Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (9 page)

She glanced down at her phone, worry furrowing her brow.

“They haven't responded. I should call Steph. They're probably freaking out.”

Drake sighed, not even attempting to hide his irritation and displeasure as she called and evidently didn't reach this supposedly worried-out-of-her-mind friend, because Evangeline rattled off a message saying she wouldn't be home and that she was sorry for not contacting them sooner.

Her girlfriends seemed like gigantic pains in the ass, and she'd probably be much better off without them, because it sounded a hell of a lot like they smothered her, judged her, kept her in line and expected her to gain their permission to so much as take a piss.

He mentally winced because he was every bit as controlling, but his method of control and dominance was not even close to what her girlfriends apparently considered their way of managing her life, or rather micromanaging her life. He would always have her best interests at heart. He was almost certain he couldn't say the same about her girls.

Damn it all. If all Evangeline had said was true, and he had no reason
not to believe her, then she was right. A text wasn't going to head off a potentially ugly confrontation and the cops showing up at his club and him having to answer to kidnapping and coercion charges. Since Evangeline hadn't received a response, and her phone call had gone unanswered, he was going to have to throw one of his men under the bus and have him take care of the matter personally.

“Maddox,” he snapped, knowing his man would hear at his station outside Drake's door, the exit on the opposite end of the elevator that not many knew of, and judging by Evangeline's sudden look of wariness and her quick glance at the elevator as if expecting him to appear from it, she hadn't noticed the other door in the far corner. She likely thought he was a paranoid, psychotic bastard, and, well, she'd have at least part of it right. He hadn't survived in his world this long without a healthy degree of paranoia and common sense not to offer his trust freely.

Maddox entered in an instant, his expression wary as he sent a scowl in Evangeline's direction.

“Go assure Evangeline's roommates that she is perfectly all right, but she won't be coming home tonight, or any other night for that matter. Inform them that she's moving in with me and will be in contact with them in the next day or two and will explain everything to them then.”

“What?” Evangeline's shriek made Maddox wince. She didn't look frightened as one might expect. No, she looked outraged and indignant.

Satisfied she wasn't about to become hysterical with fear, Drake ignored her reaction, instead picking her feet back up and resuming his ministrations, which forced her to recline back onto the couch. Because while she might not dissolve into hysteria, she might well punch him right in the face, so distraction was necessary immediately and she'd definitely enjoyed the foot rub he'd already given her.

Maddox clearly had no liking for the task Drake had assigned him. It was evident in his disgruntled expression.

“What the hell did I do to deserve to be put on difficult and
recalcitrant women duty?” Maddox muttered. “Surely you can come up with more creative ways of punishing me, Drake. Defuse a bomb? Stop an assassination attempt? Be a substitute day-care worker for a week?”

Evangeline sent Maddox a saccharine-sweet smile at his acid sarcasm.

“I certainly didn't ask to be dragged from my workplace at four in the morning to face a man who is clearly out of his mind or has mistaken me for someone else entirely. And if I hadn't been dragged here, I would be home, and therefore my roommates wouldn't be out of
their
minds with worry and you wouldn't have to deal with difficult, recalcitrant women. Though I'd pay money to see you in a day care with mini spawns of Satan nagging you and pulling you in forty different directions.”

Her smile was mockingly sweet, a definite smirk lurking on her lips, but her words were tart with a distinct edge that amused Drake. Evidently Maddox was as well.

Maddox gave her a quirk of a smile, amusement glimmering in his eyes, and then, just before he turned to exit, he gave her a two-finger salute as if to say,
Touché
.

As soon as Maddox departed, Evangeline aimed a ferocious albeit cute glare in Drake's direction and opened her mouth, no doubt to blast him with both barrels, so Drake did the one thing guaranteed to silence her.

He fused his mouth to hers in a hot, breathless kiss, though he wasn't sure who was the more breathless, him or her. A savage groan worked its way from his chest and into his throat, escaping into the sweetness of her mouth. He swallowed her gasp of surprise and dropped her feet, leaning forcefully into her, grasping her hands when they went to his chest to shove him away.

Instead, he clasped them there over his chest, letting her feel the rapid beat of his heart, allowing her to
feel
her effect on him. Not something he would normally ever allow to happen, but damn it, he was treading in unfamiliar waters here. He'd never had to deal with a reluctant female when it came to his advances. He was well used to women tripping over
themselves in their haste to get to him, to gain his attention. Not try to run as fast and as hard in the other direction as possible.

Reluctantly, he eased his lips from hers, noting the swollen, delectable bow of her mouth and that delicious little funny quirk in the corner. He couldn't help himself. He flicked his tongue out and licked at it, coaxing another tremble from her already quivering body.

“Now, I'd like an answer to my question,” he said in a deceptively lazy manner. One that might fool someone else into thinking he was merely asking a simple question, one that could either be answered or not.

Her eyes narrowed, telling him without words that she definitely hadn't missed the hint of command in his tone.

“Why are you working in that place night after night, running yourself into the ground, to complete exhaustion? Where men touch you, put their hands on you and God only knows what else,” he growled.

He was becoming more pissed by the minute, and he was seething as he stared at her. The idea of those bastards putting their hands on what he'd already claimed, fondling her, disrespecting her, had his teeth on edge, and his temper, already bad enough, was fast becoming overwhelmingly foul.

“It's not that bad,” she said, immediately becoming defensive.

“Bullshit,” he barked, startling her with his vehemence. “I had men in the bar all night. They saw exactly the kind of shit you endure on a nightly basis. Remember the asshole who wouldn't take no for an answer when you oh-so-politely told him to get fucked?”

She blushed. “I didn't say any such thing.”

“No, but you should have. Remember the man who intervened when it could have gotten ugly? And, Angel, it
would
have gotten ugly very fast were it not for my man. The one who gave you a hundred-dollar tip? He was one of mine. Now think about it for a minute. Did anyone else there offer to help you? What if my men hadn't been there?”

Humiliation flashed in her eyes and she turned her head sideways
in an attempt to hide her reaction from him. But he caught the flash of tears and it nearly ripped his insides out.

“I'll give it back,” she whispered. “I had no idea it was a setup. I didn't earn that. I refuse to take pity money.”

He flinched at the look in her eyes, the evident blow to her pride, the one thing she held fast to when it appeared she had nothing else. Damn it. That was
not
what he wanted.

She dug into her pocket, several twenties and smaller bills falling out as she yanked. She retrieved the folded hundred-dollar bill and thrust it at him as if she couldn't bear to touch it a second longer.

“I don't want it. I
won't
take it,” she said, revulsion twisting her lips until he wanted to kiss them back to the sweet, luscious state they had been in mere seconds before.

Drake swore, making her wince. Then he collected all of the scattered bills, folded them carefully and stuffed them back into her pocket.

“My men were there at my order to check the place out as a potential investment. It's for sale, or did you not know that?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “No. I had no idea. What does that mean? Am I going to lose my job? Oh my God, Drake, what am I going to do? I know it doesn't look like much, but the tips are good, and I make more money working there than I did working two jobs back home.”

The fear in her eyes was very nearly his undoing. The thought of her working two jobs made him want to smash something. He was sure her tips were very good. Far more than the average waitress working there. Hell, on a good night, she probably pulled in as much as his girls did in his club. With that inherent innocence and bone-deep sweetness? A smile that lit up a city block? The fact that she was so fucking . . . nice? And that wasn't even taking into account her looks. Those big blue eyes, the long silken mass of hair that made a man itch to run his hands through it, and that ass. God, that ass. Delectable. Plump. Just enough jiggle when she walked to make a man lose his mind. And her tits. Fuck,
he could recite all her good qualities all night and never get to the end. She was the total package, and when men looked at her, they did a double take, especially after talking to her for just a few minutes, because they were all wondering how the hell such a perfect woman existed. And then they set their sights on how to get next to her. In her bed, between her legs, and how to stay there, because who the fuck—other than her dumb-ass ex-boyfriend—would be stupid enough to ever let her go once he'd had a taste of all she offered?

Jesus, he had to stop because she was staring at him oddly, obviously waiting for him to say whatever he had been about to say next, and he was too busy extolling her virtues and mentally covering her with
NO TRESPASSING
signs because he was staking his claim and he'd kill the man who tried to take what was his.

“You're missing my point,” he said as patiently as he was able when he wanted to smash something, dispense with the niceties and drag her home and keep her there under lock and key. “Only Maddox knew about you, and he remained outside so you wouldn't see him and bolt. Whatever tip my man gave you was because he wanted to and felt you earned it. He had no idea you belong to me.”

“What?”

“I'll ask you a third time, and Evangeline, I am not used to having to ask more than once. Ever. Why the hell are you working yourself to death in a place like that? Subjecting yourself to that kind of treatment from men who have no respect for you and treat you like an object. Who harass you, put their hands on you and disrespect you on a nightly basis.”

She sighed, closing her eyes, but not before a single tear slipped down one pale cheek.

“I have to have that job,” she choked out. “I'm not from here, the city I mean. As I'm sure you can tell. I come from a small town in the south. I've had to work my entire life. I had to drop out of high school and get my GED so I could work. College wasn't an option.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

She went on as if she hadn't heard.

“My father worked in a local factory and was injured and disabled as a result. Workman's comp refused to pay, citing some ridiculous, trumped-up loophole that I still don't understand. But he couldn't work as a result. My mother also has health issues. My father was our only means of support. I could have gone to college,” she said wistfully. “I was a good student. I qualified for an academic scholarship to a state university, before I had to drop out. But Mama and Papa needed me.”

Drake's lips tightened as some of the pieces fell into place. It was suddenly making a lot more sense than it had a few minutes earlier.

“I was working two jobs at home and they were barely making it,” she said, shame shadowing her gaze.

Most notably absent from her statement was how
she
had made it, because he already knew enough about her present circumstances to know that she would have given every penny to her parents, only keeping enough for her bare necessities. And they were very bare.

“Steph, one of my current roommates—she and my other roommates, we all went to high school together and we stayed in touch. They moved to the city. They wanted out of our small town. Wanted bigger and better. I don't blame them. But I had a responsibility,” she said, her chin notching upward, fire entering her eyes. “My family is my only responsibility—my priority before all else. I will not fail them.

“Anyway, she called me and said they were a roommate short and they could get me a job making better money, good tips, and they had a small apartment that wouldn't break the bank with my share of the rent. So I moved up here and I send money back to my parents every week. I pay my portion of the rent, utilities and groceries, but every spare penny goes to my mother so she can care for my father.”

Drake was growing angrier by the minute. His entire jaw ached
because it was clamped shut against the tirade that was just waiting to be unleashed. He wanted to end this farce immediately and take over, but he needed to know what he was up against. Every single detail.

“When I can, I take extra shifts,” she explained. “If I'm lucky, during the holidays, I can get seasonal part-time work, which enables me to send all of that extra to my mom.”

“And in the meantime you work yourself to the bone. You go without. You put yourself in unimaginable danger, not to mention work a demeaning job where men assume your body is theirs to do with as they please.”

Her gaze flew upward at the whiplike anger in his tone, and genuine puzzlement shone in her beautiful eyes.

“This shit is over,” he bit out. “You need a keeper. Someone to take care of
you
for once in your life. You're moving in with me. You're finished working yourself to death in a place where men put their hands on you, maul you, say shit to you no man should
ever
say to another woman. Furthermore, your parents will have no financial worries any longer. And neither will you.”