say she doesn’t want to know her, but she’d still want her to be taken care of. I made that happen. But now shit’s gotten fucking messy, and…"
He trailed off as if he’d already said too much.
“And what?” I pressed.
Gage leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Carlos is going after her mom. I have reason to believe he's planning to use her as leverage against Layla and Raul."
Carlos was a ruthless bastard. He was currently locked up under watch back at the villa, but that didn’t mean shit. He had just as many men as Raul did, even if he tried to pretend he was out of the family business. We all knew he was gunning for Rauls position still.
"How do you know that?"
Gage's eyes darted around the bar before settling back on me. "I've been keeping tabs on her ever since I left. Making sure she was safe, you know? A couple weeks ago, she filed a police report. Said she thought some men were following her, watching her house."
"And you think it's Carlos's men?"
He nodded grimly. "It fits his M.O. What better way to control Layla than by threatening the only blood family she has? If he has her then he’s got Layla. He’ll wait for Raul to die, and then he’ll put himself at the top, using Layla as his fucking watchdog."
If Gage was telling the truth, Layla's mother was in serious danger. But trusting him felt like swallowing broken glass.
"Why come to me with this?" I asked, studying his face for any sign of deception. "Why not go straight to Layla?"
Gage scoffed. "You know why. She'd shoot me on sight. But you... you're level-headed. You'll listen, even if you hate my guts."
I snorted. "You've got that fucking right."
"Look," Gage said, leaning in closer. "I fucked up. I hurt Layla in ways I can never make right. But this isn't about me or my guilt. This is about protecting an innocent woman who doesn't deserve to be caught up in our shit."
As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. If Carlos really was going after Layla's mom, we needed to act fast. But trusting Gage felt like stepping off a cliff.
"Let's say I believe you," I said slowly—reluctantly. "What's your play here? What do you want?"
"I want to help," Gage replied immediately. "I have someone on her way to Claudia right now. She’ll convince her to go to a safe house."
Claudia . He shouldn’t have known that information unless he’d dug it up himself.
I stared at Gage, my mind churning. Part of me wanted to believe him, to think there was still some shred of decency left in the man I'd once considered a friend. But the larger part, the part hardened by years of betrayal and violence, screamed that this was just another con.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Gage. Layla wants your blood. She's been hunting you for months, imagining all the ways she'll make you suffer. I've seen that look in her eyes before. It's the look of someone who's lost everything and has nothing left."
I leaned in closer, close enough to smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath. "You really think she'll let you speak before she goes for your throat? She's like a rabid dog, all teeth and fury. And you're the one who kicked her."
Gage's face paled slightly. "I know the risks. But this is bigger than me, bigger than whatever's between Layla and I. Her mother's life is at stake. And despite what I did, I still love her. That’s something I never once fucking lied about. Everything I felt for her was the realest shit I’ve ever felt. I just got in too fucking deep."
"You're a goddamn fool if you think love means shit at this point," I growled. "Layla trusted you and you fucking wrecked her. She barely smiles, barely eats or even speaks. All she does is train, kill, and hunt you."
Gage flinched, pain flashing across his face. Good. Let him feel even a fraction of the agony he'd caused. I gritted my teeth, torn between my hatred for this man and my duty to protect Layla, even from threats she didn't know existed. After a long moment, I made my decision.
I leaned back, eyeing Gage warily. Part of me still wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the light faded from his eyes. But the larger part, the part that had sworn to protect Layla at all costs, knew I had to hear him out.
"Alright, asshole. You've got five minutes to tell me everything you know. But let me make one thing crystal fucking clear. You're not getting anywhere near Layla. Not now, not ever. I'll break this news to her myself, when you're far away from here. Preferably on another continent."
Gage nodded, a flicker of something like relief crossing his features. "Fair enough. I wouldn't expect anything less."
I listened intently as Gage laid out the details of his plan, my jaw clenched so tight I could hear my teeth grinding. The smooth jazz over the speakers playing in the background faded away, replaced by the dull roar of blood in my ears. Every instinct screamed at me to put a bullet in this lying bastard's skull, but I forced myself to focus on his words.
"I've set up a safe house outside of Tahoe. It's off the grid, completely secure. No paper trail, no digital footprint. The kind of place even Carlos's best men couldn't find."
I grunted, grudgingly impressed despite myself. Gage had always been meticulous in his planning. It's part of what made him such a dangerous enemy.
"And how exactly do you plan on getting Claudia there? You really think she'll just up and leave her whole life behind on the word of some stranger?"
"That's where my old colleague comes in. Her name's Sarah. We worked together years ago, before... well, before everything went to shit."
I arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Gage took a deep breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
"Sarah's good at what she does. She can be very persuasive when she needs to be.”
That must be the mysterious blonde he’d been seen at the cafe with. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if he was already fucking her too.
I narrowed my eyes at Gage, suspicion gnawing at my gut. "This Sarah... she's the blonde you've been meeting at that cafe?"
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he smoothed it away. "You've been watching me."
"Of course we fucking have. Did you really think Layla would just let you disappear?"
Gage sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. "Fair enough. Yes, Sarah is the woman I've been meeting with. She's been helping me gather intel and set up the safe house."
"And what exactly is your relationship with her?" I pressed, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Gage's eyes hardened. "That's none of your goddamn business."
"It is if you're fucking her," I snapped. "Because that means you never gave a shit about Layla in the first place."
"Don't you dare question how I feel about Layla," he hissed, leaning in close. "Everything I've done, every lie I've told, it was all to protect her. You have no idea the shit I've had to do, the lines I've had to cross."
"Spare me the noble martyr act," I sneered. "You're a lying piece of shit who broke her heart. Nothing you say will change that."
Gage stood abruptly, his stool scraping on the floor. I tensed, ready for a fight, but he simply tucked his gun back into its holster. "I'll text you the coordinates to the safe house on a restricted line. You won't be able to trace it, so don't bother trying."
I grunted in acknowledgment, watching him warily. For a brief moment, I almost felt sorry for the bastard. Almost. Then I remembered the broken look in Layla's eyes, the way she'd crumpled in on herself after his betrayal, the beating she took for letting him live, and any flicker of sympathy vanished like smoke.
"You better pray to whatever god you believe in that this information checks out, because if you're lying, if this is some kind of trap, I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth. And what Layla wants to do to you will seem like a mercy compared to what I'll do to you."
Gage met my gaze unflinchingly, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "You already believe me. Don’t bother lying to yourself. If you didn’t, my brains would have painted this bar red ten minutes ago.”