The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,61
protection, Laila had stalled, using excuse after excuse to put him off.
Her caution and distrust meant the tests were probably unnecessary, but she wanted to be sure.
The nurse gave her a commiserating pat on the shoulder. “I’ll put a rush on the results.”
“Thank you.”
Mason kept hoping Laila would ask him to detour to the police station on the drive home, but she stayed quiet, her eyes locked on the door of the Mustang’s glove compartment. She was a million miles away.
He opened his mouth, about to nudge her about going to the cops, when he shut it again.
She agreed to the doctor, and they recorded her injuries.
Laila even told the physicians who had caused them. He knew that because the nurse—Anne—had given him strict instructions not to let the douchebag ex anywhere near her.
In the meantime, they could afford a day or two of indecision. Doc Valentine and his assistant would back up any statement Laila made to the police, even if it took her a few days to work up the courage to contact them.
Be satisfied with her clean bill of health.
The physician had confirmed the injuries were superficial. Dubey hadn’t done any permanent damage. That was the priority.
“Are you going to take some time off work?” he asked instead, maneuvering through side streets instead of taking the highway.
Laila jerked, snapping out of her reverie. “I am using some of my vacation days. I texted my boss, although I didn’t tell him why. He was a bit surprised. I didn’t even take days off for my exams.”
She lapsed into silence again. He kept his eyes on the road but kept giving her the side-eye, willing her to speak.
“What you said yesterday,” she began. “About watching me. Were you serious?”
He glanced at her, but shifted his eyes to the road. “You know I was.”
“Then why?” If he’d been that intent on her, why hadn’t he made a move?
A million excuses came to mind, but the one that escaped from his lips was the most honest. “Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he admitted with a groan, letting the car coast down the road to his rental.
He was about to pull into the drive when Laila gasped, grabbing his arm. “Mason!”
Mason whipped forward, hitting the brakes when he saw there was another car parked in his space.
The vehicle was a nondescript sedan, but Mason didn’t need official markings to know who had come calling. He immediately recognized the bearing and demeanor of the man and women leaning against the trunk.
“Cops,” he said shortly.
Hurt flickered over Laila’s face. “You called them?” The betrayal in her voice nearly gutted him.
Mason grabbed her hand, squeezing it until she met his eyes. “I did not. I would never take that decision away from you. They must be here about something else.”
Like quicksilver, her injured expression transformed into fear. “Rosamie!”
Laila shoved open the passenger door, but she got caught in the seatbelt as she scrambled up without undoing it. She fumbled it. Her hands were too shaky to unclip it, so he reached over to do it. Once free, Laila bolted to the waiting detectives.
But it wasn’t Rosamie they had come to see her about. It was another friend, one whose name he had heard, but whose face he didn’t know.
“Jasmine is missing?” Laila shook her head, bewilderment spreading over her features as the detectives sat across from her at his dining room table.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Detective Silano asked. She was a lean and hard thirty-something with deep grooves bracketing her mouth. Mason bet on those being premature. Behind her, the other detective, introduced only as Boggs, held up the wall.
It took Laila a while to remember the exact day. She had to check her phone’s calendar to piece it together, but it soon became apparent they weren’t checking because they suspected her and wanted to know her whereabouts at the time of the disappearance.
They were asking because they wanted to know Joseph Dubey’s.
The last time Jasmine Elliot was seen was at the Alpha Omega. She’d been drinking with Dubey and his cousin Bryce Johansen, the vice president of the frat. No one had seen her since.
“Are you sure she isn’t at Sam’s?” Laila asked, sitting on the edge of her chair. “That’s her boyfriend. You should talk to her.”
“We spoke to Sam Leeds already,” Boggs said, speaking for the first time. “Her and his roommate confirmed they hadn’t seen Ms. Elliot since Thursday. Mr. Leeds volunteered they’d had a minor disagreement