Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5) Page 7

  “I feel trapped. The stairway is the only way in or out,” I admitted, suddenly hesitating to go any further while soaking wet.

  “We’re safe here, I promise.” Drew was standing in the kitchen and glanced my way, a confused frown on his handsome face. “Are you just going to stand there dripping all night?”

  “No?” I said, more a question then an answer.

  “There will be fresh towels in the bathroom,” Drew said.

  I took a step in that direction, feeling every ounce of exhaustion creep into my body.

  “I’ll go get some food and something dry for you to wear.”

  My body and mind were at war with itself; my body screamed for reprieve and rest, my mind filled with fear at the idea of being left alone.

  “You’re safe, Mouse,” Drew said, as if reading my mind. “I wouldn’t leave you if I thought otherwise. I’ll only be gone ten minutes at most.” He looked me right in the eye.

  I nodded and headed toward the bathroom, deciding being warm and dry was at the top of my to-do list. “What if someone knocks?” I asked.

  “Nobody can get into the stairwell without a key.”

  “Okay,” I whispered as I took another step into the bathroom.

  “Where will you get clothes?”

  “Souvenir shop, across the road.”

  “What about food?”

  “Restaurant down stairs.”

  “I hate mushrooms.”

  “Noted.” He didn’t move, though. I assumed he was awaiting my next question.

  “The sooner you go the sooner you’ll be back,” I said, using my hand to wave him off.

  He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

  Once the door to the apartment quietly clicked shut, I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Standing in front of the vanity mirror, I shook my head. I looked a mess. My hair hung like a drenched rat around my pale face; dark shadows hung under my eyes; and my body was practically hunched in on itself, as though it were trying to protect me from the world.

  Slowly, I peeled off my wet clothes and climbed under the warm shower. The water pounding down on my body was welcome, and I stood under the blast, allowing my muscles to relax. My eyes skimmed over my naked body, and I tried valiantly to ignore the scars carved into my skin. They would always be a reminder of the night Ben had won, the night he broke me. The rigid scars on my chest weren’t thick, but they were raised, and even after using all kinds of moisturizers and natural remedies, they were still an angry pink. The doctors assured me they’d lighten with time. They’d never disappear, though. MINE, the ugly brand of ownership was etched into my skin, a four-letter word that continued to make my soul bleed every time I removed my clothes. It was why I’d washed myself in a shirt and panties for six months, hating the idea of baring my skin.

  Looking away from the scars, I focused on bathing and washing my hair. I finished up and turned off the water before stepping onto the fluffy black mat on the floor outside the shower. I dried off, then looked to the pile of wet clothes. Oh crap, the thought of climbing back into those was not appealing.

  “Lola?” Drew’s voice from the other side of the door filled me with an immense sense of relief. “I’ve got dry clothes.”

  To reach the clothes meant I had to open the door. Last time I had been naked in the presence of a man . . . I shuddered and forced that thought into the box all troubling thoughts were hidden.

  “Lola?"

  “Okay,” I nervously called out, glancing once again at my reflection.

  The towel covered most of my scars but it was a little scant for comfort, particularly when in the presence of Drew King. Pulling the towel even tighter around me, with shaking hands, I unlocked the bathroom door and opened it a crack. Drew was there with a handful of dry clothing. Slipping my arm out the slither of space, I took the clothes and shut the door as fast as I could, breathing a sigh of relief once my back was pressed against it. There was a large shirt with ‘What happens in Bangkok stays in Bangkok’ written across the front of it and a pair of drawstring pants that were way too big, but the drawstring would help. No underwear. I was too tired to care and just happy to have dry clothes.

  After dressing, I hung my wet clothes on the towel rack, hoping that by morning my underwear would be dry enough to wear. Staring at the door I took a few tentative steps forward. It was just Drew out there, Mr. McMuscles with the big bear paws and animal grunting noises, one of the very few men I felt safe around. My nerves weren’t necessarily because I was scared, but because of my unusual reaction to him. I liked him. Shit, I really, really liked him, and I cared about what he thought of me.

  Running a hand through my tangled knots, I pressed my shoulders back. Nut up or shut up, they say. I pulled the door open and stepped into the living room. Drew was still dripping wet as he stood in the kitchen, filling the space. No, not just filling it, consuming it, reminding me of the time I’d stuffed my fully-grown cat into my Barbie doll house. Too much animal for such a small space.

  “Food.” He pointed to said food. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”

  I nodded as he passed by me and closed himself behind the bathroom door. I was torn between wanting to eat and wanting to fall into the comfortable looking bed across the room. My growling stomach won out, and I quickly served up food on two plates, giving Drew a larger portion. He was much bigger, but he also hadn’t eaten all day. Sitting in front of the TV, I drew my feet up and began to eat, my brain struggling to process how far my world had changed in just a day.

  My stomach rolled with unease, but I forced the thoughts away. I needed to eat, and it was impossible to do on an unsettled stomach. Tomorrow we’d be going back to Claymont, and I hadn’t really had time to process how I felt about that. Excitement and concern warred with each other. There was no doubt I missed the small, quaint town, but it also held some of the vilest memories of my life. Reaching for the remote to the TV, I flicked it on and settled back with my plate of food resting in my lap. The familiar yet mostly unrecognizable language from the actors on the show numbed my brain, and my hands rested at my sides as I lay my head back against the sofa and allowed my eyelids to flutter shut.

  Not once since my attack had I slept outside the safe confines of my bedroom, with the door locked. I never allowed myself the luxury of floating into oblivion in a place I was vulnerable and easily accessible, but my eyelids were being tugged closed by a force outside of my control. Just a minute of rest, then I would finish my meal and lock myself safely in the bedroom behind me.

  CHAPTER 9

  DREW

  Drying off quickly, I pulled on the slightly too tight drawstring pants I had just purchased. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was hard to think about anything but the food that awaited me outside the bathroom door. Pulling on my shirt, it clung to my still wet skin but I couldn’t wait any longer. I was going to gnaw my own arm off if I didn’t get to the rice and noodles whose scent filled the entire apartment. Stepping from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, my gaze immediately sought out Lola, and seeing her fast asleep with uneaten food in her lap caused my steps to falter. She was simply beautiful in sleep, but at the same time she appeared so forlorn and vulnerable. Her lips seemed to fall into a slight frown, and her brow gently furrowed. It wasn’t the face of someone who was resting peacefully.

  As carefully as I could, I took the plate of noodles from her lap before warily lifting her into my arms. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pick her up and hold her close, I was simply worried that this kind of intimacy would upset her. Much to my surprise, she let out a soft sigh, her head rolled onto my chest, and her body completely relaxed. The selfish man I was took the moment’s reprieve to inhale her clean scent and press my lips to the top of her head. For so long I had fantasied about holding Lola, kissing her, loving her. Right now, I didn’t care if she never wanted my touch. I wasn’t letting her go. My need to protect her and care for her far outweighed my need
to be with her intimately. Oh, the want was there, but it was muted beneath my strong desire to take care of her. Seeing her smile with ease, perhaps touch me without hesitation was a battle I was willing to take on. One day she would have that.

  Awkwardly, I pulled the sheet down while juggling her light body before laying her in the bed. The frown returned, and her brow furrowed with irritation. I pulled the sheets up around her neck and took the opportunity to gently run the back of my hand down her cheek. So soft. She leaned into the touch and seemed to relax again. I pulled away and walked out of the room, leaving the lamp on and door open as I returned to the kitchen to eat. The vibration of my cell phone against the granite countertop caught my attention, and seeing Dillon’s number, I answered immediately.

  “How is she?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

  “Sleeping,” I answered. My gaze crossed to her unmoving figure confirming my low spoken voice hadn’t disturbed her.

  “Jet will land in a private Toporov air strip tomorrow morning at ten, your time. I’ve emailed the address.”

  “Crane?”

  “Has an air-tight alibi. He’s on the campaign trail and hasn’t left Georgia. There are pictures of him everywhere, and he’s been seen by everyone. Local PD won’t do anything on a hunch.”

  I grunted my irritation. Only Braiden’s promise that I’d get my chance at this fucker had kept me from taking the perverted shit-head down in a long, torturous, bloodthirsty way. For a year now, I’d fought the need to see Ben Crane bleed, and my need for vengeance was growing.

  “Don’t think too hard on it, Drew. Sam’s working on it. Your job is to bring Lola in safe and sound.”

  “I’ll phone you once we’re in the air.”

  “See you soon.”

  Careful not to make any noise, I placed the phone on the kitchen counter before eating my chicken and noodles, my gaze constantly returning to Lola’s prone figure.

  Vengeance wasn’t just for me; I needed it for her.

  ***

  The darkness around me was only unfamiliar for a split second before my brain kicked in and I recalled the last forty-eight hours. The safe house was quiet, and the obscure shadows slowly gained shape as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I had turned the couch around so that it faced both the apartment door and Lola’s bedroom door, so I had an unobstructed view of almost the entire apartment. Something had woken me, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I lay unmoving, my breathing still deep and steady, as I looked around the seemingly peaceful apartment. Then I heard it: a soft scraping noise coming from the stairwell beyond the front door.

  With slow, precise movements, I stood. My Glock was already in my hand and two knives were strapped to my body. With a noiseless precision I had perfected over the years, I crept into Lola’s room. Kneeling by the bed, I gave her a gentle nudge.

  “Lola,” I whispered.

  She woke with a start, pulling away from my presence, eyes wide with fear.

  “It’s me, it’s Drew. We need to move.”

  It took her a moment to calm, but as soon as she did, she shifted to throw her legs over the side of the bed. I placed her flip-flops on the floor beside her, and she slipped her feet straight into them.

  “What’s happening?” she breathed, the panic behind her words easy to hear.

  “Someone is outside the door.”

  Her eyes met mine for only a brief second, but terror filled their foggy depths as understanding dawned. Nobody could get in from the street without a key, and apart from my key, the only other one was back in Claymont. I had no idea how we had been found; it didn’t really matter. I needed to get us out of this apartment.

  Reaching for her hand, I pulled her to her feet and didn’t let go as I walked her through the dark apartment. She didn’t try and pull away, for which I was grateful. I needed to feel her and know she was safe. A low noise right behind the door had me pulling Lola into the bathroom, where I placed my gun down for only a moment so I could unlock the bathroom window. It lifted smoothly and without a sound. After reaching for my gun and tucking it into the back waistband of my pants, I pulled my body through the space and quickly pulled Lola through after me. I didn't rush; moving too fast would make noise and alert our enemy to where we were. Instead, I took the time to lower the window, before taking a moment to check the empty street. There was no movement or noise out of the ordinary, so I began to climb down the narrow, steel ladder. Lola was right above me and I kept close, my hands in easy distance of her in case she slipped on the still wet rungs. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I reached to guide her down, pulling her behind me the moment I heard a noise from somewhere behind us.

  I didn’t see the attacker, only a slight shuffle of his feet gave him away. I knocked the gun from his hand that had suddenly appeared in front of my face. The weapon fired but went high as I launched myself at the fucker. My fist hammered forward, connecting with a satisfying crunch before I swept his feet out from under him. Before I could drop to my knee and slam the big body into unconsciousness, the glimmer of a knife caught my eye, and I fell away as it swung towards me, grazing my arm. The attacker, once again standing, held the knife in a hammer grip out in front of him. Dressed in black, he was almost impossible to make out in the shadows, but a distant street light gave enough of a glow to see the blood gush from his nose. I’d definitely broken it, which meant his eyes were filled with tears. Taking advantage of his momentary blindness, I struck, kicking him in the ribs before stepping into his body and catching the hand that swung the deadly blade. Bending the wrist back sharply, I felt it snap, and a pain-filled cry left his lips. I slipped behind his body and gripped his neck, ready to twist it.

  “Did Crane send you?” I demanded.

  “Fuck you,” the stranger spat out.

  “You’re not getting paid, so you may as well tell me if you’re in this alone, or if I should expect more of you clumsy, noisy fuckers.” My arms tensed, ready to finish the guy off.

  “He won’t stop until she’s been taken care of,” he confessed through an angry growl.

  It was all I needed to know. He wasn’t alone, and there would be others coming for her. With a savage twist, I snapped his neck and allowed the body to fall to the pavement with a brutal thud. My gaze immediately searched for Lola who stood with her back to the wall right beside the ladder we had descended. Her face was a pale sheet of white, her eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. Hearing noise from the apartment above me, I cautiously stepped towards her.

  “We have to go, Mouse. There are more upstairs.”

  Reaching out my hand, she snatched it without hesitation and stepped away from the wall. With a gentle tug, I pulled her in the direction of the street, and she held on to me like her life depended on it. And right now, it quite literally did.

  The crowds had thinned, the rain had stopped, but the city still held the subdued promise of life as we put our backs to the apartment and headed in the direction of the private air strip where the Montgomery jet would be waiting for us. My phone was shoved in one pocket, my wallet in the other, and when I noticed an elderly man looking cautiously at my gun, I tucked it away into the back of my pants. My holster was strapped beneath my shirt and too hard to access quickly.

  “You’re bleeding.” Lola’s soft voice caught my attention, and my gaze dropped to my arm. The knife wound wasn’t too deep, and the bleeding had already slowed.

  “It’s okay. Doesn't even need stitches.”

  “I don’t do well with blood,” she quietly confessed as a tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Try not to look at it.”

  She looked away, but her chest was rising and falling too fast. She was seconds away from the panic attack to which she was entitled. Unable to stand her fear, I stopped and pulled her into my arms. She was tense for only a moment before her little arms wrapped around me and held on tight.

  “You don’t like blood?” She shook her head fiercely. “Okay,” I murmured, trying to figure out a wa
y to help her through this. “Think of it as jello, red jello.”

  “Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned.

  “Okay, no jello.” We had to keep moving, there were others after her, and we couldn’t stay out in the open. The sooner we got to Claymont, the better. I would breathe easier with more eyes on her, more protection. “Let’s find ourselves a tuk-tuk. It will get us where we need to be faster.”

  She nodded, taking a few big, deep breaths, and backed away, her arms falling to her sides. Letting her go caused a physical ache in my chest. Her downtrodden gaze on the asphalt almost wrenched my aching heart from my rib cage.

  I slipped a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to mine. “We got this. I just need you to dig deep a bit longer, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” she said with a shaky voice. “But I’m warning you now. I’m going to fall apart when this is over.” She looked me straight in the eye. “I’m going to be a hot mess. I’m going to cry, and I’ll probably even curse and hit something.”