Save Me (Disciples MC #1)

by Stone, Abigail

  Black skinny jeans, a white tank top, converse sneakers. Layla took it all in, looking up at Leo with a confused look in her eyes. He handed her a pair of large black sunglasses, zipping up the bag and pulling it over his arms.

  "What am I supposed to do with these?" Layla asked.

  "Put them on," Leo said, "all of it, actually." he added, nodding at the pile of clothing that sat near Layla's feet.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Could you...oh I don't know...elaborate?"

  Leo shook his head, reaching around to unhook the beeping machine beside her. Before another word could escape her lips, he pulled the IV from her arm.

  "Hey!" Layla exclaimed as Leo peeked out the window, "slow down a second."

  "No time," Leo said.

  "Just put on the clothing please. All of it. I’ll explain soon, I promise."

  He grabbed the half-smoked cigarette from between her fingers, tossing it into the trash can beside her bed, "Shh.” he whispered sternly as Layla opened her mouth to protest.

  "I promise I’ll explain everything. Get dressed."

  Layla stood to her feet, gripping the bed frame with shaking hands as she did as she was told. Leo's voice is sharp and authoritative and she didn't want to test him.

  "Just...turn around," she said.

  Leo nodded, facing the wall. Layla reached down, gripping her hospital gown and pulling it over her head. Her hands were clammy, her vision clouded. Trying her best not to worry, Layla slid on each piece of clothing, surprised by how well it all fit. Even the shoes were her size.

  "How did you know my sizes?" she asked Leo, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed as she laced up her sneakers.

  The look was hardly Layla's style but she was grateful to have a change of clothing and wasn't about to complain.

  Leo shrugged.

  "The Internet," he called over his shoulder, "you're pretty famous after all."

  He rubbed a hand over his chiseled jaw, staring out at the crowd of paparazzi that had started to gather outside the hotel.

  How do you tell a woman that you just met, in the least creepy way possible, that you're enamored with her?

  –

  Past

  Shortly after Layla had been stabilized, Leo left the hospital. He went back to the apartment he shared with his brothers, forcing the few stragglers that remained from the party out. He needed some time to digest what had happened – alone.

  "You gonna be okay man?" Richie asked him, pausing in Leo's doorway. His face was swollen and purple. Probably another bar fight, Leo thought to himself. Richie had a knack for being a mean drunk, but Leo had never seen him look this battered.

  "Yeah," he said, "I'm just going to hit the sack.”

  Richie turned to leave.

  "Hey," he said suddenly, turning back around to face Leo, "that girl...did you know her?”

  There was something odd about this voice, but Leo couldn't put his finger on what.

  "No." he said, "I mean...not really."

  Richie slowly nodded, shutting the door behind himself. Leo sighed, taking a seat at his desk and moving his computer mouse, causing the screen to light up. He didn't know why he was doing it but the next thing Leo knew, he had pulled up an Internet browser and was searching Layla's name. Thousands of results filled his screen.

  Damn, Leo thought. She's famous.

  He spent the next hour clicking through each link and reading every bit of information he could find on the twenty-three year old Starlet that had nearly lost her life in his bathtub.

  Each piece of information Leo could find made him feel like he knew everything there was to know about her.

  It was all there. Her upbringing or lack of one, her fall from grace, and her climb back up the ladder. Leo read about every scandal. Every fall from grace. Every Hollywood bad boy Layla had dated – and even the few women. He read about how her film and TV offers began to fizzle to an abrupt stop and how just as the last of her money well ran dry, she was offered a three million porn deal by a company called Skin Flix.

  She had redirected her career in a way no one had saw coming. Or maybe they did. Leo wasn't exactly hip to the comings and goings of tinsel town. He shut down his computer, tired of reading. He collapsed on his bed, kicking off his boots. What was the famous Layla Carter doing in his part of town, let alone naked in his bath tub? It didn't make any sense to him. He had to get to the bottom of it.

  Leo grabbed his keys off of the table beside his bed, stuffing them in his tattered blue jeans and pulling his t-shirt off over his toned chest, tossing it in the hamper beside his bed.

  After cleaning himself up, he exited his apartment, climbing down the flight of stairs. He looked down at his watch. It was 6 pm. The mall closed in just under an hour but if he drove fast, he might have been able to make it.

  It was never a place Leo would go voluntarily but if he knew anything about women, and he did like to think to know a few things, it was that new clothing was the easiest way to bribe the truth out of them.

  Leo might not have been the richest man on earth but he did know that Layla would be dying for a change of clothing after her ordeal. He climbed on his bike, starting up the engine and pushing down roughly on the throttle. Once it had heated up, he made a beeline into traffic. In his pocket, he had a piece of paper. On it were Layla's measurements, which he had found online rather easily.

  If Leo wanted the answers he craved – he was going to have to go shopping.

  –

  The tiny strip mall just a few miles up the road from Leo's apartment was packed full of teenage girls – some with their mothers, but most of them alone or giggling beside a friend. Leo parked his bike in the only open parking spot he could find, near the entrance to the Gap.

  Did women find the Gap fashionable? Leo wondered, entering the brightly lit store and smiling awkwardly at the bubbly sales assistant who greeted him.

  "Hi there.” she said, handing Leo a flyer with two girl-next-door types on it beneath the words ‘skinny jeans - 50 percent off'.

  "We have a spring clearance sale going on right now, but is there anything in particular that I can help you find?"

  At first, Leo shook his head. Then, it occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

  "Actually,” he began, reaching in his jacket and pulling out the sheet of paper he had written Layla's measurements on, "help would be nice.”

  An hour later, after exhausting through dozens of clearance racks with the aid of the young sales assistant who Leo had learned was named Samantha, he walked out of the Gap with an outfit he thought Layla would find suitable.

  For what…well. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet.

  He was on the freeway – nearly halfway to the hospital – when he got the phone call. He pulled off onto to the shoulder of the road, gravel flying around his bike as he came to an abrupt stop. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone.

  1 missed call, 1 voicemail.

  Sliding it open, Leo went into recent calls to see who had tried to get ahold of him. It was Richie. He brought the phone to his ear, clicking play on the voice mail.

  "Leo, it’s me man. We need to talk. It's urgent. Call me back when you get this."

  Leo pressed redial, a lump forming in his throat as he paced back and forth. After three rings, Richie frantically picked up the phone.

  "Leo...are you alone?” he asked.

  "Yeah..." Leo trailed off, leaning against his bike, "why? What's up brother?"

  Leo could hear a bunch of unrecognizable noise in the background, until finally a door shut and it was silent but for Richie’s rapid and uneven breathing on the other end of the line.

  "Get to the club house as soon as possible.” he whispered frantically.

  "I can’t explain right now. Just get there fast.”

  "Wait why?" Leo interrupted.

  But before Richie could respond, the call dropped and the line fell silent.

&nbs
p; What the fuck? Leo wondered.

  In all the years that he had known Richie, Leo had never heard him sound that spooked. They had been riding together for years and had organized a small, tight knit MC Club together in their 20s. The Disciples weren't nearly as big or influential as some of the clubs that resided in south central LA, but that never seemed to bother Leo or his brothers. It never seemed to matter. They kept their head in the sand and aside from the odd bar fight every now and again – they never pissed anyone off. They didn't have enemies.

  Until now.

  –

  Present

  "Can I turn around?" Leo asked Layla, pulling himself from his thoughts.

  Layla nodded. Then, realizing that he couldn't see her, she spoke.

  "Yes."

  Leo turned around to face her, walking towards the door and peeking out of it to make sure no one was coming. When the coast was clear, he extended his hand to her. Layla looked at it hesitantly.

  "Come on," he urged.

  It was just as she had expected. Paparazzi were flooded around every major exit and entrance of the large hospital, all of them eagerly awaiting the moment Layla would walk through the door.

  It was the most attention she had recieved from them in years, but that wasn't much of a surprise. The world had a way of reveling in the mistakes of celebrities – even C list ones.

  "Come on," Layla heard Leo say, "I know another way out."

  She followed him through an isolated hallway, through heavy swinging doors and a barrage of busy nurses and doctors who bustled quickly past them. Then, he caught off to the side, grabbing Layla's hand as he threw his large body against a locked emergency exit, causing it to swing open and reveal a staircase.

  "Hurry, before someone sees!” Leo urged, slamming the door shut as Layla entered and pulling her downwards as a nurse scurried past them. When she was gone, he stood up and Layla followed him down the long flight of stairs, which led to a basement level parking garage.

  "I'm right over there," Leo said, nodding at a shiny black motorcycle through a tiny glass window on the only door that kept them both from freedom. When he was positive that no one else was in the garage, he swung open the door, racing towards his bike with Layla in tow.

  "Slow down!” she gasped.

  He picked up pace. His bike was only a few feet away now. They were home free.

  "I hope you don't think I'm getting on that thing!" Layla exclaimed, breathless and exhausted as Leo started up the ignition, sliding his heavy helmet over her tussled hair and setting her sternly on his bike before she could object further.

  "Don't tell me you've never rode a bike before,” he laughed, easing himself on the leather seat in front of her and revving up the engine.

  "What with all your fancy movie roles and all."

  "Those were stunt doubles!" Layla called out over the noise, gripping Leo tightly as he took off through the dimly lit garage. When they finally hit the surface, the daylight nearly blinded Layla despite the helmet and the sunglasses Leo had given her. She felt as though she hadn't seen sunlight in days.

  Leo eased into the heavy flow of traffic, past the pack of rabid paparazzi that lined the front of the hospital. Eventually, they were nothing more than tiny specks in the distance.

  "Where are we going?" Layla yelled over Leo's muscular shoulders, but she didn't get a response.

  About a mile down the road, just past the Hollywood sign, Leo veered roughly to the left, gravel flying around them.

  "We're going to make a quick stop,” he yelled over the sound of cars and trucks honking angrily and moving past them.

  If there was one thing Layla knew, it was that LA drivers had very little patience for motorcyclists – especially ones like Leo, who felt as though the rules of the road didn't apply to them. He brought the bike to an abrupt stop in front of a convenience store just before the freeway, shutting off the engine and reaching back to pull his helmet from Layla's head.

  "You coming?” he asked, but it was more of an order than a question.

  Layla followed him through the entrance, through shelves that stretched from one end of the small store to the next, stacked full of alcohol. She watched as Leo reached forward, grabbing a few bottles of expensive liquor and stuffing them in his backpack.

  "What are you doing?" Layla whispered, looking anxiously back at the cashier – a Mexican man in his late 30s who was preoccupied by a magazine in his hands, "I can pay for that you know!"

  "That takes all the fun out of it," Leo laughed, grabbing another bottle and handing it to Layla with a crisp twenty dollar bill, nodding towards the man.

  "What am I supposed to this?” she asked, confused.

  "Go buy it.” Leo whispered sternly, pushing Layla towards the front of the store.

  "Play up your celeb cred. He'll never notice me."

  Layla did as she was told, not wanting to test him. She handed the money to the man behind the counter and he nodded, barely looking up from the Spanish magazine he was reading long enough to hand over her change.

  "Have a nice day,” he said in a heavy accent, nodding to Layla as she walked towards the door. She paused long enough to give Leo time to dart out first with his haul.

  "So?” Leo asked, starting back up his bike, "was he a big Layla Carter fan?"

  Layla rolled her eyes, handing Leo his change before climbing back on the leather seat of his bike, adjusting his helmet on her head.

  "Very funny,” she said sarcastically.

  "Are you going to tell me who you are and why you needed to steal enough liquor to intoxicate Orange County or should I guess?"

  When Leo didn't reply, she continued, gripping his clothing tightly as he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the crowded road.

  "Kidnapper? Stalker? Jaded fan who I jipped out of an autograph? Or–” she paused, searching for the right words, "just your run of the mill creep?"

  Leo laughed, veering onto the freeway. The sign above it read San Francisco.

  "Wait a second!" Layla yelled, gripping him tighter.

  "You didn't say anything about taking me out of LA! I didn't agree to this."

  Leo shook his head, his shiny black hair blowing in the wind against Layla's face.

  "If you recall princess,” he yelled over his shoulder.

  "I never really told you anything. Now hold on tight!"

  TRUST

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Present

  Leo picked up speed, his heavy black boots pressing down hard on the throttle. Layla shut her eyes tightly, too afraid to move. She knew now that whatever was happening definitely wasn't good. She shouldn't have went with him. She should have put up a fight. Stated her case. But it was too late for that now. There was no turning back. No escaping him.

  Leo didn't have to say it for Layla to know. It was in the words he wasn't saying. The way he held himself – strong and ruthless. A simple look would tell anyone what they needed to know about Leo Marsden.

  He called the shots.

  "You're such a fucking cliché," Layla announced over Leo's shoulders as they flew down the gravel road.

  "Oh yeah?” he questioned playfully, whipping his head around to look at her with a slight smile.

  That's funny coming from a child star turned porn star, Leo thought to himself, revving up the engine and pushing down harder on the throttle as they descended up a hill.

  "And you aren't princess?" he teased, breaking the silence.

  Layla shook her head, gripping his leather cut tighter as he picked up speed.

  "Well at least I'm aware of it," she bit back, nudging Leo's shoulder at the insult.

  He smiled slightly as the wind whipped through his hair, shrugging instead of refuting her statement. Luckily, Layla didn't mind a good cliché.

  "Don't worry,” she continued with a sad laugh, talking more to herself than to Leo, "my entire life is one giant cliché."

  "Isn't everyone's?" Leo retorted.

  La
yla nodded against him. Maybe that was why she felt such a strong connection to him despite only just meeting him. He, like her, appeared lost.

  Leo lived on the edge and Layla only just teetered there. He could take off and go at any moment. Leo could live his life – really live it – however he saw fit while every move Layla made had to be perfectly planned within the constraints of contracts and deadlines. She had thought that the porn industry would be different. But it wasn't. If anything, it was even more demanding. Leo might not have been a rich man, but he had time and anonymity. Two simple things that Layla would have traded her entire fame and fortune for.

  "Maybe," Layla finally said as they pulled off onto an exit for the town of Desert Shore.

  A few miles down the road, they turned through a heavy patch of trees and pulled to a stop in front of a fairly deserted looking cabin. The building was tiny and somewhat isolated from the road. Layla didn’t even see it until they had climbed off the bike and were a few feet away from it, their feet buried deep in moss and mud. She pulled off Leo's heavy helmet from her head, shaking out her hair as he lit a cigarette.

  "What is this place?” she asked, pausing in front of the down trodden wooden building and taking a deep breath. They had parked Leo's bike in a shaded area off to the side, near a dirt road that you'd miss if you were driving even just a little bit too fast. Layla was exhausted. She needed to sit down. She needed a fix. She needed a warm bath and a meal. As it turned out, she needed a lot of things, but only one would be delivered.

  "Come here." Leo called out to her, reaching for her hand. He offered Layla a smoke but she shook her head.

  "That's the thing though,” he continued, changing back the subject as he cracked his knuckles.

  “What?” Layla asked, confused.

  "I'm not entirely convinced that being cliché is a bad thing. I mean...”

  His eyes found Layla's as he walked up the rickety front steps of the cabin, kicking open the front door with very little effort. It was pitch black inside and there wasn't a single solitary part of Layla that wished to explore it further.