“Julie seems to have it in her head that we were together last night.”
“Does she?” Scotty said without emphasis. He lowered his head so he could nuzzle along Drake’s neck.
Drake huffed, “Yes, she does.”
“Hmm,” Scotty breathed, the breath tickling along Drake’s nape. “Well, I’m not sharing.”
“What?” Drake snorted, pushing Scotty back. Scotty met his eyes with a teasing look.
“She can find her own dark and mysterious man.”
Drake tilted his head back, eyes heavenward. “That is not what I meant.”
Scotty walked farther into the office and propped a hip on his desk. “I know, but it definitely helped get that dark look out of your eyes you had when I arrived. What’s going on?”
All at once the mood in the room changed. Shit, the flash drive. Somehow, Scotty had helped him to forget all about it. He grumbled quietly as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.
The energy had once again drained from Drake. His limbs felt heavy, his conscience dark. He let the dark blank look he wore so often mask his face.
“You should get out of here, Scotty.” His voice was void of emotion.
Scotty tilted his head, confusion clearly drawn across his face. “What do you mean?”
Drake crossed his arms. “I mean, you need to get out of here, leave, get as far away from me and this city as you can.”
Scotty shook his head. “What? No. Drake, we’ve been through this. I am not—”
Drake cut him off with a growl. “Do not fight me on this. Go home, pack a bag, and get the fuck out of here!”
After Drake’s shout, the silence stretched. Scotty stared at Drake with wide eyes, his head still shaking. He took a step toward Drake, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. “No, Drake, no. I am not going anywhere. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m fucked! That’s what’s going on!” Drake shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. The words rumbled between them, and Drake couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t be strong anymore. He collapsed to the floor, his ass hitting the ground hard.
Scotty was next to him in minutes, arms wrapping around him. Drake tried to shrug him off, but he wasn’t that strong.
“Tell me,” Scotty whispered, breath hot against Drake’s brow. Drake shuddered at the warmth. He wanted to wrap his own arms around the man. He wanted to push him away and send him running. He wanted to kiss him and love him, and he wanted to shout and scream and make it so Scotty would never want to see him again.
In the end, he couldn’t do any of those things. He just sat while Scotty soothed him, arms around him, hands caressing in soothing circles.
“Tell me, Drake.”
Drake sighed. “Well, for one, Jacob is taking over Frankie’s position while Frankie’s gone. I found him going through my desk when I came in. I had to throw the fucker out. I checked to see what he was doing and it turns out he’s hiding a flash drive in my desk that looks like its details for drug shipments, buying and selling.”
“Why do you look so upset?” Scotty asked.
Drake pushed at Scotty, trying to disengage, but Scotty only tightened his arms. Drake huffed. “A bunch of cash has been going missing lately. That’s why Frankie and Jacob have been gone so much. Sending out the big guns because money has been disappearing.” Drake, unable to fight it any longer, turned so his face was pressed against Scotty’s neck. He nestled into the warmth and breathed in Scotty’s unique and calming scent. “The flash drive has detailed accounts of the money and where it’s been going.”
“Where?” Scotty’s voice was calm.
Drake dragged in another deep breath, basking in the warm scent before pushing back to meet Scotty’s eyes. He licked his dry lips and swallowed. “Me.”
Scotty’s eyes widened and his hands stilled from their soothing massage. “What do you mean?”
“There are very detailed reports of how I skimmed the money and put it into offshore accounts.”
“You what?”
Drake blinked as Scotty pushed him farther away. “I didn’t take the money.”
Scotty shook his head. “Of course,” he said as he pulled Drake a little bit closer but didn’t bring him back into the hug. “Of course you didn’t. But, shit, why? I mean, how?”
“I don’t know. Jacob has had it out for me since he started here.”
Scotty shook his head again. “That doesn’t make sense. If he had it out for you, why not just kill you? I mean, thank God he didn’t, but wouldn’t that have been easier?”
Drake let out a small laugh, but there was no humor. “Well, this is an easy way to get rid of me and to end up with millions of dollars.”
“Jacob?” Scotty asked incredulously. “That kid cannot be smart enough to pull something like this off.”
“Yeah, well, that’s one thing about playing in the shadows, you never know what monsters you’ll find in the darkness.” Drake pushed away from Scotty, detangling himself, and worked his way to his feet. If he was going to think clearly, he needed to get some space, some distance. “I need you to leave, Scotty.”
“No,” Scotty said, pushing to his own feet. He met Drake toe-to-toe.
Drake let his grief show. “Please, I need to figure this out, and I can’t think clearly with you here. I can’t do what I need to do if I know you’re in danger.”
“What do you mean, what you need to do?” Scotty asked, his raised voice belying his worry. “Drake? What are you going to do?”
Drake turned his back on Scotty; he couldn’t look at him. “What I have to do. I knew this wasn’t going to end well for me, Scotty. I told you. I fucking warned you that I wasn’t any good for you.”
Drake heard Scotty take a step closer, and he closed his eyes. He fought the urge to turn around, grab Scotty, and run. He fought the thought about the two of them walking out of his office, out the door, getting into his car, and driving. Driving and driving until they were safe.
But that was a hopeless fantasy, because there wasn’t anyplace safe. Not when Boredega was after you. Sure, they could run. But they would keep running until they couldn’t run anymore and then…. Drake didn’t want to think about what would happen after that.
Drake’s shoulders drooped. “You need to go, Scotty.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Scotty said. Then he wrapped his arm around Drake from behind. Drake startled at the touch; he hadn’t heard him get that close. “Please, Drake, don’t do this. Take the information to the police, let them handle it.”
Drake let the warmth of Scotty’s arms linger for just a moment, basking in the comfort, before breaking out of his grasp to retreat out of his reach. He turned back, stopping Scotty’s approach with a dark look.
“I can’t do that. I know you don’t understand, but I have to do this, Scotty. Everything I am has led me to this moment, and I have to go through with it.” His voice cracked.
“Then let me help! I can—”
Drake shook his head. “No.”
“But I could—” Drake backed up a step as Scotty moved forward, arms outstretched as if to grab him.
“I don’t want you involved. I was trying to keep you out of it, Scotty! I can’t let anything happen to you. I care about you too much.”
Scotty let his arms fall to his side. “Why can’t you see that it’s the same for me? That it kills me every time I think of you going off to get yourself killed.” He lifted his head to meet Drake’s eyes, his own brimming with unshed tears. Drake had to clamp his eyes shut against the pain he saw there. “I love you, Drake.”
Drake’s eyes flew open. He pressed a hand to his chest as a bursting pain erupted violently, almost driving him to his knees. “You what?”
Scotty lifted his shoulders. “I love you.”
“You can’t,” Drake gasped, his entire body trembling.
Scotty shrugged again, his body deflated. “I’m sorry, but I do.”
“You can’t
do this to me,” Drake croaked. “I can’t—I don’t—shit, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, I guess. I just wanted you to know that maybe you could have something to live for besides revenge. I know you want me to leave, but for the same reasons you want me to leave, I can’t go, not if you are here. So, just think about it, will you?”
Swallowing against a dry mouth, Drake watched with full eyes as Scotty left his office. As soon as the door closed, leaving him alone, his knees buckled. He collapsed in an ungraceful heap on the floor and stared at the now empty spot where Scotty had been standing. The pain in his chest was unimaginable; the only thing to ever equal it was the memory of his family, and even that had dulled with time. This pain was fresh and deep and completely unexpected. It really could only mean one thing.
“I love you too.” The words trembled out of Drake’s lips as his first tear fell to the floor.
Chapter 20
DRAKE WAS stalking again. He couldn’t help himself. The last few days had felt like hell for him, and it hurt to see Scotty behind the bar working almost as if nothing was wrong, but Drake could tell Scotty wasn’t quite himself. There were dark circles under his eyes, and there was no spring to his step. He had almost dropped two glasses, and he’d mixed up a couple of orders. Drake hated that he was the reason for Scotty’s distress. He hated that he had allowed himself get close enough to hurt them both.
Once he had pulled himself together and picked himself off his office floor, he’d busied himself with paperwork and scotch. He had been hasty when he’d deleted the information from the flash drive, because now he didn’t know what was there. He didn’t know how to fight back because he had gotten rid of his only copy of any damning evidence.
Now that he could think a little more clearly, it was obvious Jacob would have the information saved in other places, and that by destroying the flash drive he had only hindered himself from being able to do any investigating. But it didn’t matter. He had information. It wasn’t as much as he had wanted. It wasn’t enough to get to Boredega or take down the cartel, but it was going to hurt them. And Jesus, did he ever want to hurt them.
He had information on drug houses, on dealers, on enforcers. Hell, he knew how to get to Tony, and he had Jacob serving drinks in his bar. He had notebooks of information about money laundering, and he had absolutely no reason to keep it all to himself any longer. He planned, he schemed. He gathered as much information as he could, and then when he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing Scotty again, Drake made his way to his corner booth to drink and lurk.
Sure, he was being creepy. Sure, he sort of reminded himself of a miserable stalker in a bad slasher movie, but he didn’t care. He could wallow. He was allowed to do that. He could grieve for the relationship he almost had and let the world continue around him. The crowd was hopping, Jacob appeared to actually be doing his job, and as far as Drake could tell so far, nothing crazy was happening.
Drake laughed, bringing the glass to his lips, and let another swallow of smooth liquid warm his blood. Right, so far, nothing horrible had happened. He lifted the glass once more, draining it, then set it down next to the other three empty glasses, quickly scanning the crowd for sight of Jenny. He didn’t see her, but he knew she was around somewhere. He did another quick scan. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. However, he did see a familiar figure sashay her way through the crowd.
Shit. It was Natasha. He was so not in the mood to see her right now. He tried to duck down in his seat, but it was in vain. Her eyes lit up as she saw him.
Letting out an angry groan, Drake picked up his empty glass, wishing for at least a small amount to be left on the bottom. No such luck. Drake pushed the glass away and, in a futile attempt at escape, slowly stood. But as he did the world took a little turn and he stumbled back.
What the hell? He could hold his liquor better than this. He should know; he had a lot of practice. But he couldn’t seem to make the room stop spinning. Maybe he’d had more than he thought.
Soft hands caught him from behind. “Oh my,” Natasha said, her voice flowing in a teasing lilt. “Drunk already, are we? It’s not even eleven o’clock yet.”
Drake straightened himself, trying to stand without swaying. “None of your business,” he murmured, pushing away from the table. “I’ve got a club to run,” he slurred, trying to back away, but Natasha’s hands pulled at his arm, keeping him from retreating.
“I don’t think you will be doing much in your current condition. Probably wouldn’t hurt you to sit and chat with little ole me for a while, now would it? Why don’t we go back to your office?”
Drake shook his head. “Nope, I don’t want to do that.”
Natasha put a hand to her chest in a mock affronted gesture. “Well, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.”
With a snort, Drake tried again to retreat, but Natasha pulled him close once again. “I think you might want to hear what little bit of gossip a little birdie let slip.” Drake tried to wave her away, but her next words stopped him dead. “Word is the Boredega has quite a bit of money missing and a snitch dragging the cops into everything.”
Drake swallowed hard, turning back to face Natasha. He tried to push the drunk away, but it kept a firm grasp on him. He needed a clear head for this conversation, but as the room spun, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He tried not to let his concern show, tugging his arm out of Natasha’s grasp. “Yeah? What of it? Why should I care about that? There are plenty of junkies out there willing to give up information to keep their asses out of jail.”
Natasha swished her hair provocatively, sashaying her way toward Drake again. She linked their arms as if Drake hadn’t just spent all that time trying to free himself of her. “I thought it might interest you because I think I know who it is.”
Blood rushed into Drake’s ears, creating a swirling ocean of sound. “Wha—” His words stopped suddenly as the floor seemed to quake under his feet. Throwing his arms out for balance, Drake caught himself hard on the table, which was much closer than it appeared. Drake let his arm take the brunt of his weight and closed his eyes. The club was not collapsing around him. They were not in the middle of an earthquake, and nothing was happening out of the ordinary except for him.
Drake opened his eyes and met Natasha’s, and her face contorted into a smug smirk. Her usual flirtatious manner was completely void, and instead, there stood a predator. A predator with its claws already sunk into its prey. “Wha—what’d you do…?” Drake managed to choke out between dry lips. The already spinning floor started to pull at his legs, making it nearly impossible for him to stand.
“Oh, Drakeybo, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to be so predictable?” Natasha reached down to pull him up, shrugging one of his arms over her shoulder. “It’s hardly a task to find the bottle of Black Label set aside for you. Such an easy target. It was almost disappointing.”
Drake tried to pull himself away from her, but whatever she’d put in his drink took his fight away. “Drugged me?”
Natasha laughed as she guided him down a couple of steps and onto the dance floor. The way they moved, Drake had no question that they looked like a drunken couple stumbling off the floor.
“Well, you know, you have this reputation for imbibing, sometimes just a bit too much. It would stand to reason that you would finally go a little too far.”
Drake was at her mercy, so he allowed her to half carry, half drag him across the dance floor. They were headed toward the back hallway, and Drake felt a cold chill trickle down his spine. Nothing good could come from going to the back rooms in this state.
No, the only things that could happen to him back there were pain and death. Neither very appealing choices. There had to be some way for him to get out of this. All his years of training, his martial arts and his weapon handling training, wasted. He was taken out by his most prominent vice, the bottle.
But maybe there was a chance.
The only good thing that had happened from him spending so much time at the mercy of the bottle was his relationship with Scotty. Scotty, who knew it took more than four or five drinks to have him stumbling around like an idiot. Instead of fighting against Natasha’s hold on him, Drake let his gaze drift to the bar.
He was there, working as diligently as ever. He was doing everything right, except for looking up to see Drake. Drake willed Scotty’s eyes to meet his, glance in his direction, anything. But Scotty kept at it, smiling unknowingly as he passed on a drink.
All the hope Drake had been able to muster sank back down to the depths of his stomach. He was on his own.
Natasha lugged him down the hallway and into his office. As soon as they made it to the doorjamb, Drake mustered as much energy as he could and pushed against Natasha, slamming her against the frame, breaking her hold. Drake tried to gain some ground, tried to push himself back out the door toward the crowded club, but strong hands pulled him back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jacob pulled him off balance and shoved him into the office. Drake, still unable to correctly maneuver his limbs, fell hard into his desk, papers and pens scattering to the floor.
“The lady said she wanted to talk to you.” Jacob stood in front of Drake, hands on his hips, a leer smattered across his face.
Drake willed his body to cooperate, and with the last bit of motivation he could muster, he gathered himself enough to lunge at Jacob, a pen he’d been able to grab from the floor brandished as a weapon. He slammed into the kid using all his weight and felt the pen meet resistance before pushing through flesh. Drake couldn’t help the satisfied smile that tilted his lips just before something hard and heavy crashed against the back of his head. Then all there was left was darkness.
Semblance Page 17