Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5)

by Kirsty Dallas

  She nodded.

  “Okay, you’re going to pull the trigger. You'll feel a bit of recoil, but it won’t hurt.”

  Another short nod.

  Reluctantly, I peeled my hands off her body and took a small step back. Space, I needed space, enough that I couldn’t draw her into my lungs like the addictive drug I knew she had the potential to be. With everything she’d been through, the last thing she needed was a scarred-up beast like me sniffing around her.

  The fire cracker didn’t even hesitate. I watched her shoulders rise on a long deep breath, then she exhaled and pulled the trigger. She handled the recoil like a pro and put three bullets into the target.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed, glancing back over her shoulder, a big smile lighting up her face.

  There was no way I was pointing out she’d stopped on an odd number, my own grin slipping past my hard-ass defense that I wore like a dark mask.

  Her gaze dropped to my lips and her smile grew even wider. “Can I keep going?” she asked.

  “You’ve got seven more rounds in the chamber. Knock your socks off, Mouse.”

  Turning back to her target, she unloaded all seven into the target.

  “Oh my god,” she squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet as I reached to take the gun from her hand. “Can I go again?”

  “You can go as many times as you like,” I murmured, still smiling.

  “You’re smiling,” she noted as I reloaded the weapon.

  I shrugged. “You make me want to.”

  “Same,” Lola confessed. “We make each other smile.” I looked into those big hazel eyes full of so much trust and honesty. “It’s lucky we found each other.”

  I couldn’t help but snort. “Trust me, Mouse, my life has been a road map of bad fucking luck. This isn’t luck, this is something else entirely.”

  Lola grinned. “You know, you never know what worse luck all that bad luck saved you from. Don’t be so down on the bad luck.” With that pearly piece of wisdom, she turned back to the target, got back in position, and began firing.

  The small smiles that she had gifted me today were reminiscent of the girl I first saw laughing with Rebecca inside Bouquets nearly two years ago. Ben Crane had tried to take away that spark, that light. He’d failed. It was still there, she just needed some help turning it on again.

  CHAPTER 18

  LOLA

  David was watching me with those calculating eyes that saw and catalogued everything but were filled with such gentleness. There was no judgement in them. I had always been attracted to Drew, but lately that attraction was stronger. It was growing, and the thoughts and desires that were accompanying that attraction were confusing. I wanted Drew, but the thought of being intimate with him was terrifying. Was it okay to have these feelings? Was it too soon? And how the hell did I get past the fear? Hence why I was sitting with David, spilling my guts in the hope he could fix me and untangle this web of confusing feelings.

  He leaned forward, his elbows meeting his knees, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “You were sexually assaulted, Lola, but you didn’t die and your heart still beats. You are still a woman and that can’t be taken away from you. Intellectually, you know that sexual intimacy doesn’t equate to pain. It doesn’t even have to be about the act itself. Intimacy can be something as simple as a hug or a touch. Only you will know when you’re ready to take the next step to something more intimate. We go at your pace, and it’s not slow or fast or right or wrong. You’ve taken the first step, you’ve acknowledged your feelings for Drew. The next step is talking to him about it. Drew’s a good man; he’s patient and protective. He won’t hurt you.”

  I shrugged, embarrassed about the direction the conversation had headed. “What if he doesn’t return my feelings?” I mumbled, feeling childish voicing that fear, but the relationship David and I had been building was one based on complete honesty, and I finally felt comfortable enough to give him that. He wouldn’t laugh and he wouldn’t judge me. I knew that now.

  “And there is the one fear that every single human being can relate to, the fear of rejection. It’s a real fear,” he nodded, a serious expression on his face, “but you are in the process of defeating your fears. To put it quite simply, is the opportunity to develop a relationship with Drew on a deeper level worth the challenge?”

  ***

  My fingers traced the puckered skin that spelled out that four letter word across my chest. MINE. An offensive branding, like an animal. I pulled the big, baggy shirt over my head, hiding the awful scar. Out of sight, out of mind. With a flick on my wrist, I released my hair from the messy knot I had pulled it into before my shower and let the long locks hang over my shoulders. The dark rings under my eyes were still there, and yet the eyes themselves seemed to hold something new . . . hope. I was starting to sleep through the night, and my anxiety while still prevalent, was mostly under control. That bucket of fears that sat in my bedroom was still full, only one fear had been removed: darkness. I was now sleeping with the lights off and a touch lamp on the bedside table for the times I woke from a nightmare and needed the light. It was only an arm’s reach away.

  Tonight I planned to beat another fear: my feelings for Drew King. Drew had been gone the last four days, working on a mission with Larz. For the first time in a very long time, I’d spent a few nights with nobody but myself for company. Even though Sam lived right beside me and someone was there to greet me each morning, I had never felt so completely and utterly alone.

  Drew would be home soon. He'd already sent me a text to let me know he was downstairs being debriefed, whatever that meant. My heart lurched at the thought of seeing him again, and not in a bad, panic-attack kind of way. I missed him so much it felt like a physical blow every day he was gone. I missed having him make my tea after nightmares. I missed having his rare smiles that were slowly becoming more common. I missed our easy talks. I missed his large presence filling the small apartment. That made me wonder if he missed me? Probably not. He most likely loved the reprieve from me and my crazy.

  Looking down at the dark grey sweatpants I had decided to pair with a frumpy black t-shirt, I snorted. No man would ever miss this, a broken doll in ugly clothes. David disagreed. He was positive plenty of men would find me attractive, that my own perception of myself was far from accurate. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and all that crap. We’d talked in depth only yesterday about ‘the future.’ It had been a long time since I had indulged in fantasies of a future. In fact, I’d been about to start college, thoughts and dreams of majoring in film production. Now I was thinking of another future, one that hopefully included a man. The fact that I, socially inept and sexually stunted Lola Crane, was entertaining thoughts of a man in my life was so ludicrous it was laughable. But Drew had been in my life for some time now, and having him near sure didn’t scare me. He had never scared me even when he used to come to Annie’s coffee shop and I could feel his gaze prickling the hair on the back of my neck. His presence intrigued me because it wasn’t hostile, and he seemed nervous to confront me. That apprehension made the man seem more real. It was kind of cute that such a big, strong, handsome man was afraid to talk to a woman. Before my attack, I’d often wondered if he would ever ask me out on a date. Some days I’d bolster my confidence, determined to take that first step out of his hands and into mine. So many times I’d decided I’d ask him out, and my social awkwardness would hit and I’d chicken out. Did he really like me the way I thought he did? What if I asked him out and he rejected me? How freaking mortifying!

  “Come on Lola,” I whispered, “like Benjamin Mee said: ‘Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage and something great will come of it.’” I was going to tell Drew how I felt. My gut curdled as nerves attacked me, and I rubbed my queasy stomach. I’d do it quick, like removing a Band-Aid.

  Hearing the door to the apartment open and close, I bounced on the balls of my feet a couple of times, much like a boxer might before a fight, then
carefully hung my damp towel and left the bathroom.

  “Hey,” I breathed, finding Drew’s wide, muscular back hidden beneath a shirt that pulled tight in all the right places.

  Drew glanced over his shoulder, a mug sitting under the spout of the coffee machine.

  “Hey,” he murmured, running a hand over his buzz cut.

  We both just stood there, my eyes eating him up from head to toe. While Drew wasn’t a classically handsome man, he was by far the sexiest man I had ever seen. He was so tall and thick with muscle, but not too bulky like the gym junkies who bought protein shakes from the fitness store across the road from my old apartment. His eyes were like chocolate, and however harsh some might say his features were, I found them masculine and sexy. And that scar, it just added to his rugged good looks.

  My heart pounded hard and fast and my body felt like that of a woman in need of a man, a feeling I had long ago forgotten. Maybe it was Drew’s absence that threw my body back into the land of the living. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to lose it. I liked feeling like a woman again.

  Drew finished making his coffee and turned to face me once more.

  “I missed you,” I blurted out. Foot meet mouth. It seemed my wanton feelings were still linked with a lack of control over my mouth and thoughts.

  The corner of Drew’s mouth twitched. “Missed you, too, Mouse.”

  Without thought of consequence, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. My eyes fluttered closed, and I took a long, deep breath. He smelled so earthly and masculine. The warmth of his skin radiated through the cotton and straight into my chilled body. His chest and stomach was roped with hard muscle, and I melted just a little into his warrior body. When I realized how tense he was, and the fact his arms weren’t returning the hug, I relaxed my grip, ready to make a hasty retreat when those big, strong arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me tight.

  “What’s this for?” he murmured, his breath tickling the top of my head.

  “It’s a welcome home hug,” I whispered.

  “Maybe I should go away more often, if this is what I get to come home to.”

  My heart fell over itself like a love-struck fool, and my stomach was awash with butterflies. I didn’t want to let him go, but we couldn’t stand here like this all night, so with much reluctance, I stepped away.

  “I made dinner.”

  Drew’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. “You cooked?”

  His surprise chaffed. Did he really think I was completely useless? I could cook. I’d been taking care of myself for a long time, even if he had been the one to step in and make sure I was fed since my arrival back in Claymont.

  “I can cook. I’m not useless,” I murmured as I pulled two plates of spaghetti from the oven.

  “Never thought for a moment you were, but in my house my dad did all the cooking, even before my mom died, so I guess I’m just used to the man wearing the apron.”

  My mouth fell open with surprise. Drew hadn’t divulged much information about himself or his family. The fact he was offering it so freely had me lost for words, but only for a moment. “Your mom died?”

  Drew grunted in the affirmative as he pulled knives and forks from the drawer and sat them on the table.

  “How did she die?” Internally, I winced at the insensitive question. My curiosity forced the words out of my mouth before I had a chance to think them through.

  “Car accident.”

  I played with my spaghetti, more interested in talking about Drew than eating. It would also delay the conversation I was both dreading and anticipating.

  “Then it was just you and your dad?”

  “I have four brothers. I’m the youngest.”

  “Are you still close?” I wondered out loud. The idea of such a large family intrigued me and maybe even excited me a little. Holiday’s in the King house would be noisy and the thought of all that laughter and love that I had missed as a child was alluring.

  Drew paused for a moment and took a long drink. “Not really. I speak to my bothers from time to time. I haven’t seen any of them in a few years. My dad and I haven’t spoken in even longer.”

  “Did he hurt you?” It was an easy assumption for my mind to leap to. Human beings, even so called family, seemed to have an affinity for hurting one another .

  “No, Mouse,” Drew said with a small smile, shaking his head. “He never hurt me. He was a hard man, military, and wanted his sons to follow in his footsteps. I tried it his way, even did a couple of tours in Iraq, but then rather than fighting for my country, I decided to fight for the highest bidder. I was a gun for hire that spent a lot of time working overseas before I settled back in the US where I began working for a really bad man. My dad didn’t agree in my career choice, and he and my brothers thought it would be best if they kept some distance from me, considering the man I worked for.”

  “Who did you work for?” I blurted out, unable to help myself.

  Drew smiled. It was a killer smile, his best yet. He was getting better at this smiling business. They were offered more easily and seemed less rigid. I could spend all day staring at that smile.

  “Just a man, Mouse. Not a good man, but not the worst. Your turn. Tell me something about yourself.”

  My back straightened, and my mouth suddenly became glued shut.

  Drew arched a brow before sitting back and tilting his head in consideration. “Do you like music?”

  The tension in my body melted just a fraction. Music, that was easy. I could talk about music. “I like music,” I confessed.

  Drew continued to smile. “Me too. I like country.” My eyeballs must have bugged out because a bark of laughter escaped Drew’s lips. “What? I gotta wear a cowboy hat and spurs to like country music?”

  I shook my head from side to side, both in awe of the easing-going attitude Drew had adopted and that he was able to surprise me. He looked like more of a hard rock man than a country one.

  “You like quotes,” Drew noted.

  “I normally always keep a quote a day calendar beside my bed. I like waking up to a different quote each day, something funny or inspiring. Sometimes it would help shake me out of a funk before my day had even begun.”

  “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.” Drew said, his thoughtful gaze on me. “What’s your favorite quote?”

  I didn’t even have to think about this one; it was a quote ingrained in my mind, etched into the walls forever. “We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” Drew glanced at me, the corner of his mouth twitching until the smile eventually got the better of him. “That’s the Dr. Seuss version, but he wasn’t the person who initially coined the phrase. It was an author by the name of Robert Fulgham.”

  “I like it,” Drew said after a moment’s silence. “What about cooking? You like to cook? Do you have any other hobbies?”

  “There aren’t a lot of dishes to my repertoire, but I can hold my own. I don’t really have hobbies, maybe collecting quotes? This feels like an interview,” I confessed with a chuckle. Wow, laughter, there hadn’t been much of that over the last year.

  “Not an interview,” Drew said with a wide grin. “We’re just getting to know each other. Do you like living here?”

  His smile dimmed, and there was gravity in his stare which told me this question wasn’t necessarily playful.

  “It’s okay. It’s quiet and safe.”

  Running a hand down his face, Drew leaned his elbows on the table.

  “I’ve got a home out on the outskirts of town. I miss it. I miss the solitude and the open space. Being in an apartment like this is starting to make me feel claustrophobic.”

  My heart began to pound and the increased anxiety flooding my veins forced my gaze to the mess before us. Unable to help myself, I grabbed mine and Drew’s plates and made for the kitchen. I knew where this conversation was goi
ng. He’d just come home, and now he wanted to leave again, permanently. Of course he’d want to; his mission with me was over. Ben was riding the campaign trail many thousands of miles away from Claymont, things had gone quiet, and without me willing to place charges against him, there wasn’t a lot anyone could do to help me. I’d become a problematic thorn in everyone’s side, a misplaced piece of a puzzle that would never be whole, because I wasn’t brave enough to point the finger at my attacker.

  “I can’t ask Annie and Dillon to keep watching Max, and an apartment isn’t right for him. He's got too much energy to burn. He needs a yard to run in—”

  “It’s fine, Drew. You don’t have to explain it to me, honestly. I didn’t expect you to shack up with me at all, let alone permanently. Rebecca offered me my job back. I’m starting next week, and as soon as Dillon gives me the go ahead, I’ll get my own place and pick up where I left off.” I waved a nonchalant hand his way for extra effect. Meanwhile, my heart felt like it was going to explode, and my hands shook so bad I had to lower them into the sink and pretend to wash them just to keep it from Drew. Pick up where I left off? My mouth had obviously disconnected from my brain. I had no idea what I was saying, and even though Rebecca had offered me my job back at the floral shop, I hadn’t accepted it, assuming I would eventually hit the road again. Life as I knew it in Claymont ended the moment Ben assaulted and violated me. That life was gone, that Lola was gone, and the problem now was I had no idea who had taken her place.

  “Lola?” Drew called my name from the kitchen table as I fussed over nothing in the kitchen. As soon as the spaghetti had been cooked, I cleaned everything to a pristine shine. With our dirty dishes loaded in the sink, there wasn’t a lot else for me to do except stand here like a complete moron in the throes of a meltdown.