19. Louise
Chapter 19
Louise
I set out silverware on my small kitchen table while listening to Draven share a joke with the food delivery guy, my head still spinning from the events of the day.
Burying my sister.
Getting demoted.
Fucking a man I’ve dreamed about being with for over eight years.
If anyone had told me when I woke up this morning that I’d have the best and worst day of my life, I’d have said they were crazy. But something about finally exorcising the ghosts of my past through a marathon sex session with a guy I’ve had a crush on for so many years has given me a sense of freedom I’ve never had before.
“They only brought one duck spring roll,” Draven grumbles as he places the cartons on the table.
“You have it,” I say, smirking. “After all, you need the protein to help with your lack of stamina.”
Draven swipes at my ass, and I skip out of the way.
“Too slow.”
“I’ll show you lack of stamina.” He growls, easily catching me the second time. He rolls his hips. Yep, that’s definitely an erect cock pressing against my stomach.
“How do you function with that thing permanently on high alert?”
“That thing?” Draven asks, arching an eyebrow. “Are you mocking my favorite body part?”
“Figures.” I roll my eyes, enjoying this lighter side he’s showing me. “Men.”
Draven lowers his head, bites my bottom lip, and sucks it into his mouth while I suppress a moan.
“I need to eat,” I say.
“My enormous cock not enough for your enormous appetite? I’m surprised you’re still hungry after the amount of cum you swallowed.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never met anyone as crude as you in my entire life.”
Draven lets me go and opens the first box to tip fried rice onto our plates. “You’re welcome.”
I laugh, smacking the back of his hand with a chopstick. “Pass me the Kung Pao chicken.”
Over dinner, I keep the conversation away from the more painful subjects, but once we’ve cleared away the cartons, and Draven’s grabbed us both a beer from the fridge, I open the subject with the killer question.
“Is Shala in custody?”
He works his jaw in a tight circle, and I know the answer before he confirms it. “Not yet. The two guys I shot died at the scene. Rick’s doing his best to stay abreast of the investigation, but it isn’t easy. You know what the feds are like. Last time I spoke to him, he said that, as far as he knows, the one I tied up has refused to say a word.”
Unsurprising. He’s probably too afraid of what will happen to him if he blabs.
“Do you think Shala will go underground now?”
He shakes his head. “He’s too narcissistic. Men like him believe they’re above the law and untouchable. I should think he’ll lay low for a few days, regroup, then begin again.”
An ache moves down my throat. “The futility of it all exhausts me.”
He draws his knuckles down my cheek. “Gotta keep going, though, Lola. Imagine how much worse it would be if we didn’t.”
I nibble on my lower lip, the desire for revenge burning hot within me. “I want them to pay, Draven. I refuse to allow Kiera’s death to be in vain.”
“They will.”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, the tender touch so out of character with the brutish man I know that hot tears spring to my eyes, and I have to blink them away.
“I’m sorry about the demotion.”
I hitch a shoulder. “It’s done. I just have to suck it up.”
“That doesn’t sound like the feisty woman I know.”
I offer up a wry smile. “Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I’m pissed off, but there’s nothing I can do. Getting angry won’t help. I have to put my head down, work hard, and wait for my chance to come.”
“Bullshit,” Draven says. “Where’s your fire? Your fight? You take that anger I know you’re capable of, you hold it in the pit of your stomach, and use it as fuel to fight the injustice. Have you spoken to your union rep?”
“Not yet. I will, though. Tomorrow. I doubt they’ll have the power to reverse the decision, but I guess it’s worth a try.”
“Lola, your boss informed you that you’d been demoted at your sister’s funeral. The man’s a fucking cunt. He didn’t even call you in for a proper hearing. Tomorrow, you go in there all guns blazing. If you don’t, I will.”
My eyes prickle again at his willingness to fight my corner and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me. I break into a faint smile. “You trying to play the knight in shining armor, Draven?”
He chuckles, nudging my shoulder with his. “Sweetcheeks, my armor is far from shining, and I’m no knight, but what they’ve done to you isn’t right. You’re hurting, and they’ve used that to further whatever the fuck their agenda is, with you as the scapegoat while you’re feeling raw. They’re hoping you’ll push papers and stay quiet like a good little girl. My advice, for what it’s worth? Do the complete opposite. Make a nuisance of yourself. Demand a full hearing. Get your ass in front of the captain and force him to explain his decision.”
His words and his unwavering support light a fire beneath me, and steel strengthens my resolve. I square my shoulders and nod. “You know what? You’re right. I am going to fight this. They want a battle? Well, they’ve fucking got one.”
He unleashes a laugh, the wonder of it doing strange things to my insides. Draven isn’t a man who smiles often or laughs easily, yet he seems to be doing more of both with me. Pride tickles my chest because I did that. Me.
“There she is. That’s the Lola I know. That’s the fighting spirit I’ve had personal experience with.”
This time, it’s my turn to laugh. “Unfortunately, I’m going to need to apply different tactics. If I knee my boss in the balls, a demotion will be the least of my worries.”
He grimaces. “Yeah, even I don’t recommend that approach.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Are they safe? The women. I’ve been so busy since… I didn’t think to ask.”
Draven plays with a lock of my hair, feeding the strands through his fingers. It’s oddly tender for such a bearish man. Just one more thing that’s softening in my presence.
“They’re safe. Like Kiera, they were all pumped full of drugs, but thankfully, the doctors were able to detox them. They’ll make a full recovery. Physically, at least.”
A ragged breath is evidence of my relief. At least some good came out of something truly catastrophic, though I can’t help a bite of resentment that my sister was the only one who didn’t make it. My good, honest, wonderful, amazing sister, who’ll never marry, never have kids, never fulfil her dazzling potential.
“Do you think they knew Kiera was my sister? That maybe they OD’d her on purpose?”
His hand trails down my neck, causing goosebumps to pebble my skin. “I don’t, no. Everyone reacts differently to drugs. You could give two people the same dosage. One would OD, one wouldn’t.”
An ache flames my chest. In other words, my sister had simply been unlucky. “I’d like the chance to talk to the women about Kiera. What’s the likelihood of any of them agreeing to meet me?”
He tilts up my chin. “Are you sure you want to know the details? Some things are better left in the past.”
I set my mouth in a firm line. His suggestion may come with good intentions, but if it was his sister who’d been kidnapped, drugged, and ended up dead, he’d burn the world down until he uncovered every shred of information. “Yes, I want to know. I want to know everything.”
He grazes my cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re tough, Lola, but do me a favor. Before you go picking at that thread, think long and hard, yeah?”
My sigh is loaded with annoyance. “Stop lobbying me, Draven. I don’t need to think about it, and if you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t have to think about it, either. I have to know. I’m not dumb. I’m aware it will be difficult and painful, but I can’t not.”
Left with little option but to accept my decision, he nods, although I can tell he isn’t happy about it. Too bad. He’ll just have to deal.
“I can ask Rick if you like. No promises.”
I don’t tell him that if the answer comes back as no, I won’t leave it there. I’ll carry out my own investigation until I find someone willing to talk. I have to know what happened to Kiera in her last few days on Earth.
“Thank you.” I stand, picking up my beer bottle and gesturing to him with it. “Want another?”
He gets to his feet and peels the bottle from my fingers, placing it back on the table. “No. I want you.”
Curling his hands around my neck, he presses his thumbs underneath my chin and tilts back my head, then kisses me softly. I sink against him, drawing on his strength. Something tells me over the coming days and weeks, I’ll need it.
A sliver of light peeking through a gap in the drapes wakes me. I yawn, stretch, and peer at the clock through half-open eyes. Groaning, I rub my eyes. It’s only six and I’m not due on shift until ten. A knot unfurls in my stomach. Returning to work with everyone knowing I’ve been demoted sucks. Most of my coworkers will be supportive, but there’s always the odd asshat who takes pleasure in someone else’s downfall. Still, the sooner I return, the quicker I can begin the battle to get my job back. I’ve never walked away from a battle in my life, and with the fire Draven lit underneath me, I don’t intend walk away from this one. My boss caught me at my lowest point yesterday. If Kiera were still alive, it’d infuriate her to know I’d given in without a fight.
I wince. People say that after the funeral the grieving process begins, and life starts to move forward. Well, not for me. Not until the people who did this to Kiera, and to those other women, are caught and brought to justice. Grief isn’t possible for me until that happens. Until the perpetrators are behind bars, I’ll lock my feelings up tight. I’ll be no use to anyone if I let them run free.
Rolling onto my side, I break out into a smile. Draven has his back to me—his skin an intricate map of ink drawn over defined muscles. My fingers move of their own accord, tracing the wings of an angel that dominates the center of his back. I pause over a name etched into the left wing: Ruby. A flash of jealousy steals my breath. Is Ruby an ex-lover? Does the angel signify she died? Does he still love her, miss her?
“You can use your tongue if you like,” Draven’s gravelly morning voice rasps.
I slap his shoulder. “Jackass.”
He shifts onto his back, palming my left boob. “You know you want to.”
“Who’s Ruby?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Jealous, Lola?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “Just curious.”
He laces his fingers together and raises them over his head, cupping the back of his neck as he stares at the ceiling. “She’s the love of my life.”
A fierce flame ignites in my chest, burning so hot that I risk self-combusting. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t live without her. I’ve honestly never loved anyone as much as I love her.”
The fiery burn worsens. I make a fist and press it to my sternum. What kind of a man cheats on the so-called love of his life? He can’t love her that fucking much.
“You’d better get back to her, then,” I bite out, throwing the comforter to one side.
I only get one leg out of bed before Draven hauls me backward. In one smooth move, I find myself beneath him, his big, inked body looming over me, his smile so broad, his cheeks must ache.
“You are jealous. Oh, Lola.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Liar.” He lowers himself and kisses me, hard, fast, his tongue parting my lips with ease. I shove at his chest, but he’s far too strong, especially from this submissive angle. So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I bite him. No holding back, no gentle, sensual nibbling. Nope, this is a full-on bite. His blood floods onto my tongue, and he launches upright as if I’ve shot him.
“Fucking hell, Lola,” he expels, his fingers touching his bottom lip.
I use the moment of distraction to slip from beneath him and get out of bed. “Good luck telling poor, unfortunate Ruby how you got that injury.” I grab my robe off the back of the door and push my arms inside. “Oh, and you might want to cover up the scratches I put on your back last night, too. Send her my sympathies for getting hooked up with a cheating asshole like you. I don’t sleep with men who are taken. Fuck you very much for luring me into breaking that rule.”
I march into the bathroom and slam the door, locking it behind me. Seething, I brace my hands on either side of the sink and scowl into the mirror. Red blotches cover my neck and chest—a sure sign of just how furious I am. How dare he? How dare he! Cheaters are the worst. The lowest of the low. Scum. And because of him, I’m now the unwitting other woman. Ugh.
The door handle moves downward. “Lola, open the door.”
“Screw you.”
“Last warning.”
“Or what?” I hit back. “Fuck off, Draven.”
He doesn’t answer. Seconds later, he bursts through the door, leaving it hanging from a single hinge.
“Jesus Christ! You’re crazy. You owe me a door.”
“You owe me an apology.”
I snort. “For what? Calling you out on your shit?”
He shoves me out of the way of the sink, grabs a washcloth, and runs it under the faucet. He holds it to his busted lip, his eyes now two dark pools of rage.
“Bite me again, and you’ll live to regret it.”
I go toe to toe with him. “Newsflash, Draven. You don’t scare me.”
“No?” He leans over the sink, spitting blood onto the porcelain. After rinsing the cloth out, he presses it to his mouth again. “You should be scared, sweetcheeks.”
A sense of unease takes root in my belly. I don’t think for one second he’ll lay a finger on me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t seek retribution in some other form, probably when I least expect it.
I draw in a shuddering breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you already had a girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”
A colorless laugh spills out of me. “Don’t lie to me.”
He drops the washcloth in the sink, then looms over me, drawing my eyes to a muscle beating furiously in his cheek. Fisting both his hands by his sides, he grinds out, “I. Don’t. Lie. Ever . You got that, sweetcheeks?”
I plant my hands on my hips, refusing to avert my gaze, even though every instinct I possess screams at me to stare at the floor, the wall, even the splatters of blood in the sink. To look anywhere except at the man standing in front of me.
“If she’s not your girlfriend, then who is this precious love of your life? The one you can’t live without.”
A ghost of a smile appears on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “My niece. Ruby is my sister’s only child, and the one human being in this world I’d die for.”
Horror congeals in my chest, and my mouth goes dry. Oh, no. Louise, you idiot. I close my eyes, then slowly open them, meeting his cold stare. “Shit. God. I-I’m sorry.” I sweep a hand over my face. “I’m not thinking straight.”
Without saying a word, he spins on his heel and returns to the bedroom while I hang back, unsure what my next move should be. I can hear him moving around, clearly getting dressed. Goddamn. Me and my big mouth. I’ve always had a temper, and I often shoot from the hip before considering all possible angles. Kiera was the serene one, the rational one, the sensible one. That’s why she’d been my anchor. Yin and Yang. Positive and negative. Cool water to my blazing fire.
The problem with Draven and me is that his temper matches my own. There’s no compromise, and no calming influence. I blow up, and he stokes the flames instead of smothering them.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, pursing my lips to allow the slow release of oxygen. I repeat the process another three times until my anger withers. One of us needs to make the first move, and I’ll lay bets it won’t be him. Then again, this latest disagreement is all on me, so it should be me eating a large slice of humble pie. Still, he could have been clearer. What had he expected to happen when he told me Ruby was the love of his life? He could have come straight out and told me she was his niece. Instead, he decided to have some fun at my expense, and now it’s blown up in his face.
I pad into the bedroom in time to see him pull a shirt over his head, covering the tattoo that caused this argument. He must sense I’m here, but he chooses to ignore me as he sits on the edge of the bed to tie his boots.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I should have let you explain.”
Standing, he turns to face me. His lip has stopped bleeding, although it’s definitely swollen.
“I’m going to call in on Rick,” he says flatly, reaching for his leather jacket. “See if he’s discovered anything new.”
“Draven, wait.”
He pauses, scrunches his jacket in his big fist as he stares at the floor, then lifts his head. “Hell of a temper you’ve got, Lola.”
I curve my lips ever so slightly. “Right backatcha, Dotty.”
He fights the smile that threatens, but it wins out in the end. Tossing his jacket on the bed, he crooks a finger, beckoning me. Three tentative steps bring us together. He clutches a handful of my hair, tugging back my head, exposing my neck. A rush of warmth heats the blood in my veins as he bends his head, fastening his lips to the soft skin right over my carotid artery. He sucks hard, the pain oh so bittersweet.
“You hit me, I’ll spank you. You bite me, I’ll mark you. Tit for tat, Lola. I ain’t no pussy whipped asshole, so before you make your next move, think carefully.”
I squeeze my thighs together in a futile attempt to stem the ache. Why does it turn me on when he’s brutal?
Before I can recover my poise and come up with a suitable response, he grabs his jacket and leaves.