Page 81 of Cole

“I will. After.”

We drove away from the country club and pulled onto the main road. As we turned, my eyes caught a solitary headlight, parked up the road a little ways in the opposite direction.

A lone biker.

My heart clenched hard in my chest. I could barely keep my eyes open at this point. Everything was blurry. Motherfucker had drugged me. Drugged me? I felt sick. My stomach roiled. I’d never been good with too much alcohol or anything stronger. It wouldn’t be long before my stomach rebelled completely.

I watched in the side mirror as the bike turned onto the dark, deserted road and started after us.

Grant was talking about something to do with summer travel plans. I was concentrating on not throwing up, but otherwise, all my attention was on the dark biker figure. He didn’t overtake us. He just rode right behind us. He didn’t have his headlight on anymore, but I could still make out the shape of his bike.

Was it him? Was he following us?

I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I let them close for a long moment. God, that felt good.

Maybe I’d just rest my eyes a little longer.

Just a little longer.

twenty-six

ISABELLE

I woke when the feeling of cold air hit my skin. I opened my eyes blearily. My top was down. When had that happened? It was freezing. Was I outside?

“Fuck, there’s no fucking room in here,” someone said, and the voice made me panic. Who was here with me? I didn’t know that voice.

Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings. I was lying back in a reclined car seat. Someone was kneeling over me.

Grant. Grant Elwick. He was pawing at my chest.

“No!” I pushed ineffectually at him. My head was flopping all over the place when I tried to turn it, and my hands had no strength in them. Then, he was gone.

I blinked, confused. He’d been right there, hadn’t he? I turned my head to the side and saw shadows outside, cast against a wall. We were parked on some small street, up against a wall. A tall shadow was kicking someone on the ground. Again and again.

Vomit rushed up my throat, and I only just turned my head to bring it up instead of choking, spewing it down the side of the seat.

Then, someone was leaning into the car. I flinched, putting my hands up to protect myself, even though I had no strength.

“It’s ok, Goldilocks. It’s ok now. I’m here,” a quiet, deep murmur sounded.

A sob escaped me. Relief hit me hard.

“Cole?” I managed to get out.

He was leaning over me, drawing the ripped bodice of my dress gently closed.

“Yes, Issy?”

“I feel sick,” I murmured, fighting waves of nausea.

“I’ve got you,” he muttered and reached in and lifted me. I should have been heavy, right? It shouldn’t have seemed so easy. He lifted me out of the car like I weighed nothing at all, and lowered us both to the ground outside. I looked over and saw Grant, passed out, his face bloodied, right beside us.

“Be sick, baby, if you need to be,” Cole said as he gently urged me onto my knees. He’d put his leather jacket under my bare skin. He held my hand with one of his, and my hair back with the other.

I finally stopped battling the urge to vomit and let it come. It felt like three days of food came up, I was bent over the dirty gravel for so long. It was humiliating, humbling, and pure misery to be seen like this… and yet, I gripped his hand for dear life, and he gripped mine right back.

I hated for him to see me like this. But he was also the only person I would want to see me like this.