Page 7 of Laila Manning (Shadeport Crew #3)

S omething about Ryker’s gated community in the East Valley always felt unsettling as I drove through it. No matter how many years I’d done it. Technically, I lived in the East Valley too, being that I lived inside Ryker’s estate. But it wasn’t where I belonged.

At least not until lately.

Before the repetitive sameness of the HOA village's tree-lined streets, with their quiet, almost oppressive order, fueled a powerful longing to escape each time I drove through.

Lately, though, I almost looked forward to returning after a long day of skull busting and deal-making.

Lately, I ached to feel the draw of electricity that burned in my gut every time I neared her door.

Lately , it was almost enough to be in the presence of her innocence, to feel like the weight of my darkness no longer threatened to shove me into the ground, inch by inch, until I was six feet under .

At least, that was until someone reminded me of all the reasons I shouldn’t even share her air.

Laila.

The name of the angel with the spirit of a wounded animal.

As if the mere thought of her could conjure her perfection, I caught sight of her on the sidewalk standing still, unmoving outside the mansion that belonged to a sleazy politician on Ryker’s payroll.

I pulled my blacked-out SUV over on the side of the street and put it in park, watching the mysterious woman as she stared up at the brick facade, still motionless. Her usually sharp senses were dulled, and she didn't notice me approaching; her alertness was gone.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice me silently stalking her from twenty yards away; the only sounds were the gentle breeze and the rustle of leaves under my feet.

Which meant that the house meant something to her, or something happened again.

Before I could think twice, my hand pulled the door handle, and I slid from the car, quietly closing it behind me as I walked up the sidewalk toward her.

Still, she didn’t move.

“Laila,” I called quietly so as not to spook her.

If jumpy had a picture in the dictionary, it would be Laila with those big brown eyes rounded in surprise at every little noise or movement.

Those eyes with flakes of gold in them made the monster in me wonder what they would look like swimming in tears, staring up at me as she kneeled at my feet.

Fuck.

“Laila,” I growled out with more force, trying to straighten out my thoughts, and as if on cue, her body jolted as she swung around to face me with that startled expression on her face .

And those deep, bottomless chocolate eyes staring up at me.

“Jesus.” She gasped, covering her heart with her hand as she twirled around, finally taking in her surroundings.

“What are you doing?” I questioned, keeping a couple of feet between us.

“What are you doing?” She avoided my gaze, staring just off to the side of my head like she normally did before glancing back at the house beside us.

“Trying to understand why you’re frozen stiff on the sidewalk, staring up at Senator Lupold’s house.” I nodded to the house again, and her jaw clenched slightly.

“Senator.” She repeated quietly before looking away from the house completely and facing me, straightening her spine, and taking a deep breath. “I got distracted. That’s all.”

“Distracted,” I repeated, not buying it. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She countered, chewing her bottom lip the tiniest bit.

And that was her tell.

She always chewed on her lips when she lied or avoided the truth.

“Laila.” I urged, deepening my voice and drawing her attention back to me. “Don’t ever lie to me.”

“I’m not—,” She stopped and swallowed. “I’m just walking.”

“Where to?” I questioned. “Jed said you quit your job.”

Annoyance flared in her normally sweet eyes for a second before she turned and simply walked away from me, like I hadn’t interrupted her in the first place.

I stood rooted in place as she walked down the sidewalk away from me, stunned at her bravery. A sinister grin pulled my lips to the side while something akin to excitement burned down my spine as she got further away from me .

With a flick of my wrist, I locked the SUV with my fob and followed her. A fire ignited within me, growing stronger with each footfall on the concrete behind her.

She was defying me.

She’d never defied me before, or anyone for that matter.

The sound of my approaching footsteps caused Laila to glance back, her dark brown hair streaming behind her, fear widening her eyes.

But she turned around and faced forward, quickening her step.

As we walked along, my smile grew wider and more intense with every nervous peek she took over her shoulder.

The quick pace she kept made her jeans hug her ass in a way that called to the animal in me, but I pushed it down, silencing the desire.

Finally, she paused and turned on me. “What are you doing?”

“Following you,” I replied honestly.

Her eyes squinted a fraction, “Why?”

“Because you lied to me. Then you rebelled against me.” I tilted my head to the side, and the pulse in her neck beat rapidly as she watched me. “And you’ve never done that before.”

“I didn’t realize you were my babysitter.” She snapped, “Or my boss.”

Fire brewed in her eyes for the first time in months, and pride grew in mine.

“Do you need a babysitter?” I challenged. “Or a boss?”

The innuendo in that statement burned in my gut, but it missed her innocence by a mile, and she never caught on.

Which was good. Because she was the last woman on earth I needed to dominate.

Even if I’d never wanted to see a woman beg more than her before.

“I need to be left alone.” She huffed .

“Why?”

“Because.” She fired back.

“You’re cheeky today.”

“And you’re bossy.”

“Always.” I raised an eyebrow at her, and she sucked her teeth. “So, I’ll ask you again. Where are you going?”

“To therapy.” She snapped.

“You go to therapy across the city.” I scowled. “Do you plan to get there on foot?”

“How do you—?” She closed her mouth. “Never mind, I’m not even surprised you know that.”

“Good,” I replied. “One less thing to cover. So, where are you really going?”

“I just told you. I’m doing therapy.”

The way she said doing therapy instead of going to therapy alerted me to what she meant, even if she didn’t intend it to.

“Walking around East Valley is part of your therapy?”

She clenched her jaw, looked around at the deserted streets around us, and sighed. “Walking on a sidewalk is.”

I raised my eyebrows at her but kept the quick-cutting retort I had ready to myself. “Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “How is this any of your business?”

“Isn’t this something a friend would know?”

“Friend?” She raised her brows at me in surprise and then rolled her eyes again, making the alpha in me ache to correct the bratty attitude. “We’re not friends, Zeke.”

“Ouch.” I feigned insult, and she smirked the tiniest smile before dropping her gaze to her feet and hiding it. “So let me be your friend. For five minutes. ”

“Why?” She shook her head, sneaking a glance up at me. “What do you care?”

“Humor me. Let me know something about you.”

She scoffed and kicked a stone with her sneaker.

“You already know the worst parts of me, Zeke.” She replied quietly, “Everyone does.” A redness crept up her neck, but it wasn’t from embarrassment.

It looked like anger. “Everyone knows the darkest and most terrible parts. Don’t I deserve to have anything that’s just for me? ”

“You’re wrong, because I don’t know you at all.

” I argued, waiting for her to look up at me before continuing.

“I know the darkest and most terrible thing that happened to you, but I don’t know anything about you.

Things that happen to us do not define us.

” I took a step forward, closing the distance between us, and swelled with undeserving pride when she didn’t take a step backward like she usually did.

“So, for five minutes, let me be your friend.”

She mulled it over, but I thought she was going to just remain mute indefinitely until she sighed and turned back away from me. Instead of walking away from me, she looked over her shoulder and nodded for me to walk beside her.

“What about your car?” she asked as we started down the sidewalk away from my car.

“Do you think someone in East Valley is going to steal it?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I grew up in a neighborhood not much different from this one.” She kept her gaze forward, “And terrible things happened there, so who knows.”

I smirked at her attempt at sarcasm, but kept my mouth shut, giving her control of the conversation. It was one of the first conversations we had if you didn’t count the one in her bedroom the other night.

I didn’t count it, because I couldn’t focus on a single thing besides how good she looked in her cute little pajama set, rumpled and sleepy as she stared up at me.

Or the noises she made as she dreamed. God, those noises.

“I’m practicing walking down sidewalks.” She finally admitted. “For therapy.”

All sexual thoughts I’d been having about her faded away as the gravity of that statement hit me square in the chest. I pressed carefully, not oblivious to the fact that she was finally giving me a glimpse into her life, and I didn’t want her slamming the door in my face just yet.

“What is it about walking down sidewalks that bothers you?”

“It’s not sidewalks in particular.” She hummed and took another deep breath. “There was a long hallway,” She paused again, like the words were evading her. “Every time they ushered me down that hallway, I was hurt.”

“And now walking down certain hallways,” I motioned to the long strip of concrete ahead of us, “leaves you triggered.”

She peeked up at me from under the curtain of hair blowing around her face and nodded.

“I see.” I acknowledged, focusing on maintaining my strong composure when the small tidbit of information rattled me. “How are you feeling right now?”