Page 37 of Jonas

Be smart.

Yet, my head, my heart, and my soul were at war. Two out of the three wanted to latch onto Jonas like a lifeline and beg him to hold onto me while I purged the memories. To see if he was strong enough to help me let go. But my head reminded me if he wasn’t, I’d crumble.

Jonas would either be my savior or my downfall.

There’d be no in between.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

By the time I pulled into the hotel parking lot, the bitter knowledge of Derrika’s ‘teachings’ had turned caustic. The impulse to find Derrika’s father and teach him a lesson that would likely be very different than the ones he tried to impart on his daughter coursed through me as Derrika and I walked into the lobby.

The more I thought about how small she’d sounded when she told me it was okay, the more the impulse to hunt, to hurt, to maim, grew. I was the man I was, driven to protect because of abuse. This was not a hurt-people-hurt-people scenario. My need was beaten into me one blow at a time—the need to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, the need to inflict punishment on those who harmed the innocent, the need to give power to those who had none.

Derrika might’ve found her independence, but before that something big had been stolen from her—by her father. The man who was supposed to love and shield her from harm. The cruelty of that engulfed me in an all-encompassing anger, snuffing out any vestiges of humanity I had left. Later, I’d wonder why the intensity of my reaction was overwhelmingly merciless. The harming of a child was abhorrent—that child being Derrika was repugnant.

That was for later. So was my anger.

Now, I needed to make sure Derrika was safe to talk to some asshole who’d been lurking outside her apartment building, of whom we knew next to nothing about.

Later, I would also need to contemplate why I’d backed her play and given in to this insanity. My only hope was that she was correct and Daryl wouldn’t open fire in a hotel.

Derrika nudged me with her elbow. “That’s him.”

I glanced across the lobby into the mostly deserted bar area tucked into the corner of the lobby. There was a single woman sitting at a table. A couple at the table next to her. Fuck me. Daryl was sitting alone at a table removed from the others with his back to the wall facing the door, giving him the tactical advantage of seeing who walked into the hotel.

And his eyes were aimed directly at us.

The fucker had clocked us the moment we’d come through the doors. I, on the other hand, was having a murder fantasy and didn’t notice him.

My arm wrapped around Derrika’s waist, my fingers digging into her hip as I drew her close to my side.

“Jonas—”

“Give this to me.”

I was expecting her to argue or pull away. She did the opposite and returned the arm hold. Only her fingers glided over my holster under my shirt before they reversed direction and curled into my belt loop at the back of my cargos.

The lounge smelled like stale bourbon and wood polish. Walking in farther, the light changed from the brightness of the lobby to the warm glow of fake candles on the tables and pendant lights hanging from the ceiling.

Daryl tracked our approach. The closer we got, the tighter the knot coiled in my stomach. The man didn’t look surprised to see us. Nor did he look concerned. His body language was relaxed, unaffected, and bored. But his eyes gave him away. They shifted back and forth between me and Derrika—alert, wary, guarded.

Derrika wasted no time with her greeting, “Daryl Barns.”

“Amy Hart.” He dipped his chin, and with the glass in his hand, gestured to the seats across from him.

I debated whether we’d be there long enough to accept his offer. Derrika made the decision for me and uncurled her fingers. Before she could pull out a chair, I let her go and did it for her. My ass had barely hit the padded leather cushion when she launched in.

“In an effort not to take up too much of your night, we’ll cut through the bullshit. Who hired you?”

Daryl kept his gaze on Derrika, swirled the ice in his glass, and took his time answering. It was a ploy, an exercise in power. One that was wasted on us.

Unfortunately, the posturing continued. “Hired me?”

“Let’s not play dumb.” I could practically hear the eye roll in Derrika’s tone. “You were outside of my apartment building this afternoon. We saw you get into a black Mercedes. The same one that followed me home from work. Who hired you?”

His gaze flicked to me, then back to Derrika, then back to me.

“And you are?”