It wasn’t much of a fight that was for sure. Not when I was unable to defend myself against four steroid junkies. A punch from the guy to my right made my head snap back, and I tasted blood as my teeth snapped together and I bit my tongue. Fuck, that hurt!
“Jesse!”
Shane! I raised my head and saw my band brother just as the guy to my left started in on my kidneys.
“Axton!” Shane shouted. “Get out here!”
“What the fuck man…” Axton broke off when he saw what was going on and then I heard running feet as they hurried to help me. The guys to my right were tackled to the ground, and I heard them grunting as my friends used their fists to keep them down.
The guy still holding me tightened his arms. The goon that had been having so much fun trying to rupture my kidney wasn’t deterred by the arrival of my help. If anything, he seemed more into it with the sounds of his co-workers getting the shit beat out of them behind him. He got cocky and eased up on me just a little.
That was all I needed. I kicked with my right leg and connected with the fucker’s favorite man part. I watched in satisfaction as the muscle man clutched at his junk. His face turned an unnatural shade of purple, and he fell to his knees. He was out of the game, no recovering from the force of my kick any time soon.
The goon behind me let up on his grip, and I used my head to knock him back. My shaved head connected with his nose, and I felt something warm and wet gushing down my neck. The guy fell back, taking me with him since he hadn’t let go of me yet. I pushed away from him as soon as I was on the ground. Getting to my feet, I kicked him in the ribs on my way to help Axton.
Axton, on a good night, could fight with the best of them, but tonight he was drunk off his ass. Any help that he might have thought he was giving me had only been momentarily because now the goon had him pinned to the ground, hitting him anywhere and everywhere. Muttering a curse, I pushed the guy off my friend and kicked the goon in the gut while he was still down.
Behind me Shane was getting to his feet. When I turned to look at him, I saw that his lip was bleeding but otherwise he seemed fine. “What the hell just went down out here?” he demanded, slightly out of breath.
I blew out a long sigh. “It’s a long story.” I told him as I helped Axton to his feet.
“Where’s Layla? Is she okay?”
My gut clenched. “She went home. We…” I muttered a curse under my breath. “Look, let’s just go home. I need to talk to Layla.”
“You go.” Shane took hold of the unsteady Axton, pulling the rocker’s arm over his shoulder to better guide him. “I’m going to take Ax home. He’s wasted.”
I helped Shane get him into his car before heading back to Malibu. The drive was long, and I was really starting to feel the effects of the beating I had just taken. All the way home I kept praying to whoever would listen that Layla wasn’t already gone. She had had plenty of time to pack up a few things and get her sisters out of the guesthouse. I kept telling myself that Drake wouldn’t let that happen, that he wouldn’t just let Layla take Lana away from him like that.
But my heart told me that if it came down to it, Drake would go with them. If he had to choose between Lana and anything—anything—it would always be Lana. Me, Emmie, the guys? We came in second to her now, and that was the way it should be.
That was the way it was for me where Layla was concerned. I had never thought it was possible, but I loved Layla more than I loved Emmie. It was a different love I felt for both of them, but Layla was the queen of my heart. If I had to choose between the two—and I prayed that I never had to, because it would kill me—I would pick Layla hands down.
I was relieved to find Lana’s car still in the driveway when I pulled in. The lights in the big house were all off, but there were a few still on in the guesthouse. I wanted to run, but the pain in my sides wouldn’t let me. By the time I got to the front door, I was breathing hard, the pain gripping me in a bad way, making me wonder if that fucker had done some damage internally.
With what felt like the last of my strength I pounded on the door of the guesthouse. “Layla!” I shouted. “Layla, open up and talk to me.” I pounded again.
Without, warning the door opened and I was rewarded with the sight of my goddess standing in the doorway. Gods, she was beautiful when she was mad. I smiled despite the pain. I loved her so much my chest ached.
“Oh my God!” Layla cried. “What happened?” she demanded, all signs of anger gone in the face of the evidence of the little party I had been invited to after she had left.