Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(56)
Layne walked to the kitchen shouting up the stairs, “Goin’ out, Tripp!”
“Okay Dad!” Tripp shouted back.
“You help your brother clean up the mess in the living room, got me?”
“Got you!”
Layne grabbed his keys, went to his truck and drove to Rocky’s.
The Merc was parked in a spot.
He swung the Suburban in beside it and took his time switching off the ignition, jumping down from the truck and walking up to her apartment. He did this in an effort to control his temper. Last night had not been good and Rocky had left in a highly emotional state which was worsened by the fact that she felt humiliated after taking that fall. Even though it was absolutely not cool she disappeared, there were reasons and Layne knew he needed to handle this situation with care.
He hit her buzzer and waited. It took awhile but the door opened two inches. Layne could see Rocky, hair back in a ponytail, through the shiny silver latch that secured the door.
Layne’s control on his temper slipped.
“Open the latch, Rocky,” he ordered.
“Layne, now’s not a good time. I’ve got papers to grade.”
His control slipped further.
“Open the latch,” he repeated.
“Really, Layne, I’m being serious. This is going to take all night.”
His control slipped even further.
“Open the f**kin’ latch, Roc.”
“I don’t think –”
He lost his hold on his temper.
“Okay, then step back,” he demanded.
Through the small space, he saw her eyes widen. “Why?”
“’Cause I don’t want you to get hurt when I kick open the goddamned door,” he gritted out.
She studied him and he saw she understood instantly now was not the time for a stare down. The door closed and immediately opened. Layne put a hand on it and shoved in, throwing the door to behind him so hard it slammed.
Rocky was retreating. Hair in that goddamned ponytail. Faded jeans hanging low on her h*ps and clinging in all the right places, a split in the left knee. A tight blue tee with the word “Butler” across the tits. An ace bandage wrapped tight around her right wrist.
The bandage should have served to remind him he should take a minute to calm the f**k down.
It didn’t.
He advanced and she kept retreating.
“Layne –” she began, lifting up her bandaged hand.
He cut her off. “We had plans today.”
She kept retreating, Layne kept advancing.
“I know but I changed my mind,” she told him.
He tilted his head to the side and backed her into her kitchen. “You changed your mind?”
“Yeah, I changed my mind.” She hit counter and pressed back.
Layne invaded her space and pressed in, putting a hand on the counter by either side of her waist, he tipped his head forward to look down at her.
“You think to tell me there was a change of plans?”
“I –”
“Maybe pick up one of the four times I called you?”
“Layne, it –”
“Call me back after I left a message?”
“I thought –”
“Where have you been all day?”
Her head jerked. “What?”
“Where have you been all day?”
“I… went somewhere. To think.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere, Layne!” she snapped. “Would you please move back?”
“Where… have you been… all day?”
“It’s none of your business, Layne, step back!”
Layne tipped his head deeper and got into her face. “Where the f**k have you been all day!” he roared.
“Step back!” she shouted.
“Rocky, we’re workin’ an operation and you do not f**kin’ disappear in the middle of a f**king operation!”
“As you can see, I was fine!”
“Yeah, but all day, I didn’t f**kin’ know that!”
“Now you do!”
He returned to his earlier subject. “Where have been all day?”
“Layne –”
“Tell me, goddammit!” he shouted.
“At Mom’s grave!” she shouted back and Layne’s body locked. “Step back!”
His voice had quieted when he asked, “You were at your mother’s grave?”
“Yes, I go there when I have to think. Now step back.”
He didn’t step back. He pressed forward.
“And what were you thinkin’ about Roc?”
She tossed her head, looked him in the eye and declared, “I’m quitting.”
“You’re quitting?”
“Yes.”
“Quitting what?”
“Our operation.”
“You’re quitting our operation,” Layne repeated.
“Yes,” Rocky hissed.
Layne scowled down at her then his eyes went over her shoulder and he stared at the black-tiled backsplash.
“Step back,” she demanded.
He looked back at her. “You can’t quit. You’re my cover.”
“I can. We both know that’s bullshit. You can do your thing without me providing cover.”