Lola’s eyes never once left our female team member.
“Is sh-she okay?” she asked through chattering teeth and blue lips.
“She will be,” Bomber said, determination set in his stubborn jaw.
“I’m s-ssorry,” Lola whispered, her voice so broken it caught all our attention.
Dillon leaned over her shaking body and placed one hand gently on her forehead.
“Not your fault, sweetheart. Don't you dare think this was on you. Gabbie will kick your ass if she finds out you’re guilt tripping over this. This is his fault, and he will pay.”
He pulled away, and I put my own hand on her forehead, the only part of her body not covered by the thermal blanket.
“Anyway, now she’s really a part of the team. She was the only one who hadn't been shot,” Bomber murmured, brushing Gabbie’s hair away from her face. A tender gesture from the arrogant player he normally portrayed. We all knew he had feelings that ran deep for Gabbie, but he carefully masked them behind cheesy one-liners and playful banter. The way he gently fussed over her now belied the cocky nonchalance he usually wore around her. “Come on, sweet thing, open those pretty eyes for me,” he almost begged. He called her sweet thing often, and it was nothing more than a brash pet name designed to get under Gabbie’s skin, and it worked every time. Now, though, the fear in his voice and the undisguised affection made it something different, something softer, something intimate.
Glancing back down at Lola, I watched as a tear slid over her lashes and down her face, disappearing into her hairline. Leaning forward, I kissed her lips gently, not caring that my boss and Bomber were likely watching with blatant curiosity.
“You, me, and a bikini, Ko Phi Phi Beach, baby,” I whispered in her ear.
“Sounds like a p-plan,” she breathed as her gaze settled on mine. “B-but I think you’d l-look ridiculous in a b-bikini.”
Bomber smothered a laugh while Dillon smirked as he checked on the saline bag dripping into a needle in Gabbie’s arm.
“Funny, Mouse, very funny,” I growled, leaning back against my seat.
“You need me to look at that?” Dillon asked, nodding toward my thigh.
“You’re b-bleeding, again?” Lola mumbled from under her thermal blanket.
“Just a scratch,” I said, tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Don’t look, I wouldn’t want you passing out from the sight of blood,” I added, giving her a wink.
“Who the fuck are you, and where is our cranky bear?” Bomber asked.
I gifted him with my middle finger before lowering my hand back to Lola’s forehead. Then I rested my head back and closed my eyes. Every ache in my body was screaming: my thigh throbbed, and the cut on my bicep was still bleeding freely, I could feel it trickling down my skin. I needed stitches and a shower. Lola needed a new safe house, and once I knew Gabbie was going to be okay, I was going to end this once and for all.
CHAPTER 34
LOLA
Being warm had never felt so good. The spasms had finally subsided, and I could feel my hands and feet again. My toes and fingers were another matter, but the doctor assured me as my body temperature rose, the sensation would come back. No permanent damage, unlike Gabbie. Shifting under the warm blankets that covered me from neck to toe, I glanced at Drew who sat in the seat beside my bed. His head was resting against the wall, his arms crossed over his large chest. Someone had given him a clean shirt to change into. A stark white bandage around his upper arm was the only indication he was injured, but I knew under the bloody cargos was a bigger bandage covering a deeper laceration. He was alive, though, even if he was brooding. He’d initially refused medical attention, wanting to make sure I was seen to first. Dillon put a stop to his stubbornness by asking if a nurse could see to his wounds in the same room where I was being treated. It went against hospital policy, but apparently, Dillon could be very persuasive.
We weren’t in Claymont; instead, the chopper had flown us to a bigger hospital which ended up being closer, anyway.
Drew’s head lifted and his gaze met mine, those fathomless eyes full of a potent mixture of fear, relief and anger. He looked as though he carried the weight of the world on those wide shoulders.
“I think I love you more than a little bit,” I quietly confessed.
My words had the desired effect; his shoulders fell if only by a fraction and his gaze softened.
“Think I love you a whole lot more than a little bit, Mouse.”
The door to my room opened slowly, and Bomber popped his head through the opening. I tensed, being naked under the blankets made me feel vulnerable, but Drew sat forward and placed a reassuring hand right over my chest. Even though several layers of blanket separated his hand from my skin, the gesture seemed to burn through the fabric and right into my heart.
“She’s in surgery,” Bomber immediately answered the unspoken question. Dark rings hung under his eyes and worry filled them. “Boss man wants to speak to you,” he directed at Drew, then turned his piercing green eyes on me and offered a small smile. “And you’ve got a visitor, if you’re up to it.”
Suddenly, Rebecca pushed Bomber aside and ran into the room. For a woman who never had a lock of hair out of place, she looked a mess. Her white-blonde hair was in a knotted bun on the top of her head, her pale face makeup free, and rather than the immaculate fifties-style clothes she normally wore, she was in yoga pants and a baggy sweater.
“Damn it, Lola, you scare me like this again, and I’ll fire your ass,” she whispered as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I still have a job?” I wondered out loud.
Rebecca snorted, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Of course you do. Nobody can keep my mess organized like you . . . and I miss your crazy quotes from the silly calendar you’re always talking about.”
“They’re not crazy.”
She raised one pale blonde brow. “Friends are like potatoes. If you eat them, they die.” It was January’s quote from last year.
I shrugged. “Makes sense to me. What are you doing here?”
“Ummm, here to see you?”
“But, we’re hours from Claymont.”
Rebecca’s beautiful face filled with a radiant smile. Even without the makeup and gorgeous clothes she was stunning. “I threatened Charlie with no nookie for two months if he didn’t get me here, pronto.”
“Charlie’s here, too?”
Her smile softened to something loving and intimate. “Yeah, he’s out talking with the boys. He made the three-hour drive in two and a quarter, and we’re not going anywhere until we know you and Gabbie are okay. Nothing like sexual deprivation to get a man motivated.”
“Mouse?” My attention was drawn to Drew who was now standing at my side. “Gotta go talk to Dillon. Will you be okay?”
I would have rolled my eyes, but damn if this man was too sweet for words. Carefully maneuvering my hand from under the blankets, I grabbed his finger tips and squeezed. “I’m good.” And I was. I probably shouldn’t have been. I’d just escaped gunmen chasing me through a damn forest, I’d been borderline hypothermic, and Gabbie had been shot, but I was okay. Ben had done his worst, and I was still standing.
Drew brought my hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to my fingertips before following Bomber out of the room.
“Girl, you’ve been holding out on me,” Rebecca breathed in awe. “He’s big all over, right? I mean, Ella and I have talked about this in length, no pun intended, and there is just no way a big, sexy beast like that isn’t a beast everywhere.” She waggled her eyebrows, and I felt the blush in my chest and neck. “Oh my god, you little sneak! I need details.”
“He’s in proportion,” I said, squirming beneath the heated covers. “And that’s all I’m giving you.”
Rebecca sighed and moved around the bed to sit in the chair Drew had vacated.
“You’re comfortable around him.” It wasn’t a question. “All of us girls were creep
ed out by the way he used to just sit and watch you, but I saw the tension drain out of you whenever he was around.”
Shrugging, I rubbed together the fingers Drew had kissed only moments before; the warmth from the gesture still lingered. Rebecca was more perceptive than I gave her credit for.
“Yeah,” I acknowledged with a sigh. “I’m comfortable with him.”
“You deserve that,” Rebecca whispered. And for the first time in my life, I truly believed I did, in fact, deserve that.
“Now, how did he get his scar?” Rebecca pointed to her cheek, where Drew’s scar ran down the side of his face. “It’s so damn sexy! Was it in a knife fight? Ohhhh, we heard rumors he was a mercenary in Africa for a while. Was he attacked by a lion?”
“You and Ella need to cut back on Friday night drinks.” I sighed, knowing their gossip sessions began and ended with girl’s night.
“You can’t blame us. He's just so sexy and mysterious. It makes us curious.”
“He is sexy, isn’t he,” I murmured.
“Who’s sexy?” Something akin to a squeak popped out of my mouth, and Rebecca tried hard to smother her laughter. Drew strolled into my room with the casual grace of a predator, those long, muscular legs easily eating up the distance as he moved to the side of my bed. “You’re blushing, Mouse,” he noted, a spark of playfulness in his eyes.
“Okay, now I’ve seen with my own eyes that you’re okay and in capable hands. I’m going to head out and see if I can get some information on Gabbie’s condition.” Rebecca stood and kissed my cheek before offering Drew a cheeky wink.
“Bye, Cranky Bear.”
Drew mumbled something under his breath as she left the room.
“Soon as Gabbie’s well enough, I’m going to have her clean out all the team’s cars for a month as punishment for giving me that nickname.”
My thoughts turned to Gabbie once more and it was like being doused in a cold bucket of water. She’d taken a bullet. For me.
“What about Grandma Catalina? Does she know Gabbie was hurt?” I wondered.
“Larz is bringing her. They'll be here soon.”
Eyeing the small space on the side of my bed, Drew carefully sat as I wiggled over to give him a little more room. Pulling my arm free from the blanket I was cocooned in, I took his hand which sat on his thigh. He linked our fingers and squeezed gently.
“I’m going to have to leave for a while.”
I blinked and nodded. It made sense, he couldn’t stay with me here in the hospital, but the doctors had given the impression that I’d be able to leave in a few hours. Glancing over his bloody pants, I assumed he was dying to shower and change.
“Will you come back to pick me up?”
Running a hand over the stubbly growth on his jaw, Drew sighed.
“Dillon will escort you back to Claymont.”
Anxiety spiked as I wondered why Drew wasn’t taking me home, but I didn’t want to come across as some pathetic girl unable to be separated from her boyfriend for a few hours.
“Will it be safe?” I whispered.
Drew’s penetrating gaze met mine. “Dillon would give his life for you, Mouse. He'll keep you safe.”
“I don’t want anyone to die because of me,” I answered, the tone in my voice one of annoyance.
“It won’t come to that, anyway,” Drew murmured. “Ben’s been formally charged with rape, deprivation of liberty, and assault. He’s out on bail, and the media have already caught wind of it. If anything were to happen to you or Rachel Dorson at this time, it would look really, really bad for Ben Crane. He’ll go underground, most likely, let his publicity team try and spin this in a way that makes him look like the victim.” Drew leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Shit’s gonna get bad for a while, Mouse. People are going to say things that aren’t true, hurtful things. They’ll most likely try to make out that you were the one chasing Ben, that you wanted him, that the sex was consensual. The truth will come out in the end, though. Dillon’s going to protect you from it all as best he can. You might have to hole up in the apartment for a while.”
“And where will you be?” I asked, my throat clogged tight with emotion, not because of the possibility of the media turning me into some harlot who chased Ben before falsely calling rape, but I was pretty sure when Drew said he was leaving for a while, he didn’t mean just an hour or two. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead before dipping lower and pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose, then the corner of my mouth. Stilling only a breath away from my lips, he paused.
“Braiden and I are going hunting.”
CHAPTER 35
DREW
Lightning broke through the night sky and a sharp crack of thunder followed closely behind it. Unrelenting rain fell over me like a sheet, seeping through my clothes which clung to my skin like ice. Out of all the conditions I had hunted in, this was the worst, and yet made my job so much fucking easier. The sound would mask mine, and the power which had gone out an hour earlier had saved us valuable time. On a knee, hidden behind a thick hedge against the three story home behind me, I watched the lightning bring the dark world around me to life for a brief moment, before darkness enveloped me again. The weather suited my mood: raw, primal fury. Ben Crane lived in the elegant home behind me where he’d been hiding out for over a month. He was living like a man who wasn’t facing two counts of rape, whose election campaign hadn’t taken a sharp, deadly nose-dive. Watching him drink scotch and snort lines of coke on his back porch that overlooked a large tropical pool with women frolicking in barely there bathing suits had tested my patience like no other. The way he watched the women and touched them made me sick. The man obviously had no problem getting women, and yet, he’d taken not only Lola against her will, but several others. I didn’t understand it, but that’s the thing about crazy, unless your crazy matches theirs, you’ll never get it.
So many times I had caressed the trigger of my rifle as I watched Ben through the scope and imagined putting a bullet through the arrogant fucker’s head. The blood and brains that would splatter against the stark white walls of his brick house would be poetic justice. But, I waited. Braiden and I watched from the foothills that surrounded Ben’s property, avoiding the security team that swept the perimeter every two hours. Taking shifts for the last month until we got to know his routine like it was our own, we were finally ready to move. In the next few seconds his security team would begin their sweep of the perimeter which would take them twenty-three minutes before they resumed their positions around the house, like silent sentries.
Movement to my right caught my attention, and I tensed for a brief moment before Braiden’s familiar face came into view. Kneeling beside me, he leaned closer so I could hear him over the raging storm.
“It’s a go. He's already upstairs.”
To either side of us, we watched the security team disappear in their modern, comfortable golf carts to check the perimeter, and without a word, Braiden and I moved, keeping low and stepping up onto the back porch. It took Braiden six minutes to work open the locks on the back door. For a man with money, power, and security, Ben’s security system was laughable and had gone down the moment the power did. Stepping into the darkened house, we moved through the kitchen and dining room. The house was new, a place of luxury, and it was quiet. As we took the stairs to the second floor, not a single one groaned under our weight, but even if it had, the storm outside would have masked our entry. Coming to a standstill outside Ben’s bedroom door, we checked our watches simultaneously. Seventeen minutes until the security team was back. Braiden placed a hand on the doorknob, turned it, and gently pushed it open. The room was large with a massive king size bed in the center, and upon it lay Ben Crane. Arms and legs sprawled wide, still dressed in jeans and a button-down business shirt, he slept like a man without a care in the world. Unlike Lola, who curled in on herself and slept like a woman trying to disappear from the nightmares that plagued her.
From
the opposite side of the bed, Braiden carefully placed one knee onto the mattress as I stood directly in front of the sleeping man, my gun aimed right in the son-of-a-bitch’s face. Braiden wrapped his gloved hand over Ben’s mouth, and the moment he did, the asshole’s eyes snapped open. He struggled, and Braiden looped an arm around his throat and pulled him tight against his chest. Lightning brought the room flickering to life, and Ben’s panicked gaze found my gun pointed right at him. He stilled.
Reaching under my bullet proof vest, I pulled out the photos and an envelope, then threw them onto the mattress.
“You tried to break something of mine,” I murmured, and Ben tried to speak through Braiden’s hand. “Don’t care what you have to say, and there’s nothing you can offer me to fix this.” Reaching into my vest again, I pulled out a syringe and a rubber tourniquet. “You deserve a long death; you deserve to bleed; you deserve to hurt like those women did, like my Lola did.”
Ben’s eyes widened, and he seethed under Braiden’s grip.
“Yeah, she’s mine, not yours, you arrogant fucker.” Moving to the side of the bed, I lowered my gun while Braiden pressed his own against Ben’s temple. Taking the lid off the syringe, I carefully pocketed it before reaching for his arm. The fucker began to squirm, kicking his legs and trying to pull out of Braiden’s grip.
“I’d be happy to make this bloody and painful for you, Mr. Crane. I’ll knock you out, and we’ll have you out of here and in the back of my SUV in less than eight minutes. I have a warehouse set up for perverted fuckers just like you, and I’d be happy to spend some time there, showing you exactly how much pain you can handle before you pass out.”
Ben stilled at the sound of Braiden’s calm voice, and I was able to wrap the rubber tourniquet tightly around his upper arm. Looking into Ben’s terrified eyes as I pressed the needle into his skin gave me some semblance of satisfaction. This wasn’t how I wanted him to die; I wanted blood and lots of it, but this was clean and would end Lola’s and Rachel’s torment instantly. The media had gone feral with the rape charges, and as expected, Ben’s publicity team went into defense mode and spun the story that the women had chased Ben, that they had consensual sex and the rape charge was nothing more than an attempt to blackmail Ben into paying them off. They dug into the girls’ pasts and tried to dredge up any spec of information that they could find and exploit in an attempt to make the girls look bad. This hunt wasn’t ending with nearly enough blood shed, but it was damn well ending, and that’s all that mattered.
Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5) Page 24