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No fucking coat.
I growl.
She nods.
“C’mere.” I hoist her up into my arms and laugh at her tiny squeak of protest. “You want to put the heels back on?”
She shakes her head and laughs. “Didn’t think so.”
“Are we taking the bike?” she asks, shivering as I push the door open and the cold hits us.
“Not with you dressed like that, Sugar.”
I carry Candy to my car, a sleek black Audi, and open the passenger door to deposit her into her seat before I strap the belt around her and pull it tight. Her breath hitches and I smirk.
Swiftly, I make my way around to the driver’s side. The engine roars to life at the push of a button, and I glance over at Candy, who’s gazing out of the window in silence.
“You okay?” I ask her, breaking the silence as I begin to drive.
“I’m fine,” she replies softly. “Just a little tired.”
I nod and focus on the road, navigating through the early morning traffic with ease. It’s not long before we arrive at her friend’s flat, and I park the car in a spot right outside the entrance. I get out and walk around to her side of the car, opening the door for her once again.
“Thanks for tonight,” she tells me as I help her out of the car and hand over her shoes.
“Anytime,” I say, my eyes lingering on her curves in the tight dress. “I’ll see you to your door.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t come in. But Iamwalking you up.”
Candy nods, and together we make our way inside the building. We climb up the stairs in silence. When we reach her friend’s front door, I freeze. Candy’s gaze follows mine, takes inthe bright red paint with the word “WHORE” still dripping onto the floor and bursts into tears.
She’s in my arms and back in my car before I’ve even thought about it.
My hands are so tight on the wheel it’s groaning under my grip and Candy’s shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
“What the fuck was that?” I eventually grind out.
“Maybe kids?” she asks hopefully.
“Bullshit. Kids would egg the outside of the house, not take the time to get inside, climb several flights of stairs and paint a message on your door.”
“I need to go back and clean it up,” she protests.
“Absolutely not. You’re not going back there until we know it’s safe. And you’re not cleaning upshit.I’ll sort it. Now, where am I taking you?”
“Umm, I guess back to my old flat?” She gives me the address. It’s not far, the other side of the park but a dodgy part of town. At least it isn’t in Sycamore though. That place is terrifying and always embroiled in some sort of turf war. If it’s not The Gods and The Holy Trinity, it’s the local MCs causing chaos and bloodshed. I grit my teeth, unhappy, but not about to force the issue.
When we pull up outside, I’m even unhappier. Her block of flats is a fucking dump. A dangerous looking dump at that.
“Which is yours?” I ask, eyeing the building with disgust.
“Penthouse,” she replies dryly.
“Wait here. I want to check it out first.”
Before she can protest, I’m out of the car and beeping the central locking to keep her inside.
