Page 132 of Fighting Chance

He nods, pure fury flashing in his brown depths. “I want to fucking kill him.”

“Might join you on that man hunt.” I blow out a breath. “You need to tell her.”

He shakes his head. “She’ll hate me though…for so many reasons.”

“So tell her anonymously.”

He frowns at that. “Anonymously?”

I shrug. “Send her an address where they meet up, send photos—hell I don’t know, but you don’t have to be the messenger. You’re right, she’ll just remember you as the guy who found her partner sneaking around behind her back.” I give him a knowing look. “And I know that would crush you.”

His gaze darts away quickly. Clearing his throat, he dips his chin. “Thanks, Ashford, I owe you one.”

“Nah brother, this is what family is for.”

A thought occurs to me. Before I can think much on it, I’m leaning forward, lowering my voice. “Is the PI good?”

“I’ve used him a few times. Always efficient.”

My lips purse before I wave him off. “I don’t even want to know.”

He snorts at my reaction. “Best you don’t.”

“Can I grab the number?”

His eyes widen, putting the pieces together, before he picks up his phone, firing off a text message to me.

It’s been weeks and I still can’t remember Emmy’s mom. What’s the harm in having someone else look into it for me? I’m desperate for answers at this point.

A buzz in my pocket has me leaning back as Valenti slips his away. “I’ve got you.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Emmy’s mom?” he guesses.

My lips thin as I dip my chin. “Still can’t fucking remember anything and Emmy isn’t opening up about her.” My shoulders rise only to drop with defeat. “I’m desperate for any answers I can gather.”

“I’d be the same, I’m sorry it happened the way it has.”

Blowing out a heavy breath, I mutter, “Thanks.”

Valenti’s gaze slides to the bar, the desolate look he was harboring before now replaced with a frown. “I’m not the only one going to be thinking of murder tonight.”

Following his line of sight, I spot a guy trying to chat Layla up at the bar, and in an instant, red-hot jealousy strikes me.

“Fucker,” I mutter as I slide out of the booth, Valenti and his love problems long forgotten. I stride directly up to Layla, wrap my arm around her chest, and pull her flush against my body.

“Mine,” I growl at the twat in front of me.

Layla stiffens in my arms as the blond douche steps back in horror. “Shit, sorry, Ashford.” He doesn’t even spare a glance at Layla before he hightails it out of the bar.

He might be a fucker but he’s a smart one.

Layla wiggles away, only to spin around and shovemein the chest.

“Hey!” I protest only for it to die on my tongue as I see the anger clouding her gaze. I can’t help it, my lips twitch. “Fuck, sunshine, even cloudy you look stunning.”

Her eyes spark, an inferno being ignited.