12. Louise
Chapter 12
Louise
My legs barely hold me upright, my body only vertical still because of the wall to my back. I gulp in lungful after lungful of air. What the fuck just happened? This is his plan? To approve the terrorizing of an innocent woman? To have her bullied, beaten, and gang raped just because she’s married to a piece of crap?
Nausea burns my throat. I’ve called this all wrong. Draven’s always been a rebel, but this time he’s taken it too far. This… this is criminal. And where the fuck is Rick? Why hadn’t he stormed in and put a stop to it?
A small voice at the back of my mind repeats Draven’s murmured, “Trust me”, and for a moment, I pause. Until my heart hardens. Even if the men who have Moretti’s wife are under instructions not to harm her, they’ve still taken her, probably by force. She must be scared shitless. No. I can’t allow this to continue, even if Draven’s actions would result in Moretti giving us intel that could lead to Kiera. Hurting one woman to save another is not an equal equation in my book.
I ram my palm so hard into the door where Rick’s holed himself up, it bounces off the wall, almost hitting me in the face as it rebounds. I stomp inside, my cheeks flaming. Rick has his headphones on, his eyes trained on the scene in the next room.
“Stop this, Rick. Do your fucking job and stop it right now!”
“Calm down.” He makes this motion with his palms that makes me want to break both his arms so he can’t do it again. “He’s got this. He won’t actually allow Moretti’s wife to come to any harm.”
“Calm down?” I bite out. “Even if this is all for show, he’s using an innocent woman to his own advantage. Do you have any idea how terrified she’ll be? Of course you don’t because you’re a man, and we all know that men don’t have to do any of the shit women do to keep themselves safe.”
Rick spins his chair around to face me. Outwardly, he emits serenity, but Rick has a tell. His right eye always twitches when he’s pissed off, and right now, that thing has gone into overdrive.
“First, she’s far from an innocent. I should know. I worked on this case with Draven. And second, yes, I am fully aware of Draven’s unusual methods when interrogating criminals. I’ve worked with him on many occasions, and sure, he pushes boundaries. But I have never, ever seen him put a woman’s health and wellbeing in danger. I don’t know what he’s up to, and I’m guessing from the way your face has turned crimson, neither do you. So, I suggest you sit your ass down and watch how the rest of this plays out. Moretti just agreed to talk. And I, for one, want to hear what the piece of garbage has to say.”
He picks up a pair of headphones and passes them to me, jerking his chin at the spare seat beside him. I snatch them out of his hands and put them on, then plunk my ass in the offered seat. Draven’s deep timber fills my ears, but the words he speaks don’t soothe me at all, despite Rick’s attempt at reassurance.
“Impress me, Moretti, or your wife is about to find out what it’s like to be fucked by a bunch of feral men.”
I swallow bile that erupts into the back of my throat and swipe at a trickle of sweat tracking across the nape of my neck. The very thing Draven is threatening to subject Moretti’s wife to is more than likely a replica of the horrors Kiera has faced every day since her abductors snatched her from the parking lot of the mall. Sometimes I pray that whoever took Kiera killed her swiftly. There are worse things than death.
“Look.” Moretti’s face shines with sweat, and his right leg bounces hard enough to rattle the chains holding him in place. “I only heard rumors. Nothing concrete.”
Draven doesn’t move, doesn’t react, just stares. From my angle, I can only see his face in profile, but even so, he gives off a fearsome vibe. The kind where second-guessing his actions is impossible. He’s capable of anything.
I shudder. And to think that only yesterday I allowed him to kiss me, to tongue-fuck me, to rub his cock against me. To tell me we’re going to sleep together. Still, I hadn’t been eager to fight him off, had I? Instead, I welcomed him, my mouth hungrily opening beneath his, green lighting his passionate, brutal onslaught.
“I heard talk of an auction,” Moretti says, dragging me back to the present.
I lean forward, pressing the headphones tighter to my ears, determined not to miss a single word.
“What kind of an auction?” Draven asks.
“The kind you don’t want to get mixed up in.”
Draven picks up his phone. “You’re boring me, Moretti, and you’ve given me jack shit. Time’s up.” He taps the screen, putting the phone to his ear.
“Okay, okay!” Moretti yells. “I heard there’s a new guy in town. Arjan Shala. Rumors are he’s planning an auction. Nice girls only. But that’s it, man. That’s all I know.”
I shiver, my worst fears realized. If the men who took Kiera have sold her into human slavery, she’s gone for good.
“When?” Draven barks, leaning forward with his hands flat on the table. “When’s it happening?”
“I don’t know. God’s truth, I don’t.”
Draven eyeballs Moretti for a good sixty seconds. Whatever he sees satisfies him because he tips his chin to the cop who’d retreated to his corner after having to restrain Moretti. “You can take this motherfucker back to his cell now.”
“Wait,” Moretti pleads. “What about my old lady? She’s gonna be okay, right? Nothing’s going to happen to her?”
Draven’s frosty glare could cut through glacial ice. I’m not on the receiving end of it, and there’s a glass partition between us, but it still makes me shiver.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the mood I’m in.”
Moretti sets about thrashing once more. He screams and hollers, threatening bloody murder as Draven walks out without a backward glance.
I tear off my headphones and toss them on the table in front of me before launching outside, where I collide with Draven’s broad chest. I slam my palms against the thick expanse of his pectorals.
“What the hell is going on?” I hiss. “What’re you playing at, Draven? If you’ve allowed those men— your men —to hurt one hair on that woman’s head, I swear to God, I-I’ll?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Draven interrupts, gripping my upper arm hard enough to cause a bruise.
He shoves me back toward the room I vacated just as Moretti appears, shackled to the cop. Draven pushes me inside, slams the door, then braces himself against it.
“I didn’t want him to hear your caterwauling, in case you’re wondering why all the manhandling,” Draven drawls. “Not to mention I’m keen to avoid a migraine. When you’re pissed, your voice screeches so high, only dogs can hear it.”
I splutter. “Caterwauling? Jesus Christ, you just scared a woman half to death, and you berate me for calling your ass on it. You disgust me.”
Draven flicks his gaze to Rick. “I’ll come find you before we leave.” He jerks his head backward. “We need a minute alone.”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’m leaving, Draven. I’ll find Kiera without you. I don’t need your kind of blood on my hands.”
Draven blocks my path to the exit before I’ve taken a single step.
“Get out, Rick,” he grits, his eyes not leaving mine.
“Well, look at you,” I sneer. “Adding false imprisonment to your impressive list of crimes.” I flash a disappointed glare at Rick and jab a finger for added emphasis. “And that makes you an accessory.”
Rick’s gaze bounces from me to Draven, and as I might have guessed, the big, tattooed asshole wins.
“I’ll be right outside.”
“Dick,” I mutter as he passes by.
Then the door closes, leaving me alone with Draven. I prop my hands on my hips and let him have it. “Let’s hear your stream of excuses for what you did in there, but before you start, if you used my sister as a reason for terrorizing that poor woman, I will kick you in the balls so hard, they’ll be tonight’s dinner. The fact you drew me into your despicable plan boils my blood. When I asked for your help, I told you, I told you that I wanted to do this the right way. On the one hand, you completely let that Fowler woman off the hook when she blatantly lied, and yet now, you… you go and do this. I am furi?—”
His mouth crashes against mine, and he roughly pushes me backward until my ass hits the wall. I pound my fists against his chest, but he quickly captures my wrists and raises them over my head, his hips pinning me in place—an almost mirror image of our last frenzied coming together. Forcing my lips open with his tongue, he explores every inch of my mouth, his kiss more powerful and more punishing than last night.
A swell of desire starts in the pit of my stomach, spreading outward, sending tingles over my entire body. I tilt my pelvis, greedy for the friction and more of the thick erection I can feel through his jeans, my anger withering under his attention.
God, this is so fucked up.
Draven groans into my mouth before he releases my hands and grips my hips, yanking me forward and grinding himself against me.
Oh, yeah, right there.
He releases me so fast, I stumble. By the time I’ve found my balance, Draven has moved to the other side of the room and is perching casually on the end of the table. I, meanwhile, can’t catch a breath, my chest heaving as I struggle to get myself under control while trying to maintain my dignity.
Dignity? Ha! Safe to say that ship has sailed.
“What the hell was that?” I snap.
He flicks a shoulder in a careless gesture. “Had to shut you up somehow. It was either my tongue or my dick I shoved in there.”
Vibrating with contained rage, I grind my teeth hard enough to need a trip to the dentist. “You are a giant asshole, and I hate you.”
“That delicious flush across your cheeks sends a different message, Lola.”
I press my hands to my face, covering the offending tell. “That’s anger, not desire, Draven. Maybe learn to tell the difference. Now, can we get back to the subject at hand?”
His gaze slides over my skin, taking in every inch of my body, but I force myself not to react, even if my blood heats and my nerve endings tingle. There’s something about the way he looks at me as though he wants to fuck me and murder me at the same time that turns me on. What that says about me isn’t an issue I’m keen to examine too closely.
“Do you know what Gia Moretti’s role is in her husband’s organization?”
“No,” I say folding my arms beneath my chest, needing the false protection it offers. “Why would I?”
“Why indeed. Allow me to enlighten you. She sources the girls, finds the most desperate ones: the runaways, the drug addicts, the kids trying to escape an abusive home. She befriends them, gets them to trust her, and once they have, she hands them over to Moretti. You see, she likes to watch. Watch him and his associates while they rape, torture, and maim. Most of the girls don’t last a year. They’re fucked to death before they’re dumped like they never mattered, like their lives weren’t valuable just because they’d fallen on hard times. Nice, huh? So, yeah, she’s real innocent. And as soon as we have enough evidence to throw her ass in jail for the rest of her life, I’ll take great pleasure in snapping a pair of cuffs on that evil bitch.”
I pick at my bottom lip, his words turning my stomach. I know exactly what happens in a lot of these kinds of cases, but hearing it aloud makes it all the worse.
“Even so, Draven, by doing what you did, doesn’t that make you just as bad as him? Whatever her crimes, or however a disgusting excuse for a human she clearly is, it’s the responsibility of the courts to hand out sentences, not you.”
A muscle thrashes in his cheek, and his dark pupils dilate. I don’t miss his giant hands curling into fists, either. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”
I snort. “No, actually, I don’t. I haven’t seen you in eight years, and even back then, did I ever really know you? Does anyone know the real you?”
“What did I ask you to do right before Moretti walked into that room?” His voice is low and menacing, but there’s also a hint of disappointment buried beneath the surface of his words. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s hurt.
I press my fingers into my temple as the onset of a headache forms right behind my eyes. “To trust you.”
“Exactly, so why didn’t you? Do you think so little of me that you think I’d allow harm to come to any woman, including the likes of Gia Moretti?”
“Of course not,” I say. “And in answer to your question of trust, I don’t know, Draven. Maybe because hearing that woman’s terrified scream, even if I know and you know she wouldn’t come to any physical harm, pushed my buttons. Those men might have been acting, but she didn’t know that. And all I can think is that this is Kiera’s reality.” A sob threatens, but I swallow it down. Crying won’t do me any good, and I don’t want Draven to hit me with the female emotions card. If he does, I might actually murder him.
“That wasn’t Moretti’s wife.”
“What?”
“I said it wasn’t Moretti’s wife on the other end of the line.”
His repeated statement hits me like a wrecking ball. Stunned, I rub my forehead, squinting at him. “What are you talking about? Of course, it was his wife. He went crazy when he heard her.”
Draven shakes his head. “The woman you heard was not Moretti’s wife,” he repeats for a third time, the faintest hint of annoyance in his tone. “Her name is Octavia. I’ll introduce you if you like. Octavia has a rather unusual talent. She can hear a voice once and imitate it. Men, women, children. I’ve heard her do them all. Damn useful talent it is too, and one I’ve used many times over the years during sting operations.”
My mouth drops open. Struggling for words, I run both hands through my hair. “Th-that’s impossible.”
“Rare, yes, but not impossible.”
I just don’t see how. God, my head hurts. Here’s hoping it’s not a migraine. Dealing with Draven is difficult enough at the best of times without having to deal with tiny hammers going at my skull as well.
“But Moretti would have known the difference. He would. I understand impersonation can be impressive, but not to those who know the person intimately.”
“Octavia is one of a kind.”
She fucking must be if she can fool the woman’s husband. “So… so, Moretti’s wife is okay?”
Draven nods. “And happily spending Franco’s money while his second-in-command keeps her bed warm.” He claps a hand on his thigh. “Damn, I knew there was something else I wanted to share with Moretti.”
I drag a hand down my face and push out a heavy exhale. Shit. I screwed up. I should have known better. Draven is a lot of things, but allowing the abuse of a woman, innocent or otherwise? No, not his jam at all.
“I’m sorry.” I can’t help the grimace that accompanies my apology. It’s not that I find apologizing difficult in general, it’s that I find it difficult to say those particular words to Draven. If he chooses to walk away and leave me to find Kiera alone, I won’t blame him. I will, however, chase after him and beg him to give me another chance, no matter how much he taunts me.
“What did that cost you, Lola?”
A lot. I risk a faint smile as an attempt at bridging the gap between us—one I caused. Every muscle in my body tenses, bracing for rejection. “I mean it, Draven. You asked me to trust you, and I didn’t. I fell for it, just like Moretti.”
He stares at me in silence, his nostrils flaring and eyes flat, any emotion he may be feeling tightly contained. Electricity zips through the air, and I hold my breath, waiting for an explosion of anger. For him to punch the wall or sweep every item off the nearby desk onto the floor. Instead, he stands, brushes past me, and opens the door.
“We have a name. Now the fun begins.”