6. Louise
Chapter 6
Louise
Once I drop my purse by the front door, I head straight to the fridge, helping myself to a large glass of wine. Who cares that it isn’t yet three in the afternoon? I take a huge gulp, the alcohol hitting my stomach fast, settling my insides. Then my mind returns to my nightmare meeting at Draven’s place earlier today.
I guess you’ll just have to owe me.
A shiver tingles down my spine. Yeah, and I know the day will come when Draven wants to collect. Exactly what his non-cash fee will be is up for debate.
I’d almost choked when he dropped the towel. He knew exactly what he was doing, but if he let me glimpse his enormous cock to try intimidate me, he failed. Working in a man’s world, I’m well versed in sexual politics. That I can’t get the image out of my head is a matter of concern I’ll have to think about on another day.
His size shouldn’t surprise me. The guy has feet big as boats and hands like shovels. It makes sense he’d have a big dick to match. And those tattoos. Gah! During our time working together, I’d only ever seen his forearms covered in tats. I’d hoped there were more, and, by God, I’ve gotten my wish. His arms, chest, and back are all covered in delectable ink. I could spend hours exploring every inch with my fingertips, my mouth, my tongue. Only his abs have been left untouched, the ridges of muscle clearly visible, the light dusting of hair from his navel disappearing beneath the towel to the prize beneath.
Stop it!
My personal feelings are moot, because Draven still holds a grudge over our parting of ways eight years ago. The day he entered my life was indelibly imprinted on my memory. My first day on the job for real, fresh out of the academy, eager to “make a difference”. Looking back, I’d had impossible ideals, my mother’s words acting as a guiding beacon—a map I slavishly followed.
“Do the right thing, Lola. Rules are good. They light our way, showing us the difference between right and wrong.”
That first day, all the rookies had gathered into one of the large conference rooms, and one by one, their training officers had arrived to pick them up. The scheme had been a fairly recent initiative by the captain at the time, its objective to mentor the new recruits and help them settle into life in law enforcement. I’d watched each of my coworkers leave with their TO, bounding along like eager puppies anxious to please.
And then in walked Draven, with menace seeping from his every pore, his natural charisma catching the eye of, well, everyone. Instantly, the room felt smaller, the walls closing in as if his sheer size had sucked all the oxygen from the air. My palms slicked with sweat, heart pummeling my ribcage. If I’d seen him in a line-up, I’d have pegged him for a perp rather than a police officer. At least six and a half feet tall, he wore his hair long, and his beard full and thick. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and his hands—the only visible skin apart from his face—were covered in tattoos. The glass of water on the table in front of me had rippled when he strode in, then he’d glanced down at a sheet of paper, the same as everyone else who’d arrived to pick up their protégés.
“Louise Rhodes, ” his voice boomed—deep, masculine—sending a ripple of pleasure ricocheting up my spine.
If I’d pictured my perfect guy, this giant was it, and if that ink was just a taster of his tats, then I’d somehow stumbled across the man of my dreams.
I’d scrambled to my feet. “That’s me.”
My voice had come out strong, confident—a direct contrast to how unsettled I felt on the inside.
He’d treated me to a full-length eye sweep, then cocked his head, beckoning for me to follow him. “Come on, then. Jump to it. Let’s see if we can knock you into shape.”
And so, our working relationship had begun. Six months passed, throughout which I spent more time with Draven than without him. We worked long hours, but I didn’t care. The night shifts had been my favorite. During our breaks, we’d often go grab something to eat at a local diner, and I’d occasionally pretend we’d been on a date rather than on duty. I’d prattled on about my family, the love for my sister and my parents, as well as my hopes for the future. He’d grunted in response, giving up little of his own background. His secrecy to share anything about himself only served to intrigue me more.
I’d even tentatively dropped the odd hint that I liked him as more than a coworker, although my inexperience with men like him—well, men in general if truth be told—resulted in clumsy attempts to convey how attractive I found him. Draven, though, hadn’t bitten or shown one iota of interest in me.
While I might have been obsessed with him personally, professionally he went against every moral my parents had drummed into me since birth.
Draven’s motto was “Get the job done regardless of rules”.
I’d gone along with his maverick ways—he was far more experienced than me, after all—but my belief strength had taken a battering in the process. Until the fateful night we got called to Tony Callides’ place, a white trash piece of scum who deserved to die slowly and painfully.
Except that wasn’t how things worked. The police had to follow laws the same as everyone else. Draven had other ideas. The explosion of violence I’d witnessed had forced me into a decision I hadn’t wanted to make.
I’d wrestled with my conscience for hours, finally realizing I had no choice but to ask to be switched to a different mentor. Draven’s approach worked for him, but it didn’t work for me. I was still learning, impressionable, and easily swayed. If I didn’t ask for another TO, I’d end up morphing into someone I didn’t recognize. Someone my parents couldn’t be proud of.
I’d intended to cite “personality clash” to my superior officer, but he’d probed and prodded until the whole sorry mess spilled from my lips, my naivety with office politics hurling me headlong into a storm I hadn’t intended.
Draven had completely lost it. He’d told me exactly what he thought of me, his cruel, biting words sending me into a tailspin, and the catastrophic error I’d made informing on him hit me squarely in the chest. Too late, I realized a better approach would have been to talk to him, or if I couldn’t manage that, talk to one of his colleagues. Draven was well-liked among the squad, and with hindsight, I’d realized they would have helped me get across to him how uncomfortable his methods made me.
I’d refused to take his bitter reproach lying down, though. The ensuing argument still had the ability to make me feel nauseous if I ever thought about it.
Which I did.
Often.
A week later, he’d left the precinct. I’d casually asked around, wondering if Draven had shared anything about his reason for leaving, and my part in it, but all I got back was that he’d received an offer to transfer to the NYPD, and it had been too good an opportunity to pass up.
But despite the passage of time, I never forgot the man, his presence as large as his frame.
The condition he’d applied to our deal tells me everything I need to know. Draven will break rules, walk the line, maybe even cross it by a considerable margin now he isn’t a serving police officer. And as it turns out, the ethics my parents had sewn into the fabric of my being splits apart when it comes to those who matter the most. Kiera’s future, and that of my parents, depends on me leaving my integrity and values at the door and going along with whatever Draven wants, for however long it takes us to find my beloved baby sister.
I can only hope that the fates shine favorably, and the Kiera we love still exists after we find her. I’ve witnessed enough over the last nine years in the force to know that most sex trafficked victims are either never seen again, or they turn up dead. Even if they do escape or are rescued, they’re never the same person after the event. The quicker we find her, though, the more chance I have of saving the sister I love with all my heart. The missing women have to be linked. I don’t believe in coincidence.
Kicking off my shoes, I sink onto the couch, and take another slug of wine. Working on Kiera’s disappearance as well as managing my own case load won’t be easy. One of my coworkers, Detective Morgan, has been tasked with heading up a squad investigating the recent spate of murders in the city, and my boss Shelton informed me last week I was to pass over my regular duties to a more junior officer and move to Morgan’s task force to bolster resources.
Only one of those conflicting priorities would emerge the winner, and the competition for first place is an unfair one.
Kiera. Every goddamn time.
An idea nudges at me, offering a way to buy myself a little breathing space. I fetch my computer and log on. After checking out the Human Resources pages, my plan forms. I’ve built up enough vacation days to request a week off. I could have asked for time off after my sister went missing, but I had to stick around to pick up any snippets after Shelton took me off the case. Now the FBI has taken charge, it doesn’t matter. They won’t tell me anything, anyway.
Asking for time off won’t endear me to Shelton, and it will also screw over Morgan, but I can’t allow myself to care. As long as Kiera’s missing, my mind won’t be fully on the job anyway. My only concern is that my boss will see right through my urgent application for leave and decline the request, especially after I made a scene when he told me about the FBI.
If he does decline my request, I’ll take it to the captain.
When another thought occurs to me, I grab my phone and send a text to Draven.
Do you have access to police information?
Three dots appear, telling me he’s seen my message and is replying.
What do you think?
A smile tugs at my lips. Yeah, that had been a stupid question.
With my mind made up, I apply for leave, citing family difficulties and concern for my mental health. I hate playing the mental health card—although no one could question how difficult the last few days have been for me—and dropping my boss in it with no notice might damage my career. I have it tough already, given the female contingent in the New Jersey State Police Department sits at less than six percent. In senior positions, that percentage reduces still further. But what other choice do I have?
I press send before I lose my nerve. The second the email disappears from my outbox, I relax. Decision made. I’ll deal with the fallout if and when it comes. If someone had taken me, Kiera would move mountains to get me back and, dammit, I’ll do the same for her.
The only difference? My mountain comes in the form of a colossus named Draven.