Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(31)

His face goes grim, and my heart stops for a beat.

and the next thing ? I mean…

“I have to go.”

He stands. “You want a hand?”

I shake my head. “No. Just do me a favor and watch out for yourself, alright?”

“Gray.”

I stop at the door and glance back at my friend.

“Be careful, man.”





16





Gray




My heart thunders as I basically break land speed records racing back home. Zoe doesn’t have a cell phone, or if she does, it’s still in her apartment. So I’ve called my own land line about a million damn times, but it just keeps ringing and ringing and ringing.

This isn’t fucking good.

No answer is not fucking good.

My Audi screeches to a stop outside of my building, and I’m tossing the keys to the valet when my eyes land on the car parked down the street. And I freeze.

I’d know Joey’s stupid fucking neon blue Camaro anywhere — a flashy piece of shit with horrible after-market mods and zero fucking taste. It’s parked way too close to my building to be coincidence, and the sickening weight of it hits me in the gut.

I take the entryway three steps at a time. I don’t wait for the elevator, instead running all twelve flights up to mine. My pulse is racing, and I can barely see through the red mist clouding my eyes as I stagger out of the stairway. I make a bee-line for my front door, slamming it open with a crash before I come to a staggering halt.

“Hold it.”

Joey’s standing in my living room, a gun trained right on me.

“Hold it right fuckin’ there, counselor.”

I ignore him for the moment, looking instead at Zoe, who’s doubled over on the ground.

There’s blood.

Time goes still for a split second, before I explode. I roar as I charge at Joey, but his gun comes up fast, aimed right at my face.

“Uh-uh,” he hisses, shaking his head. I look back at Zoe, my face a mask of anguish.

Joey just laughs.

“Oh, she ain’t dead. Not yet.” He chuckles. “But buddy, she’s gonna wish she was once I get my piece.” He winks at me. “Know what I’m sayin’?”

The rage detonates like an atom bomb inside of me, and I’m so close to charging him — gun or not — and throwing his ass through my window. But then Zoe groans, and I stop. Getting shot won’t save her. Dying won’t stop this piece of shit from hurting her.

Joey hoots. “The lawyer! Man!” He laughs. “Shit, I thought you were just some pencil-pushing dork, man!” He glances around my apartment and whistles.

“I think Gino pays you too much, man. Jesus.”

“I kept your ass out of jail,” I spit at him.

“True, true. And I’d take that into account when dealing with you stealing my girl, but—”

“She’s not your girl,” I hiss.

He grins. “Nice rebuttal, counselor. But, she is, and you think you can take her. And see, I want to remember that whole thing with you keeping me out of jail, but you know, the damnedest thing happened to me the other day.” He grins. “Go ahead, ask me what happened.”

“I don’t care,” I growl.

“Well I’ll tell you anyways. You see, I got hit in the back of the head the other day,” he spits, his face suddenly turning from gleeful to plain rage. “Hit in the back of the head by some pussy in a fucking ski-mask. And you? Now things are a little fucking fuzzy about that whole thing with you keeping me out of jail.”

He turns and flips my coffee table over, roaring in anger and looking more and more unhinged by the second.

“So, instead of taking that into account and maybe going easy on you, I’m gonna do something else. I’m gonna make you watch.”

Something clicks in my mind. I’m done watching him have a breakdown. I’m done watching this ticking time bomb slowly run out of time in front of my eyes. I move to the side, keeping my distance from Joey and not coming at him or anything as I step into the kitchen area.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you watch while I hurt her, counselor.”

My hand moves to the drawer under my cutting board, and slides it open.

“I mean a fuckin’ cam slut like her is probably gonna like it anyways, but I’ll have to make her scream extra loud to make sure it gets through your dumb fuckin’ skull.”

I reach inside, past the silverware tray to the other gun I keep there. Not the one from my office safe — the one I clocked Joey with. This one’s a little snub-nose Smith and Wesson that my dad used to carry around when Vegas was a lot meaner.

This one, I’m not going to hit him with.

“Joey,” I growl, my eyes fierce as I wrap my hand around the gun and slowly bring it out, the kitchen counter blocking Joey’s view.

“Counselor,” he sneers back before reaching down and grabbing Zoe up by the arm.

“Get up, honey,” he hisses.

He drags her up, when she suddenly lashes out, catching both of us by surprise. She screams, kicking him hard in the side of the knee and punching at his throat before he manages to push her away with a roar. The back of his hand hits her across the mouth, and suddenly, everything goes still for me.