Chapter 194

“I don’t know where we are; somewhere Leila brought us. Sarah’s here too but I think she’s dead.” I
watch as she slides ungracefully off the bar where her body previously was, and she ends up in a
disheveled heap on the floor, behind her bar stool between two men who are seemingly ignoring her.
For someone who thinks Sarah might’ve died I don’t seem overly concerned. I trip toward her a little,
stooping to see if she’s breathing, almost losing my balance, and nearly fall on top of her. “Never mind.
She’s just snoring,” I slur down the phone with a dramatic sigh of relief. I slump down on my knees
beside her to peel what looks like a beer mat off her cheek.

Yay, my friend isn’t dead after all. But that is disgusting.

I hold the beer mat out in front of me and squint, looking at the blurry, sticky vile thing, before tossing it
casually over my shoulder and rub my hands, on Sarah’s dress.

“For the love of God, are any of the three of you capable of something coherent? Emma put Leila on,”
Jake commands, the tone of his voice riling me a little.

You’re supposed to be groveling for my forgiveness, not barking commands, Dick. Asshole. Gorgeous,
sexy asshole … But I still hate you.

“Jerk.” I sniff down the phone and I swear Jake growls … like, actually growl.

I find myself sighing and attempt to a walk toward Leila, rolling my eyes, my defiant chin stuck in the air,
instantly confused when I’m face down on a leather booth seat after the wall I was using to keep me
upright opened into nothing.

“Ouch,” I murmur as my face peels painfully from the seat. I realize my phone is squished to my face,
and I can hear Jake rather loudly in my cheek, opening my eyes I’m blinded by the lit screen near my
eyeballs.



“Did you just fall? What the hell …?! Emma, hello?! Okay, look, hang up but don’t leave that bar. I’ll find
you my way.” It sounds more like a threat and when I go to reply I realize he’s disconnected my call.

Asshole! I didn’t ask you to come for me. I don’t want you to come for me! You don’t know where I am
anyway so good luck with that.

I crawl onto the booth in which I’m already lying and curl up on the seat trying to get a hold on these
damn infernal tears. I should call him back and tell him to go to hell, but I don’t want to, part of me
wants him to find me, to come and take care of me. Wanting him to ignore my pleas to stay away and
do what Jake does – Come charging in all dominant mode trying to bend my will to his. If he does that
maybe my confusion can take a long walk off a short pier for a while, give my mind a well needed
break.

I don’t like it here anymore and I think Sarah may really be dead, she’s not moved at all but as she’s
too far away to get to, I’d rather rest first. I wiggle my feet out of my shoes and drop them on the floor,
feeling an odd sense of heartache at this simple act. Jake always took my shoes off for me when I was
drunk, he always took care of me regardless of his mood or sobriety. I hate that everything I do is
plagued by him.

I sigh trying to wipe away the mess pouring down my face, resting my head against the wall and
closing my eyes to block out the wave of people mulling around the bar and floor. For a small place, it’s
crowded and really noisy, with a thick foggy atmosphere. Maybe if I just drown it all out for a few
minutes then I could get my head straight and get us back home. Take Sarah home somewhere safe,
to sleep in a position a little more natural and get Leila off that damn infernal bar so men stop trying to
grope her.

* * *



“Emma, bambino, wake up.” Jake’s voice comes at me through the darkness and suddenly I’m aware
of music, and people, and a lot of noise. Warm fingers trace my jaw and I push my face into them,
rubbing like a greedy cat at the touch. I choke on the atmosphere and come to in complete confusion. I
find my neck stiff from the angle I’ve been curled up in at the corner of the booth. “I’m going to lift you
up okay?” warm, strong, familiar arms slide under my legs and behind my back and I’m hoisted up
against the smell of my Jake, the feel of him, his warmth, and his strength like some fantasy dream. I
close my eyes, nuzzling into him, wanting this dream to last forever. I want the safe and comforting feel
of him surrounding me to last, keeping the horrible ache of not being with him at bay.

I come to my senses a little, aware of movement, and open my eyes suddenly, finding myself looking
right at Jake’s face. Not a dream or a hallucination but really him and the pain of what that means right
now is sheer agony. I choke back the gulf of emotions at seeing him again.

Bittersweet sums this up completely.

My chest feels like it might concave, and my heart has literally stopped beating. He looks beautiful, if a
little tired and sexy and ruffled, yet completely here and familiar and safe.

We’re still in the bar and he’s carrying me out of the booth across the floor, my head is swimming, and I
realize he did it; he found out where we are and came for me. Impulsively I reach out to that beautiful
face and poke him in the cheek, checking that he’s real and not some sweet figment of my imagination.
I always did like poking that man of perfection in the face, but he frowns at me with an amused
expression.

How the hell did he do that? I shouldn’t be surprised with Mathews on his security he probably tracked
my cell.

Asshole! … My asshole … Jerk! … My sweet jerk.

“Your face is still too pretty!” I sigh in defeat, looking for something to criticize and finding nothing.



“Glad to hear it.” He smiles at me softly and just lifts me up with a little jerk to right me in his arms a
little better.

“Wait, my shoes! … Sarah … Leila,” I mumble, as coherently as I can, regaining my senses, surprised
at the slurring mess I hear in my own ears.

Still drunk then? How long was I out?

“Daniel has taken Sarah to the car already. He’ll come back for Leila in a sec and I have your shoes
here.” He lifts his fingers that are under my legs and I see my shoes swinging below them.

Of course, Jake would never forget a detail like that.

“Why are you here?” I gaze up at him with wide eyes, trying to focus on the double Jake I can see in
front of me. I know why he’s here, but I need the words. I need Jake to be the balm that heals my
wounds and he needs to find the way to do it because trying to do it alone isn’t working.

“You know why, Emma. You think I could just sit in the apartment knowing you were out here in the city
somewhere and vulnerable? You may not like me very much right now, bella, but I love you, I wouldn’t
just leave you here. I couldn’t.” He pulls me closer and lifts my temple to press against his mouth,
closing his eyes and inhaling me, it brings me an odd sense of comfort. “You don’t need to like it but I’m
taking the three of you back to the apartment. Not one of you is capable of taking care of the others.”
His eyes come back to mine, those beautiful hazy green eyes, with so much going on inside of them.
So much translating from him to me with just a locking of them. My heart thuds heavily, held in his arms
like I have been so many times before, but this feels new.

I don’t get a chance to protest because I flinch at Leila’s voice piercing the atmosphere.



“I don’t fucking think so!” Such a sweet thundering tone of malicious intent scouring the air; precious
little flower that she is. I squirm in Jake’s arms to see which direction her yell came from and catch
sight of her immediately. She’s still on top of the bar with mic in hand, hands on hips, glaring like a
psychopath at one Daniel Hunter.

Daniel is standing in front of her on the floor, looking up, one hand attached to the hem of her short
dress with a vice-like grip. He has zero intention of letting go and meets her fiery snarl with one of his
own. Equally matched in the ability to throw harsh icy scowls and in the ability to handle one another.

“I’m not fucking leaving you here alone so get down now or I’ll fucking make you. I’m not playing, Leila!”
he yells back at her. Jake stiffens as a man approaches Daniel and tries to pull him back with a hand
on his shoulder. It seems that someone is trying to act chivalrously by thinking of protecting my feisty
little friend.

“Can you stand?” Jake turns to me and I catch the look in his eyes that spells trouble for any guy giving
his best friend grief. Jake is getting ready to kick ass, but it scares me.

“Please, Jake, don’t.” I whisper, sudden fear for his safety consuming me, nerves swarming up like a
tornado to overwhelm me. I don’t want him to fight. I don’t want that version of him right now, I just need
him to keep doing what he’s doing, sweeping me out of here regardless of my opposition. There’s an
instant look of regret in his eye. He wants to go help Daniel but, with me in his arms looking at him like
I’m about to cry, he’s torn. He genuinely doesn’t know what to do. He tightens his grip on me and lifts
me closer as though his decision is already made.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, sighing, gazing at me a little too intensely.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to do anything as Leila yelps and then squeaks, spinning my head back to see
Daniel walking our way with her thrust over his shoulder, arms and legs flailing, as she screams
obscenities at his back hauling at his shirt to fight him. Daniel looks grim and strides purposefully past



us. His face is a picture of sheer anger, yet the boy obviously has muscles. He has Leila in a grip that
means she can’t get out, he’s not even reacting to the weight of her, nor is he disturbed by the lashing
violent outbursts happening down his back.

“I fucking hate you!” Leila is yelling at the top of her lungs, in his strong embrace, hauling his shirt up
his back, twisting it around her fists.

Jake follows at a distance keeping a tight hold of me in his arms. His expression giving nothing away.
My heart is pounding so fast at his proximity yet part of me can’t tear my eyes away from the couple
walking ahead of us. My heart torn as to where my attention should be; Jake’s perfect profile and
touchable face or the hellcat being kidnapped by the guy who wants her.

“Leila, I’m not against dumping your ass on the sidewalk and making you walk home if you keep that
up.” She’s still pulling his shirt up his back, clawing at him, and using his trouser waist band as leverage
to pull her weight down to smack him. He smacks her ass hard in retaliation, the sound echoing across
the night air and smirks back at Jake when Leila instantly quiets and becomes motionless.

What the hell? Bastard!


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