Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5) Read online

  Stumbling in an almost drunken manner, I reached a heavy door and tried to push it open, but it was locked. My head fell against the cool, hard surface, and with a weak hand, I slapped my palm against it in an attempt to rouse anyone inside.

  “Help me,” I whispered roughly as the world around me grew hazy. Pressing my eyes together hard, I pulled my robe around my trembling body more tightly. “Please.” Another ugly sob escaped my lips. My shoulder hung awkwardly, and I was pretty sure it was dislocated; my ribs burned, and I was worried one or more of them might be broken; my breathing had become a fight with nothing but short gasps to draw air into my lungs; but it all seemed inconsequential to the sticky feeling between my thighs that reminded me of what Ben had stolen from me. He had taken so much, but I would be damned if I would let him take my life as well. The cold fingers of death were reaching for me, and however much I felt like succumbing to them, I wouldn’t. After all, it was Tuesday. Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.

  The door burst open, and without the sturdy weight to hold me upright, I fell. Blackness took me for a moment, then I blinked open my eyes and looked up into the familiar face of a rugged looking angel. A jagged scar ran down one cheek, starting just above his eye and ending at his jaw. His hair was military short, and his startled light brown eyes stared down at me. He was so handsome and not in perfectly groomed, pretty-boy kind of way. Everything about Drew was rough, with hard lines and imperfections.

  “Lola?” a gravelly voice whispered in a panicked tone.

  My head lolled listlessly to one side, and my heavy lids forced my eyes shut again. They were only closed for a moment before something wet licked at the skin on my cheek. Forcing my eyes open, I noticed a tiny Yorkshire terrier standing over me. Max, I thought, remembering his name.

  “David!” a loud voice roared, and I winced. “Call 911!”

  Turning my head so I could look up into those familiar brown eyes took all the strength I could muster. Such beautiful eyes framed with thick lashes, usually so full of kindness, were brimming with fear.

  “Mouse, what happened?”

  My mouth tried to find a smile, but it couldn’t. This was the first time he had ever spoken to me, and I wished it could have been under different circumstances. Mouse . . . was that how he saw me, a scared little mouse? Right now, in this moment, it was somehow fitting. I had dreamed about how his voice might sound; even watching him with his friends and teammates, he seemed a man of so few words, barely a murmur here and a noncommittal grunt there. And for me, there had never been any. Just intense staring that should have been creepy, but I somehow found comfort in it. My hand rose of its own accord, and a shaking finger ran across his full lips.

  “Who did this to you?” he demanded, his voice full of emotion as he took my hand in his much bigger one.

  How could someone so big and bear-like be so gentle? Unlike Ben, whose hands were soft and yet delivered nothing but pain. I pushed those thoughts away. I didn’t want to think about Ben; I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to sleep.

  “He broke me, Drew, just like he promised.” And with that, the darkness finally took me.

  CHAPTER 3

  DREW

  My pacing must have been driving everyone crazy, but I couldn’t stand still. Being still, watching, listening, it all came easy to me, but not now. Not with Lola beaten and battered somewhere inside this hospital. Every noise from the swinging doors that nurses, doctors, and patients trickled through pulled my attention. But nobody came out with news about Lola, and the waiting was going to drive me insane.

  The entire Claymont crew took up one corner of the room. Mercy flitted around the space, trying to keep everyone hydrated and fed. She had slipped into protective momma bear mode the moment she arrived. She was hanging on by a thread, and I knew fussing over her family helped her keep it together. Rebecca, on the other hand, was a mess with tears following a constant trail down her cheeks. Charlie sat by her side, rubbing her back and holding her hand. Tiny Ella Munroe looked too pale as she sat beside Annie and Emily, their fingers linked in a show of solidarity and strength. Jaxon had slipped outside to walk their restless newborn, Celeste. Dillon leaned against a wall which gave him a view of both his friends and family and the swinging doors that led to the emergency room, his face set in a vengeful look that a lesser man might fear. His cousin Braiden stood by his side. Dressed in head to toe black, his dark hair hanging over dark eyes, he looked like an angel of fucking death. They both did, because one of ours had been hurt. Now, Lola was in surgery, fighting for her life because some motherfucker had beaten her into a bloody mess.

  Fuck, I was wound tight. I needed to slam my fists into something, but with a room full of people if was probably not a good idea, especially with Rebecca, Ella, Emily, Annie and Mercy sitting right there scared out of their wits. Tears continued to fall unchecked down Rebecca’s cheeks and I winced. One thing I couldn’t deal with was a woman’s tears; they scared me shitless. My mother had died when I was seven, and I’d grown up in a house full of boys who quickly became men. I was the youngest of five, and my father had been a fourth-generation US Marine who made sure we grew up knowing how to do everything from shooting a gun, to barbecuing a rack of ribs to perfection, to hot-wiring a car. What he didn’t teach us about was women, but that didn’t seem to stop my four brothers from jumping into the hotplate of marriage and babies. Me, on the other hand, I hadn’t even had a steady girlfriend . . . ever.

  Being the youngest meant I had to grow up with four big brothers kicking my ass on a regular basis. None of it was serious, it was all meant to sculpt me into the perfect soldier. In an act of defiance, I went against the family mold and entered the army, rather than the marines.

  Three of my brothers were marines, one a lawyer. That had set a fire under my old man’s kahunas and took some of the heat out of dad’s anger over me becoming a ranger. If Kenny had been JAG, it would have been acceptable, but he was a plain Jane family lawyer, helping strangers sort out the skeletons in their closets.

  I almost smiled as I recalled the day Ken had told us his career aspirations. Dad had bellowed out a colorful array of profanities, which would have made a nun blush, before pouting in silence for the rest of the evening. Kenny ignored him and went about the Friday family dinner as if there wasn’t a pissed-off bear of a man glaring at him the entire meal. His nonchalance pissed my dad off even more, and the more my dad seethed, the happier Kenny got. Seeing my dad sulk had been the funniest thing I’d ever witnessed.

  After two military tours, a stint as a mercenary where I worked for myself, taking whichever job payed the most money, and five years working for a Russian arms dealer, I had officially worked my way to the dirt beneath my father’s boots. Kenny now looked like a saint compared to me. Going from a decorated soldier to a hired hand for one of America’s most wanted was not my best moment, and the decision to do so was made in haste after a fight with my old man and would haunt me to the day I die. Pissed off at him, the world, and life in general, I made a bad decision in the heat of the moment. How many innocent people died because of the guns I helped sell? The thought made me sick, and I’d spend the rest of my days making up for that bad decision, trying to be a better man, trying to save lives in an attempt to make up for the ones lost.

  Because of my choices, I hadn’t seen or heard from my dad in nine years. My brothers thought I was a grade A idiot, and preferred that, because of my connections to Alexander Toporov, I stay clear of their families, but we still talked on the phone from time to time. Since joining up with Montgomery Security, I’d regained some of their respect. My father, not so much.

  Shaking off the memories, I reached the far wall, pivoted, and began my familiar trek back to the opposite side of the room. When those annoying as fuck swinging doors opened again with a soft squeak and a sigh, I almost ignored them. The hope that churned in my guts every time someone walked through was beginning to make me feel sick. Waiting sucked.
I think a kick to the nuts would have been less painful.

  “Ms. Donovan?”

  I spun around and nearly mowed down the doctor who approached Rebecca. The aging man, with a tuft of white hair and fine, wire-rimmed glasses, looked like he was ready to bolt at the sight of me. Thankfully, Rebecca was quickly at my side, and with a soft sniffle, her head rose to face the doctor. The man relaxed instantly, though gave me a frown as he turned his attention back to Rebecca. “The nurse told me you are next of kin?”

  “Ummm, yes, we’re sisters,” Rebecca murmured. “I mean step-sisters.”

  That was a little lie we had told to make sure we were privy to what was happening with Lola. Rebecca was her boss, but their bond had developed to one of a close friendship over the past year.

  The doctor glanced around the sea of people who suddenly surrounded him.

  “Perhaps we can talk privately?” he asked.

  “Can my husband come?” she quickly asked, reaching for Charlie.

  The doctor gave a brief nod before they left the waiting room, following the doctor behind the swinging doors.

  More fucking waiting. I paced some more, clenching and unclenching my fists until those damn doors finally swung open again and a pale Rebecca walked towards us with stooped shoulders and fresh tears on her face. Charlie was by her side, and his arm around her waist seemed to help Rebecca remain upright. The raging fury in Charlie’s eyes told me the news wasn’t good.

  Everyone was now standing, waiting, and when Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, nothing more than a muffled sob came out. Charlie pulled her tighter into his chest and took a deep breath before speaking, as if trying to gather the courage.

  “Lola had a ruptured spleen and a broken rib that had nicked a lung,” he began. “She also lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. The cuts to her body were mostly superficial but there were a few deep lacerations that required stitches.” Charlie drew another deep breath and held Rebecca as she shook with grief in his arms. “She was also sexually assaulted.”

  My stomach rolled and my ears filled with the beat of my heart which was so heavy and loud I thought it might bruise my chest.

  “Sexual assault kit?” Dillon asked, his arm around a sickly-looking Annie.

  “Done, and local police were notified as soon as she was admitted.”

  Dillon nodded, seemingly satisfied. The local PD would be all over this, but for me, the wheels weren’t moving fast enough; I needed the blood of Lola’s attacker, now.

  “They’re bringing her out of surgery. Once she’s out, Rebecca will be taken back to see her.”

  Needing a moment to myself, I took a step away from the small crowd and glanced out the big open windows of the waiting room. The thundering echo of my heart made it difficult to hear what was going on around me, and my body was coiled tight with tension. My mind went over scenario after scenario. Who had done this to her? Lola had always displayed nervous behavior, like discreet glances over her shoulder when she would walk down the street, and the obsessive way she would examine the newspapers from Annie’s café every fucking day. Did she know her attacker? My gut told me she did. Question is, was he still in Claymont.

  The world around me became a distant haze as I remembered Lola falling into my arms at Mercy’s Shelter. There was so much blood I thought she was dead, and she was so pale, a deathly grey pale. It was an image that would haunt me until the day I died. He broke me, just like he said he would. I needed to fix this. I needed to fix her; I needed to break the man who hurt my Lola. I’d cut away all the parts of his body that had touched my mouse and watch the fucker bleed out . . . slowly.

  “Drew.” Braiden’s voice broke through my morbid musings. I glanced his way, and with a flick of his head in the direction of the front doors, my feet found momentum and followed him out.

  Upon seeing Dillon standing there, hands on his hips and fury in his eyes, I lost it. I’d told him months ago my concerns about Lola’s skittish behavior and the fear that never completely left her eyes, and he didn’t take me seriously; he didn’t take the threat to Lola seriously. Lunging forward, I punched him. Blood burst from his nose, and before I could draw back and hit him again, a gun pressed against my temple. I froze. In all my years of duty, this was the first time anyone had dared press the cool steel of a gun to my skull. I’d been shot, but no one had ever threatened me at this close range.

  “Stand down, Braiden,” Dillon mumbled behind his hand as blood poured down his chin.

  Braiden didn’t move, though, and the gun remained a cold, deadly presence, reminding me how close to death I stood. Turning my head so Braiden could see the raging fury in my eyes, I pressed my head further into the weapon, daring him to pull the trigger. Death didn’t scare me, but I wasn’t ready to go just yet. I had a lifetime of bloodshed to make up for, and I had Lola’s attacker to track down.

  “Stand the fuck down, Braiden. I deserved that.”

  The gun slipped away from my head, and after making sure Braiden had re-holstered his weapon, my surprised gaze turned to Dillon.

  “But you only get one, big fella. Next time, I’ll hit you back.” Dillon glanced at something over my shoulder. “Celeste okay?”

  I winced, having forgotten Jax was standing with us and holding his newborn baby. Turning, I expected the full wrath of Jaxon Carter, which was rightly deserved; allowing a child, even a baby, to witness a violent altercation wasn’t cool. I sure as shit didn’t expect to find him smiling, his baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

  “When I’m at home, all I have to do is fart and she wakes up, but she slept right through that.” Kissing his daughter’s head, he gave us all a grin full of pride and love only a child could possibly draw out of a man. “Just keep your voices down,” he whispered with a wink.

  Turning back to Dillon, I felt a pang of remorse as his watering eyes settled on me. He was a good man, one of the best, and he was my commander, my boss. I probably should have handled the situation with something other than my fists.

  As if reading my mind, Dillon waved a hand my way. “Don’t worry about it, Drew. If this situation were reversed, and it was Annie lying in that hospital bed right now, I’d want to hit me, too.” Pinching his nose to try and stem the bleeding, he turned to Braiden. “Tell Drew what we know.”

  Braiden’s dark, pissed-off gaze turned my way. “We’ve been digging into Lola’s background, but it’s taken some time to find out details because Lola Weston doesn’t exist.”

  “Of course she doesn’t exist. Rebecca pays her under the table, and that shit-hole of an apartment is paid for in cash. She doesn't even have a fucking library card. She’s off the grid.” I scoffed, exposing the fact I’d been doing my own digging into Lola’s past.

  “Her birth certificate is a fake, a good fake and it wouldn’t have come cheap.” Braiden went on, ignoring my sarcasm. “Mercy could recall Lola telling her she was born in Georgia, so Sam did a bit of digging through the web. It was pure luck that he stumbled across an article about the tragic death of Senator George Crane and his wife Belinda. There was a photo that accompanied the article. George and Belinda had two children, Lily and Ben, both foster kids they adopted, and although there are subtle differences, Lola is definitely Lily.”

  Like a greedy, dry sponge, I absorbed the information. Lola had been adopted into a family of wealth and stability; it was a better outcome than most foster children were given.

  “What happened to the senator and his wife?” I wondered out loud.

  “Killed in a house fire. Authorities say the fire started in the basement due to faulty wiring.”

  “Shit. How old was Lola when it happened?” Fucking foster kid got a break only to have it taken away from her.

  “Lily.”

  “What?” I asked Dillon, who had murmured the name while pinching his bleeding nose.

  “Lola’s real name is Lily, Lily Crane.” Braiden answered.

  Lily . . . sweet, little Lily, but somehow it didn�
��t fit. I wasn’t sure I could ever see her as anything but my Lola.

  “Seventeen. She was enrolled to start college at the very prestigious Hillcrest Mead the next summer. She was a good student, not a straight ‘A’ scholar like her adopted brother, but she worked hard and intended to major in film production.”

  “What happened?”

  “She vanished. There was a missing person’s report filed, but after a few years, it seemed to become buried and forgotten.”

  “Who filed the missing person’s report?” My brain was going a million miles per minute as it searched for reasons why Lola . . . Lily would suddenly disappear after the death of her parents.

  “Her adopted brother, Ben.” From the growl in Braiden’s words, I could tell there was anger there. “Ben is two years older and was supposed to finish the perfect all-American family: two kids, dog, mom, and dad. Senator Crane apparently was unable to have children, and to increase popularity in the polls, he made his own family. Lily was adopted first, and when ratings rose, Ben was added to the family. From what Sam has been able to dig up, Ben didn’t like to play house quite like the Cranes wanted him to. Instead of being the older, protective brother to Lily, he had an unhealthy obsession with her. George and Belinda consulted with a psychologist, but at the time he was only eleven, and they agreed he would more than likely grow out of it.”

  “He didn’t, did he?” I murmured.

  “Dillon was able to get in touch with a former school friend of Lily’s; she wasn’t one of Ben’s biggest fans and was only too happy to tell us a few stories. Lily once told this friend that Ben used to touch her inappropriately, and that George and Belinda eventually turned a blind eye to it. Towards the end, he was getting rough with her, and according to the friend, Lily’s escape was to a college on the other side of the country. Ben was already enrolled at Harvard, so it was supposed to be fresh start and a way to escape Ben. Right before the fire and Lily’s disappearance, Ben apparently knocked Lily around a bit, and he promised that if she left, he would break her.”