Quiet Angel (31 page)

Gage and Layla could only watch it all unfold. “None of this is true,” she said.

“They do it for ratings, to make money,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true.”

“But where do they come up with this stuff? I mean, there are no sources for anything they say.”

We need to figure out who’s doing this.
“They just spin things out and splash it on TV, newspapers, magazines.”

“This is so ridiculous, shameful. Should we issue a denial? I don’t want people to think I had an abortion or had a child, or that you were kind enough to let me stay at a homeless shelter in Annapolis.”

“I’ll have Emerson handle all that,” he said. “Maybe we should sue?”

“And then they’d take my deposition—force me to talk about my past under oath. Nope.”

“Should I make another statement, tell them to stop?”

“The first one didn’t matter—but I loved it. Maybe I should talk to the press? Release a statement? Emerson could help me. I wouldn’t have to say anything specific. I could keep things vague.”

“They won’t be satisfied with that.”

“Well, I guess your godfather needs to step up whatever he’s trying to do.”

With the news
swirling and the bookstore closing tomorrow, it was a good time for an impromptu bachelorette party. Poppy had several ideas. She offered to round up some really good male strippers—the kind that do “nasty things.” Emerson was intrigued, but Layla nixed the idea. Poppy also suggested they fly out to Las Vegas on the corporate jet, but Emerson nixed that one, and Layla wasn’t too keen on flying across the country.

So they settled for after-hours cocktails and girl talk in the Story Wings cafe. And it wasn’t long until they were on their third bottle of wine.

“Dash and I have crossed several things off my sex bucket list,” Poppy said.

“A sex bucket list?” Emerson asked.

“Yeah, every girl has one,” Poppy said.

“I must have lost my list somewhere between Ava and Connor,” Emerson said, pouring herself another glass. “Layla, don’t tell me you have a sex list for my baby brother.” Layla locked up her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, she’s got a list,” Poppy said. “She just doesn’t share. I bet there’s lots of role playing, Gage playing the politician, and Layla the naughty little mistress.”

“I cannot hear this!” Emerson said and threw her hands over her ears.

Dash popped in, and the ladies clammed up. “We’re closed! What are you doing here?” Poppy cried. “Get out! We’re having girl talk!”

“I can do girl talk,” Dash said. “Besides, it’s one of the few nights I haven’t had to fly back to Atlanta.”

“I don’t care,” Poppy said, marching him out. “It’s one of Layla’s last nights before she becomes Gage’s old lady. I’ll see you later.” She locked the door.

“I see Dash more than I see Gage,” Layla said. “He’s always hanging around here.”

“It’s because I’m good in bed,” Poppy said. “Emerson, I think you need to start a sex bucket list. I think you have a case of mono-penis. You’ve been with the same one too long.”

“Filter,” Layla said, as Poppy handed Emerson a pen and paper.

“You want me to write it down?” Emerson downed her wine. “I’m not sure where to start.”

Poppy pulled out her phone. “I’ve got 50 things on my list and only about a dozen left to go.” She began to scroll through. “How about sex in a public place? That’s a good one.”

Emerson adjusted her glasses. “It’s been a while but done that.”

“How about sex in a car?”

“Done it.”

“Sex in a plane?”

“Done it.”

Poppy clapped her hands. “Good for you! You’re kinkier than I thought. Give a rim job?”

“Oh, Poppy!” Layla cried. “Please tell me you haven’t done that!”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Emerson said.

“If you have to ask,” Layla said, “then it shouldn’t be on your list.”

“Prude,” Poppy said. “How about rough sex? Like getting a spanking or using a whip.”

“Who am I supposed to do that with?” Emerson wondered.

“Look, Emerson, you’re still hot,” Poppy said. “There’s something kinky about those glasses you wear. Just find a hot guy. Let him tie you up. And then let him bend you over the kitchen sink.”

Emerson wrinkled her nose. “I’d have to suck in my stomach for that.”

“You’re in better shape than I am,” Poppy said.

“Standing upright everything looks like it’s supposed to,” Emerson said. “But when you get to 40, you don’t want to tempt gravity. Trust me on this one.”

Poppy frowned. “I really think you’d feel better if you just found some young stud to ride you hard.”

“Emerson, you don’t have to listen to Poppy,” Layla said. “She once handed a complete stranger her panties at a bar.”

“That was number 10 on my list,” Poppy said. “And then I had bar bathroom sex with him. That took care of number 39.”

“Don’t brag,” Emerson said. “I can’t even remember the last time.”

“You poor thing,” Poppy said. “You need B.O.B. Battery-operated boyfriend.”

“I’ve got that!” Emerson said. “These days I’m replacing my batteries all the time!” The ladies busted into a huge laugh before Emerson turned serious, leaning in and motioning for Layla and Poppy to do the same. This information was top secret. “I need you two to promise me something.”

“Anything for you, bitch,” Poppy slurred.

“One of the biggest fears I have is that I will die suddenly and my mother will come to pack up my things and find my B.O.B.” Emerson grabbed their hands like they were swearing their lives to each other. “So promise me if I die, you will come get him and dispose of him before my mother finds him.”

“Promise,” Layla said.

“Me, too,” Poppy said. “You both have to do the same for me.”

“We’ll need several large trash sacks,” Layla said.

“Seriously though, Emerson, you need to get back out there,” Poppy said. “I’ve got an idea! We should go out dancing. It will be so much fun—Layla’s last night out as a single gal. And Emerson, it will be good for you to dust the cobwebs off your vagina.”

Layla pulled out her phone and sent a text to Gage.
Going out with the girls
.
CU later. Love.

*

It was after
10 at night when Gage landed in Savannah. He walked outside the airport and powered on his phone. Layla’s text popped up, and his heart rate jumped. Sure, it was nice she was hanging out with friends, but unless Dash was keeping an eye on her, they were out alone, unprotected, where any crazy or reporter could ambush her.
Someone’s leaking things to hurt her. Or me? Who?
He thought to call or text her but didn’t want to interrupt her night or sound possessive. He fired off a text to Dash: “Where is she?”

He thought about who could be leaking things. His godfather said it was someone close to Layla. She never mentioned any bitter employees or bad break-ups. And if it was someone close to her, that would rule out any business rival from a competing airline or a disgruntled Southern Wings employee. And that would rule out a potential political opponent, or even a bitter ex-girlfriend pissed he’s finally marrying when he wouldn’t before. None of them made sense.

He hopped in a cab, and the driver asked where he was heading. He stared at his phone, willing a reply. Finally an address came, and Gage relayed it to the driver. The place wasn’t far. Gage texted back: “Are you with her?” Dash said he was “close by.” Gage groaned, his fingers flying: “Dumb As Shit.” Dash fired back a smiley face and assured him Layla was “fine.” Gage looked up from his phone, still worried. He saw a tiny stuffed animal dangling from the driver’s rearview mirror.

His heart stopped. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t think of it before. His godfather was looking in the wrong place. It wasn’t a person Layla was close to. It was the exact opposite.
The one person who knew the terrible things in her past. The person who did them to her.
And now her half-brother was making her life worse, probably pissed his stepfather turned on him, pissed he didn’t inherit anything, now leaking things to settle the score. The guy may even be stalking Layla. Gage wondered if he’d been in Atlanta—or maybe he was in Savannah now.
He’s a dead man
.

Gage couldn’t bear if anything happened to her. It would be his fault. His indecision put her at risk. It kept the coverage alive, allowing her half-brother to do his work. He hated being so indecisive. He took a few deep breaths. Dash said Layla was “fine.” And they’d soon be on their honeymoon. Layla would be out of harm’s way then. His godfather could use the time to have his people find her half-brother—maybe put the guy on a private plane and crash it.
If the wedding wasn’t in three days, I’d kill him myself
. It would be nice to hear during the honeymoon that he was dead. That would be a perfect wedding present.

The driver pulled to the curb, and Gage handed him a wad of cash. He jumped out and saw Dash leaning against a light post in front of a dance club. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got it under control,” Dash said.

“She’s inside?”

“Yeah. They’re dancing. It’s been quiet. No reporters. No creeps.”

“How do you know if you’re not in there?” Gage barged inside, with Dash following behind. He scanned the crowd for Layla. She was dancing with Emerson and Poppy, a group of men gyrating all around them. Gage winced and cursed under his breath. He took some comfort that Layla wasn’t doing what Poppy was, grinding her ass against some buff guy in a muscle shirt.

“I’m taking that asshole down,” Dash said.

“Let me go in first,” Gage said. “We shouldn’t ambush them together.”

Gage crossed the club, and the crowd parted for him. He pulled Layla into his arms, her body like a wet noodle. “Are you drunk?”

“No, just tipsy,” she said. “But Emerson and Poppy are.”

Gage gently pulled Emerson away. “For God’s sake, you’re a mother of three. Let’s go.”

“I can’t!” Emerson said. “I haven’t twerked yet!

“
What
?”

“It’s on my sex bucket list!”

“Gage, don’t be a party-pooper,” Poppy said, laughing at her choice of words.

Gage looked around the club. There didn’t seem to be any reporters around. Nobody had a camera or video. He didn’t see Layla’s half-brother. “OK, Emerson, do it quickly.”

“Thank you, baby brother.” Emerson got into a low squatting stance and dropped her hands to the floor. Then she began to thrust her hips rapidly, flapping her ass up and down, her glasses nearly flying off her face.

“You go, girl!” Poppy cried.

Dash lifted Poppy in his arms. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”

Poppy kicked her arms and legs, demanding to be put down. The muscle shirt guy stepped up. “That’s not how you treat a woman.”

Dash put her down. “Neither is rubbing your cock against my lady on the dance floor.”

“We were just dancing,” Layla said.

“I just worry about you,” Gage said. “I worry about all of you. I mean, the reporters, cameras. . . .”

“I’m fine.” She kissed him on the cheek. “We’re all fine. Well. . . .”

They looked down at Emerson, her face down and ass up, still twerking away. Gage lifted her by the back of her shirt.

Emerson popped up, straightened her clothes, and adjusted her glasses. “What are you guys doing here? This is a girl party.”

“Lot of dudes around for a
girl party
,” Dash said. “There’s no girls here besides you three.”

“That’s because this is a gay bar, you idiots!” Poppy said.

Gage and Dash exchanged a confused look then started laughing.

“They were rescuing us!” Layla mocked.

“They are both so dumb,” Emerson said. “To think Dash flies planes and my brother runs a national airline and may even be governor one day. God help us all.”

Poppy grabbed the muscle shirt guy. “Boys, this is Joey. He comes to my book club every week.”

Joey looked Gage and Dash up and down. “You two aren’t a couple?”

*

Gage carried Layla
to her bedroom as she kissed his neck. He put her down on the bed, but she kept her arms around him, her breasts pushing against him. She was tipsy and cute as hell. He didn’t want to take advantage, but she hadn’t stopped kissing and touching him since they left the nightclub. He’d been worried and pissed an hour ago, but now he just wanted to bury himself deep inside her.
Funny how a hard dick forgets so easily.
Gage peeled her arms away.