“This…problem will be resolved tonight.” His words were sharp and edgy. Lethal. “Stay with your man.” Mr. Casale indicated Gray with the tilt of his chin and I flushed. “Have him take you to your rowing in the morning, then spend the day together. Forget about this. I will call you when it is over.”
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Mr. Casale was earnest in his words, where, if spoken by anyone else I would have laughed. Gray lived in a darker world than me, knew how to fight, knew men who liked to fight. He wasn’t laughing either, but instead leaned forward, forearms resting on the table and narrowed his eyes.
“No way. I’m going with you.” When Mr. Casale was about to speak, Gray pushed on. “Sir, you didn’t see the flimsy ladder she tossed out her window to escape. You didn’t hear her on the phone when she was hiding from the guy. You didn’t have to drive across town to get to her. I’d never felt more helpless in my life knowing someone was after her and I couldn't protect her.” With every word his jaw clenched tight, his body tensed, his voice turned dark.
I melted a little inside at the thought of what Gray had gone through when I’d called him. I couldn’t imagine a similar phone call and not want to seek retribution.
“I want to know this man’s off the streets.” Gray sat back, put his arm around the back of my chair and I felt his thumb stroke over my back. Even with all his obvious hostility, the touch was gentle.
I turned in my chair to face him. “I don’t want you hurt.”
He swiveled his head toward me. “I’m not the one who’s going to get hurt.”
A frisson of fear shot through me. This was the fighter part of Gray I hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m going with you.”
Both men chimed in at once. Even Paul shook his head.
“Absolutely not—” Mr. Casale began, but Gray cut him off as he kept his eyes focused on me.
“I can’t do this and worry about you.” Those dark, dark eyes bored into me. The intensity there was for seeing justice done, for protecting what belonged to him. I belonged to him. “Go with Paul and Christy. They’ll take you to my apartment and you can wait for me there.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his words made sense. If I went with them to God knows where, most likely the darkest and most dangerous corners of the city, Gray could get hurt if I distracted him.
I took a breath, knowing he wasn’t going to change his mind. “You…you promise you’ll come back to me?” I knew the worry came through in my voice. I’d just found Gray and didn’t need him hurt, or worse.
He cupped my cheek, leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Promise.”
Mr. Casale stood, and after Gray held my gaze for another moment, stood as well. Taking his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out a white keypass. “This works on the outer door of my building and on the elevator to get up to my apartment.” I took it from him, our fingers brushing.
“Everything will be fine by morning, but I will continue to watch over you since Marco is in love with you.” Mr. Casale looked to Gray, who nodded, and they left. I felt my heart going with them. I ached to get up and follow, to grab Gray’s hand and hold him back, to tell him not to go off with some connected man hell bent on vigilante justice. In this case, Gray was of the same mind and if he was the man I…I loved, then I had to let him go.
Christy and Paul were watching me and I felt a flush creep up into my cheeks. I took a sip of my wine as Christy leaned in and asked, “Who’s Marco? Should he be worried Gray will beat him up?”
GRAY
It was after one when Frank dropped me off at the restaurant to get my car, then drove home. I glanced up at the windows to my apartment, but all was dark. Surely Emory was asleep. I envisioned her in my bed, her dark hair fanned out across my pillow, ensuring the coconut scent lingered long after she awoke. I realized after sharing the bed with her for only one night I didn’t know how she slept. Was she a stomach sleeper? Side? She’d been curled up against me all night, but that wasn’t the norm, for she hadn’t been with a man since her ex. It was this lack of knowledge that had me climbing from the car and clicking the lock button. I was eager to get upstairs and find out. It made my night’s activities worth it. I curled my fingers into fists at the thought, stabbing the up button with my knuckles.
Casale’d had information about the man who was using women to get his drugs through the clinic—and other clinics around town—but he wasn’t at the place we’d gone. It had been a rundown row house on the other side of town, an area I’d never been and well away from Casale’s turf.
I spent fifteen minutes in the back of Casale’s SUV as he talked on his cell, working his connections, whoever they were, to find the guy. He’d brought Frank and a couple other men were in a second car. Casale had only offered first names as way of introduction. As for me, they all knew who I was and shook my hand with a certain level of what seemed to be respect. Obviously, they knew I could hold my own in a fight, but I was content letting them keep the guns. My gun shooting days from the Army were over.
I remained quiet as Casale talked, listening and watching. I’d dealt with some bad people, some bad shit, but this was outside of my comfort zone. I wanted my hands on the fucker, but finding him was up to Casale.
The second place we went turned out to be a few blocks from the clinic—Emory wouldn’t be driving to the place on her own anymore—and the guy was easy to catch. I’d wanted a chase, a fight, something, but he was just a dead-beat low life who pissed his pants at the sight of Casale and his men.
Casale gave the signal and he and his men left the room, giving me a minute alone with the asshole without being asked. While punching him in the face had felt good, he was a worthless piece of shit. He cried, actually cried when confronted with breaking into Emory’s house.
“Dude, she wouldn’t give over the scripts,” he said, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood off his face.
“So you break into her house. What were you planning to do?”
He held up his hands as if to ward me off. His eyes were wide and wild and I recognized a guy hyped on drugs, on meth, and he was flying now. “Just scare her, that’s all, man.”
Just scare her. Right. If he was high in Emory’s house like he was now, he wouldn’t have stopped at finding her keys or a script pad and leaving. He’d gone up the stairs looking for Emory.
“Do you know who I am?” For once, I wanted someone to recognize me.