“Yeah, that was the plan.” Emilio shrugs.
“I’m going home.” I turn and walk in the opposite direction.
Emilio follows right along behind me. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.” He keeps walking next to me.
“Oh my god, stop following me!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Are you okay, miss?” An older man stops in front of me.
“She’s fine,” Emilio grits out.
“I wasn’t asking you.” The man looks my way. “This guy bothering you?”
“Yes,” I reply, and then regret it the moment the man tries to step between me and Emilio.
A fist comes up, connecting with the stranger’s jaw. I scream at Emilio to stop. He doesn’t listen. Emilio is a fighter. This other man doesn’t stand a chance.
“Stop!” I try again.
Blue-and-red lights flash, a siren blares, and then Emilio straightens and glares at me. “Happy? Have you caused enough chaos for one night yet?”
“I never asked you to help me,” I bite back at him.
“Yeah? How do you think your night would have gone if I wasn’t there?” he asks.
I swallow, because I don’t want to think about that.
Two officers approach us. “You, hands behind your back.” They point at Emilio. One of the officers snaps handcuffs on him while the other one helps the stranger up from the ground.
“Wait… Why are you arresting him?” I ask the officer.
“We saw what happened. We’re taking him in. It’s up to that guy if he wants to press charges, but I’ll be encouraging him to,” the officer explains.
“Frankie, call someone to come and get you.” Emilio’s eyes don’t leave mine.
“What? No, I’m coming with you,” I tell him.
“Miss, you can’t get in the car with him,” the officer says as he drags Emilio away.
“Excuse me? Would you like me to call my father and explain to him how you left me out on The Strip, on a cold night, alone?” I raise a brow. These cops know who I am. And everyone in this city knows who my father is.
“No, get in,” he says, holding the door open.
Emilio glares at me from the other side of the back seat. He doesn’t say a word. This is my fault. He’s only here because of me. I shouldn’t have said anything to that guy. I should have kept moving.
“You know who he is, right? You really think anyone is actually going to press charges against him?” I ask as the car pulls away.
“Frankie, shut up,” Emilio grits out.
“No. I got you into this mess. I’ll get you out of it,” I tell him.
“This isn’t your problem. I’ll be fine. You need to go home.”
“And you need to stop thinking you can tell me what to do,” I counter.