Dominated: The Enforcers 2 (The Enforcers Series)

by Maya Banks

  “I’ll miss you, doll,” he said in a voice thick with emotion. “Take care of yourself and the little one.”

  Then he drew away and tipped her chin up with his fingers until she looked directly into his eyes.

  “If you ever need anything. If you just want to hear a friendly voice or just need to talk, you have my number. You get me?”

  She nodded, tears sliding unchecked down her face. She glanced down and the flash of the diamond ring Drake had given her caught her eye and then blurred when more tears flooded her eyes.

  Her engagement ring. Her very last material tie to Drake. She’d forgotten all about it. Slowly she slid it from her finger. She didn’t need it. She had her baby and it was all the reminder of Drake she’d ever need.

  She held the ring out to Silas, her voice cracking when she spoke. “Give this back to Drake, please.”

  “Any message?” Silas asked softly.

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing to say,” she said sadly.

  “Take care, doll. Maddox and I are only a phone call away. Remember that.”

  She tried to smile, but it was hard when she was dying on the inside, her heart breaking into a million jagged pieces.

  “You and Maddox better take care of yourselves,” she admonished. “And Drake. Take care of him too.”

  It hurt to say his name. It was like a physical blow that unsteadied her. Maddox curled his hand underneath her arm and then slipped her beneath his shoulder.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Your parents are waiting.”

  Despite her vow not to fall apart until she was well away from Maddox and Silas and in her mother’s loving arms, she wept the moment her mother reached for her.

  34

  Evangeline surveyed her mother’s kitchen in disgust. It looked as if a tornado had struck. Pots and pans were scattered everywhere along with mixing bowls, opened packages, empty boxes and bags. Flour dusted one entire countertop and the cooktop needed a thorough scrubbing. She actually looked forward to that job. It was a good way to work off pent-up frustration by attacking layers of grease and dried food.

  Her father had said in a somewhat bemused tone that she was cooking enough food to stockpile for the zombie apocalypse. And, well, he wasn’t wrong. She’d cooked, stored and frozen enough dinners to last them well through the spring and into early summer.

  With a sigh, she mentally declared enough. There were only so many things she could cook before she ran through the stockpile of groceries she’d purchased mere days ago. She sat on the stool at the island to rest a moment and automatically ran her hand over her still-flat stomach where her child rested.

  As expected, in sync with the surge of love and joy that always accompanied thoughts of her baby came a wave of agony and grief so strong that if she hadn’t already been sitting, it would have forced her to sink into the nearest chair.

  It had been a month. A month! And yet in many ways it was only yesterday. She wasn’t sleeping. And despite the fact that she had been cooking like a fiend for the last four weeks, she couldn’t stomach the thought of consuming any of her dishes.

  And every single day, she was tormented by her conscience. She had to tell Drake about her pregnancy. Everything had happened so fast. One moment she’d been convinced she would die. The next, Drake and his men had swept in like avenging angels and then . . . ? The rest had been a blur. There had been a doctor. Drake talking to her, his eyes dark with . . . what exactly? She strained to remember, but it was all so fuzzy.

  He’d spoken to her in serious, impassioned tones, but even looking at him had sent shards of agony through her heart and all she’d been able to focus on, the only words she’d been able to form, was that she wanted to go home. Where it was safe. To escape the pain.

  So stupid. As if she’d ever escape the pain of losing Drake. But she had to tell him he was going to be a father. No matter what he thought of her, that he didn’t love her, he deserved to know, and she wasn’t so vindictive that she’d ever try to keep him from his child. What he did with that knowledge was up to him, but she would tell him.

  Would he even care? Would he believe the child was his? He believed in her so little that it wasn’t a stretch to think he’d deny he’d fathered her child. There were paternity tests, of course, but she wouldn’t force him to accept his baby. If he wanted nothing to do with either of them, there was no way she’d shove an unwanted child down his throat. Never would she allow her child to grow up as he had. Unloved. Unwanted.

  Maybe after her doctor’s appointment. Her pulse leapt at the thought of going to see the obstetrician her mother had found. What if she’d imagined the positive pregnancy test? What if she’d wanted to be pregnant so badly that she’d blocked out a negative result? But no. When she’d arrived home, she’d had a cursory exam by her old family doctor, who had confirmed her pregnancy but advised her to make an appointment with an OB-GYN. Tomorrow was the earliest appointment she’d been able to get.

  After tomorrow, she’d make some firm decisions about her future instead of existing in limbo as she now was. She made a face because this entire situation wasn’t fair to either of her parents.

  Her mother watched and worried. She hovered anxiously, taking turns with Evangeline’s father keeping careful watch over her, but they didn’t press, didn’t push her, and most importantly, her mother didn’t speak or act condescendingly to Evangeline. She didn’t pat her on the head and tell her everything would be okay or that time healed all things, nor did she offer her any other trite clichés about recovering from a broken heart.

  She very honestly told Evangeline that of course she hurt and of course she was devastated. She loved Drake and that didn’t go away in an hour, a day, a week or even a month. That it would be a slow process and all she could do was take it one day at a time and never look beyond the next day or push herself to “get over” losing someone she loved with all her heart and soul.

  She adored her mother and her infinite wisdom. Wisdom that only a mother had, gleaned from years of experience and honed by loving and protecting the child she’d carried for nine months and then nurtured through the formative years. It didn’t matter that Evangeline was grown. No one ever outgrew their need for a mother.

  Her mom had quietly told Evangeline that she needed time to grieve. That in a lot of ways, it was the same as a loved one dying, only in some ways worse because that person was still alive, out there, but Evangeline could ever only look but not touch. In a figurative manner of speaking. With death came finality. The knowledge that you had lost that person forever. In a situation such as Evangeline’s, no matter that Evangeline was hurt and devastated and didn’t want Drake back, she still loved him, missed him, and in the most hidden, secret parts of her heart was a flicker of hope that somehow things would work out and they could be together again. And so every day they remained apart was its own sort of hell.

  Evangeline was in awe of how well her mother knew her, how intuitive she was, because wow, she had Evangeline dead to rights. Yes, she did secretly harbor hope, stupid, naïve hope, that by some miracle of fate, she and Drake would live happily ever after and her child would have his or her father. And every single day that she awoke, alone, in an empty bed missing Drake with every breath in her body, she buried her face in her pillow and wept.

  Irritated at how much Drake occupied her thoughts, despite her effort to banish him and distract herself with marathon cooking sessions—as if that did any good—she got up, tossing down the towel she’d wiped her hands on, and attacked cleanup, squeezing the last of the prepared meals into the already overloaded freezer.

  She cleaned, scrubbed, polished and then mopped until the kitchen sparkled. When she was done, she leaned briefly on the mop handle and blew a stray piece of hair from her eyes as she surveyed her handiwork. Her parents, as usual, avoided her when she went into a cooking frenzy, recognizing it as her way of working through her grief.

  If only it did any good.

  “Is it safe
to come in?” her mother called from the door.

  Evangeline whirled, a smile she didn’t have to fake curving her lips.

  “Oh my, you’ve been quite busy,” her mother said, shaking her head as she ventured farther in.

  Evangeline hastily dumped the mop water into the sink and then put the mop on the back porch to dry. When she returned, she went straight to her mother and enfolded her in a fierce hug. Her mom hugged her back, but when she drew away, she had a bewildered look on her face.

  “Evangeline, what’s wrong, darling?”

  Evangeline smiled, though a sheen of tears already coated her eyes.

  “Nothing. I just wanted you to know how much I love you and how grateful I am to have you and Daddy. I don’t know what I would have done without y’all.”

  Her mother’s eyes softened and her face shone with love and tenderness.

  “Oh, my darling, I love you too. I hate to see you hurting so badly. There is nothing more frustrating as a parent than to see your child in pain and be helpless to fix it.”

  “You are fixing it, Mama. Just by being here. You and Daddy have been so terrific.” She sighed and glanced around the now-spotless kitchen. “I suppose I really should let you have your kitchen back.”

  Her mother laughed. “I don’t know. It’s kind of nice to know that I won’t have to cook for the next six months.”

  Evangeline issued a rueful grin. “I guess it’s better than the more clichéd ways of dealing with a broken heart. By eating a pound of chocolate a day and watching sad movies.”

  Her mom rolled her eyes. “I’ve let you be to do your thing in the kitchen because it isn’t hurting anyone, but I’ll turn you over my knee if you start with bad habits. No man is worth that level of self-destruction. Besides, you have a child to think of now,” she said gently, reaching for Evangeline’s hand and squeezing in a comforting gesture.

  Pain robbed her of breath for a moment as she imagined her child. A little boy who looked just like Drake. A little girl with her blond hair and her father’s dark eyes. Or a dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter. She would be so beautiful.

  “And speaking of which,” her mother said, continuing on as if not noticing Evangeline’s sudden quietness—her mother never missed anything—“do you remember you have a doctor’s appointment at one tomorrow?”

  As if she could forget. The appointment had been all that she’d thought about for the last week.

  She nodded. “Are you still going to come with me?”

  An anxious note crept into her voice despite her trying to make it sound like a casual inquiry.

  Her mother hugged her fiercely. “I wouldn’t miss it, darling. Of course I’m coming. You’re carrying my grandchild! I’m very much looking forward to knowing an approximate due date so we can make plans. And I’ve already started sewing for the little one. Neutral colors, of course, until we know what you’re having.”

  Evangeline smiled, feeling a rush of excitement, the first good feeling she’d had in so very long that it was intoxicating. She wanted to hug it to her and hold on to it forever.

  “Oh, I can’t wait! I can’t decide if I want a boy or a girl. I honestly don’t care! I already love him or her so much,” she said fiercely. “I can’t wait to meet my baby and hold her.”

  Her mother grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You just called it her. Could it be you’re secretly hoping for a daughter?”

  Evangeline laughed. “No. Honestly, I don’t care. I alternate saying him and her because I hate calling the baby it and well, I don’t want to give preference to either sex so I just switch back and forth.”

  “Brenda! Where in Sam Hill are y’all?” her father called from the living room.

  Her mother clapped a hand over her mouth. “Whoops! I got so caught up I completely forgot why I came in here. Your father sent me to kidnap you. He’s starting a movie and wanted us to watch it together.”

  Evangeline linked her arm through her mother’s and squeezed affectionately. “Then let’s go sit down with Daddy and keep him company for a while.”

  35

  Evangeline was quiet on the drive home from the doctor’s appointment. Though she’d been euphoric when the obstetrician had ordered a vaginal ultrasound to determine her due date, and she’d seen the heartbeat—had heard it!—when she and her mom had left the clinic, sadness had settled over her.

  How different things would be if she and Drake were still together. About to be married. Having a baby. He would have gone to her appointment with her and they would have shared in the joy of seeing their child for the first time. Instead, she was a single mom. One of many enduring their pregnancies without a supportive spouse or partner.

  She stared blindly out the window as they drew closer to her parents’ home, blinking to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. It was time to stop crying and pull herself together. Face reality. Drake—being with Drake—was a fantasy. An impossible dream because he could never trust her, never believe in her, and she could never be with a man who had so little faith in her. She owed herself and her baby more than that.

  She rubbed her stomach, still awed by the images on the ultrasound monitor. This was a time for joy and excitement, and she refused to allow Drake Donovan to take that away from her. A child was a cause for celebration no matter how it came to be, and she never, for one moment, wanted there to be any doubt that her child wasn’t dearly loved and wanted with every single part of her heart.

  Her mom pulled into the drive and cast an almost nervous glance in Evangeline’s direction. Evangeline looked at her mom in question, wondering at the odd look on her mother’s face. But it was gone as soon as it registered, leaving Evangeline to wonder if she’d imagined it as her mother smiled brightly at her.

  “Let’s go in and show your father the sonogram pictures!”

  Evangeline’s heart squeezed and she clutched the pictures to her chest, a surge of love making her heart flutter. She smiled back at her mom and the two women got out and walked to the door.

  Her mom went in first and to her surprise headed for her bedroom, leaving Evangeline standing in the foyer in confusion. With a shake of her head at her mother’s odd behavior, she headed into the living room to find her dad and share the news from her doctor’s appointment.

  But when she walked into the living room, she halted in her tracks, her shocked gaze settling on the man standing on the far side, hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, staring broodingly out the window overlooking the backyard. Then he turned and their eyes locked and her stomach bottomed out.

  Drake.

  What was he doing here? She sucked in her breath at the raw vulnerability reflected in usually nonexpressive eyes, eyes that never gave anything away. He looked . . . tormented. His expression held utter bleakness and he looked as if he hadn’t slept or eaten in weeks. He looked as bad as she felt.

  What was he doing here?

  She tried to open her mouth to ask but found herself incapable of speech. The result was her looking at him completely dumbfounded, her heart in shreds, bleeding.

  “I wanted to be here in time to take you to your appointment,” he said hoarsely. “But the plane was grounded due to ice. I’m sorry. I tried to get here as quickly as I could.”

  “You know?” she asked in a shocked voice.

  Confusion glimmered in his dark eyes. “Angel, I’ve known since the day you found out,” he said gently. “Do you not remember the day we rescued you from your abductor and how worried we were that something had happened to the baby?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember much about that day,” she whispered. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her heart heavy. “Is that why you’re here, then? Because of the baby?”

  He swore softly and then crossed the room as if to pull her into his arms, but he hesitated when he drew abreast of her, almost as if afraid of her rejection.

  “I’m worried about the baby, yes. But I’m more worried about you. I’m here becau
se I can’t live without you. I’m here because there is so much I need to say to you, Angel.”

  Before she could respond to his raw declaration, he slowly and painfully lowered himself to his knees in front of her, gathering her hands in his as he looked beseechingly up at her.

  “I’m begging you to listen to what I have to say. Hear me out. Please.”

  Evangeline stared in shocked bewilderment at Drake’s haggard features and the aching vulnerability reflected so clearly in his eyes. He was assuming a position of submission and humility. Tears choked her, clogging her throat as so much of the pain and devastation she’d tried so hard to make peace with bubbled up and threatened to burst free, much like a dam breaking.

  “You refused to listen to me,” she said thickly. “I was on my knees begging and you wouldn’t even hear me out. You refused to give me a chance. Why should I give you the same? I gave you everything, Drake. Everything. I held nothing back. I gave you my submission. My love. My trust. My loyalty. And you threw everything back in my face. It was like you were just waiting for me to fail. You wanted me to fail. And when it appeared I had, you couldn’t wait to throw me out. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”

  She was heaving for breath, the tears she’d tried so hard not to let him see sliding down her cheeks. She wiped hastily with the backs of her hands, dashing them away before she looked away, refusing to meet his imploring gaze a minute longer.

  “You’re right,” he said in a subdued, defeated tone she’d never heard in him.

  Her gaze swung wildly back to him at his admission, unable to believe he was admitting that she was right and he had been so very wrong. His grip tightened on her hands as though he feared she’d slip away and he’d never get her back. Well, he’d already lost her and not because he let her go. He’d shoved her violently out of his life in the cruelest manner possible.

  “Why did you come for me, Drake?” she asked, ignoring his admission. “Why did you even bother rescuing me from that horrible man? I would have thought you would have been happy to be rid of me.”