Текст книги "Beautiful Storm"

Автор книги: Megan Isaacs

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Two Years and Five Months Later

I PULL UP outside my car workshop, kill the engine, and glance out of the window at the white rendered building. A stroke of luck meant I managed to buy this place cheap. It’s in a nice area, but the structure was a shit-hole. With a little elbow grease and a lot of work, I turned it into my idea of what a car workshop should be. It’s classy but practical and modern, smooth lines but with a little attitude—like the perfect woman, but I’ve learnt there’s no such thing.

I get out of the car and can already hear the loud thump of rock music pouring through the air. I shake my head. Spud. He’s worked with me from the start, nearly six years ago, and he’s a good friend as well as my family. It was with both Spud and Bear’s help that this place opened on time. I’ve got a reputation that precedes me in both the field of cars and ladies. Luckily the one for cars is fantastic and earns me a pretty penny. The one with women, not so much. Although saying that, I’ve been offered a few quid in that area too, but I’m not doing that shit. If I’m going to fuck a woman, it’s because I want to, not because I’m being paid.

I stroll into the workshop and spot Spud working in the engine bay of a black Camaro. He’s oblivious to my presence as he concentrates. I take a few seconds to appreciate the car’s curves. It’s gorgeous. I never thought there would be much call for mechanics dealing with muscle cars in the UK, but I surprised even myself by making a go of it. It’s not like we need hundreds of cars coming through a day, so with the one or two restorations a month, plus the general stuff, we are busy enough.

“Bloody hell, Spud, can’t you turn that fucking thing down?” I yell at him, but it barely registers above the radio. It must be at one hundred and twenty decibels, and I’m surprised the neighbours haven’t been around yet to complain.

His shoulders hunch. “You’ve just walked in, mate. No need to jump down my throat.” He’s giving me his, ‘I’m pissed’ voice, and hasn’t looked at me yet. Instead, he walks over to the radio and turns it down a few notches. Spud’s driving me insane this week. He’s as moody as a woman when the monthly painters are in, and twice as bitchy.

“Okay, mate, but what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been behaving like a spoilt little shit all week.”

He turns to look in my direction. “If you’d pull your weight around here instead of going off shagging everything that moves, my mood might fucking improve.”

Okay, he’s got me there. I’ve slacked off all week. Burning the midnight oil is messing with my livelihood. I need to sort my shit out, but I’m not going to let him know that.

“Hmm, well, if you’d had whatever the hell her name was lips wrapped around your cock, your priorities might be a little different as well.”

“Yeah? I’d also be getting a fucking divorce. I’m sure Cait would love to hear your explanation of why I had another chick’s mouth wrapped around the family jewels.” He leans back against the counter and his blue eyes glare at me.

Spud and Caitlin have been together for nine years, married for two, and are currently expecting baby Spud number one in a few months. I think Caitlin must have gone through the whole sex crazed, shagging your brains out period of the pregnancy that Spud was raving about and now she’s providing him with a drought to rival that of the Sahara.

Although it’s not something I really want to think about.

“Well, tell that wife of yours to do something about it then, because you’re being a real bastard.” I know as soon as it comes out of my mouth that I sound like a complete tosser. But it’s out there, and I can’t take it back.

“Fuck off, Noah. And that’s your sister you’re talking about.” Spud’s fists clench at his sides and his nostrils flare. I’ve crossed the line bringing Cait into it, especially talking about her in such a crude manner. I need to salvage the situation before getting a torque wrench justifiably lobbed at my head.

“So, what’s the story on the Camaro?” I ask, hoping to distract him from wanting to maim me.

Spud glares at me for a few more seconds, making sure I understand his feelings on me running my mouth. He takes a deep breath, looks at the ground, and gives me the ins and outs of the Camaro’s troubled life. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice what I presume is a customer lurking at the door. I hope to God she didn’t hear our conversation.

Note to self: be a little bit more professional when in the workshop. Get your mind on the job and not on last night’s conquest. Feeling like I have suitably chastised myself, and blatantly ignoring Spud, I turn around and pretend I’ve just noticed her.

“Hi, can I help you with something?” I raise my voice so she knows I’m talking to her.

The woman takes small, tentative steps towards me, “Er, I’m looking for Noah.” She stops about two feet in front of me.

“Well, you just found him, love. What can I help you with?” She looks a little skittish so I thrust my hands in my pockets, dip my chin, and rock on my heels. I feel like a little kid, but it makes me appear less intimidating. At six two with a shaved head, piercings, and a full sleeve of ink, I need all the help I can get in the theoretical office; out in the bars and clubs it’s a different story.

“Oh, hi. I’m Layla.” There’s a pause so I look at her for a second or two waiting for her to carry on, but she’s looking at me like I should know her.

I feel like a right bastard, but I’ve got to ask who she is. I just hope to God I’ve not shagged her because that would make me feel like a bigger dick than I already do. She’s quite beautiful, so I’m sure I would have remembered, but you never can tell. With fingers mentally crossed, I go for it.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” There, I said it. Now I’m waiting for World War III to commence.

“I’m Lizzie’s friend. You probably know me as ‘Boo.’”

Fuck. Totally not the answer I was expecting. I feel like The Rock has just come and body slammed me, winding me, and leaving me gasping for breath. I’m completely floored.

I’m quick to gather my senses, hoping my weakness for Lizzie hasn’t just been on display for the whole world to see. Men like me don’t have weaknesses, they can be used against me, and I’m not letting anyone have that ammunition.

“So, what can I do for you, Lizzie’s friend, Layla?” I can’t believe I’ve managed to squeeze her name out of my mouth. Three years later and that shit is still as painful as the day I walked away from her.

I thought it would heal over time, the hurt, the emptiness, the regret, and I gave it time but all that stuff is still lurking within me. I tried to drown the evil life-suckers out, but other than nearly turning into a raging alcoholic and coming close to losing my business, that was about as much use as a chocolate teapot.

When that failed, I tried shagging my way out of it, a different face, different body. Actually, I’m still working on that stage, and up to this point I can guarantee wholeheartedly that shit isn’t fucking working either.

“I know you don’t know me, only know of me.” She looks down towards her shoes, and her fingers pick nervously at the skin around her nail beds. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for what’s happened.”

It’s obvious something’s wrong, but I could be being played, and it wouldn’t be the first time.

“So?” I shrug my shoulders forward trying to urge this raven-haired beauty to get out what she actually came here to say.

“Look, I don’t know who else to go to with this. In all fairness, it could be nothing. I don’t even know why I’m here. Lizzie would kill me.”

She’s talking in riddles, and I have the feeling I’m going to have to shove my hand up her arse to do a ventriloquist impersonation if I’m going to get any information out of her.

What the hell am I thinking? I should just throw her out on her arse. Lizzie has caused me enough pain to last a lifetime and whatever she’s pulling now I want no part of.

“It’s very nice to meet you and all, Layla, but I haven’t spoken to Lizzie in three years. She upped and left, so whatever you have going on, you need to find someone else.” I’m trying to keep my face blank, when all I really want to do is open my mouth and let out the loudest rip-roaring growl. Does this woman have any idea what her words are doing to me? My mind flashes back to when Lizzie was first telling me about Boo.

“Boo? What sort of name is that?” A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. Lizzie’s naked, lying with her head on my bare chest, lean legs entwined with mine, and drawing circles over my heart with her delicate fingers.

“Ah, well, that would be my fault. Boo’s real name is Layla, but when we were kids she loved Cinderella. She made me watch it over and over. She especially loved the part when the song ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ came on, so I renamed her ‘Boo.’ It sort of just stuck.”

Her fingers roam further across my body and tease my nipples into tight peaks. My cock starts to twitch and swell again as blood flows south. Her lips place featherlight kisses down my chest, teasing and licking a trail down towards my stomach. My abs flex of their own accord with each gentle touch.

Springing to full attention, my cock strains and is impatient for her attention. Lizzie nears her destination and looks up at me through long lashes, her grey eyes sparking alight with mischief. My breath hitches and stops as her tongue flicks out between those perfect pink full lips of hers and makes contact with her target.

Fuck. Shit. Bollocks.

I don’t need that vision in my head. I shake it to try and remove the image but it’s stuck. Why the hell is she even here?

Layla shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I know you have no reason to trust me, and believe me, I understand why you wouldn’t trust Lizzie. But you don’t know the whole story, you don’t know…” She shakes her head. “Anyway, it’s not for me to say, but there’s something you should know.” She gives a slight pause. “It was something she had to do. Lizzie had no choice.”

I feel myself losing control of my temper. I’m trying to hang on, but with the vision in my head on constant replay, and Layla’s foolish belief Lizzie had no other option, the thin thread twists into oblivion.

“No choice?” I scoff. “She had a bloody choice,” I rage, all control lost.

Layla flinches at the aggression unleashed against her.

I take a breath and try to calm myself the fuck down. My heart thuds so hard against my chest walls, I think it’s going to explode from its cage at any second. I take another deep, slow breath and try again.

“She had a choice.” My fingers trail over my head. “I asked her to leave him, to move in with me. Do you have any idea what a guy like me needs to feel for a woman to ask something like that?”

Layla reaches forward and puts a hand on my forearm. “I do, and that’s the reason I’m here. I don’t have anyone else to turn to. You are my only option. I can’t get a hold of Lizzie, it’s like she’s disappeared.”

This pushes yet another button, and a bitter laugh rushes up through my throat. “I hate to point this out to you, but Lizzie has been missing for three years.” I know this because as hard as it would have been to see her every so often, it was worse to not see her at all. Worse still, it seems she left him but didn’t come to me.

Layla peers up at me, a sad smile on her face. “She wasn’t missing, Noah. I knew where she was. I was the only person who knew where she was apart from Alex…” She trails off and I really don’t know what to think.

She starts again. “Now I can’t get a hold of Alex either. That’s what bothers me.”

With all that’s being said, all my mind can latch onto is Alex. Who the fuck is Alex? Something fires in my memory but I can’t grasp it.

I realise Layla’s expecting some form of response from me, and being the arsehole I am, I spout the first things that come to mind. “I’m a mechanic. If you think she’s missing, contact the police. She’s wanted nothing to do with me in years, how do you think I can help you? Hold that. Don’t answer. Because I don’t want to know. She made it plain as day how she felt about me. She’ll turn up somewhere.” I turn away and stalk off into my office.

I’m trying to maintain my composure, the whole bloody place has glass walls, and this is the first time I’ve regretted creating a bright and airy feel in the workshop. I want to crawl into a corner, curl up, and bleed out where no one can watch. As it is, I’m pacing around my office like a caged animal. I watch as Spud walks up to Layla, who’s exiting through the shutter doors. He’s obviously overheard the whole conversation. She throws her arms around animatedly as she talks to him. He reaches out a hand for something she passes him. Then holds his arms up in a surrender pose, and I can’t watch any further, I’ve got to get out of here. I quickly locate my mobile phone in my rear jeans pocket and speed dial Bear.

“Hiya, mate. What’s up?”

“I’ve got to get out of here. I need a drink. You fancy meeting up at Macy’s?”

“Is everything okay, Noah? It’s Friday lunchtime, and I know for a fact you would have only just surfaced from last night’s expedition. I saw the bird you were with, and she looked like a player. Surely she didn’t let you go home without some?”

I’m irritated beyond hell at this point and the last thing I need is a reminder of last night’s void filler. “Look, mate, I just need to get shit-faced, okay?” I’ve known Bear since I was five, which feels like a lifetime ago; I don’t need to say more than that.

“Okay, see you in twenty minutes.”

That’s all I needed to hear.

TEN MINUTES LATER, I pull into Macy’s car park. I’ve thrashed the bollocks off my Ducati to get here. I’m relieved it was in the shop for service, as driving the car just wouldn’t cut it. It gave me ten minutes of freedom. Ten minutes of me losing myself in the adrenaline rush that comes from riding at speeds that should be kept for the racetrack. Ten minutes of fucking peace. I sit astride my bike for a few moments, just enjoying the chills running through my body, before turning the engine off.

Bear won’t be here yet, and I need a few minutes to collect myself. Lizzie. What the hell was that all about? Why would Layla come to find me of all people? How on earth does she think I can help her? I know I can, though, and it’s making my head pound.

I kick the stand and slide off. After removing my helmet, I run my free hand over my shaved head, a habit formed when I had long hair, and drag it down across my face and rub over my eyes. There’s a dull, pinching ache forming behind them. I huff to myself and head off into the pub.

Macy’s, our local bar, is a bit spit-and-sawdust. They should renovate the place, but that would require amputating the locals who love it the way it is. They move in when the place opens at ten o’clock in the morning and stay until closing time, leaving in drunken stupors only to relive it all again the next day. If they renamed the place ‘Groundhog,’ it would suit it just fine. Macy’s sounds a bit too classy for the shithole it really is.

Walking in, I’m surprised to find the place is almost empty. There are a few of the hardened regulars, but not many. The place smells like stale beer and old cigarette smoke, despite the ban having been in place for years. I love the smell, as weird as it sounds, and I’d kill for a cigarette right now.

Suzie, a fiery little redhead, serves behind the bar. She’s all tight top, pushed up tits, and skinny jeans. She’s wearing those huge fake eyelashes that look like they weigh her eyelids down. Her lips are painted red and her curls are slung back in a high ponytail. She looks like just the type of distraction I need.

But there’s something about her that’s stopped me from taking that step. My cock may have begged me on many occasions to forget what my head tells me. But I can’t use her like that.

Lizzie. She hurtles into my thoughts again. Why? Because she has been the only exception to the rule, the only one I’ve ever gone back for more with. I was the ultimate man whore until that storm-eyed right royal pain in the arse walked into my life. She shook my world like the tornado her eyes reflect, and left the same destruction.

“Are you going to stand there all day in your own little world or do you want a drink, Noah?” Suzie’s voice brings me back to the here and now.

“Pint of Stella, please.” She pushes her tits in my direction as she pours my pint. I’m a bloke, so it’s in my nature to stare. That’s obviously what she wants me to do, so I willingly oblige. She hands me my pint and I pass her a twenty, and as she turns to the till my eyes drift south and appraise her tight arse. She turns with a knowing smile on her face, obviously catching me in the act of ogling, and hands me my change.

“Anything else I can help you with?” She purrs seductively. I fight the urge to say ‘yes,’ to take her hand and drag her down into the beer cellar and pound into that sweet spot until she’s screaming my name, and I can’t remember hers. Again, my hand comes to rub over my face, and I’m beginning to think I have a nervous tic.

“Not right now, Suz.”

“Maybe later then?”

I don’t want to give the girl false hope, but I actually like her and don’t want to hurt her feelings with the normal brush-off I’d give. Plus, she might spit in my beer, so I respond with, “Yeah, maybe later, love,” but I don’t mean it. Later I plan on being completely and utterly wasted to the point where Noah Junior doesn’t stand a chance of rearing that head of his.

I down my pint in one long guzzle. Then I hand Suzie my credit card. “Set a tab up for me, love?” She shakes her head lightly, but takes the card, and a minute later another pint appears in front of me. Just as I take a few swigs of it, I feel a presence next to me. I don’t need to look to know who it is; few men have the presence of Bear.

“Starting without me, mate?”

“Yeah,” I answer simply.

“You want to talk about whatever it is that has you here this early?”

“No.” I know my one-word answers will piss him off but I can’t help myself.

“So what the hell am I doing here then?”

“Keeping your best fucking friend company while he gets shit-faced,” I mutter.

Bear holds out his hand, and without another word being spoken I feel around in my pockets, then hand over the key to my bike. An old routine now. He puts it in his pocket, looks at me, and sighs.

“This is going to be one hell of a long night,” he murmurs under his breath.

He’s right. It’s only lunchtime and I plan on staying here a very long time. He turns his attention to the bar. “Pint please, Suzie, and get this shithead another.”

Best bloody friend ever.

“So, what are we going to talk about then?”

I shrug my shoulders at him. I’m on my third pint in less than half an hour and the alcohol is starting to absorb nicely into my bloodstream. Each muscle loosens, and a wonky grin works its way onto my face.

Bear tries to start a conversation with me again. “So, did you not get laid last night or what? Because I haven’t seen this type of shit from you since the last time you wouldn’t, or should I say couldn’t, get your leg over.”

Lizzie. There she is again, another reminder of the woman who took my soul. The wonky grin slips off my face. “I don’t want to talk about that either.”

Bear looks at me. I mean really looks at me. Something in my tone must have given me away. I can see his inquisitive green eyes piecing together stuff in his head. I can almost hear the cogs whir away as all the pots of gold spin round and slowly one by one slot into place. Jackpot.

“Fuck.” He spits out the word.

It’s one word, but that’s when I know he’s pieced something together. It’s definitely something. He’s still watching me. I think he’s waiting for me to speak up, but he’ll wait a long fucking time. Battling with something in his mind, his mouth opens and closes slightly. He turns away from me and takes a long swig from his pint.

“Lizzie’s back, isn’t she?” He turns to look at me, and his eyes have turned from inquisitive to stone-cold dead. He was there when my whole world combusted, he saw the aftermath.

“Nah, mate, she’s not back.” I’m now looking at my almost empty pint like it’s the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

“But…” he urges. I should’ve known better than to call Bear if I didn’t want to explain myself.

“Layla called by the workshop today. She said Lizzie has gone off the radar.” I signal to Suzie for another round, because the buzz I was getting is beginning to fade rapidly, and I need that feeling back, and more. I need oblivion, lots and lots of dark nothingness to soothe my black and burned soul.

She lands two more frothy-headed pints down in front of us, and I nod in thanks.

“What the hell does that mean, and who the fuck is Layla?” I can hear the irritation in his voice. He pulls his phone from his pocket, stares at the screen, and then taps an angry text. But I know he’s listening to me.

“Layla is Boo, Lizzie’s best friend, and I don’t know, mate. I cut and ran after she said she needed my help, called you, and here I am.”

“Come on, Noah, there’s more to this than what you’re telling me.”

“Not really.” I huff, and down my pint in one continuous gulp.

“Mate, you’ve got to give me something to work with here. If you think I’m going to leave this shit alone now, you’re sadly mistaken.”

I give up the fight, and draw in a deep breath. I relay the conversation word for word back to him, in the hope he can fathom what’s going on.

“Are you worried?” Concern laces through his voice.

“Hell no.” I glance over at my best friend and he raises his eyebrows at me. “Shit, man, of course I’m fucking worried. To disappear on me, that’s one thing. To do it to Layla? She wouldn’t.” I return my stare to the empty bottom of my glass.

“So, do you think Layla knows about you, us?” he asks in a hushed tone.

I whip my head back to him. “You make it sound like I’m fucking you.” A grin finally appears back on my face. “You know I love you, mate, but you’re not my type.”

He punches me, hard, giving me a dead arm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He grins at me. But there’s seriousness in his tone and eyes.

“No.” I shake my head, resolute. “I never told Lizzie; she didn’t have a clue.” The familiar nag in my conscious rings in my head. She never would’ve been with me if she’d known.

On any day of the week I can turn her into an evil hell bitch. But the truth is she was my salvation. She soothed me in a way not one thing on this planet, living or dead, could do. Her presence made my waste of a life worth living. She did make me want to a better person, she was my better half, and all that other soft shit I hear spouted around by lovesick tossers.

I’m one sad, sorry son of a bitch because now every woman is Lizzie. Every kiss I give, I’m giving it to her. Every touch, every thrust of my hips, every groan which escapes my lips is hers. Every. Fucking. Thing. But they’re not her, and the actions are hollow, so they have no heart. Like me.

I realise I’ve been lost in my own mind but Bear hasn’t interrupted my train of thought. Instead, he’s grabbed Suzie’s attention, had the pints refilled, and added shots to the equation. I look towards him and he gives me a half-hearted smirk.

“Tonight we get wasted; we can talk to Layla tomorrow.” With that, we both knock back our shots.

“Oh, God, Noah.” Lizzie writhes beneath me as I plunge deep into her. Her lips are slightly parted as she moans.

Her sun-kissed hair’s fanned out on the pillow behind her. Her chest heaves with each breath she takes, thrusting her perfect tits towards my mouth. I grasp one of her nipples in between my finger and thumb and slowly pinch and turn. She groans in such a wanton manner that I can’t control my pace. I lean down, taking the other in my mouth, and suck hard. Her warm walls flex and compress around my cock, creating a tighter grip on me. My hips thrust harder, quicker.

“Oh, yes, Noah, yes, oh, God.”

I can’t stop. I need release. I need it now. My breath is ragged, I’m too close, so is Lizzie. With a final few hard drives, she throws her head back and screams my name. It pushes me over the edge and I cum, hard. “Fuck yes.”

I wake with a start, completely disorientated. My stomach, wet and sticky, and heart pounding so hard in my chest I think I may pass out. What the hell? Am I a teenager now? I lie panting, trying to regain some composure. Fuck. My head feels like it has elephants tap-dancing on bongos in it, and my mouth is dry as a bone.

I half sit up and reach for the water I’d had the foresight to take to bed with me. Taking a few thirst-quenching gulps, I drain the glass and slam it back down on the bedside table. I grab some tissues from the box, clean myself up, and throw the paper balls across the room towards the bin. It misses by miles.

Throwing my head back on my pillow, the sweat starts to seep from my pores, and I instantly regret the action. My stomach gurgles and bile rises in my throat. Having no option, I fling the covers off me and slam into the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. I stay clinging to the bowl for dear life, as last night’s alcohol re-emerges with a vengeance. I feel as rough as a badger’s arse.

After what seems like forever I get up and head down into the kitchen. I must be still wasted. I have absolutely no coordination and bang into everything in sight. Hanging my head over the kitchen sink, I turn on the cold tap and let it run before sticking my whole head under the flow. I leave it there a few moments, hoping the cold will numb my splitting headache. I grab the nearest towel and bury my face in it. After drying myself up, I turn and lean against the counter, only to find a fresh-faced Bear grinning at me from the doorway.

“Feeling better?” the sarcastic bastard asks me. He must have heard me praying to the porcelain gods.

“Yeah, I feel great, mate,” I answer sarcastically. “I always love the feeling of being run over by a ten tonne truck. It starts my day off great.”

After the years of practice I’ve had, I hoped I’d grown out of hangovers, but I think they are steadily getting worse. Hair of the dog; that’s what’s needed. I stalk over to the fridge and start rummaging through it. I’m sure there’s beer in here somewhere.

“I see someone’s woke up a little grumpy this morning.” He’s looking for a rise from me and to be quite honest I can’t be arsed. I feel like death, so I scowl at him instead. I find what I’m looking for and pull a can out of the fridge, but before it can be opened Bear has swiped it out of my hand.

“No fucking way. You aren’t going down that route again,” he snaps at me.

“Who are you, my fucking keeper?” My temper rises, the elephants are getting louder, and my whole body shakes from the alcohol still raging in my system. I want to rip his head from his shoulders and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

“Get your shit together, Noah. I’m not picking that roadkill off the ground again.” He scowls at me. “Lizzie’s not even around and look at the state of you. God knows what you’d do to yourself if you ever saw her again. I let you have last night, but that’s it. You’re not doing it again. I won’t fucking let you. You shagging around no one gives a shit about, but this? Not a chance in hell, mate. You almost destroyed yourself last time. Get. A. Fucking. Grip.” His teeth clench and his lips fall into a hard line.

Reality slaps me in the face. The anger, which coursed through my veins like magma, has rushed from my body, and my shoulders slump in defeat. Weakness overtakes my muscles and I can barely stand, the anger taking all my energy, leaving me with nothing. Bear’s right. I need to get myself together, but nothing affects me like Lizzie. I thought I’d banished her to the far regions of my memory, locked her away, never to see the light of day. But with Layla coming around everything’s messed up. My internal filing system has been ransacked, and my personal papers are strewn all around the floor in chaos.

I’m kidding myself. She was never banished. Every minute of every hour Lizzie is in my thoughts. When I walked out the door I ripped out my heart, and for every moment since I’ve slowly lost another part of me. I’m so fucking empty without her, and I can’t find my way back to even half full. I didn’t fight for her, for us. I’ve played that day over in my head a million times, and every time I keep coming back to those stormy eyes. She pushed me away with words, but her eyes told me something entirely different, and I didn’t see clearly when I needed to the most.

I need to talk to Layla. I need to find out exactly what’s going on. That’s if she’s willing to talk to the complete psycho she met yesterday.

Lost in my own head, I hadn’t noticed Bear had left the room. I mentally pick myself up and head off into the lounge to find him.

“You’re right, man, I’m being a dick.” I drop my shoulders in defeat.

“Yeah, too right, you are.”

“I need to go over to the workshop to see Spud. Layla looked like she left him with her contact info, you coming?” I ask.

He nods at me. “I’ll always have your back, mate, but do you think dragging yourself over hot coals is going to do you any good?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” I slap him on the back and we turn and head out the front door. “But you better drive.”