“B.” My voice is a croak, but I manage to push urgency into it. “Call Ace for me. His number’s in my phone.”
Noah jerks, his head whipping around to stare at me. Bryn obeys immediately, grabbing my phone and entering my password, which she knows by heart, to unlock the screen.
“What? Ny…no. You don’t need him—” Noah’s protest is cut off when I hold up my hand.
“I do need him. I need Ace.”
Bryn puts the phone on speaker. Ace’s deep voice breaks through the paralyzing fear inside me, spreading through me like warm honey.
“Naima? Thank fuck, I’ve been—”
“Ace!” Bryn interrupts him. “It’s Bryn. Naima’s friend?”
Ace’s voice goes hard. But underneath all that steel, there’s a note of intense concern. “Where is she? What’s wrong?”
Bryn glances at me, and I nod, indicating that I can talk to him. I glance up at Noah, whose jaw is tense and set. His cool blue eyes carry scorching heat.
“Ace.” My voice sounds even worse than it did a moment ago. The short amount of time that my attacker spent squeezing my throat really did a number on me. The pain is immense…I’m blinking back tears. “I was attacked.”
Despite the rasp, he understands. His voice lowers almost to a growl. “Where are you?”
I incline my head toward Bryn and she relays the fraternity house address to Ace. He grunts a response before cutting off the call. His quick “I’m on my way” causes anticipation to build in my belly at the thought of seeing him. Feeling his arms around me right now isn’t what I want; it’s what I need.
And I have to warn him.
Whoever murdered that man at the G-Ring a few nights, ago knows who I am…holy mother, he knows where I am. And he wants my mouth to stay shut.
This was a warning. But there’s something I don’t understand.
Why didn’t he just kill me?
Eighteen
ACE
“Where are you going?” Carson sets down the liquor bottle in his hands as I stalk past him, grabbing his extra set of truck keys from behind the bar.
“Out.”
“Hold up, Ace.” When I don’t slow down, Carson raises his voice. “Ace!”
Spinning around, I change direction and aim my pistol-like trajectory in his direction. “Carson, I gotta run out, alright? It’s the girl. She’s in trouble.”
Carson’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m coming with you.”
Shaking my head with impatience, I hold up a hand “Trouble’s not hot. She was attacked or something. I need to get her. Bring her back to my place.”
His expression unhappy, he nods. “Watch your back, Ace. If you ain’t back in an hour, I’m comin’ after you.”
Dipping my head to acknowledge him, I jog out of The Corner, Carson’s bar.
It takes less than ten minutes to drive to the address Naima’s friend gave me, and every single one of them is spent willing the truck to go faster. I park in the long driveway behind someone’s Hummer—mental eye roll—and jog around the back of the big, brick house like Bryn instructed me to do.
The relief I feel when I see Naima, wrapped up in a blanket in a chair in front of a blazing fire pit is knee-buckling. Her eyes remain locked on the flames as I approach, but Bryn watches me walk toward them like a cat appraising an impending pit bull. The guy beside her, the one who got in my face at the Ring, turns his head at the last minute, his expression turning midnight-black at the sight of me.
That’s fine; the feeling’s mutual. Especially when his arm is slung protectively around her shoulders, like it’s his job to keep her safe. If that’s the case, where the fuck was he when she was attacked?
Ignoring all of them, I crouch down in front of Naima. Her eyes flicker from the fire toward mine, and I’m lost inside them for a moment.
Then I take her in.
She’s been crying, that much is pretty damn clear. Her makeup has run down her face. Her eyes are glazed over, like she forced herself to stop crying by checking out completely. Her bottom lip is stuck between her teeth, biting down so hard the skin around it has turned white. And her neck…the fuck? Her neck is bruised at her throat, a big freshly dark patch of skin screaming for attention. Her friend Bryn holds ice on the grotesque bruises.
“They hurt you?” Making my voice work is hard, it comes out sounding pissed when what I feel most is concern. I’m both things right now. My body threatens to spin out of control the way it usually does when I’m angry. My blood is starting to heat up in my veins, my muscles going tight and rigid like I’m preparing for a fight.
“I’m guessing what they really want is your criminal ass.” Noah spits from beside her.
My head turns slowly in his direction. “Wasn’t talking to you. But I can now. You were here. Right? You let them do this to her?”
He stands, and so do I, matching his speed and his intensity. He might be weight-room strong, but I will fuck him up if he gives me a reason to. I’m itching to, really.
Let’s do this.
Bryn jumps up and stands next to Noah. “Don’t. Can’t you two see she’s been through enough tonight?”
Her words bring Naima back to the front of my mind, and I take the seat beside her, the one the douchebag vacated. As gently as I can, I take her face in my hands. Her eyes are wide, blinking slowly. Something inside my chest shifts, rearranges. Settles.
Breaks.
“Hey, angel. I’m here. Tell me what happened.” My tone is commanding but there’s a gentleness in it I’ve never used before. Because I’ve never felt it before.
“I…” her raspy voice scrapes at my already raw nerves. “I came outside because…” She glances up at Noah and Bryn, and I glare at them before rubbing her cheekbones with my thumbs to urge her to keep going.
“And I thought I saw
