22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Sylvie
When Drakos moved in that evening, he smirked as I stood next to Luna’s bedroom, showing him where he could put his things. He stole a kiss and walked past me into my room further down the hall. My closet stood open, and he pushed back some clothes to hang up a few of his suits and dress shirts. Then he set his suitcase down.
Standing in the doorway, I folded my arms. “I told you already that you can stay in Luna’s room.”
He rolled his eyes and stalked over to me, crowding me until I hit the wall. “Unless you plan to sleep there too, I won’t be staying in Luna’s old room. Now give me your lips.” Drakos put his hands on the wall on either side of my head, boxing me in.
“Where do you think you’ll be sleeping tonight?”
He bent and ran his nose along my cheek. “Wherever you are. I bet I could have you stripped, wet, and begging for me in under three minutes. Do you want to take that wager?”
“No, thank you. I already learned my lesson with you.”
Nuzzling my neck, he ran his tongue up along the shell of my ear. “And what lesson was that?”
My body went soft and my pussy dampened. I’d never admit it, but he would have won that bet, no problem. “That gambling is a tax for stupid people.”
He laughed softly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
Fuck it.
I melted into him and decided that for as long as this lasted between us, I was going to revel in Drakos Creed. It might even be worth the heartbreak and hangover when it was all over.
“Do you want me to fuck you against the wall or bend you over the bed?” he murmured.
“Both,” I panted.
Groaning low in his throat, he rubbed his thick, rigid cock against my center. Then he took me hard against the wall, and even harder over the side of the bed. We skipped dinner altogether that night.
Early the next morning, Drakos’s phone rang on the nightstand. He rolled over me and reached for it.
“Yeah?” he murmured, then paused and listened.
“Any issues?” Another pause.
“Good.” And then he hung up.
As he leaned over me to put his phone back on the nightstand, I reached out and grasped his arm. “Who was that?” I croaked.
He rolled on top of me and nestled himself between my thighs. “Gideon. He called to let me know Terrance LeBaron’s newly renovated, five-bedroom cabin in Mt. Charleston just blew up. Apparently, there was a propane leak. LeBaron should be getting a video of the explosion from an untraceable number in about two minutes.”
“You move fast.” Suddenly, I was wide awake.
“When it’s something I want. Let me give you a proper demonstration.” He leaned in and bit my lower lip.
“Yes, please,” I murmured against his mouth.
The next few days were uneventful and mostly quiet, but it felt like an eerie calm before a storm. On Saturday morning, Drakos and I puttered around my small kitchen, drinking coffee and lazily making breakfast together. Neither of us had to work, and a happy little hum buzzed through me.
“You have an interesting collection of coffee mugs,” he mused, holding one that read Bring Out Your Dead in a gothic script. I pulled one out of the cupboard with the words Yeah, but did you die? in cheery red letters. “My family thinks it’s hilarious to give me death and mortuary-related mugs.”
He tilted his head. “How many do you have?”
I pointed to the top shelf above the fridge. “See for yourself.”
Setting his mug down, he reached up and opened the high cupboard. At least thirty novelty mugs were crammed inside.
He whistled. “Do you know how many there are?”
“No idea.”
Drakos grinned, his blue eyes glinting as he surveyed my collection. “Now I know what not to buy you for your birthday.” He raised his cup in a toast.
“You should see my t-shirt collection,” I muttered, pointing to the black tank top I wore that read I’d rather be at a funeral.
My cell phone rang as I pulled out bagels, the sound slicing through our domestic bubble. I checked the screen and noticed Trina, Camilla’s grandmother, calling me. Worry and anxiety hit me. The last time she’d called, her fifteen-year-old granddaughter had just been raped.
“Trina? Is everything okay?”
“ Dios ! Sylvie, they're here. Those men who ride motorcycles in their black vests. They're asking my neighbors which apartment is mine! Ernesto from the first floor just texted me.” Her voice was a high-pitched whisper teetering on hysteria.
Shit, shit, shit! “Are you safe? Is Camilla with you?”
“She’s locked in the bathroom. They're knocking on doors.”
“Call the police, turn off the lights, and stay put. I'm on my way.” My heart hammered as I ended the call.
Drakos eyed me. “What’s going on?” His tone had shifted from playful to predator in a heartbeat.
Turning, I ran to my bedroom, calling over my shoulder as I went. “Bikers are at Trina's apartment complex, knocking on doors and asking about her. She's terrified, and Camilla’s already been through too much. Fuck!” He’d followed me in and went to his suitcase.
I ran to my gun safe, strapped on a double pocket waist holster, and slid my favorite guns inside. Then I yanked a jacket off my bedpost as anger, hatred, and pure adrenaline heated my system. It seemed like we’d been toying with each other until now, but I was done fucking around with these psychos.
“Do you need to borrow a gun?” I asked Drakos as I threw my jacket on.
“No. I came prepared this time.” He put on a shoulder holster, slid his gun inside, and turned to me. “Let's go. I’ll drive while you call the police and your cousins.” He was already halfway to the door.
The engine of Drakos's black Range Rover roared to life, cutting through the thick, choking silence. The morning sky shone a brilliant blue, clashing with the fear and urgency crawling through me.
“Damn it,” I muttered, dialing Fennick’s number.
“Hey, Sylvie. You still slumming with that fuck boy attorney, or do you want to meet us for breakfast? Kil’s with me.”
I ignored his needling for once. “Trina's in trouble. MC members are at her apartment complex, looking for her and Camilla.” I struggled to keep my voice even and my panic at bay as Drakos raced through the streets.
“Shit!” Fennick spat.
“This is Kilian. Give me the address.” I recited it, and he must have plugged it into their navigation because I heard a robotic female voice tell Fenn to turn left on Flamingo Road. “We're about eight minutes out, so keep everyone alive until we get there,” Kilian instructed.
Fenn broke in. “Except Creed. Don’t worry about keeping him alive.”
Drakos shook his head. “Good morning, and fuck you too, asshole. We’ll be there before you. Don’t accidentally shoot me.” Their humor couldn’t cut through the terror gripping me.
I hung up, clutching my phone in a white-knuckled grip as I gave Drakos directions. He drove like the devil himself was in pursuit, his jaw set, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I assume you’ve been to their apartment complex. So when we get there, what’s the plan?”
“Working on it,” I replied, my mind racing.
Minutes later, Drakos pulled into Trina’s parking lot. There weren’t any police vehicles around, but two motorcycles and a black tricked-out SUV were parked in the handicapped spots.
Drakos shook his head. “Stay low and don’t get hurt.”
I opened my door. “Ditto.”
My heart slammed against my ribs like a jackhammer. We slipped out of his car, darting between any cover we could find. I studied the building, then pointed toward the back entryway. Drakos nodded. The door screeched open and I winced. Inside, we headed up the dimly lit stairwell.
“Do you know which apartment number?” Drakos asked quietly. I nodded. “Third floor, number thirty-seven. She’s about halfway down the hall on the left side.” As we took the stairs, I heard someone pounding on a door on the second floor. I hoped like hell the bikers hadn’t hit the third floor yet.
My pulse thumped in my ears, almost drowning out the distant sound of a television blaring from one of the apartments. Drakos pushed me behind him and pulled the door open a crack. “Clear,” he murmured.
I slumped in relief as he opened the door wide. The smell of bacon and disinfectant hit us. Plants, shoes, and other items were in the hallway, but no bikers.
Drakos scanned the hallway. “Call me on FaceTime, then prop your phone at the end of the hallway so the camera faces Trina’s door.” I stared at him blankly, then understanding clicked, and I realized he was creating a makeshift, temporary surveillance camera. I nodded and dialed him. He picked up my video call, and I saw his face on the screen as he scanned the hallway.
Looking around, I quickly propped my phone up on a pair of dirty work boots a tenant had left outside his apartment door. I positioned my phone so the camera faced down the hall toward Trina’s front door.
His eyes scanned the hallway as we stalked to Trina’s apartment. I knocked three times. “Trina, it’s me and Drakos,” I called softly.
Her deadbolt tumbled open and Trina cracked the door. “Sylvie? Where are the police?” Her voice shook. She seemed older than the last time I’d seen her, and her dark black hair was grayer than I remembered.
“I don’t know. Kilian called them too.” Down the hallway, I heard the old elevator door ding. “Hurry, let us in.” She slid the safety chain off, swung the door open, and we slipped inside.
Quickly, she re-engaged the lock and turned to us. “Did they follow you here?” Her gaze flicked to Drakos.
“No, we came up the back stairs. Where’s Camilla?”
“I told her to lock herself in the bathroom. She's so scared they’re going to hurt her again.” Trina’s eyes filled with tears. “I called the police, but they didn’t believe the men were here for us. They told me to call again if they harassed me. I want this to stop.”
Guilt and red-hot anger swam through me, but I stuffed it down and hugged her. “I know. The men will be on this floor any second. Go lock yourself in with Camilla and keep her calm. We’re both armed, so we’ll stay out here until the police come.”
She glanced at the gun in Drakos’s holster. “Okay. Be careful, hija. ” She started down the hallway, but I called after her. “Trina, if you hear gunfire, don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe.”
She stared back at me, clutching the cross on her necklace, and nodded.