Rock Me Deeper (Licks of Leather #5) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,6
Anthony or whatever that sick prick’s name is put something in my drink.”
That revelation shocked me. Caris had always possessed an infallible intuition. Be it people or situations, she knew when someone or something wasn’t right.
“So…you can’t read people anymore?”
“No, I can read them just fine. Well, most of the time. You and that sick freak have been the only two exceptions, so far.”
Her singling me out along with the likes of Zattman made me bristle.
“I got plenty of weird vibes off the people in the crowded bar, but nothing from him. There wasn’t even an inkling that he was going to drug and haul me out of the club before my friend Monica made it back from the dance floor.”
Monica? The revelation her friend was female filled me with dangerous happiness.
“Did he…”
“Rape me?”
I nodded.
“No. But it was only a matter of time.” The haunted look in Caris’s eyes shredded my soul. “His brand of foreplay was punching, biting, burning, and cutting me. He told me as soon as he was finished warming me up that he was going to fuck me. But I wasn’t supposed to worry. He promised to make it real good for me and make sure the end came with a big bang.”
Revulsion and rage swirled like a hurricane. I didn’t know whether I wanted to punch out the window or tell Ross to turn around so I could go back and kill the son of a bitch.
“We need to get you to a hospital, or to the police,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
“How do you suggest we do that without implicating ourselves on that little B and E we just committed?” Darren scoffed.
“I don’t know,” I roared. “But she needs medical attention, and we have to find a way to get that cocksucking motherfucker locked up.”
“Stop!” Caris spat. “Drop me off at the condo. I’ll handle the rest.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Make up a story. Don’t worry, I won’t mention your name. You won’t be the one going to jail.”
I had the distinct feeling there was some hidden meaning in her sassy comment, but for the life of me, I couldn’t decipher what she was trying to imply.
“Does that go for the rest of us or just Syd?” Burk asked.
“All of you. Your fans would kill me if I caused Licks of Leather to be arrested.”
I didn’t give two shits about going to jail. I only cared about taking care of Caris.
Yeah, like the way you took care of her before? scoffed a little voice in my head.
“Can you please just take me to Beverly Hills?”
“Sure, kitten. What’s the address?” Ross asked.
Caris frowned. “I-I don’t remember. I had the address on my phone, but that freak took it, along with my purse and my clothes.” He stole a fuck-ton more than that, angel. “If you can get me to Wilshire and Doheny, I’ll be able to direct you from there.”
“No problem,” Ross replied without even glancing my way.
Asshole. Clearly, he was ready to be rid of Caris. I, on the other hand, was light-years away from letting her slip through my fingers. There was so much I wanted to say…years’ worth of questions to ask. But spilling our secrets and rehashing the past in front of the guys wasn’t an option.
Still, I could feel the time left on our unplanned reunion tick, tick, ticking away. Somehow, I had to buy more time, preferably hours, or days.
My band brothers might understand my juvenile delinquent past, but I was afraid that once I peeled off my mask, they’d never look at me as Syd Wilson—happy-go-lucky funny man. They’d only see me as Sydney Joseph Wilston—the fraud.
While Ross maneuvered through the heavy traffic, I studied Caris’s profile. The scar on her cheek where a foster brother had slapped her with a belt was now a tiny silver sliver. So was the scar above her right eyebrow where her foster father struck her with a beer can. I wondered if all the other wounds she’d carried as a young girl had healed as well or if they were still festering beneath the surface meshing with the lesions Zattman had inflicted.
I prayed the stunning woman poised on my lap, the one who still carried fragments of the girl I’d always loved, was happy now and living the life she’d always dreamed of. But my sixth sense warned we were both wearing masks.
Dragging my gaze over her long dark hair, now tangled and matted, was another gut-wrenching reminder of