Mastered (The Enforcers #1) (7 page)

They made it sound like a crime, or at the very least a cardinal sin.
Did people pride themselves on being deceitful or worse, being convincing and successful at it?

Evangeline sighed because yes, she was indeed everything her friends accused her of, though
accused
was too strong a word. They despaired of her naïveté and her inability to be catty and bitchy to those who deserved a good setdown. They were forever telling her she was too sweet, too innocent, too forgiving and trusting for her own good.

They loved her dearly for the very things they considered shortcomings, but they worried that those characteristics would end up being her ultimate downfall. Maybe they were right, but Evangeline couldn't change who she was any more than she could change who she
wasn't
. Hadn't last night solidly proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt?

And well, she didn't
want
to change. She liked herself just fine the way she was, shortcomings and all. No one was perfect. It just so happened she had more imperfections than most. So what? There was nothing she could do about it, so why waste time and energy she didn't have trying to be someone that not only could she never
possibly
be, but also that she had no
desire
to become?

Put like that, last night hadn't been the disaster Evangeline had immediately labeled it, and peace settled over her, pushing away some of the still-vivid and all-too-fresh humiliation cloaking her, even as her friends continued to stare her down looking like they were ready to rip her hair out by the roots if she didn't
further
explain the shocking revelation she'd dropped on them as though it had been a live explosive.

“He actually went down on you in his office? On his
desk
?” Nikki asked in a hushed whisper, evidently having reached the breaking point of her patience and deciding Evangeline was going to have to be interrogated since she still wasn't forthcoming with all the juicy details her friends craved.

“God, you make it sound so . . . sordid,” Evangeline said with a soft groan. “I feel like I should be in church right now, or at least at confession.”

“Hon, I think one has to be Catholic to go to confession,” Lana said dryly.

“Stop distracting her!” Steph said in a near shriek, her agitation making her even more agitated. “And Vangie, I hate to break it to you, but it
was
sordid. In a really delicious, oh-my-God, goose-bump-inducing kind of way. I need to sign up for that kind of sordid, because nothing I've ever done has even come close to that kind of hedonistic delight.”

Evangeline lifted one eyebrow in surprise. She'd expected . . . She frowned, giving her head a light shake to clear the confusion. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected. Maybe condemnation? Disappointment? Judgment?

But that wasn't at all what she saw reflected in her friends' gazes. There was a myriad of responses, almost too many to sort through, but nowhere did she see anything that made her feel ashamed or even sorry for what she'd done. But then she hadn't
done
anything. She'd just been a clueless—a completely clueless—participant, if she could actually call her response actual participation. She'd merely allowed
him
to happen. To take over and control every aspect of the shattering, life-altering sequence of events that had begun as simple, petty payback. There was no blaming shock, being overwhelmed, or even the fact that her senses had been so scattered that she wasn't even cognizant of what was happening. She knew who was to blame, and it wasn't Drake. It was her own damn fault for not having the fortitude and daring to put a stop to the entire farce. She didn't have a brave bone in her body, and last night had only proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Worse, she'd
known
exactly what he was doing—what he was
going
to do—and she'd quivered to her bones, shaking violently with suppressed need and longing. He'd awakened a fire that had long lay dormant within her, and God help her, she'd
wanted
it,
craved
it
and him
—with every breath in her body. With wild desperation that still bewildered her, because the wanton woman she hadn't even known existed had responded with
complete abandon to a man she'd known for all of a few minutes. For once in her life she'd given in to spontaneity. Done something completely out of character. Grabbed onto the moment and reveled in every single second of unimaginable pleasure. Like in her most erotic fantasies she'd never shared with anyone. Not even her friends. Because they shamed her, and more than that, they frightened her, because in no way, in any of her wildest fantasies, was she in control of any aspect. She belonged to a man who cherished her, protected her, spoiled her endlessly, but in return he was demanding, ruthless even, with an edge of danger and mystery that clung to him like a second skin, one he wore with the comfort and ease of someone well acquainted with such a lifestyle.

What kind of messed-up person did that make her? She closed her eyes again, refusing to dwell on things better left in the past. If she had her way, she'd never see him again because she sure as hell would never venture into places like Impulse where even the hired help were seen in a more superior, deserving light than she was.

It might make her the biggest coward on earth, but even if she wasn't scheduled for work that night, there was no way she would be here at seven that evening waiting to be collected like a “possession” and expected to do unimaginable things—even if the thought of those things sent her body up in flames.

She gave a small sigh, ignoring the looks of growing impatience and irritation on her friends' faces. One taste was all she'd ever allow herself and it would have to be enough. Because Drake Donovan was not a man to be trifled with. He demanded and expected unquestioning obedience. That much was obvious in his demeanor.

She had to work tonight until closing, and no matter that her girls had told her she could always take a nap after giving them the scoop, Evangeline knew she didn't have a prayer of going back to sleep. Not with the vivid details from the night before still playing over and over in real time in her memory.

No, she'd simply leave early and go on. Get caught up on some of the things that had piled up over the last few weeks and had been largely ignored by the other workers.

But first, she'd give her friends what they wanted—what they deserved—because they'd never held back from her, nor would they ever.

Then she'd worry about what to do about Drake Donovan. Just as soon as she looked up every piece of information she could find about just who this man was and what he could possibly want with someone as insignificant as her.

Evangeline was exhausted when she stumbled out of the pub an hour after the official closing time. Her feet were killing her, swollen from the many busy hours rushing drinks to customers in very uncomfortable heels. She was sorely tempted to take them off and just walk barefooted home. She'd been so frazzled by all that had occurred the night before and the exhausting interrogation from her roommates that she'd forgotten the pair of comfortable flats she brought to work to walk home in. Now she was stuck walking ten blocks in the wee hours of the morning in shoes she wanted to toss into the nearest trash can. At least she had an even larger amount than her already generous nightly tips stuffed into her pocket, so her misery was a little more bearable given that she could send more than usual back home to her mother.

She was so dead on her feet and already dreaming of at least twelve hours of sleep that she didn't even see the man outside the pub until she nearly bumped into him. Her adrenaline spiked and her heart nearly pounded right out of her chest as she stumbled back, assuming a defensive position.

A scream lodged in her throat as she frantically assessed the
potential threat. Then she recognized the man, but realizing she knew him only ratcheted up her fear, and her first instinct was to run for her life.

Maddox, Drake's minion, stood nonchalantly in front of her, effectively blocking her escape, his stance deceptively casual. She nearly allowed hysterical laughter to escape her mouth at the idea of having time to pry her too-tight heels from her feet and run for her life because this man would have her before she got the first shoe off.

“My apologies for frightening you, Evangeline,” he said in the same gentle tone he'd used at Impulse when he'd rescued her.

“
Why
are you here?” she stammered out. “How did you even know where to find me? What do you want?”

She sounded desperate and frightened, but she didn't even bother trying to disguise that fact. What woman wouldn't be terrified in her situation? She was surprised she'd even been able to articulate the questions for him that had come out more of a squeak than any sort of actual coherent speech.

Maddox's expression was bland but there was a hint of warning in his eyes. “It's not a good idea to keep Drake waiting. You were to be at your place at seven o'clock sharp and I had strict instructions to take you straight to him. And he is a man who expects—demands—obedience and compliance. In
all
matters.”

Her unease was fast paralyzing her as the last of his words sank in.
All
matters? He demanded obedience in all matters? Who did he think he was? God? What the hell had she gotten herself into by allowing herself to be coerced into going to that damn club? Damn it, but she should have just listened to herself and refused to set foot in that place. Where was her spine? Oh yeah, she didn't have one.

He made a deliberate show of checking his watch before his gaze returned to hers, warning still clearly visible.

“It's now four in the morning, which makes you nine hours late, and Drake doesn't wait nine hours for anyone.”

Evangeline bared her teeth. “Good! But if that's the case, then why are you here? By your own admission Drake waits for no one and it's been nine hours. If he's not waiting for me, then why are you here scaring the crap out of me?”

Amusement flashed in Maddox's eyes. “It would appear he's making an exception for you. My advice is not to make him wait any longer by standing here arguing at four in the morning.”

Evangeline's mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? What gives him the right to order me around or expect me to comply with his
demands
, like I'm some minion or one of his employees?” She shook her head, because this had gone way beyond creepy. Even more so than the bizarre events at the club and in particular in Drake's office. “You're
all
crazy! Certifiable. Besides, I had to
work
. You know, that thing called a
job
, in return for which you receive a paycheck? Some of us don't have the luxury of taking off on a whim. I have bills to pay and a family to support. I
need
this job, and I'm sure as hell not blowing off work just because the almighty Drake Donovan decided he wants my presence for God only knows what reason. That would make me as insane as the rest of you!”

Once again, amusement flickered in Maddox's eyes, but there was also a gleam that looked suspiciously like . . . respect at her defiance and bluntness. She was not a rude person, but nothing in her responses could possibly be construed as anything but rude. Not to mention dismissive, and although her association with Drake and his watchdogs had been brief, she knew they were not men who were
ever
dismissed and certainly not by a meek, timid woman.

When he didn't immediately respond, frustration made Evangeline lash out again.

“What could he possibly want with me? We exist in completely different stratospheres. I'm nothing. I'm average at best. Nothing to look at. The stereotypical plain Jane who wouldn't even draw notice in a small group, much less a crowd!”

At that, Maddox's expression went from amused to pissed and mean in the blink of an eye, his gaze glittering dangerously.

“Bullshit,” he snapped, not expounding further.

Instead he gently cupped her elbow, anchored his arm around her waist and began walking her toward a parked car just a few feet away. The same car he'd taken her home in the night before. He ignored her sputtered protests and her attempts to break his hold on her and merely tightened his grip, slowing his pace to ensure she didn't trip or stumble in the ridiculous heels she wore. How could such a badass, scary guy use such extreme care to ensure her safety when he was kidnapping her? It just didn't make sense and her brain was already fried from the night at Impulse and then an extra-long shift she'd spent entirely on her feet.

When they got to the car and Maddox opened the back door, panic kicked in and she immediately backed away only to collide with a very large, muscled man who didn't so much as budge as she squirmed and began to fight.

Instead he very gently eased her back and began to solicitously seat her.

“You can't just kidnap me!” she exclaimed, true fright nearly making the words she intended to scream come out more as a croak because her throat was rapidly closing in.

“And yet you didn't protest overly much when I very gentlemanly handed you into the car,” Maddox said dryly.

“Define ‘overly much,'” she snapped. “Because from my viewpoint I certainly did not go meekly like a lamb to its slaughter. I'm sure it appeared that way to you because you could snap me in half with your fingers, but it doesn't mean I'm not here under protest.”

But then she looked down to see that she was indeed seated quite comfortably on the soft, expensive leather, wondering how on earth he'd managed to get her into the car with such minimal effort. Despite her bravado about fighting and not being led meekly to slaughter.
Self-disgust filled her because yes, to a man like
him
, it most assuredly would look like she did his bidding without a single objection.

“I was afraid you'd shoot me,” she muttered under her breath.

But Maddox heard and his lips twitched suspiciously, though she suspected he rarely if ever smiled. That too seemed to be a requirement to work in Drake's establishments. Gorgeous, badass, well built, intimidating,
scary
and no smiling. Ever.

He shut the door and started the walk around the back of the vehicle to get in on the other side. Evangeline immediately yanked at the handle, fully intending to be out and running as fast as her shoes allowed before he got in.

But nothing happened. She tore at the handle, cursing under her breath, words that would have her mama washing her mouth out with soap because no true lady ever even thought the words Evangeline was spitting out in rapid succession.

Then a warm, comforting hand closed over the one not frantically grasping at the door handle. He squeezed, halting her futile attempts to open what amounted to a child lock that prevented opening the door from the inside. So now she was nothing more than a recalcitrant child, a nuisance Maddox had been sent on an errand to retrieve because she'd stepped out of line. A line she had no knowledge or understanding of. Things just didn't happen like this in her sheltered existence. She felt as though the night she'd been bullied into going to Impulse she had crossed into an alternative reality that had an entirely different set of rules and she had no idea what the hell they were!

“Evangeline.”

Though not forceful or intimidating sounding, there was still a command for her attention. For her to look at him. One she felt compelled to obey despite the fact that she had no wish to face this man. She chastened herself for even contemplating obeying the order and yet, to her dismay, she found herself complying. How screwed up was that? If she
couldn't even stand up to one of Drake's underlings, then how on earth was she going to have a chance against Drake himself? She was beyond fright and panic at this point. She was fast entering meltdown stage and wondered if somehow she could stealthily retrieve her cell phone from her bag and call 911. But she had no idea where Maddox was taking her and no actual crime had been committed. Yet.

Reluctantly, but unable to defy his command, she turned her head, her gaze lowered, eyes downcast as defeat settled over her. She sagged against the seat, exhausted both mentally and physically, tears burning the corners of her eyes. She inhaled sharply, calling on all her flagging reserves to pull herself together. This man would not see her cry, nor would he see her as a weak, helpless woman who'd accepted defeat.

“Evangeline, look at me,” Maddox said softly.

His hand still gripped hers but his thumb rubbed softly over her delicate skin as though to comfort her. And the really stupid, screwed-up thing about it was that it did give her a small measure of comfort. Surely if he planned to murder her, he wouldn't be trying to offer her reassurance. She nearly groaned aloud, because again, her extreme naïveté was taking over her brain. Serial killers were often normal, average men who gained the trust of their victims before viciously ending their lives.

Knowing she was being a coward—and, well, she
was
a coward—she slowly lifted her eyes to meet Maddox's intense gaze. She hated conflict and any sort of confrontation and yet here she was, on her way to the mother of all confrontations. She wanted to dig a very deep hole and bury herself in it.

“You will not come to any harm,” he said in a tone that couldn't possibly be misunderstood as a lie. “Drake will not hurt you in any way. Nor would he ever allow anyone else to hurt you. I know you have no reason to trust me, or Drake for that matter, but I swear to you on my life that you will be safe at all times. I will escort you personally to Drake and once you are with him, no one, and I mean
no
one, will be able to get
within a mile of you. And while he is most certainly capable of handling himself in any situation, he is surrounded at all times by a security team and they are the absolute best at what they do. They are highly trained and there isn't a single one of us who wouldn't give our life for Drake, and now, by proxy, you.”

She stared at him in utter bewilderment, trying to take in everything he'd just said. There were so many insane responses swirling in her head that she was dizzy from it.

“You'll forgive my skepticism,” she said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice that betrayed her fear. No,
fear
was too tame a word. She
feared
spiders and bugs. Drake
terrified
her. “But he sent you to kidnap me. No amount of pretty words or explanations changes the fact that I was taken against my will. You wouldn't take no for an answer. My absence at the seven o'clock pickup time he commanded of me should have been signal enough that I had no desire to accept his dictate. And for that matter, he never
asked
me to meet him. He didn't offer me a
choice
. He told me to be at my apartment at seven and that someone would be there to pick me up and bring me to him. And I was so freaked out and just wanted to get as far away from that place as possible that all I did was nod, because if I told him no then, how was I supposed to know if he would have even let me leave? Now
you
tell
me
. What sane person wouldn't be scared out of her mind? And what sane person would blithely accept the assurances of a man who looks like he could break me in half with nothing more than a
look
that I won't be harmed and I'll be safe? What about this entire freaky four-in-the-morning stalkfest would convince
any
woman that she's safe or that the man who gave the order for her to be kidnapped doesn't plan to hurt her?”

Maddox's face softened, remorse reflected in his eyes, surprising her with how much it transformed his appearance from a man not to be fucked with ever to someone who actually possessed a conscience. He seemed to truly regret that he'd frightened and intimidated her, as if
that had never been his intention and he was appalled that she'd perceived his actions that way.