by Kaylee Ryan
His words send fire through my blood. I have to get to Layla. I motion with my hand that we need to leave, and he nods, the others falling in behind us as we head back outside. Grant and I ride with Royce, while Marshall jumps in with Conrad. Royce hangs up with Sawyer and immediately calls our parents, letting them know what’s going on. I tune him out as I reach for my phone in my pocket.
I try to call Layla, but she doesn’t answer. Fear and panic like I’ve never known washes over me.
Something is wrong.
I hit End and redial her number. Over and over again I call her and keep getting nothing but her voice mail. Grant, sensing my panic from the back seat, reaches up and places his hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but then again, he doesn’t have to. I know my brothers have my back always. I just hope that whatever we’re about to walk into, all five of us, and Layla make it out unscathed.
* * *
Pulling into our driveway, there is an older model SUV sitting in front of the garage. Royce doesn’t even have the truck in Park, and I’m opening my door and jumping out, rushing toward the front door. Trying the handle, it’s locked. I fumble with my keys in my pocket, and my hands shake so badly I can’t get the key into the handle.
“Let me,” Grant says from behind me.
If I’m overreacting, they’re never going to let me live this down, but my gut tells me I’m not overreacting. I don’t recognize that SUV, and Layla doesn’t feel well. She wouldn’t invite anyone over. My guess is I’m about to meet my future mother-in-law. Good, I get to tell her to take her demands and fuck off, and to leave my girl alone.
Grant gets the door unlocked and pushes inside ahead of me. I hear a scream, not just any scream but one of pain, and push past him. What I see is something I will never forget as long as I live.
“Get the fuck away from her!” I seethe.
Chapter 29
Layla
The entire drive home I’m running through scenarios. Every time I think about my mother filming me, I have to swallow back the bile that rises in my throat. Will Owen still want me knowing that perverts across the world have seen me? All of me? I send up a silent prayer that he will.
My heart tells me he’s a good man and he will know that this isn’t my fault. He was my first, so he knows I don’t sleep around, and we live together. He knows me; at least, I hope he does.
Pulling into the driveway, I hit the button for the garage door opener. The door rises, and I pull his car inside. Grabbing my purse, I climb out, and that’s when I hear her.
“Little girl, I’ve been waiting for you.” My mother’s raspy voice sounds from behind me.
Slowly, I turn to face her. “What are you doing here?”
“You and I need to have a little chat.”
“There is nothing more to say. I won’t give in to your demands. You can tell whoever the hell you want to tell that it’s me in those pictures or videos or whatever. I won’t extort money from Owen or his family. They’re good people.”
She laughs. It’s manic. The sound sends chills racing down my spine. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve lost out on a lot of money since you up and left that shithole you called home.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s rich coming from you. I grew up in filth and shambles.”
“You always were an ungrateful little bitch.” She raises her arm in the air, making a come-here motion, and I watch as a man, who looks just as rough as she does, climbs out from the driver’s side of the SUV. “This is Don. Don, this is—” She starts, but his words stop her.
“Oh, I know this sweet piece,” he says, grabbing at his crotch.
“Leave. Both of you. I don’t want you here.”
“Like you have a say in the matter. Don,” my mother says, and the filthy guy comes at me. I try to run, but he reaches me in time to pull my hair and drags me back into his chest. His breath smells like death, making me gag.
“I’ve got plans for you. All that teasing. It’s time to pay up, little girl.” His lips press against my cheek, and his tongue slips out, licking the side of my face. I gag, which only makes him laugh. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he whispers in his smoker’s voice as he drags me into the house. I hear the garage door start to close, and I pray Owen gets home soon before it’s too late.
Don drags me into the house and tosses me on the couch. I scramble to get away from him. Not willing to go down without a fight. I’m so focused on crossing the room I don’t see his hand coming until it smacks me across the face.
“Bitch,” he seethes. “You want it rough, I can make that happen.” This time it’s his fist that connects with my jaw, and the hit has me seeing stars and crying out in pain.
“Oh, did that hurt? Just wait.” He tosses me back on the couch. I kick out my legs to keep him from advancing on me, but he’s fast, moving out of the way. He kicks back, right at my knee, and the pain is excruciating. “Fuck you!” he screams with spittle flying out his mouth.
I’m sobbing, but that doesn’t keep me from fighting him when he comes at me with a knife. “Don’t move,” he sneers, holding the knife toward me. My chest heaves, but I stop my movements, not sure what he’s going to do. My body trembles with fear as he takes the knife and slices down the middle of the blouse I wore to work today. It was one I bought on one of my many shopping trips with Sawyer. It was also one of my favorites. “There she is,” he breathes the words. “Just like I remember.”
“Don! You want a beer?” my pathetic excuse for a mother calls out. “Looks like he’s got the good stuff.”
“Yeah!” Don calls back.
A few seconds later, my mother appears with two beer bottles. She doesn’t even spare me a glance as she hands Don his beer. “I’ll go get the camera,” she tells him, turning to walk back out of the room.
“This time, you’re going to know you’re being recorded. And the world will know it’s you. I’m not going to hide your face this time. No, that would be a shame. Then they won’t be able to see what I’ve done. They won’t be able to see what happens when you fight me.” His grin is filled with malice.
“Please let me go. I don’t have much, but I’ll give you what I have,” I plead with him.
“You might not, but that man of yours does. Have you changed your mind? I gotta admit, that would change plans for tonight.”
“No.” I swallow hard. “I won’t take money from him to give to you.”
“That dick must be good,” my mother says, joining us again.
“She’s about to see what good dick is like.” Don grabs his crotch yet again. The eye that’s not swollen shut closes so I can try to block out what’s happening.
I send up a silent prayer. Please God, if things get worse, don’t let Owen be the one to find me.
“Stand up.” Don yanks on my arm. I pull, not wanting to stand. Partly because I’m afraid of what he’s going to do next, and partly because the pain in my knee is still throbbing. “Fucking stand up!” he screams. His hand once again connects with my cheek, and it feels as though he pulls my arm out of its socket when he tugs me from the couch.
I stumble as he hauls me along behind him, only to feel another set of arms capture me from behind. “Hold still,” my mother scolds me.
“Just need a minute,” Don says. The next thing I know his hands are on my waist and he’s got my skirt around my ankles. “Fuck, the real thing is so much better,” he says. “Get a chair,” he tells my mother, as he slides his arms around me and pulls me close. He nips at my earlobe. “You fucked up, little girl. You should have given us what we wanted.” With that, he pushes me, and I fall into a hard chair. I’m guessing one from the dining room.
With his hands on my shoulders, he holds me to the chair while my mother ties my arms behind my back. “I’ll get the camera set up,” he tells her.
“Mom, please don’t do this.”
“You refuse to get me the money that I want, then I’ll take it. Yo
ur little moving stunt cost me a lot and I have people that I owe. I told you I would get it out of you one way or the other.” She tightens the rope so tight I can already feel the circulation being cut off on my wrists.
“It’s showtime,” Don says, standing before me. My eye is so swollen I can’t see out of it. With my one good eye, I see him advancing on me with the knife held out in front of him. That’s when I feel the rope tighten around my legs. “I’ve missed these,” Don says, taking the knife and cutting my bra in the middle. I feel the cups being torn from my breasts.
“Let’s get this over with before he gets home,” my mother says.
With a nasty grubby hand, Don cups my breast. All I can do is close my eyes as the tears once again begin to fall. I don’t know what I’ve done in life to deserve this, I just pray that I make it through it.
“Open.” I hear his gruff voice. I force my one eye open to find him standing over my lap with his dick in his hands. “Open,” he growls. My eyes slide close, which is why I don’t see the punch to my temple coming.
I sees stars, but I fight. Clamping my jaw shut as tight as I can, I breathe through the pain. I’ll bite him if he gets any closer. I swallow back the vomit that threatens to spew from my mouth.
“Fucking make her open,” Don tells my mother.
I feel her hands on my cheeks, the pain from her squeezing is like fire, but I fight her on it. I’m woozy from the hit, and all I want to do is succumb to the darkness that’s calling me, but I don’t. I fight to keep my mouth shut.
“Get the fuck away from her!” an all too familiar voice rings out.
Owen.
So many voices and pounding feet. I hear flesh hitting flesh, and a female scream. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. Then I hear his voice in my ear. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. We’re going to get you out of here.”
“Owen.” I’m able to croak out his name through my tears.
“I’m here, Layla. I’ve got you.” His voice cracks. “Call a fucking ambulance!” I hear him shout. “Stay with me, baby.”
“I-I love you. I-I told them no.” I need to explain it to him, but the pain is so unbearable and the darkness is calling. My pain is also blanketed with relief because Owen is here. He’s here and it’s over. They can’t hurt me anymore. He won’t let them.
“I love you too. Just stay with me, Layla. Help is on the way.”
I open my mouth to tell him I love him. To tell him that the sound of his voice is the best thing I’ve ever heard. I want to tell him that I’m sorry, that I never meant to bring evil into his life. I try to reply, to tell him everything, but darkness claims me.
Chapter 30
Owen
It’s been two long days sitting in this chair next to her hospital bed. I refuse to leave her side. Alice, that’s Layla’s mom, she and her partner, Don, were taken into custody. Alice sang like a canary claiming Don threatened her. The police didn’t buy it, but the police did manage to learn what was going on. Alice and Don had been filming Layla. She was just a preteen when it started. They followed her to Florida and continued to film her in her apartment. When she moved here with me, they lost track of her. That is until the picture from the Gala made the news. That’s how they found her. I led them to her, and that’s something I will never forgive myself for.
The only saving grace is they never showed her face. Their video of the time at our house, which they’d plan to later upload, was evidence enough. However, the idiots had the camera rolling when they were in the car. They discussed what they had been doing, and how the plan was to extort a million dollars from my family and me and still sell the video. Their stupidity sealed their fate.
It’s a good thing.
The two of them behind bars is the only thing keeping me from killing them both. Well, and the fact I refuse to leave her side. I want to be here when she wakes up.
“How’s she doing?”
I look up to find Royce standing next to me. I didn’t even hear him come in. “No change, really. She’s woken up a few times, only to fall right back to sleep. They’re telling me it’s normal. The hits to her face were severe, as is her concussion. Sleep is what her body needs to heal.” At least that’s what the doctors and nurses tell me every time I ask about her waking up.
“Here.” He hands me the small black box I asked him to stop by my place and pick up.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
“Knock, knock,” Sawyer whispers, pushing open the door. She glances at Layla, and her face drops. She doesn’t stop until she’s standing right in front of me. She bends and wraps her arms around me in a hug, and I have to battle with the emotion that clogs my throat. “We’re here for you. Both of you,” she whispers.
“Thanks, sis. I’m good. I just need her to wake up.”
“She will,” Sawyer says, stepping into Royce’s arms. “She needs time to heal.”
“Can she come back from this?” I ask them.
“She’s strong,” Sawyer tells me. “So damn strong. She’s going to need you, but yeah, she can come back from this.”
“I can’t take her back to that house. I can’t make her live there.”
“You can stay with us.”
“Thanks.” I nod. “Mom and Dad offered too.”
“Whatever you need,” Royce states. His hand on my shoulder tightens, giving me his support. “We’re going to head out. Mom and Dad are on their way, and Con, Grant, and Marsh are in the waiting room.”
“Thanks for this.” I hold up the ring box. Royce nods.
Sawyer gives me another hug before turning and leaning in to kiss Layla on the cheek. “He needs you,” she whispers. “Get better soon.”
Fuck me. Hot tears prick my eyes, but I push them back. Not seconds after they leave, my other three brothers come walking into the room. “We’re here, brother,” Grant says solemnly. He gives me a hug, and the other two do the same. Every day I’ve sat here with my girl, my family has been here multiple times to visit and offer their support.
She’s here in this bed because she was protecting my family and me. We all know that, and the fact is, they loved her before all of this, now she’s one of us regardless of whether or not we’re together. However, we’re going to be together. That little black box in my pocket ensures that.
I’m not giving up until this woman agrees to marry me and has my last name.
“You need anything?” Marshall asks.
He’s taking it the hardest. He blames himself for letting her leave the office. He had no way of knowing what was going to happen. He isn’t to blame, and I’ve been telling him that. If anything, I owe him for his quick thinking and getting me to the house as fast as he did. He called in the Riggins cavalry. I don’t think he’s going to let the guilt go anytime soon. Maybe when Layla wakes up, she can convince him.
“No. You’ve done enough. You brought me to her.”
“Not soon enough, brother,” he says sadly.
“This isn’t on you, Marsh,” I tell him. He nods, but I can see in his eyes he’s blaming himself, no matter what I say about it.
“We’re going to get out of here. Mom is pacing out there to get in here and see the two of you.” Grant grins.
“They were here earlier today.”
“You know, Mom. She’s a worrywart when one of her kids is hurting. This time it’s two of them,” Conrad says.
He has no idea how much his words mean to me. That my family sees and accepts how incredible the woman is who’s stolen every last piece of my heart.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I tell my brothers.
“Oh, here.” Marshall hands me a bag that I didn’t see until now. “Just a couple of bottles of sweet tea, some Combos, beef jerky. I thought you could use some snacks.”
“Thanks, Marsh.”
He nods.
After a round of goodbyes, my brothers leave, and my parents push open the door. “I didn’t think they would ever leave,” my mom says, go
ing to the opposite side of the bed. I watch as she gently picks up Layla’s hand, mindful of her IV and holds it in hers. “How’s our girl doing?” Mom asks.
“G-Good,” I say, clearing my throat. “At least that’s what they tell me. I just want her to wake up and stay awake. I want to hear her voice and see those baby blues,” I say, looking at Layla. Her eye is still swollen shut, and her face appears to have every color under the rainbow from the bruising. The doctors assure me it’s all normal and a part of the healing process. I hate it. Every time I look at her, I want to go down to the jail and strangle her mother and Don for doing this to her.
“She’s healing, Owen. It’s going to take some time, but she’s going to be okay. None of her injuries are life-threatening. The concussion gave them pause, but she’s showing great improvement.” My mother recites what the doctors told me word for word. That tells me that she’s been harassing the medical staff, which has my mouth tilting in a grin.
“You know how she is,” Dad says. “When it’s one of her babies, she takes charge, and I’m not the only man who can’t say no to her.” He chuckles.
“Hush,” she says, her smile wide. “I wanted to make sure we weren’t missing anything.” She places Layla’s hand back on the bed and digs into her purse. She pulls out some kind of wipes and begins to carefully wipe at Layla’s face.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“These are going to make her feel fresh. She’s going to feel all nasty when she wakes up. I’m hoping this will help.”
“Let her be, son,” Dad tells me. “You know once she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. It warms my heart that my mother wants to take such good care of Layla. I talk with my parents for about fifteen minutes or so. “Here’s a bag of clothes. When she wakes up, there are some toiletries as well. We stopped by your place on the way here. I had to sweet talk those police officers to let me in,” she says with a grin. “I’m not sure how soon until they will let her shower, but when she does, she’s going to feel better having her own things.”
