Page 68 of Baby Daddy

CHAPTER 27

Drake

After Dee took off, I walked back to my car at a brisk pace. Despite the whirling dervish of emotions spinning in my head—Dee was totally mind fucking me—every nerve in my body was on high alert. Now past eight o’clock, the sun had set, and the late May sky was now a sun-kissed navy, a few pink streaks holding out until night fell. I walked faster. Even with the mayor’s attempt to clean it up, this still wasn’t the greatest of neighborhoods. The dimly lit streets were littered with garbage, but worse, the nocturnal animals—thugs, drug dealers, and prostitutes—were already trolling the pavement.

I managed to get to my car in one piece, and as soon as I turned on the ignition, I put my convertible top up. In my stressed-out state from the rush hour traffic, I’d foolishly forgotten to do that. I was lucky my one hundred thousand dollar Gran Turismo was still in once piece, too, as car thefts and vandalism went with the territory.

Eager to get home, I pulled out of my spot and headed down Yucca. As I turned onto Selma, my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Holy fucking shit! Could it be? Pulling over into a red zone, I brought my car to a screeching halt and jumped out. Dodging an oncoming car, I darted across the street. A drug deal was going down in more ways than one.

“What the hell are you doing with him?”

At the sound of my voice, Krizia, wearing a ski cap and dark glasses to mask her identity, leapt to her feet from a squatting position, leaving her partner in crime’s exposed cock dangling. It was fucking Kyle! His beady eyes met mine.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, tucking his limp dick back into his jeans as fast as he could. Zipping up his fly, he took off like the wind.

“You motherfucker!” Shoving Krizia out of my way, I chased after him.

With me right behind him, he jumped into his car, an old Dodge Camaro, and started it up.

“Open up, you motherfucker!” I shouted, trying to yank the door open, but the asshole had locked it.

“Fuck off, asswipe.” With me still clinging to the door handle, he peeled off the curb, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was out of sight before I could memorize his license plate number. Memorizing anything had never been my forte and was one of the reasons I could never be an actor. With rage bubbling in my blood, I spun around and caught Krizia running toward her Mercedes parked at the end of the street. Adrenaline mixed with my rage. She was not going to get away. No fucking way. Not without explaining what she was doing with Dee’s piece of shit future ex. And telling me what she knew about him.

Jet-propelling myself, I caught up with her as she was opening her car door and rammed into her, slamming the door shut with the force of my body. Flipping her around, I pinned her against the car with both my hands and hipbones.

“Let go of me, Drake! You’re hurting me,” she yelled, futilely trying to writhe herself free. She was no match for my strength. Or my fury.

“What the hell were you doing with that motherfucker?”

“What did it look like?”

I held her fiercely in my gaze. Rage pulsed through me. I knew the answer. Just as I’d always suspected, Krizia was a drug addict.

“That’s right. I was blowing him. Why blow my money when I could blow him for some extra coke.”

“What do you know about him?” I made a conscientious decision not to tell her about his relationship to Dee or about his criminal past.

“Nothing except for his first name.”

“Bullshit. You must have his phone number.”

“He calls me from an undisclosed number. We make an arrangement. We meet. I get my shit. And that’s it.”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Jesus, Drake. Do you seriously think I get involved with my dealers? They’re good for one thing. Getting me what I need. Now, let go of me.”

My anger succumbing to frustration, I pushed off from her and forced myself to take a deep breath to stop myself from kicking her car door or bashing the roof with my fist. Or tossing her aside.

Free of me, she slipped off her glasses and knitted cap, then shook loose her mane of red hair. She was undeniably stunning but as toxic as they come.

Her poisonous green eyes met mine. “So, are you going to tell your daddy about my little habit?”

I narrowed my gaze at her. With my father’s pending billionaire dollar takeover, this wasn’t the time to shake things up. Moreover, knowing Krizia’s twisted mind and the way she could spin a story, there was a good chance she’d incriminate me and make my dad think I was doing drugs. Just what “Mr. Family Guy” Gunther Saxton, who was also her client, would need to hear to call the whole deal off. Right now, I needed Krizia on my side and for reasons beyond the deal. Maybe she could lead me to Kyle.

“Listen, Krizia. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if you learn anything more about that asshat, let me know.”

“Fine, but fat chance I’ll be seeing him again. Thank you for ‘blowing’ my deal.” With a huff, she got into her car and sped off.

As her car faded into the distance, my mind switched channels. A very real fear set in. Maybe the motherfucker was on his way to Dee’s house. She didn’t live far.

Fuck. He had a big head start on me. I sprinted across the street to my car. Buckling myself in, I floored it and then speed-dialed her. It went straight to her voicemail. Fuck. Why wasn’t she picking up? More games? Weaving in and out of the traffic on Sunset, I tried again. Fuck. Again, no answer. This time I left her a message to make sure the house was locked and to call me right away. I waited five minutes to hear back from her. But nada. Crazed, I called her again and again, but call after call, no answer. Panic set in. My heart beating like a jackhammer, I prayed nothing had happened to Dee. Or her Mighty Girl.