“Boo? What sort of name is that?” A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. Lizzie’s naked, lying with her head on my bare chest, lean legs entwined with mine, and drawing circles over my heart with her delicate fingers.
“Ah, well, that would be my fault. Boo’s real name is Layla, but when we were kids she loved Cinderella. She made me watch it over and over. She especially loved the part when the song ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ came on, so I renamed her ‘Boo.’ It sort of just stuck.”
Her fingers roam further across my body and tease my nipples into tight peaks. My cock starts to twitch and swell again as blood flows south. Her lips place featherlight kisses down my chest, teasing and licking a trail down towards my stomach. My abs flex of their own accord with each gentle touch.
Springing to full attention, my cock strains and is impatient for her attention. Lizzie nears her destination and looks up at me through long lashes, her grey eyes sparking alight with mischief. My breath hitches and stops as her tongue flicks out between those perfect pink full lips of hers and makes contact with her target.
Fuck. Shit. Bollocks.
I don’t need that vision in my head. I shake it to try and remove the image but it’s stuck. Why the hell is she even here?
Layla shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I know you have no reason to trust me, and believe me, I understand why you wouldn’t trust Lizzie. But you don’t know the whole story, you don’t know…” She shakes her head. “Anyway, it’s not for me to say, but there’s something you should know.” She gives a slight pause. “It was something she had to do. Lizzie had no choice.”
I feel myself losing control of my temper. I’m trying to hang on, but with the vision in my head on constant replay, and Layla’s foolish belief Lizzie had no other option, the thin thread twists into oblivion.
“No choice?” I scoff. “She had a bloody choice,” I rage, all control lost.
Layla flinches at the aggression unleashed against her.
I take a breath and try to calm myself the fuck down. My heart thuds so hard against my chest walls, I think it’s going to explode from its cage at any second. I take another deep, slow breath and try again.
“She had a choice.” My fingers trail over my head. “I asked her to leave him, to move in with me. Do you have any idea what a guy like me needs to feel for a woman to ask something like that?”
Layla reaches forward and puts a hand on my forearm. “I do, and that’s the reason I’m here. I don’t have anyone else to turn to. You are my only option. I can’t get a hold of Lizzie, it’s like she’s disappeared.”
This pushes yet another button, and a bitter laugh rushes up through my throat. “I hate to point this out to you, but Lizzie has been missing for three years.” I know this because as hard as it would have been to see her every so often, it was worse to not see her at all. Worse still, it seems she left him but didn’t come to me.
Layla peers up at me, a sad smile on her face. “She wasn’t missing, Noah. I knew where she was. I was the only person who knew where she was apart from Alex…” She trails off and I really don’t know what to think.
She starts again. “Now I can’t get a hold of Alex either. That’s what bothers me.”
With all that’s being said, all my mind can latch onto is Alex. Who the fuck is Alex? Something fires in my memory but I can’t grasp it.
I realise Layla’s expecting some form of response from me, and being the arsehole I am, I spout the first things that come to mind. “I’m a mechanic. If you think she’s missing, contact the police. She’s wanted nothing to do with me in years, how do you think I can help you? Hold that. Don’t answer. Because I don’t want to know. She made it plain as day how she felt about me. She’ll turn up somewhere.” I turn away and stalk off into my office.
I’m trying to maintain my composure, the whole bloody place has glass walls, and this is the first time I’ve regretted creating a bright and airy feel in the workshop. I want to crawl into a corner, curl up, and bleed out where no one can watch. As it is, I’m pacing around my office like a caged animal. I watch as Spud walks up to Layla, who’s exiting through the shutter doors. He’s obviously overheard the whole conversation. She throws her arms around animatedly as she talks to him. He reaches out a hand for something she passes him. Then holds his arms up in a surrender pose, and I can’t watch any further, I’ve got to get out of here. I quickly locate my mobile phone in my rear jeans pocket and speed dial Bear.
“Hiya, mate. What’s up?”
“I’ve got to get out of here. I need a drink. You fancy meeting up at Macy’s?”
“Is everything okay, Noah? It’s Friday lunchtime, and I know for a fact you would have only just surfaced from last night’s expedition. I saw the bird you were with, and she looked like a player. Surely she didn’t let you go home without some?”
I’m irritated beyond hell at this point and the last thing I need is a reminder of last night’s void filler. “Look, mate, I just need to get shit-faced, okay?” I’ve known Bear since I was five, which feels like a lifetime ago; I don’t need to say more than that.
“Okay, see you in twenty minutes.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
TEN MINUTES LATER, I pull into Macy’s car park. I’ve thrashed the bollocks off my Ducati to get here. I’m relieved it was in the shop for service, as driving the car just wouldn’t cut it. It gave me ten minutes of freedom. Ten minutes of me losing myself in the adrenaline rush that comes from riding at speeds that should be kept for the racetrack. Ten minutes of fucking peace. I sit astride my bike for a few moments, just enjoying the chills running through my body, before turning the engine off.
Bear won’t be here yet, and I need a few minutes to collect myself. Lizzie. What the hell was that all about? Why would Layla come to find me of all people? How on earth does she think I can help her? I know I can, though, and it’s making my head pound.
I kick the stand and slide off. After removing my helmet, I run my free hand over my shaved head, a habit formed when I had long hair, and drag it down across my face and rub over my eyes. There’s a dull, pinching ache forming behind them. I huff to myself and head off into the pub.
Macy’s, our local bar, is a bit spit-and-sawdust. They should renovate the place, but that would require amputating the locals who love it the way it is. They move in when the place opens at ten o’clock in the morning and stay until closing time, leaving in drunken stupors only to relive it all again the next day. If they renamed the place ‘Groundhog,’ it would suit it just fine. Macy’s sounds a bit too classy for the shithole it really is.
Walking in, I’m surprised to find the place is almost empty. There are a few of the hardened regulars, but not many. The place smells like stale beer and old cigarette smoke, despite the ban having been in place for years. I love the smell, as weird as it sounds, and I’d kill for a cigarette right now.
Suzie, a fiery little redhead, serves behind the bar. She’s all tight top, pushed up tits, and skinny jeans. She’s wearing those huge fake eyelashes that look like they weigh her eyelids down. Her lips are painted red and her curls are slung back in a high ponytail. She looks like just the type of distraction I need.
But there’s something about her that’s stopped me from taking that step. My cock may have begged me on many occasions to forget what my head tells me. But I can’t use her like that.