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“Who are you calling?” Mackenzie asked, her voice shaking.
“Drake.”
Chapter thirty-three
Drake
When Amanda had called, Mackenzie took over the phone. She said Dallas had been at the club with her and Amanda been hurt. It was everything I could do to get there as quickly as possible. She was huddled on a bench with Mackenzie wrapped around her when I pulled up. I threw the car in park before it had completely come to a stop, jumping out and rushing to her side.
She looked up when she heard me approaching, and her tear-stained face softened with relief. Her makeup was smudged. Mascara ran over her bright red cheeks, and one was a darker red than the other.
“Angel,” I said breathlessly, gathering her in my arms and running my hands through her mussed hair. “Are you okay?”
Amanda nodded, but her hands were shaking when they clung to the fabric of my shirt. “I’m okay.” Her voice broke on the word, and fresh tears welled in her eyes.
I pulled her closer, holding her tight against my chest and kissing the top of her head. She felt frail in my arms—such a contrast to the fierce woman that had commanded a conference room full of men earlier today.
“What happened?” I asked with my lips still against the top of her head.
Her body quaked with a sob she couldn’t hold back. “Dallas.”
I pulled away, framing her face. I scanned every inch, taking inventory of every freckle and crease I had memorized over the days. “I don’t know where he came from. He was just there, and he was so angry.” She sobbed, gasping for air she couldn’t calm down enough to inhale. I pulled her even closer, rubbing her back. “Then he followed us outside. He was so angry, and then he hit me and—”
“He hit you?” I interrupted, pushing her hair back. My eyes were drawn back to the cheek that was darker than the other, and my vision was blurred with a red filter.
Amanda nodded. “I bit him so he would let go, and then he slapped me.” Mackenzie winced behind her when she recounted the story. I couldn’t tell if she looked scared that he’d come back or felt guilty she hadn’t been able to stop him.
“I’ll kill him.” I let go of her, nodding for Mackenzie to take my place and thankful when she wrapped her arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “Where did he go?”
She whimpered. “I-I don’t know. Home probably.”
“Get in the car,” I said, gruffer than intended. When Amanda cringed, I hesitated, but I didn’t stop. She stood up, exchanging concerned glances with Mackenzie before she followed me.
“We don’t need to do this, Drake,” she said when I started the car and pulled away from the curb. “I’m okay, really.”
“I’m not.” I turned and looked at her when I pulled up to a red light. “I warned him.”
I flew past cars going too slow for my liking in a rush to get to the address Ronan had given me. I recognized the door when I pulled up, and I seethed when the lights were off. Was he even inside?
“Please, don’t do this,” Amanda pleaded, but even when she batted her eyes, mine were drawn to the bruise forming on her cheek. “He’s not even home, see?”
“He hurt you!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the steering wheel.
Amanda opened and closed her mouth again, but before she could form any words, there was a reflection in the rearview mirror. His blond hair stuck out against the dark night, and I threw my door open.
“Drake, please!” she shouted one more time, climbing out of the car after me.
I stormed across the driveway to where a surprised Dallas stood. “You motherfucker,” I grunted, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt before he could register what was going on. The glassy look in his eyes let me know he was several drinks in.
I’d have the upper hand.
“Can I help you?” His cocky, drunken smirk made my already seething blood boil.
The first punch caught Dallas by surprise, knocking his head back. Blood burst from his nose, flooding over his parted lips. He grumbled, spitting it onto the cement next to him. “I warned you what would happen if you touched my girl,” I said, throwing my fist into his face a second time.
Dallas groaned, trying to put his hands up to cover his face but failing to get them past my single-handed hold on his shirt. I hit him again, and his legs gave out from under him. He dropped to the cement, trying again to cover his face.
“Please,” he whined. “Fuck.”
