Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5)

by Kirsty Dallas

  My attention returned to the table in front of me, and a feeling of unease rolled over me like a tidal wave. The messy, unorganized table was beyond irritating. My fidgeting fingers needed to fix it, and soon I found myself rearranging the salt and pepper, so that they sat side by side, the labels facing towards me. While Mercy, Drew, and David continued to talk, I tried to count the napkins as subtly as I could. There were seven, not good. Removing one, I scrunched it up and placed it in an empty bag that sat in the center of the table. Then I collected the greasy paper which had been wrapped around the bagels and placed them in the bag as well before making my way into the kitchen to dispose of the rubbish. Noticing the glass tumblers on a shelf above the counter I counted three rows of two, and sighed with disappointment. Drew must have stacked them away from the dishwasher. Carefully I removed the third row until there were only two rows of three, the two rows satisfying my need for even numbers. Mercy and Drew continued to talk but David’s gaze rested on me.

  “You aren’t going to eat?” he asked.

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Well, grab your coffee and go get dressed,” Mercy said, her face still set with a carefree smile.

  With a nod I grabbed my mug and made a quick retreat to the bathroom. In the shower, I let the hot water wash over me. I scrubbed my skin the same way I did every time I stepped under the water—hard and efficiently—and tried not to look at the scars on my body. What I was really trying to do was wash away the stain on my skin, that invisible slime that coated every inch of me, the unseen handprints that marked so deep I didn’t think I would ever be clean again.

  God, I felt empty. The only thing living inside my rotting husk of a body was the sporadic pain. If I thought the wrong thoughts and let that box of memories open just a fraction, the hurt was like sharp shards of glass slicing into me, tearing me apart from the inside out. The only way to battle the pain was to force myself to feel nothing, to feel so incredibly empty that it scared me. I felt dead, even though I was still breathing. For a time, in another country where I could pretend my past never existed, I smiled, but that whole time I was really dying inside, and now I was nothing more than a husk of a shell filled with shards of pain. I couldn’t even manage to plaster on that smile full of false hope anymore. When I wasn’t forcing the self-imposed detachment on myself, emotions tumbled around inside me, fighting to be recognized, but they were such a jumbled muddle I couldn’t even attempt to sort through them and untangle the mess. Raw terror, unbearable pain, drowning panic, suffocating anxiety, and deep, endless sorrow, they were all there, wrapped around my heart and killing me, slowly.

  Leaning my head against the smooth tiles, I let a tear fall, then another and another. Meltdown time. I’d had plenty of meltdowns over the last year. I was hoping they’d be behind me by now. I guess bottling things up meant the pressure would eventually get too much and everything I’d been trying to hold back would now flow over. In this moment, I decided to just let it out because holding it in was getting too hard. I felt so fucking broken that lying down and never waking up again seemed like it would be a blessing. That would be giving up, though, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to do that.

  CHAPTER 15

  DREW

  “I’m worried about her.”

  “How so?” David asked. I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken aloud until David’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “Nightmares, counting, she likes to group everything into even numbers, it’s an obsessive behavior and it seems quite bad at the moment. And the isolation. She’d stay inside this apartment forever if I let her. I don’t think it’s healthy for her to hide away like this.”

  David nodded. “Perhaps she could speak to somebody, a therapist.”

  “Would you speak to her?” I asked, knowing David had the credentials to help Lola.

  “I’d be happy to, but keep in mind Lola might not want to talk to me, she might not want to talk to anybody.”

  “I could bring it up in conversation today,” Mercy offered.

  David nodded. “Don’t push her, but remind her I’m here if she needs me, or I can recommend another therapist, a female therapist if that would make her more comfortable.”

  David’s thoughts were logical and the idea of Mercy talking to her about it as a concerned friend rather than David cornering her like a doctor just itching to dig into her mind appealed to me. As soon as the shower cut off, I stood up. “I’ll go get Gabbie. We have no idea if Ben is still after her, or if he’s given up. Dillon’s got eyes on him, and he’s busy keeping his head in the spotlight, doing the meet-and-greet shit that politicians do when they want something, like votes. That doesn’t mean the danger has disappeared; he could have sent someone here to Claymont to watch her. We’ll do the hair salon, but then she comes right back here.” I could tell Mercy wanted to argue. “It’s safer, for now.” Then I turned my attention to David. “If she’s up to it I may bring her by the shelter this afternoon.”

  David smiled and stood. “That’ll be a start. Thank you.”

  Making sure the door to the apartment was secure, I waved the key fob over a panel beside another door, and entered a code that gave me entrance to Montgomery Security. I rode the elevator down, panic about leaving Lola alone in the apartment gnawing at me. She wasn’t alone, though. Mercy and David were still there, and the place was secure; she was safe. I rubbed the back of my neck as frustration tried to settle into the muscles there. I had never felt so completely and utterly useless. Lola was hurting; the pain she radiated was so thick I wondered if I was beginning to drown in it, too. I had no idea how to fix this. Point me at the enemy and ask me to eliminate him, it was as good as done. Change a tire, rebuild an engine, fix a broken generator—as easy as breathing. Knowing how to take away Lola’s pain and fear was far beyond my expertise. This was where David and Mercy excelled; they knew what to do here. I had to trust them. This was what they knew; this was what they did. They helped fix the people who were broken inside.

  “Dejar de ser un cerdo.” Stop being a pig. Gabbie was definitely back, and evidently Bomber was, too.

  “Sweetness, you are welcome to my bacon any day, any time.”

  Yep, Bomber was back and poking the bear, as usual.

  “Bacon is bad for you,” Gabbie retorted.

  I stepped into the small kitchenette that served as the lunchroom for the office staff. Gabbie was fiddling with the straps on the bullet proof vest she wore, while Bomber leaned back in a chair, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles.

  “Everything in moderation, sweetness. Bacon can be a little bit wicked, but at the same time, your very best friend.”

  Gabbie snorted and glanced my way. “We ready?’

  “Apparently, we’re going to Mercy’s hair salon.”

  Gabbie nodded, her long brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail flicking over her shoulder. She was a stunning woman, with the bronzed skin of her Spanish heritage. Her eyes were exotic and slightly tilted upwards at the corners, and her cheek bones were high. She looked more like a damn runway model than a soldier. But, she was as deadly as they came, former SWAT who could shoot the whiskers off a cat a mile out.

  “I know the place; it’s not far from the shelter on a quiet street. It will be easy to spot someone acting suspicious, and we can park right out front the salon.”

  Bomber stood up and knocked Gabbie’s hands away from the strap she had been tugging at. When she would have socked him one, he raised his hands in a placating gesture.

  “Just helping to fix you up, sweetness. I sure as shit don’t want this pretty package getting shot today.”

  Surprisingly, Gabbie immediately relented and didn’t even give him grief about the ‘pretty package’ comment. Was she sick? I watched as Bomber adjusted her straps and pulled them tight before he gave her a pat on the shoulder and returned to his chair.

  “I’ll get weapons, then we’re ready to roll,” Gabbie said with a nod as she pass
ed by me. My eyes remained glued to Bomber who watched Gabbie with something akin to respect . . . and fear. His gaze snapped to mine as soon as she was out of sight, as if her leaving the room had released him from some sort of spell.

  “How’s Lola?” The deep concern in his voice and furrowed brow was clearly evident.

  “Scared.”

  Bomber nodded. “I’m doing a security consultation for a private firm downtown today. Once I’m done, I’ll do a sweep of the city, check a few motels. I’ve got some locals on the streets who keep their eyes and ears open for us. I’ll check in with them and see if there’s any gossip coming from the shadows. If this fucker has sent anyone to our town to hurt our girl, we’ll find him and remove the threat.”

  I nodded in appreciation. “Everything okay with Gabriella? You called her a pretty package, and she didn’t try to shove a knife in your gut.”

  Bomber smiled, his toothpick rolling to the corner of his mouth. “I think I’m growing on her.”

  “Like a fungus!” Gabbie called out from somewhere behind us.

  As I turned, she handed me a fully loaded Glock and two extra clips. My own was sitting in a drawer beside my bed upstairs, but a second weapon was always welcome. She’d pulled a jacket over her vest, and although I couldn’t see any weapons on her, I knew she was locked and loaded.

  “Let’s go get a haircut,” she said with a smile. She was truly a knock out, but for all her badass beauty, she didn’t send my heart into a thumping mess like Lola. I’d wanted Lola long before her attack, and the strength I saw in her just made her all the more appealing. She was a fighter.

  Stepping into the elevator with Gabbie by my side, I pushed those thoughts away. To protect Lola, I needed to be focused; I needed to picture her as a job and nothing more. Even though my head slipped into the game easily enough, my thumping heart, which I had once thought a cold piece of ice, was beating hard with the anticipation of seeing her again. Heck, I’d only just left her with David and Mercy not more than forty minutes ago, and I was excited about seeing her. Whipped with a capital ‘W’.

  ***

  Gabbie’s loud, contagious laughter was crystal clear through the glass door that led into the older style hair salon that sat on a ridiculously quiet street. An accounting firm sat to its right, with a ‘back in twenty minutes’ sign hanging from the front door, and a convenience store to the left, its owner leaning against the shop counter, his head buried behind a magazine. These were the only three businesses on this street. The other old, empty shop fronts were a tell-tale sign that the refurbished and now bustling town center had stolen business away from what no doubt was once a thriving street on the outer edges of town. Tensing, I watched a car drive down the street and relaxed when I noticed the driver, a male who had to be nearing ninety, and from the look of the beaten up, old grey Ford F100, it had to be nearing the same age. He didn’t so much as glance my way as he drove at a slow, steady pace, his eyes glued to the road, his head almost sitting atop the steering wheel to peer over it.

  Muffled voices came from the hair salon behind me, and I turned away from the street and pushed through the door that rang with a loud obnoxious bell, announcing my arrival, again. Gabbie was trying unsuccessfully to muffle her laughter which almost tugged my lips into a smile. Her laughter was loud and uncontrolled, and always ended on a long, indrawn breath that quite often resulted in a snort. The snort made its appearance again, which set Mercy and the hairdressers off. Glancing to Lola, I noticed her own small smile as she watched Gabbie from the mirror she sat in front of, an ugly black and white polka dotted smock over her clothes. Her smile, albeit slight, made my own lips curve upwards. I missed that smile.

  “Well, holy Toledo. This is the first time I’ve ever seen Drew King smile.” Gabbie’s voice pulled my attention away from Lola, and my smile immediately dropped.

  “Dang it, you shouldn’t have said anything, Gabbie. You scared it away,” Mercy joked.

  “And he has one hell of a handsome smile,” murmured the younger hairdresser who was applying some kind of goop to Mercy’s hair.

  “Personally, I think the scowl is pretty damn sexy,” replied the older woman, who had to be at least in her seventies, as she swept away the hair from around Lola’s chair.

  “He’s handsome, right, Lola?” Gabbie asked, and I would have dragged her ass outside and made her watch the street in the rain if I hadn’t noticed the serious look on her face. She wasn’t provoking Lola, or trying to make her feel awkward. As far as she was concerned, it was an honest, simple question, which made my heart leap in my throat. I suddenly felt as though I was one number away from winning the lottery. My gaze swept across the room to Lola once more, and I guess I expected her to look like a deer caught in the headlights. Instead, her cheeks were filled with an interesting blush, and her eyes seemed to fight a battle as they dipped to roam over my body before being dragged away a number of times. She finally gave a small but definite nod. Well, her hesitant observation was pretty damn interesting, the obvious heat in her gaze hitting me right in the chest, but I was still going to kick Gabbie’s ass when we were alone. The entire situation was beyond embarrassing.

  I gave a cordial nod and made an exit that every coward would be in awe of, leaving the loud bell and a giggling Mercy in my wake as I moved back onto the street where it was now beginning to rain heavily. Running my hand over my buzz cut hair, I shook my head. It had been a long time since anyone had associated Drew King with the word ‘sexy’. Back then, I’d been a young, arrogant man from a military family who used those good looks and bad boy persona to get me under the skirt of any young woman who glanced my way. Those days ended after my first tour in Iraq. The easy-going smile, jokes, and laughter seemed to vanish, replaced with the hard scowl that felt unnervingly natural. The long, pale scar that ran down the side of my face felt like a female repellant, and if one ignored the obvious flaw, my jaded personality had them turn on their heel and run in the opposite direction pretty damn quick. My sex life had dried up well over a year ago. Unless you could call jacking off in the shower a sex life, in which case it was alive and well.

  While my face was now tarnished, my heart and soul held just as much ugliness. Taking a life took a toll, and I had taken many.

  No, I wasn’t handsome. I was scarred both inside and out.

  CHAPTER 16

  LOLA

  I fidgeted with the small, steel button on the side pocket of my jeans, having no idea how I ended up here, at Mercy’s Shelter, sitting in a cozy recliner covered in an old-fashioned floral print beside a large space heater. Scratch that, I knew exactly how I ended up here . . . Mercy. She said she was worried about me, her concern evident in her furrowed brow and downturned smile. I hated seeing that worry, and when she suggested talking to David, I agreed. I’d just about do anything to see Mercy happy.

  Knowing my apprehension about talking to David, Drew had picked up his dog Max from Annie and Dillon’s. Having the tiny fur-ball had helped distract me from my impending therapy session.

  I watched as Drew talked easily with one of the shelter’s male staff, an older man named Blue, while Max sniffed the ankles of anyone who acknowledged him, which was pretty much everyone. He was adorable, lovable, and completely snuggle-worthy. Nobody denied him the attention he sought as he trotted around the giant warehouse filled with cots, fabric dividers, and living space. There only appeared to be six women living in the shelter, and after counting the beds carefully spread out and divided to ensure maximum privacy, I counted twenty-five unoccupied beds. Thirty-one beds in total. My jaw tensed, and my eye ticked with annoyance over the odd number.

  “Max sure is a hit here. Mercy and I have wondered about getting a dog of our own so would could bring him or her in now and again. Animals are great therapy. The women feel safe around them; they want to nurture and protect them, and it brings a sense of normal to a world that is anything but normal.”

  David sat down in the chair across from me, watchi
ng as an older woman swooped down and picked up Max. She laughed as he licked her face with the innocent exuberance only a dog could give.

  “That’s a good idea. You should do it,” I whispered.

  “Hmmmm, if Mercy has any say in the matter, we’ll be stopping by the pound on the way home and adopting some fur-baby that needs a little love.” I nodded, and glanced at David whose attention had now settled on me. “How are you doing?” I shrugged, and David sat back, crossing one leg over the other with a gentle, patient smile. I’d been here before, sitting in front of a therapist who feigned interest in me and my life. That therapist had admittedly helped me curb my obsessive need to group my entire life and everything within it into neat groups of even numbers, but it had taken months before I’d found an ounce of confidence in the older woman. I barely knew David. I knew he cared about Mercy and his family and friends. I had heard he was wonderful with the women who passed through the shelter; however, I was wary of his presence. He was watching me closely even though he appeared relaxed and nonchalant. I was positive every little movement I made would be analyzed, and as that thought passed through my mind I glanced down to my thumb that was rubbing circles over that shiny button. It calmed me, but I still stopped and glanced back up to the man who sat patiently before me. He was ignoring my hands, his gaze solely on my face.

  “So-so,” I murmured, shifting under his scrutiny.

  “You arrived smack-bang in the middle of a cold snap. It must have been a shock to the system coming from the warmth of Thailand.” I simply nodded. “I’ve never been to Thailand. I imagine it‘s busy, lots of tourists and locals fighting for space in an overcrowded city.”

  “Depends on which part of Thailand you’re in.”

  “You enjoyed it?”

  Shrugging, I thought back to my time there. Enjoyed wasn’t how I'd describe my time in Thailand. There wasn’t any excitement over being in another country, and there was definitely no sightseeing. It was a temporary home and I accepted that with something akin to casual nonchalance. It was just somewhere to be and it was as good as any place as long as I was safe.