Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Seventy-Nine

    Drake's eyes turned hard and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he calmly reached into the pockets of his jeans and withdrew his cell phone. He dialed 9-1-1 as he strode in the direction of the black Range Rover. When he was connected to a 9-1-1 operator, he said in a low voice, "Hello. My name is Aubrey Graham. I'm in the parking garage of the Omni hotel. And I'm calling to report a potential homicide. You may want to get over here like...five minutes ago. Before I kill someone." He disconnected the call, returned the phone to his jeans pocket, and ran at Trevor, full speed.

    Trevor turned his head, saw Drake running at him, and instantly released Mia from his grip.

    Mia, unconscious, crumpled to the ground.

    Alarmed, Drake angled his gaze down at her. His expression was filled with concern. He stared at her until he saw her chest rise and fall, indicating that she was breathing.

    "I'm getting tired of you," Trevor said. "Who deemed you Captain Save A Hoe?"

    Drake didn't stop running until he reached Trevor. He ducked down and tackled Trevor to the ground, only a foot from where Mia lay. "What did I tell you?" he demanded. "What did I tell you the last time I saw you?"

    Trevor grinned up at him. "What the fuck are you going to do? Huh? Are you going to hit me again? Try to beat me up again? That didn't do you any good last time. I still got to her. I wanted to get to her and I did. And after tonight, if I want to get at her again, I will. You can't stop me."

    Drake grabbed the collar of Trevor's shirt, yanking his head up.

    "What the fuck are you going to do, man?" Trevor asked, laughing.

    Drake's face contorted into an expression of anger. He leaned in close to Trevor and whispered harshly into his ear, "I'm going to fucking kill you. That's what I'm going to do. You'll never be able to get at Mia again. I fucking told you to leave her alone."

    Trevor's eyes widened.

    Drake punched him in the face. Hard. Then he punched him again. And again. Blood smeared on his knuckles, and he didn't stop. This monster of a human being could have killed Mia. He'd been holding her up next to a car with its passenger open. He'd been trying to put her into the car. As he continued to punch Trevor, Drake regretted calling 9-1-1. Calling 9-1-1 meant that Trevor would walk away from this with his life intact. And Drake really should just put the asshole out of his misery.

    He didn't let up. He didn't stop punching Trevor until the professional football player passed out from the pain. Then Drake stood up and drew an arm across his mouth. Beads of sweat dripped down his face as he turned and looked at Mia. He felt so guilty. She was in Los Angeles because of him. She was staying in this hotel because of him and his fuckup. As a result, without any security to protect her, this had happened. He should have at least assigned Chubbs or someone on his security team to watch over her while she stayed at the hotel.

    Furious, he turned and kicked Trevor hard in the ribs, hearing a few telltale cracks. He stared down at the unconscious athlete, tempted to choke him out. But then he heard the distant sounds of sirens. He turned and walked over to Mia. He knelt down and brushed her hair out of her face. Choked up with emotion, he gathered her up in his arms and picked her up.

    Squad cars pulled into the garage, their headlights flooding the otherwise poorly-lit area. They cruised slowly, but came to a stop near the black Range Rover.

    Drake stood beside the car, cradling Mia in his arms - more than ready to answer whatever questions they had.

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