Page 48 of Run to Me

When Judge sinks down beside me on the couch, his weight dents the cushion and forces me to tilt in his direction. He offers me a tentative smile, and I pat his arm to let him know I’m okay. The others must’ve realized we ditched them, and they join us in the living room, everyone taking a seat except Marcus. Like an agitated lion, he paces back and forth on the other side of the coffee table. I’ve never seen him this upset.

“Not a single phone call,” he says, sending me a scathing look. “Unacceptable.”

“Marcus.” Tatum softens her voice to calm him down. “Go easy on her.”

“When you don’t stick to the schedule, I need to know. You came back early without telling anyone.”

Exasperated, I release a heavy sigh. “I’m not the job, Marcus. Tatum’s the job.”

“This isn’t about a fucking job!” he yells, spreading his arms wide. His eyes widen too, like he’s as shocked by his outburst as the rest of us. Marcus never loses his cool and rarely shows he cares. “This”—he jabs a finger at everyone except Jake, who’s scowling—“is the closest thing we have to a family. And as the head of this family, I need to know where everyone’s at and when plans change. Then we show up here to find you looking like this?”

He waves a hand toward me and shakes his head. Some would describe his facial expression as fatherly, but I’ve never seen a more disappointed or pissed-off father.

“Tell me who I need to kill,” he adds.

Tatum jumps to her feet and approaches him with caution to rub his back. “Hey. She’s okay. Take a breath, and tone it down. Let her explain.”

Judge snaps his fingers at Marcus then gestures at me.

“Fuck.” Marcus hangs his head and takes a deep breath, then he sits stiffly in a chair because of the permanent stick up his ass. His rigid posture vanishes when his concerned gaze meets mine again. “I’m sorry, Maisy. I should’ve asked if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just got knocked around a bit in a dark alley.”

“Jesus,” Jake groans. “Don’t joke about this, Maisy. We’ve all been worried. When Jensen refused to give us details, Marcus spent the entire night moving our travel plans up by a day. The man hasn’t slept, and neither has Tate, because you wouldn’t answer your goddamn phone.”

My gaze travels from Marcus’s exhausted face to Tatum’s distressed one. On top of her finding out she’s pregnant, she and Jake got engaged. This should be a time to celebrate my friend. Instead, she’s here, staring at me through teary, bloodshot eyes.

I’m such a jerk. Why is it so hard for me to reach out and ask for help? Or to believe people care enough to worry about me? The least I can do to alleviate their worries and make amends is open up about the incident.

“I really am okay. The paramedics examined me, and the police took a statement.”

“Did they catch the guy?” Marcus asks.

“No, but a witness saw his face.”

Judge nudges me with his elbow, drawing my focus to the question in his eyes.

“No. He didn’t try anything like that,” I say, reassuring him with a pat on his knee. Everyone releases a collective breath, and their relief soothes my hardened heart while burning my eyes. “Y’all, it was a classic mugging. Attempted. He tried to take my bag, but I refused.”

“Always let go of the goddamn bag!” Marcus yells, riled up again.

I respond with equal fire in my veins. “No! It’s my bag, Marcus! Some asshole doesn’t get to take it from me because he feels like it.”

His jaw hangs open in disbelief, then he scoffs and mutters, “So damn stubborn.”

“What about the project? Does Marzan know what happened?” Tatum asks.

“Marzan can go screw himself. Ass-grabber,” I mumble, crossing my arms.

“He touched you?” The vein bulging in Marcus’s temple threatens to burst. “I’ll kill him.”

“You can’t kill everyone on my behalf, Marcus.”

Judge shrugs a shoulder and grunts as if saying watch us do just that.

Tatum’s phone buzzes in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. It’s been going off since they arrived. She accepts the video call and hands me the phone. “It’s the other Cali boys.”

A dramatic gasp comes from Miguel, who’s way too close to the camera. “Who soiled my angel’s perfect face?”