Tease: A Kings of Korruption MC Novel (6 page)

I sit there, in a daze for a moment until I hear Travis’s disembodied voice coming from my phone somewhere off to the left.
 
“Laynie?
 
What the fuck was that?”

All pain forgotten, I scramble around wildly, hands skimming the hard wood flooring back and forth in an attempt to locate my likely shattered iPhone.
 
I can hear the question in his voice, so I call out, “Hello?
 
Travis?”
 
I listen for him to call out to me again and keep searching, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere.
 
“Shit!
 
I dropped the phone.”

Worried that he will get annoyed and hang up, I call out to my savior.
 
“Dexter!
 
Get your drunk ass over here and help Mommy find her phone.”
 
I feel bad asking him to get up on his sore leg and look for it, but Travis is going to hang up before I can ask him to stop by.
 
I need to get that question out there.
 
I need to see him again.

His tiny voice calls out again.
 
“Laynie?”

I hear Dexter moving around, nose sniffing out my lost phone.
 
“That’s it, baby.
 
Find Mommy’s phone.”
 
His dog tags jingle as he roots around on the floor for another moment, and then he’s in front of me, placing the phone on my outstretched hand.
 
“That’s my good boy.
 
Thank you, baby.”

I quickly pull the phone up to my ear before I notice the slime.
 
“Ugh!
 
Gross!
 
Now there’s slobber all over it.”
 
Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I quickly wipe my slimed phone and hand on my pant leg before lifting it back to my ear once again.
 
“Travis?
 
You there?”

“I’m here.”
 
He sounds amused, and I can’t help but smile.

“Sorry.
 
I dropped my phone.”
 
Realizing he is well aware that I dropped my phone, I giggle again.
 
I’m really showing him what a great catch I am.
 
For just a fraction of a moment, I regret being drunk while I make this call.

“What was that crash?”
 
The background noise on his end dims slightly.

“Just the table.”
 
A hiccup rocks my chest, loud and harsh.

“What broke?”

I look around as if I can see to answer his question.
 
Nope.
 
Still black
.
 
“Something on the table?”

“You don’t know what that something was?”
 

My nose scrunches up in confusion.
 
What’s his problem?
 
“Travis, I’m blind.
 
I’ve got no clue what the hell it was.”

He chuckles softly which is my new favorite sound.
 
I hear murmurs and then laughter from the other end, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
 
Realizing that he’s likely still dealing with his “work shit”, I feel like an idiot.
 
A drunken idiot that calls a completely sexy sounding man while he’s busy and spends most of the phone call flailing around on the floor, yelling at her dog like a total fucking lunatic.
 
I awkwardly get to my feet and open my mouth to let him get back to his party, but before I can get the words out, pain slices through my foot causing me to cry out loudly.
 
Shit.
 
That fucking hurts.
 

“Laynie?
 
You OK?”
 
He sounds almost panicked all of the sudden, and I turn my body slightly, flopping back down on the couch, embarrassed.

My cheeks flame as I search my brain for an answer.
 
“Um.
 
Yeah?”
 
Another hiccup sneaks past my lips.
 
I try my best to sound sober and pain free.
 
“I’ll be fine.”
 
I fail even to my own ears.
 
The slurred speech may give me away.

“You don’t
sound
fine.”
 
He
sounds annoyed.
 
What else is new?
 

“I just stepped on glass or something.
 
I’ll be fine.”
 
Waving my hand dismissively, I attempt to end this disastrous conversation.
 
“Anyways, I won’t keep you.
 
I just wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow.
 
Or this week.
 
Or whenever.”
 
God, Laynie.
 
Shut up!

“You bleedin’?”

Confusion causes a frown to crease my forehead.
 
Didn’t he hear my question?
 
“What?”

“Your foot.
 
You bleedin’?”

I shake my head slightly before tilting it down toward my feet.
 
“Uh.
 
Yeah.
 
I think so.”
 
Reaching down, I gently run my fingertips over my throbbing heel.
 
Pain rips through me as I graze a large piece of glass, embedded deep into my flesh.
 
“Ahh!
 
Yep.”
 
I nod my head and take a deep breath, gritting my teeth through the pain.
 
My fingertips come away wet.
 
“Definitely bleeding.”

“Be there in ten.”

I bolt upright in my seat, the pain suddenly forgotten.
 
I don’t want that.
 
I want to see him, but I don’t want him to come over because I’m a drunken mess who tried to slice her foot in half on an unidentified object.

“No!
 
Travis, I’m fine.
 
I’ll just –“

“I said I’ll be there in ten.
 
Sit your ass down, and don’t move.”

And there he was.
 
Coffee Dick.
 
“Travis!
 
Don’t you dare talk to me li –“

“Can’t talk to you and drive my bike, babe.”

My eyes narrow.
 
“Travis – “

“Say what you gotta say in ten minutes.
 
Sit tight.”

The line goes dead before I even get a chance to think about what to say to that.
 
Somewhere between the first and the fourth glass of wine, I’d forgotten what an asshole he can be.
 
I stab at the bottom button on my phone fiercely to activate Siri and direct her to phone Travis.

The phone rings and rings.
 
No voicemail picks up so I continue to let it ring, knowing damn well that he can hear it.
 
I scream out loudly in frustration before turning it off, tossing the phone onto the couch, and slumping back into the cushions with a dramatic sigh.

My foot throbs.
 
I can’t believe that asshole hung up on me!
 
Then I remember what he said at the end.
 
Ten minutes!
 
I can’t look sexy in ten minutes!
 
I’m wearing flannel pajamas, for fuck’s sake!
 
Regardless, he’ll be here no matter what so I better get to work.
 

Jumping off the couch, I hop on one foot all the way to the bathroom so I can at least fix my hair and put on some lip gloss.
 
It’s not until I am smearing the cherry-flavored goo on my lips that I wonder out loud, “How the hell does he know where I live?”

AFTER FINDING A SPOT to park my bike on the narrow residential street, I rush up to the door of Laynie’s apartment building.
 
Beside it hangs a panel with four buttons, each showing a last name and apartment number.
 
I have no fucking idea what Laynie’s last name is, nor do I know which apartment is hers, but thanks to my new side hobby as a fucking stalker, I do know that this is her building.

“Fuck!”
 
I stab at the first button.
 
No answer.
 
I stab at the second button.

A man’s disembodied voice comes from the speaker.
 
“Hello?”

“I’m looking for Laynie.”

The speaker is silent for a moment before he comes back on.
 
“Who’s this?”

I grit my teeth and answer.
 
“A friend.
 
It’s a fuckin’ emergency!”
 
The thought of Laynie inside hurt and bleeding makes me feel like I’m coming out of my fucking skin.
 
I eyeball the door, looking for the quickest way to break the goddamned lock.

Silence from the speaker causes my chest to feel heavy with tension before it finally comes to life again.
 
“Straight up the stairs and it’s the first door on the right.”
 
The door buzzes, unlatching when I yank on it.

Although I’m thankful that he let me in, anger flows through me as I enter the building, wondering what kind of jackass just lets a complete stranger into the locked building of a beautiful woman and tells them exactly where to find her.
 
That shit is going to be dealt with.

Stepping up to the door, I raise my hand and knock loudly, calling out, “Laynie?”

From inside, I hear a muffled voice, and then the door is pulled open.
 
Rushing inside, I see Laynie sitting on the couch, a glass of wine clutched in her hand.

“You hung up on me!”
 
I ignore her and hurry to the couch, crouching down to check her over for injuries.
 
“That wasn’t very nice, Travis.”

I look up from where I was checking her over, spearing her eyes with my own.
 
They are the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.
 
“I ain’t nice.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes.
 
“I’m learning that.”
 
She lifts her glass and takes a swallow of wine.
 
It’s then I realize that someone else had opened the door.
 
Standing quickly, I whip back around.
 
Dexter stands in front of the closed door, long tongue hanging out as he grins goofily up at me.
 
My eyes move to the door knob, which is actually a handle with a long cloth tied to it.

“Your fucking dog answered the door.”

From her place on the couch, Laynie laughs lightly.
 
“I know.
 
I told him to.”

I turn back to her.
 
“That is very fucking cool.”

She grins her wonky grin causing my heart to thud in my chest.
 
What the fuck is wrong with me?
 
And then I see the blood.
 
All over the hardwood floor is several trails of smeared blood.
 
Squatting back down in front of her, I grab her feet and look for the source of her bleeding.
 
“Fuck, babe.
 
I told you to fuckin’ sit still.”

She shrugs and drains what’s left of her wine before wagging the empty glass at me.
 
“I was thirsty.”
 

I shake my head and lift her foot to inspect the damage.
 
Hissing through my teeth, I see several small shards of glass embedded in the skin, surrounding a large chunk buried deep in her heel.
 
“Fuck.
 
That looks like it hurts.”