Make You Beg

I watch, hands fisted and heart pounding in my chest. But I sit back and allow him to dance with her as though he’s taking her home. She laughs as if she’s got daddy issues and is going to spread her legs for this bastard because he bought her a few shots and twirled her around a dance floor.

I get it, little doll. You want me to think you’ll let anyone play with you. Too bad that’s not how this game is played.

You’re my doll. My toy to mark, my toy to fuck.

Henley will crawl to me for forgiveness once I’m done with her.

The song comes to an end, and he pulls her over to the bar. He orders a few drinks, pays for them, and then whispers in her ear.

I sit up when I see him walk toward the men’s room at the back. I get up, knowing this is my only chance. Entering the restroom, I wait for him to do his business. Of course, the fucker chose a stall.

A few seconds later, he exits and stumbles to the sink. The bastard is drunker than she is. He whistles a merry tune while washing his hands. Yanking towels from the dispenser, he turns to face me. “Hey …”

I punch him in the face, knocking his head back. His body hits the countertop, and I hit him again. He falls to the nasty fucking floor, knocked the fuck out.

I pull my cell out of my pocket and his wallet out of his. I take a picture of his driver’s license, making sure I have all the information I’m going to need. Then I put my cell away and exit the bathroom, walking right out the back door and leaving her there alone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HENLEY

I REMOVE MY cell from my clutch and call for an Uber. I don’t know when Lacey left me here, but she’s not answering my calls. Somehow, Law and Scout both left, and the nasty bastard who I danced with just to piss off Scout is gone.

I guess luck decided to go my way after all. I’m standing outside when my Uber pulls up. I fall into the back seat and give him my address.

Opening my cell back up, I send a text to Lacey, hoping she made it home safely, and let her know I’ll call her tomorrow once I wake up. Then I throw my head back and close my eyes, hating how my head pounds. Fuck, I shouldn’t have had that much to drink. When will I learn my lesson?

“Are you sure you gave me the right address?” The Uber driver gets my attention.

“Yes. Why?” I mumble, my eyes still closed.

“Because I’m pretty sure the place is on fire.”

My eyes spring open, and I sit up. Grabbing the front seats, I pull myself forward to practically sit between them, gasping at the scene before me.

Lights. So many flashing lights sit parked in our circular driveway. Several fire trucks, an ambulance, and multiple police cars.

As soon as he comes to a stop, I jump out, running toward the house. But I’m grabbed from behind. “Miss, you can’t go in there,” an officer tells me.

“I live here,” I manage to say although my throat is closing. It smells like a fire, and smoke is coming from the house while firefighters have their hoses, trying to put it out.

“I’m sorry.” He begins to pull me back. My heels scrape across the driveway. “But I can’t let you enter the house.”

“My dad. My dad was home.” I try to jerk away from him. “He …”

“The paramedics are attending to him.” He points over at an ambulance that faces us.

I manage to get my arm loose and run over to it. “Dad?” I shout, rounding the back. My drunk legs almost unable to stop me from a face-plant into the open door.

He sits on a gurney inside the ambulance with an oxygen mask to his face. “What happened?” I ask wide-eyed.

He removes it, getting off the gurney. “I’m fine, Hen. What are you wearing?” He looks over my very short dress and high heels. “And where have you been?” He came home this morning, and I didn’t tell him I was going out tonight.

“What happened?” My chest tightens, and tears fill my eyes, ignoring his questions. “How did this happen?”

He jumps out of the ambulance and wraps his arms around me. “There was an explosion in the kitchen. They suspect a gas leak, but an investigation will tell us more.”

I tighten my hold on him. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I promise.” He kisses my hair. “Why do you smell like tequila and cigarette smoke?” he asks.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here.” I hear that same officer from a second ago talking behind me.

“It’s fine, Welling. They’re here for me.” My father speaks, making his chest rumble against mine and allowing me to avoid his previous question. He’ll be pissed if he knew where I was.