Wicked Devil: Chapter 22

“She was jumped,” Emilio says as soon as Allie leaves the room.

A snort from behind has all three of our heads turning. Aaron shakes his head, his jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his sides. “Yeah, she was. Wonder who’s fucking fault that is?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I advance on him, but he doesn’t cower, which only serves to piss me the fuck off.

“You know exactly what I mean, Roman. Or did you forget we used to be friends? I know how that head of yours works. You don’t think I know you wanted her targeted when she first showed up here? That you didn’t plant your little seeds in the school to make her life difficult?” He briefly looks up to the ceiling and laughs, but the sound is harsh and mocking. “Every fucking girl in this school is going to go after her now. And you”—he digs his finger into my chest—“you’re the one who put the target on her back.” He shakes his head. “I might have my demons, but at least I’m not a selfish prick like you.” He storms out of the classroom, leaving me reeling with his last statement.

“Fuck,” I yell as soon as Aaron is gone from the room.

Two sets of grim stares meet my own. “We didn’t really consider how chicks would respond when you claimed her,” Dominique tries to reassure me, but we all know what Aaron said is true. I did this. Me. No one else. I knew what would happen and I did it anyway. I might not have known the girls would stoop to jumping her, but I should have suspected this after what went down with her and Silvia before. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid.

“I need to fix this.” Neither one disputes my statement. The question now is, how?

Emilio rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t make things better when I told the school to ice out Silvia. This could be retaliation for that. She can’t do anything to us, but…”

I shake my head. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but, no. This is on me.” I fucked up and I’ll own it. “Besides, we don’t even know if Silvia was involved. We need more information.”

Emilio snorts. “One of us is going to need to be with her at all times,” Emilio says.

“How the fuck are we supposed to manage that?” I ask, anger burning a hole in my gut. She was hurt. Someone put their fucking hands on my girl and hurt her.

“Yeah. It doesn’t look like Allie will be forthcoming with that,” Dom remarks.

“We start by finding her and then make sure whoever did this doesn’t decide to have another go at it,” Emilio says and I nod.

I don’t give a shit if Allie wants to sweep this mess under the rug. I want to know who did this and I’m going to make damn sure it doesn’t happen again. Everyone at this school needs to know they can’t hurt my girl and get away with it.

We head out to find Allie but she’s elusive. She isn’t in the lunchroom and she’s not in her next class either. After searching for twenty minutes straight, I find out from the front office that she signed herself out for the day. I release a harsh sigh of relief. At least with her home, I don’t have to worry about someone else coming after her.

I fill the guys in when we meet up later after school and we come up with a plan to shadow her during the next school day. I’ve got her covered before school and during first. I’ll walk her to second and Dom will follow her after second to third. Emilio’s next to her fourth period class so he’ll have eyes on her until she makes it to class and then I’ll catch her as soon as she’s done for the day.

We shouldn’t have to worry about anything happening to her during classes. No one is that stupid. And fourth period she’s got Welding with Aaron. I don’t like the idea of relying on that fucker, but whatever his motives, he seems to care for her, and thankfully there aren’t any catty bitches in that class for her to have to deal with.

It’s a solid plan and I should be cool with it, but I can’t get the idea of her abused body out of my head. Every time I close my eyes I see her face. The bruises. The split lip. It’s like a dagger to the stomach, and thinking of what she must have felt makes the blade twist inside me.

Practice that afternoon is grueling. I push all my anger and frustration into completing each pass and running hard until my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, but it doesn’t matter. I’m responsible for a pass-interception that I should have completed and then I fumble a fucking catch. Coach is screaming at me to get my head out of my ass and I’m trying but, fuck. I’m so out of it.

“We cannot afford for you to play like this come Friday,” Coach shouts.

I grit my teeth to keep from lashing out. I know he’s right but—Fuck. I tear my helmet from my head and throw it on the field.

“Roman!” Coach shouts, but I ignore him, stalking to the locker room to strip out of my gear and shower before the rest of the team finishes.

“Valdez, get your ass back on the field,” he tries again.

Dominique heads toward Coach to smooth over my little outburst, but I don’t stick around long enough to see if it works.

I need to see Allie, and recognizing that makes me feel all sorts of ways that I don’t want to think about. It’s three days till the big game. I should be focused on plays. Football is all that matters.

I know she’s home. I know she’s safe. I need to let this insatiable need to see her go but, dammit, I fucking can’t. I’ll be useless on the field until I know without a shadow of a doubt that she’s okay.

Forty minutes later I’m pulling up to her house—if you can even call it that. I used my dad’s Sun Valley residents service app that he doesn’t know I have installed on my phone to look up Gerald Ulrich’s address. Having a father who’s the chief of police comes with a few perks, but what I pull up to is not a home. It’s a fucking mansion.

The place has got to be five thousand square feet or more. It’s got twin pillars flanking the front door and massive floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides of the house. The lawn is perfectly kept and rose bushes ring the grass. This place rivals even Dominique’s, and that’s saying something, because that fucker has more money than any person can spend in a lifetime.

For a minute I idle in front of the place, staring at the front door as though I can will her to step out of it. I press down the gas, letting the roar of the engine fill the street, and a flutter of movement at one of the second-story windows pulls my gaze.

Allie peaks through pale pink curtains and I wave, still willing her to come outside. The curtains close and I wait. She knows I’m here. She’ll come.

A few short minutes later she’s closing the front door behind her. Wearing white jeans and an oversized hoodie, she stops beside my car and frowns. “What are you doing here?” She tucks her hair behind her ear, exposing the purple bruise on her lower jaw.

But all I see is red.

“Get in.”

She shakes her head. “What do you want, Roman? Shouldn’t you be at practice or something?”

I try and tamp down my irritation at her refusal. “Nah. Ended thirty minutes ago. Come on.” She’s still not moving. “Get in the car, Alejandra.” Something about saying her full name gets a reaction out of her, and with a muttered curse, she’s opening the passenger side door and sliding inside. “Put on your seatbelt.”

She does.

Thank fuck for small favors.

We ride in silence for the first ten minutes before I take her to a different side of town where the houses are smaller, some with bars on their windows and heavy iron screen doors covering their wooden counterparts.

“Where are we going?” she finally asks just as I pull onto a familiar street.

“My place.” I’m not entirely sure why I’m taking her home with me. We come from two different worlds. But I want her beside me. I need to know that she’s okay.

I pull into the driveway of a three-bedroom, ranch-style home and put the car in park. “Come on.”

Allie gets out hesitantly, checking her surroundings with an inquisitive stare. “This is where you live?”

I nod, searching for any sort of reaction that my life isn’t good enough, but I see none from her. I release a breath. There’s no judgment in her gaze as she takes in the stucco exterior of my home or the fact that the garage door is wide fucking open and my garage looks like a second living room packed full of mismatched sofas with a pool table in the middle.

A car door slams one house over and a voice shouts, “Yo, what’s for dinner?” as Emilio jogs toward us.

“What’s—”

“We’re neighbors,” I tell her as he nears.

“Please tell me your mom’s going to feed me. Coach is killing me with these two-a-days and I need some fucking calories in me before my stomach decides to eat itself.”

“Come on, cabrón. Let’s see what she’s got.”

Allie follows behind but I don’t miss the curiosity on her face as I lead her through the garage and straight into the kitchen. As soon as we’re inside, we’re enveloped in the heady smell of my mother’s cooking.

“Mamá,” I shout into the house, knowing she can’t be far. I check the stove, lifting the lid off a large stockpot, finding fresh warm tamales steaming inside.

“Hijo, no toques,” Don’t touch that, she admonishes just as she turns a corner. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong, because my mom only ever makes tamales for two occasions. A holiday like Thanksgiving or Christmas, or because my pops is upset about something—usually where I’m concerned—and she’s trying to smooth things over the only way she knows how. With food. But before I can ask, she spots Allie and her eyes widen in surprise.

“You brought home a girl?” Her accent is thick but her English is clear as she takes Allie in from head to toe and a wide smile spreads across her face. Fuck. I don’t think I thought this all the way through.

“Mija, let me see you.” My mother pulls Allie toward her, not bothering to introduce herself or offer any sort of hello before spinning her around and taking her in.

Allie accepts this like it’s completely normal, a hesitant smile on her face as she circles back around to face my mother. My mom is a small woman, a few inches shy of five feet making Allie, who’s tiny compared to me, look tall for once.

“You’re beautiful,” my mother tells her, leaning in to give Allie a kiss on the cheek.

Allie returns the gesture. “Thank you. I’m Alejandra.” Her voice is small but her smile is genuine.

“And how long have you been dating my son?” she asks, and I groan while Emilio chuckles.

“Mamá!”

“What? A mother should know these things.”

I shake my head. “No, she shouldn’t. Don’t scare away the first girl I’ve introduced you to.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Valdez, Allie here is mine.” Emilio tosses his arm around Allie’s shoulders.

My mother’s frown is immediate, forcing me to bite off a laugh. “Tell him you won’t feed him unless he gives her back.”

Her eyes, lined with age, spark with mischief and she smiles.

Emilio groans. “Not cool, bro. Not. Cool.”

I tug Allie from his arms. She comes willingly and I tuck her beside me, leading her to the table. I’m just as hungry as Emilio. He wasn’t kidding when he said our two-a-day practices have been killer.

When Allie’s back is to my mother, my mom’s concerned eyes meet mine and she makes a small gesture, brushing her thumb under her own jaw. I tilt my head, letting her know with that small gesture that I know why the bruise is there and that she has nothing to worry about.

She trusts me, so with a satisfied nod, Mom returns to the stove, dishing up three plates of food while we take our seats. Within a few short minutes, rice, beans, and tamales are in front of me and I don’t hesitate to dive in. Emilio eats like he’s been starved, which earns him a beaming smile and a second helping. Mom won’t eat until Pops comes home from work, so after making sure we’re all settled, she retreats to her room.

I wish I knew what was up, but our family is private and she would be embarrassed if I brought up family matters in front of guests, so I’ll wait to talk to her when Allie’s gone.

The first few minutes we focus on our food. Allie’s bites are small, her chewing almost methodical as if she’s savoring the flavors. I’ve noticed she doesn’t eat a lot at school but she’s eating now, so it doesn’t look like there’s reason to be concerned.

“You’re such a lucky asshole,” Emilio says, now on his third tamale and I smirk.

“Consider yourself lucky I put up with you or you’d miss out on all of this.”

Allie laughs. “It is really good.”

“Better than my albóndigas?” I ask and she blushes.

“I don’t know. That’s a hard one. I’m not sure I could choose.”

“Roman’s ma’s tamales. Hands down. She only makes them like twice a year. I would kill for these.”

I ignore him, leaning toward Allie and capturing her lips with my own in a quick kiss. When I pull back her eyes are wide and uncertain as her fingers come up to touch her mouth.

“What was that for?”

I shrug. “Because I wanted to.”

Emilio, having missed the exchange, talks on about how amazing my mom’s food is and how I’m a greedy bastard who doesn’t share often enough. Some of it is a joke but there’s a thread of painful honesty there too. Emilio’s mom bailed when he was seven, leaving behind her husband and four children. He has two older brothers and a little sister. And let’s just say his dad isn’t the domestic type.

But Emilio’s always been welcome here and my mom loves feeding the fucker. As we eat, Allie relaxes, her smiles coming more easily as Emilio and I bitch and moan about practices. Every now and then she sends me questioning looks. I know she’s waiting for me to ask her what happened back at school, but I want her comfortable first. I’m also waiting for Dominique to show up. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get to pry the names I need from Allie’s mouth.

When we finish eating I draw Allie back outside to the garage and pull her down beside me as Emilio takes a seat on the opposite couch, his expression now serious. The sun is setting and a cool breeze floats through the open space.

My knee bounces and I’m itching for a smoke but refrain from pulling one out. I haven’t taken a hit since Shadle Creek weekend and it’s better not to blow my little streak.

As soon as Dom’s black Escalade pulls into the driveway, Emilio shifts over to make room for him. Dom steps out in black slacks and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He heads toward us and Emilio whistles at him.

Dom doesn’t react aside from flipping him off. Seeing Dom dressed up isn’t all that unusual. His family is the sort to dress for dinner and use fine china, so I appreciate that he came here straight afterward and didn’t take the unnecessary time to change.

He sits back on the sofa and gives me a look that says, now what?

Allie catches it and turns to look at me. “What’s going on?” Her tone is wary.

I run my fingers through my hair and sigh. “We need to know who jumped you today.”

She starts to stand but I pull her back down beside me. “No more running. Someone hurt you and we want to know who.”

“Why do you care?” she hisses.

Is she kidding me right now? “I care because you’re my—”

“I’m not your anything.”

Clenching my jaw, I cup her face and force her to meet my gaze. “We’ve gone over this. You’re mine. My girl. Got it?” She swallows hard but doesn’t respond. “Anyone who fucks with you is asking to be fucked with by me.”

“Us,” Dom corrects and she whips her head around toward him.

“Why?”

I open my mouth to speak but she cuts me off. “And yeah, I get it. You’re a possessive asshole. I’m yours until you decide I’m not. I know. But we’ve gone over this, too”—she indicates the space between us, a small frown on her face—“and we both agreed this is for fun. We’re passing the time. You don’t need to go all alpha protector on me. I can take care of myself.”

Silence.

No one says a thing as I glare into her dark brown eyes, pretending it doesn’t bother me one bit to hear her say that whatever we have between us doesn’t fucking matter. Like she said, we’re just passing the time. I’m not catching feelings for some girl I barely know and clearly she’s not catching any for me. Good.

I release my grip on her jaw before I add to her bruises and give an exaggerated eye roll. “Stop reading into this, vanilla. If I can’t protect what’s mine then how can I expect anyone to take me seriously. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Emilio opens his mouth to say something but I send him a murderous look, shutting him up.

Allie’s brows furrow as she considers my words with a sigh. “I can handle this on my own.”

“Right. Because you’ve done such a great job already.”

“Will you just drop it?”

All three of us shake our heads.

“We’re going to find out one way or another. Why are you so adamant to face this alone?” Dominique presses.

“Because I can. It’s mean-girl shit. You’re blowing it out of proportion. Just because three girls decided—”

“Three?” Emilio questions and Allie’s eyes widen, realizing her mistake. “Names, Alejandra?” he presses.

“I don’t even know all their names,” she mutters, folding her arms over her chest like a petulant child not getting her way.

“Maybe not, but you know at least one, am I right?”

She glares at me and I smirk.

“Maybe.”

I turn to Emilio and Dom. “Can you guys give us a minute?” They nod and head back inside. Once they’re gone I turn Allie toward me, pulling her close until her chest is pressed against my side. I rub my thumb over her jawline before dragging it against her bottom lip. “Who did this?”

Her eyes plead with me to drop it, so I go for a different tactic and crash my lips against hers. She immediately kisses me back as I tug her onto my lap, her legs now straddling my waist. She rocks against me and I’m instantly hard inside my jeans. I devour her mouth, drinking down her soft moans. When I finally break the kiss, I rest my forehead against hers, our chests heaving, her small hands clinging to the fabric of my shirt. “Who?” I try again, capturing her mouth once more and then pulling away. “Tell me, Allie.”

She groans, chasing after my lips but I deny her, instead trailing kisses up the column of her neck. “Allie?” I scrape my teeth against her skin and she shivers in my arms. “Come on, baby. One name. Tell me who did this and I’ll help you forget all about it.”

“Silvia,” she says.

I smile triumphantly before gripping her ass. I stand, wrapping her legs around my waist as I head over to the door, slapping a hand down on the garage door opener to give us some small measure of privacy. Dom and Emilio will know what we’re doing once they hear the sound of the door closing and they’ll make sure we’re not interrupted.