Page 42 of Riding Dirty

Giving him a smile, I shove the receipt in my back pocket. “I’m good. Let’s go home.”

He shakes his head once, clearing his throat, then jerks his chin toward the door. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask me any questions, because if he did, I would probably cry. And if anyone can tell that I’m on the verge of tears, it’s Alex.

I wave to Bonnie and the bartender on my way out. I have no idea if they even notice my goodbye, but I don’t care either. I just want to get out of here and go home. Alex walks close behind me, not letting me out of his sight or his reach. He knows I’m on the verge of completely losing it.

Walking in silence, we make our way up to our apartments, and I stop in front of my door. Alex stops one step behind me. I can feel the heat of his body. Then his hand touches the small of my back. I know it’s for support, but right now, I don’t want support. I don’t want anything but Coast to want me… to need me.

Reaching for the handle, I twist it, and it opens. Pushing the door open, I step inside, Alex at my back. My apartment is dark. Nobody’s here. I would know because you can literally see every square inch, minus the bathroom, from the front door.

As I move farther into the room, Alex stays nearby, closing the door behind him. I hear him click the lock into place. “He’s not here,” I whisper.

“No, he’s not,” Alex confirms.

“What the hell?”

He hums, but thankfully doesn’t say anything. I think I might just lose my shit if he did. I cannot believe this is real. That this actually happened. He ditched me. Completely fucking ditched me.

And I’m supposed to go to his clubhouse and clean it tomorrow. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I look down at the screen, hoping to see a notification from him, but there’s nothing. Not a single thing.

“We have a long day tomorrow,” Alex mutters. “You want me to sleep on the futon?”

Any other time, I would probably say yes, but tonight, I feel hollow inside. I shake my head a couple of times, thanking him for the offer, but tell him that I’d rather be alone. He takes a step backward but doesn’t turn around.

“Elodie,” Alex calls out. “It’s going to work out, whatever it is, and no way in fuck is that guy going to use you. We do our weekly work, we fulfill the contract, we get the fuck out.”

I nod once. “We do our weekly work, we fulfill the contract, we get the fuck out,” I repeat his words with conviction and confirmation.

“And fuck that biker.”

I don’t repeat that part—because I still want to do just that, unfortunately. If he were to knock on the door right now and give me some bullshit excuse, I would probably drop my panties.

I’m an idiot, and my idiocy is what got me into this mess to begin with. Dropping my panties for a man more than twice my age. I should have known he was going to hurt me. He’s old enough to be married and have children. As far as I know, he’s done neither, and I should have just known better.

How many times did I see my mother with loser men? I should have been able to clock him from a mile away. But I didn’t want to see it. Alex did. He knew immediately that I should stay away from him, but I had hope.

Stupid damn hope.

“I think I might stay,” Alex announces.

I shake my head, my gaze flicks to meet his, and I plaster on a fake smile. “Please don’t. Seriously. I’m going to go to bed and sleep. Tomorrow is going to be exhausting.”

He presses his lips together in a thin line, dips his chin in a single nod, then clears his throat as he opens the door. “Call, text, yell if you need me. And lock the door behind me.”

I watch as he slips out of the apartment, and that’s when I realize, or rather remember, that I gave Coast my key.

Shit.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

WRATH

Standing in Elodie’s cramped fucking studio, I cross my arms over my chest as I look across at Cake. He seems to be completely fucking unbothered by this whole thing. He dragged me out of that bar and doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to tell me anything, which he was insistent we do immediately.

Now that we’re alone, he’s finding Elodie’s apartment very interesting. He jerks his chin toward the bed, chuckling, then shifts to face me. “This place seems small for an old lady.”

“Ain’t my old lady,” I state.