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Her tears slowed as she considered me, clearly scared, but there was something else there too. A thing I recognized. A spiteful sort of anger, hidden beneath layers of pain.
“But that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
I cocked my head at her, not understanding.
She swallowed, her hair falling forward to shadow her eyes. “You hurt people. You and those other guys. The Crows. I’ve heard about you.”
“Then you know that this town belongs to them. And that they take care of the people in it.”
A twitch in her upper lip told me I might be on the right track. “Tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”
Fuck, how much I’d love to pummel one of the cocky, baby-faced jocks into the ground right about now. I shuddered just to think of the release. Maybe I’d even let Rook help me.
I couldn’t get justice for me and the guys. Not yet. But maybe I could get some for this girl.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “If you want, I won’t even tell them it was you who told me.”
She frowned, looking at me suspiciously. I could tell she was wondering how I knew it was a someone and not a something she was crying about.
“I can’t,” she decided.
“Then whatever happened will probably happen again.”
Her lower lip quivered.
“His life would be ruined.”
So it was a him. We were getting somewhere.
“Did he hurt you?”
She looked away.
Motherfucker.
I could feel my cheeks flushing with a renewed heat, and I struggled to keep my voice even. “If someone hurt you, you can’t let them get away with it.”
Her hands clenched to fists against her thighs. “You won’t tell him it was me who told you?”
I shook my head, a sick feeling in my stomach at the look she was giving me.
A minute ago, I was sure what this was, but now I didn’t think I was prepared for what she was about to tell me.
“I already called the hotline,” she said. “You know that one for reporting crimes anonymously, but nothing happened. No one even called me back.”
What?
I needed to get her back on track. I could examine that little tidbit later.
“Tell me what happened.”
She squirmed against the toilet seat, her brown eyes looking everywhere but at me. “He offered me a better grade. It was just supposed to be that one time,” she finally said and the force with which my rage intensified was like a bomb detonating in my stomach. I’d be shocked if there wasn’t smoke coming out of my ears.
I managed to maintain a calm front, but my next words came out strained. “Go on.”
The girl, whose name I learned was Layla, told me as much as she could before her face turned green and she couldn’t talk anymore. Until she was shoving me out of the way so she could crawl down off the toilet, lift the lid, and vomit into the porcelain bowl.
I felt like joining her by the time she was finished.
She sat back heavily against the toilet, breathless from being sick as I rose to my feet, every inch of my skin vibrating.
“I’m going to take care of this,” I told her. “You don’t have to worry about Mr. Williams anymore.”
“What are you going to do?” she hollered after me as I left the bathroom, but I didn’t reply. She didn’t want to know.
