Lola & the Millionaires: Part One (Sweet Omegaverse #2)(15)
But I knew what I needed, and for once I listened to the impulse.
I slid onto the bed and accepted Leo’s open arms as an invitation to return to where I’d been cuddled up against his chest. His sigh warmed the top of my head, and I tugged one of the abandoned blankets to cover my bare legs.
“Will your pack mind?” I asked, testing my theory about who those men were to each other.
“My pack is all very glad to know I didn’t leave you alone tonight,” Leo said, one hand stroking my back.
I fiddled with one of the open buttonholes of his shirt, my body confused between the tension of lying next to someone, of being held, and the exhaustion still lingering at the edges.
“I’m sorry for running,” I said.
“I understand, Lola,” Leo said. “Believe me.”
I nodded. I believed him. He knew exactly how to handle my panic attack, did his best to help me fight it, and then had perfectly managed the aftermath. Which meant he was probably familiar with the process.
“Just rest,” he coaxed. “If you’re up for it, we’ll talk in the morning.”
My throat tightened briefly, and Leo’s touch soothed me through the sudden bout of tension until I was curling closer. While he was here, I was going to soak up the comfort in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to do before. I was going to pretend I was just cuddling a guy. Just normal.
Five
Wes
The first time I saw Lola, she was sitting in a dark doorway at the crack of dawn, in the diciest area of Old Uptown. She was in front of an old rundown building that still had it’s ‘MOTEL’ sign hanging, now dark with only the ‘No Vacancy’ neon lit beneath. There was what looked like a dive bar on the first floor, with a few beer brand signs hanging in the windows. Lola was there, shivering, pale skin peeking out of a slit in the knee of her dark jeans, and she had a grease mark on the elbow of her thin, long-sleeved shirt. Vivid purple hair was piled into a tangle on the top of her head, and there were dark circles under eyes and bruises on her chin and throat. She was visibly trembling in the cold, and I turned the heat up to high as I drove up to the building, trying to warm the car for her.
“She says she’ll be waiting on the sidewalk for you. But Wes, whatever happens, please don’t leave without her in the car?”
The old motel looked deserted, with crooked blinds hanging in the windows above and black paint covering half of the large bar windows. Lola’s eyes didn’t even blink as I pulled the car to the curb, her stare vacant and dazed. I glanced at the dark windows of the building. It didn’t look like anyone was up if they were inside, and it didn’t look like anyone was around to stop me taking this girl somewhere safe, but I pulled my handgun from its case and tucked it into my holster just in case. Favors for friends—like this errand was for David—didn’t usually call for firearms, but one look at the girl crumpled in the doorway, and I was prepared to push back if anyone gave me any trouble.
Lola twitched as I stepped onto the sidewalk, shrinking back into the shadow of the doorway, her head lowering submissively.
“David sent me.”
“Oh. Right.” Her words were slow but not slurred. I reached out a hand to help her up and she shrank away, pulling herself up by clinging to the grimy archway.
She reeked of alpha, and I tucked my hands behind my back as they fisted impulsively. The scents on her were harsh and sticky and sweet, and there were too many to pin down. I backed away from her, giving her room to walk in her heavy slouch, and opened the back seat door for her. She slid in and I saw the red scratch marks over a bite shaped bruise on her throat, my stomach turning queasily as I stared at the discolored but unbroken skin.
I was tempted, briefly, to lock her in the car and break down the doors so I could hunt down every single one of those filthy scents. But that would get messy, and I didn’t have any backup. I didn’t know what I’d be walking into, either. Instead, I shut the door behind her as gently as I could and headed for the driver’s seat.
Lola was directly behind me, pressed to the door, her forehead against the glass with her back to the motel.
“There’s water, if you need it,” I said, tipping my rearview mirror just a bit so I could see her on the bench seat behind me as pulled back into traffic.
Take her to the police station, I thought. Or the hospital.
I could tell David where to meet us. Maybe not the police station though. She deserved to make that choice and not have someone haul her there. I glanced at the mirror when she was silent. She was still shivering and I realized she was probably in some form of shock. Shit. What did I have?
We pulled to a stop at a red light, and I glanced down to the passenger seat floor where my ‘go bag’ was waiting for unexpected trips with Rake or for work. I leaned and tugged the zipper open, fishing out a black sweatshirt and draping it over the side of the passenger seat.
“Cold?”
Lola looked at the fabric as I started to drive again, her stare empty. Just when I thought of pulling over, bundling her into the sweater, cracking open a bottle of water, and tipping it to her bitten lips, Lola reached a hand out and dragged my sweater to her lap and then up to her nose. I released a silent sigh as she took a deep breath and then dove under the hem of the sweatshirt until it swallowed her completely, messy purple hair reappearing through the neck.