“You’ve known Blake now for how long? Has he ever shown that kind of violent behavior before? Especially toward women?”
She chews on her lip, and shakes her head. “No. That wasn’t like him at all.”
I nod. “Give me a few days to think. Something’s wrong, I just… he’s been paranoid lately and… I need time to think. We can’t rat him out to the cops until we know exactly what’s going on.”
“I agree with Mom. Blake’ll be in enough trouble for what he did to my da—Stewart.”
“Okay, Layla. It’s your call,” Raven says.
“Quiet, for now. Until I get more information. Then—”
“Mrs. Moorehead?” A young cop with a friendly smile strolls up to me from the living room.
“Layla. Call me Layla.” My voice sounds rough and garbled.
“Layla, I’m Lieutenant Hodgeson. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
He asks for my version of events. I tell him exactly what happened but leave out the detail about Blake coming after me. He writes on his pad of paper, flips a page, and writes more.
“Did he say anything to you? From the first punch to the last, was he coherent and communicative?”
I want them. They’re mine.
A fierce wave of protectiveness surges within me. “No, not really. He’d mumbled something after the first punch, but after that he didn’t speak.”
Lieutenant Hodgeson makes some notes then puts his pad and pen into his shirt pocket. “Your boyfriend’s going to be taken to the station and be put under arrest for felony assault.”
Shit. “But he was protecting us. Stewart’s the one who should be arrested. He barged into my home and made threats. Blake was trying to protect us. Everything he did was to keep us safe.” My voice is getting higher and higher, and worry for Blake’s future spikes my adrenaline.
I can’t let him go down for this. Heat flares at my neck. I try to soothe it with my hand.
The lieutenant’s eyes are warm with compassion. “Let me ask you something. Have you seen Mr. Daniels take anything recently? Drugs of any kind?”
“Drugs? No, he’s an athlete. He’d never put anything like that in his body. He works hard and…” My own words remind me of our conversation concerning his supplements. “Wait, he was taking a bunch of prescriptions.”
Lt. Hodgeson scribbles something in his notes. “Do you know what meds he was taking?”
“Um, no, but neither did he. They’re some kind of herbal concoction meant to help his training.”
He looks to the other cop standing next to him. The man nods.
“Mrs.—I mean, Layla, we suspect that Mr. Daniels was under the influence of a drug that might elevate his temper. Have you noticed any change in his temper or his ability to control himself lately?”
“Yes—”
“Yeah.” Jonah steps up and into the conversation.
He noticed it, too?
“He pulled something similar in the octagon about two weeks ago. And before that… fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair. “He told me something was off. Said he felt like he was going to bust out of his skin, but he didn’t know why.”
My stomach flips and surges. Goose bumps pepper my skin. He’s been dealing with this for weeks? All those times he’d lock down, storm out of a room, or race around locking doors. How did I miss it?
He takes more notes, this time shaking his head. “Do you have the name of the doctor who was treating Mr. Daniels?”
Jonah pinches the bridge of his nose.
I turn to the cop and face him head on. “Yeah, I do. Xavier. Dr. Michael Xavier.”
Thirty
Blake
It’s cramped in the back of the police car. My wrists burn where the cuffs cut into my skin. But I’m exactly where I deserve to be.
I lost it.
I promised her that she’d always be safe with me.
I broke my promise.
What if Jonah hadn’t been there to pull me off? How long would I have held her tiny neck before it snapped? The same neck I’ve trailed my tongue against. Buried my nose in to inhale her scent. The gentle flesh where I’d whisper words of encouragement, coaxing her to relax and let go.
Groaning, I drop my head. Yeah, I deserve to be locked up. Not for what I did to her ex… er, husband. Whatever. Hell, after the shit he said, I’d do it all over again and smile the entire time. But no punishment is extreme enough for what I did to her. The memory of her eyes, dark, wild, and terrified, floods my mind. It’s my fault she sees me as someone to fear. No different from how she views Stew. My stomach twists, and I swallow back bile. I could’ve killed her.
What if I killed him?
When the cops took me out, the guy wasn’t moving. Fuck.
I’ll cooperate with the police and make sure I get the time I deserve. Me in a prison cell is the only thing that’ll keep me away from Layla and Axelle. I grip my stomach as it twists with revulsion. I’m just like Stew. Hooked on a woman I don’t deserve. Bad for her in every way. Violent. Controlling. They deserve better. A chance to live life with a man they’re not afraid of.