Rocky called Vi and Cal in the car and, listening to her, he knew she got Cal and further he knew she got an unhappy Cal. Layne drove to Shanghai Salon then around it, finding the Charger parked in the dimly lit back. He parked close and got out as Jasper and Rocky got out, Rocky going directly to the passenger seat of the Charger, Layne leaving her to it and going to his boy.

“We’re gonna take her home,” Layne said to his son without preamble. “You’re drivin’ Keira, I got your back. You own up to the beer and take what Cal dishes out.” Jasper nodded and Layne asked, “You know who would do this to her?” Jasper shook his head. “You know anyone who does this shit?” Jasper shook his head again. “Anyone at the party actin’ funny, watchful?”

“Nope,” Jasper replied then went on honestly. “But I wouldn’t really know, Dad. We were havin’ fun. I wasn’t payin’ much attention.”

Layne nodded. “She got admirers?”

“Yeah,” Jasper answered. “She’s hot.”

“Any one of those give you a bad vibe?” Layne asked.

“All of ‘em, Dad, she’s my babe. Not big on her havin’ admirers.”

Jesus, uncanny, Jasper was so f**king like him.

“All right, you think about that shit on your way to Violet and Cal because Cal’s gonna be askin’ these same questions and it’s gonna go better for you, you have answers.”

Jasper nodded and Rocky walked up to them.

“In the car, Bud, let’s go,” Layne ordered and was about to move away but stopped when he saw Rocky’s hand reach out, she grabbed Jasper’s and gave it a visible squeeze. Jasper looked to her, his son’s face a mixture of extremely pissed off and seriously anxious and her squeeze did nothing to alleviate this. Raquel saw that but still, she gave him a sweet, understanding smile, another hand squeeze with a shake then she let his hand go and walked silently to the passenger seat of the Suburban.

* * * * *

The buzzing started, it was loud, and it didn’t stop.

Layne’s eyes opened as Rocky came up to an elbow at his side.

“Jesus, f**k, what the f**k is that?” Layne mumbled, moving his head on the pillow to look at her.

“Someone’s at the gate,” Rocky mumbled back. “You can get them on the phone.”

Layne turned to the nightstand, saw it was six forty-three and he felt his jaw get tight.

He nabbed the phone and put it to his ear, “Yeah?”

“Figured you’d be there,” Gabby snapped back. “Let me in.”

Fuck.

“Gabby, it’s early. We’re not doin’ this,” Layne told her.

“Let… me… in or I swear to God, swear to God, Tanner, I’ll sit out here all f**king day and I won’t do it quiet,” Gabby bit out.

She’d do that. Gabrielle in a snit, she’d do anything.

Layne’s eyes went to Rocky and he asked, “It’s Gabby. How do I let her in?”

He watched Rocky’s eyes get big then she answered, “Hit three.”

Layne hit three, put the phone down then rolled from bed.

“What’s she doing here?” Rocky asked as he heard her rolling out behind him.

Layne grabbed his jeans off the floor and turned to her. She’d confiscated his t-shirt last night after they got home from talking Cal down from kicking the shit out of Jasper. He’d pulled the shirt off and barely got it over his head when she yanked it out of his hand, pulled it on and collapsed into bed.

“Stay up here, sweetcheeks, I’ll deal with her,” Layne ordered instead of answering her question and Rocky locked eyes with him.

“Why’d you let her in?”

“Because she wanted in, she was diggin’ in, she’s a bitch and, she doesn’t get what she wants, she’s more of a bitch so I’ve learned to let her blow it out, get it over with and then move on.”

Rocky nodded then she clipped, “Fine, but this is my house and I’m not staying up here.”

“Roc,” Layne started, buttoning his jeans, “seriously, honey, trust me on this. Stay up here.”

“No,” Rocky returned, standing at the side of the bed not moving and not getting dressed.

Fuck. Now Rocky was digging in.

He loved her, he was happy as all hell to have her back but in that moment, with his ex-wife heading to the apartment and Rocky dug in in front of him, Layne allowed himself half a second to reflect on what life would be like with an adult Giselle-type woman, shy, quiet and sweet, a woman who got worried when he got pissed.

Then he realized that would probably bore him stiff.

Then he gave in.

“Right, then give me my tee,” Layne ordered.

“No,” Rocky repeated and Layne stared at her.

“Sweetcheeks, give me my tee.”

“No, Layne, it’s not even seven o’clock, it’s Sunday and for weeks you’ve been busting your ass for her and half of the ‘burg. Vera told me about her so I know what this is. She doesn’t get to come here and throw a tantrum when you’ve been putting your ass on the line for half the ‘burg and, I’ll repeat, for her. But, since she’s come here to throw a tantrum, obviously she’s got a point to make so I’ve got a point to make too and that point will be made by her walking into my house, early on a Sunday morning, pulling my man from my bed and she’ll see me wearing his tee.”

Shit, she was staking her claim, staking it with Gabby, of all f**king people.

He’d forgotten this about her. Soft, sweet, cute, funny, loving, touchy, hot in bed but she was also a Merrick. You didn’t cross a Merrick.

Layne moved close and put his hands to her neck. “Baby, listen to me, she is no threat,” he said softly.

“I know that and now she’s going to know it too,” Rocky returned.

Her eyes were bright and hard, flashing, she was pissed.

Seeing that, Layne instantly thought this whole thing was funny instead of a pain in the ass. He thought this mainly because Rocky was cute pissed but also because Gabby could be a bitch but he reckoned she was about to meet her match and, he had to admit, his ex had busted his balls for so long, he was looking forward to the show.

He swallowed his laughter, successfully fought back a smile, let her go and turned from her to pick up the dirty t-shirt he wore yesterday.

He was straightening when the doorbell went and the tee was yanked from his hand.

His eyes went to Roc. “Sweetcheeks –”