His Passion by Ava Claire Read Free Book Online

something a little stronger, but I'll save the alcohol for when the wheels are off the ground and we're headed home.”
    She gulped down half the can, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before she nodded in agreement. She put the ginger ale down, her fingers returning to her lips, stroking the length of them like she was trying to coax out her next words. “Brittany...her face, her clothes-”
    “We don't have to talk about any of that right now,” I assured her.
    “I need to talk about it,” Leila insisted, her brown eyes making the case. “I won't lie to you and say that my first reaction wasn't-” She bit her lip and wrapped her arms tight around her. “Awful. There was a part of me, a sick and twisted part of me that thought, 'now she knows what it's like to have all control ripped away'.” She squeezed her eyes shut like she couldn't bear to even admit such a thing. “What an awful thing to think, right? Even if it was just for a split second.”
    “Hey.” I brushed her curls from her eyes and rested my palm on her cheek, searching her gaze until I was sure she wasn't hiding behind the guilt and would hear my words. “You're not a bad person, Leila. You're human.”
    She'd said the same to me before, but she seemed reluctant to follow that logic. “I saw her face, Jacob. The bruises, the blood...” Her nostrils flared. “I even saw the shame before she snatched it away and geared up to say something Brittany-like.”
    I grit my teeth and rode the wave of anger that crashed into me. “I told her to leave you be.”
    Leila dusted off the front of my shirt with a chuckle. “If she doesn't listen to her brother, who she loves, I'm not sure why you thought she'd listen to-” She gripped the front of my shirt, peering closer then releasing me with a gasp. “Is that blood on your shirt?”
    I knew the answer, but I looked down, futilely hoping I could in good conscience say it was a smudge of dirt. I didn't lie to her. “Yes.”
    She pulled at her hair, her hands shaking as she twisted it into a bun at the nape of her neck. “Brittany's blood?”
    “No.” A part of me hoped that would be enough. But how could it be? She'd spent every minute we were apart wondering what was going on. I hated that I would have to tell her that her worst fears, and some she hadn't even thought of, had come to fruition.
    She dropped her hands to her side, looking down at the floor. I saw her internal struggle in the way she twitched her fingers, the way she bit her lip. Once she knew what happened, there would be no going back.
    She raised her head, her voice stricken with worry. “I want to know everything.”
    I raked my fingers through my hair, letting go of the last few shreds of stubbornness. Keeping her away from the whole truth because she couldn't handle it was the wrong move. Leila was stronger than I gave her credit for. She'd just faced her assailant and she didn't crumble; she didn't lash out. She stood her ground.
    “Come sit down.” I was more eager to have a seat than she was. I watched her fiddle with the hem of her shirt, then a tendril of hair before she tucked her curly locks behind her ears and straightened her spine. She lowered herself onto the cushion beside me and I couldn't help but buy myself a few more minutes of me and her, without all the drama. But taking in our surroundings—the suitcases we didn't pack, the concierge information we didn't require, the sheer curtains that teased a view we hadn't experienced—it was another beautiful location that we weren't enjoying because of what happened. All roads led back to the kidnapping.
    “I want you to make me a promise, Lay,” I said softly.
    She was wary, but nodded slowly. “Okay.”
    “The next time we vacation, we leave all this stuff behind. We take time for us. Time to enjoy every moment we have together. Memories that have nothing to do with kidnappings and guns and prostitution rings—” The laugh that rose in my throat was