Ever.
She nearly laughed at the mental image of Maddox being confronted with three petite but very stubborn, determined women who were like pit bulls latched on to a prime steak when it came to something they wanted. They wouldn’t be intimidated or put off by Maddox—or any of the other badasses who worked at Impulse. The poor guy—or guys—would never know what hit them.
Well, except for Drake. She very nearly shivered at the memory of him simply looking at her. Like he was peeling her, layer by layer, and seeing every single thought, reaction or emotion she so carefully tried to hide from the rest of the world. For all the good that did her.
No, her girls wouldn’t have a chance with him. And though her friends weren’t intimidated by much, one look from Drake would likely send them scurrying in the opposite direction. Which was what Evangeline should have done, and she still questioned why she hadn’t done just that. But she’d been in shock and utterly overwhelmed by the entire sequence of events. Nothing had gone according to her friends’ carefully laid-out plan. But then Evangeline had never really truly believed it would, but foolishly, she’d allowed herself to be talked into the whole sordid mess. And what a mess it was.
She bit into her bottom lip, a sure sign of agitation. Her “tell,” as her friends often told her—in an attempt to get her to quit it. Not that it did any good. Because if she did relate what all happened after Maddox took care of Eddie . . . well, they would get it into their heads to go confront Drake, and that was the last thing she wanted. For a variety of reasons, the foremost being their safety. A close second was, well, it was humiliating enough already. To have her friends march down to Impulse and make a scene with Drake over it?
She shuddered at the thought. She’d already come across as a complete wimp incapable of taking care of herself, and having her friends go to bat for her would only further solidify that fact.
Steph’s narrowed eyes and deep frown softened, and a look of concern creased her pretty features and she asked in a gentle voice, “Vangie, what happened?”
Evangeline swept them all with a glance. Not a look she gave her friends often, because she was too wimpy to cause conflict and she was the peacemaker of the group. She was a perpetual pleaser, much to her friends’ dismay. They wanted to toughen her up. Make her more of a bitch on wheels—what they considered themselves, and they were so not. They were the very best friends any woman could have. But Evangeline just wanted peace. She didn’t want a chaotic existence. She liked her quiet life, her small group of friends and her job at a local pub that wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as a place like Impulse, but it was frequented by locals—except for Eddie, of course, who’d only been at the pub to seduce her. Policemen, firemen and EMS personnel in particular, which made her feel safe. More evidence of her naïveté, no doubt. The patrons were friendly and remembered her by name, and the tips were good, thanks to her gorgeous legs, fuck-me shoes and sweeter-than-sunshine smile—according to her friends. Because she sure as hell didn’t remotely regard herself in that manner. Their description of her made her hysterical with laughter, but she loved them dearly for their unconditional love and support and for the effort they put into trying to convince her they knew her better than she did herself. The endless hours they spent bolstering her self-confidence, and the absolute conviction she saw in their eyes and heard in their voices, warmed her inside and out.
Evangeline had merely rolled her eyes and informed them that any waitress who made the effort to remember their names and their preference in drink and to make them feel welcome after a long shift would receive the same.
Steph had snorted and then pointed out that if that were the case, they’d all be making as much in tips as Evangeline did.
With a sigh, Evangeline plunged ahead, because she was in a no-win situation. If she didn’t tell them everything, they’d haul themselves down to Impulse, interrogate Maddox and then God only knew who else and likely end up in Drake’s office.
And if she did confess every single thing? Who was to say the outcome would be any different? Only in this case, they might well skip Maddox and the other minions and go straight to Drake.
So she did something she never did with them because she trusted them absolutely. Never questioned them or their loyalty. But she also knew once they gave her their word, that even if it killed them—and it would in this case—they’d keep it. She set conditions.
“I’ll tell you the rest but only if you swear to me that one, it never leaves this room and remains between the four of us. And two, you’re to leave it alone. I mean completely alone, as in you forget it as soon as I tell you and there will be no confronting anyone, no questioning anyone, no investigating anyone or being nosy. You have to swear it,” Evangeline repeated emphatically. “Or my lips are sealed.”
The three looked shocked but each nodded in turn, though Steph didn’t look at all happy at having to promise something before she even knew what Evangeline was going to reveal. Her lips twisted into a mutinous line, but Evangeline stared her down, never once averting her gaze, until finally Steph threw up her hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay,” she said in exasperation. “I promise.” She glanced at Lana and Nikki and then added, “We all promise. Now will you just get on with it? We’re dying of curiosity here!”
Satisfied that she had their consent, and knowing that they’d never go back on their word, Evangeline falteringly related everything that happened after Eddie had been tossed from the club. She left nothing out. No words that Drake had said to her. They were burned into her brain, so it wasn’t as though she would ever forget them.
By the time she finished, her cheeks were on fire and no doubt so red that she looked like she was sunburned. The room felt way too hot and she desperately needed a cold shower, or even better, a bathtub full of ice she could submerge herself in until her flushed and aroused, traitorous body rid itself of the lingering aftereffects of Drake’s mouth, lips, tongue. His touch. God, just his touch had sent her up in flames. She didn’t dare imagine if things had gone further and they’d had full-on sex complete with penetration of more than just his tongue. She could feel yet another wave of heat invade her body, and every single one of her girly parts tingling in wild anticipation. She had to stop this!
How on earth, hours later, could just remembering all the things he’d done turn her into a complete hormonal mess? She didn’t even have the courage to hold her friends’ gazes anymore and had long since fixed her stare at a distant point so she couldn’t see their reactions.
When she finally dared to sneak a glance at her friends’ expressions from underneath her eyelashes, their mouths were agape and their eyes wide with complete shock. And for once in their lives, particularly Steph’s, who never had a shortage of anything to say, they were utterly speechless.
Nikki’s mouth popped open and shut several times in a row while Steph just stared in stupefaction. Surprisingly, it was Lana, the quietest of the three, who finally managed to squeak out, “What? For real? Are you serious?”
And it was a squeak. Barely audible due to the obvious disbelief cracking her words.
Seemingly Lana’s breaking the stunned silence began a barrage of questions from all directions until Evangeline covered her ears and groaned, sinking back onto her pillow and closing her eyes. She reached for the second pillow and would have pulled it over her head to shut them all out, but it was promptly snatched from her grasp and Evangeline found herself staring up into Steph’s outraged features.
“Oh hell no,” Steph huffed, her eyes flashing as her head hovered directly over Evangeline’s face. “You are not getting out of this.” Then she stopped, clearly at a loss for words for a second time in mere moments—twice in a matter of seconds? Her hand flew above her shoulder, palm up and fingers splayed wide in a universal gesture that screamed what? Her expression said everything else her gesture didn’t cover . . . Like why? And how? And holy crap! Really?
If it weren’t for the fact that the events were all too real and they had happened to Evangeline, she would have found her friends’ reactions comical and would even now be holding her sides and laughing hysterically as if she’d managed to successfully pull off the mother of all pranks, something she wasn’t remotely capable of because her girlfriends informed her she was too guileless and wouldn’t even begin to know how to deceive someone.
They made it sound like a crime, or at the very least a cardinal sin. Did people pride themselves on being deceitful or worse, being convincing and successful at it?
Evangeline sighed because yes, she was indeed everything her friends accused her of, though accused was too strong a word. They despaired of her naïveté and her inability to be catty and bitchy to those who deserved a good setdown. They were forever telling her she was too sweet, too innocent, too forgiving and trusting for her own good.
They loved her dearly for the very things they considered shortcomings, but they worried that those characteristics would end up being her ultimate downfall. Maybe they were right, but Evangeline couldn’t change who she was any more than she could change who she wasn’t. Hadn’t last night solidly proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt?
And well, she didn’t want to change. She liked herself just fine the way she was, shortcomings and all. No one was perfect. It just so happened she had more imperfections than most. So what? There was nothing she could do about it, so why waste time and energy she didn’t have trying to be someone that not only could she never possibly be, but also that she had no desire to become?
Put like that, last night hadn’t been the disaster Evangeline had immediately labeled it, and peace settled over her, pushing away some of the still-vivid and all-too-fresh humiliation cloaking her, even as her friends continued to stare her down looking like they were ready to rip her hair out by the roots if she didn’t further explain the shocking revelation she’d dropped on them as though it had been a live explosive.
“He actually went down on you in his office? On his desk?” Nikki asked in a hushed whisper, evidently having reached the breaking point of her patience and deciding Evangeline was going to have to be interrogated since she still wasn’t forthcoming with all the juicy details her friends craved.
“God, you make it sound so . . . sordid,” Evangeline said with a soft groan. “I feel like I should be in church right now, or at least at confession.”
“Hon, I think one has to be Catholic to go to confession,” Lana said dryly.
“Stop distracting her!” Steph said in a near shriek, her agitation making her even more agitated. “And Vangie, I hate to break it to you, but it was sordid. In a really delicious, oh-my-God, goose-bump-inducing kind of way. I need to sign up for that kind of sordid, because nothing I’ve ever done has even come close to that kind of hedonistic delight.”
Evangeline lifted one eyebrow in surprise. She’d expected . . . She frowned, giving her head a light shake to clear the confusion. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected. Maybe condemnation? Disappointment? Judgment?
But that wasn’t at all what she saw reflected in her friends’ gazes. There was a myriad of responses, almost too many to sort through, but nowhere did she see anything that made her feel ashamed or even sorry for what she’d done. But then she hadn’t done anything. She’d just been a clueless—a completely clueless—participant, if she could actually call her response actual participation. She’d merely allowed him to happen. To take over and control every aspect of the shattering, life-altering sequence of events that had begun as simple, petty payback. There was no blaming shock, being overwhelmed, or even the fact that her senses had been so scattered that she wasn’t even cognizant of what was happening. She knew who was to blame, and it wasn’t Drake. It was her own damn fault for not having the fortitude and daring to put a stop to the entire farce. She didn’t have a brave bone in her body, and last night had only proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Worse, she’d known exactly what he was doing—what he was going to do—and she’d quivered to her bones, shaking violently with suppressed need and longing. He’d awakened a fire that had long lay dormant within her, and God help her, she’d wanted it, craved it and him—with every breath in her body. With wild desperation that still bewildered her, because the wanton woman she hadn’t even known existed had responded with complete abandon to a man she’d known for all of a few minutes. For once in her life she’d given in to spontaneity. Done something completely out of character. Grabbed onto the moment and reveled in every single second of unimaginable pleasure. Like in her most erotic fantasies she’d never shared with anyone. Not even her friends. Because they shamed her, and more than that, they frightened her, because in no way, in any of her wildest fantasies, was she in control of any aspect. She belonged to a man who cherished her, protected her, spoiled her endlessly, but in return he was demanding, ruthless even, with an edge of danger and mystery that clung to him like a second skin, one he wore with the comfort and ease of someone well acquainted with such a lifestyle.
What kind of messed-up person did that make her? She closed her eyes again, refusing to dwell on things better left in the past. If she had her way, she’d never see him again because she sure as hell would never venture into places like Impulse where even the hired help were seen in a more superior, deserving light than she was.
It might make her the biggest coward on earth, but even if she wasn’t scheduled for work that night, there was no way she would be here at seven that evening waiting to be collected like a “possession” and expected to do unimaginable things—even if the thought of those things sent her body up in flames.
She gave a small sigh, ignoring the looks of growing impatience and irritation on her friends’ faces. One taste was all she’d ever allow herself and it would have to be enough. Because Drake Donovan was not a man to be trifled with. He demanded and expected unquestioning obedience. That much was obvious in his demeanor.
She had to work tonight until closing, and no matter that her girls had told her she could always take a nap after giving them the scoop, Evangeline knew she didn’t have a prayer of going back to sleep. Not with the vivid details from the night before still playing over and over in real time in her memory.
No, she’d simply leave early and go on. Get caught up on some of the things that had piled up over the last few weeks and had been largely ignored by the other workers.
But first, she’d give her friends what they wanted—what they deserved—because they’d never held back from her, nor would they ever.
Then she’d worry about what to do about Drake Donovan. Just as soon as she looked up every piece of information she could find about just who this man was and what he could possibly want with someone as insignificant as her.
Evangeline was exhausted when she stumbled out of the pub an hour after the official closing time. Her feet were killing her, swollen from the many busy hours rushing drinks to customers in very uncomfortable heels. She was sorely tempted to take them off and just walk barefooted home. She’d been so frazzled by all that had occurred the night before and the exhausting interrogation from her roommates that she’d forgotten the pair of comfortable flats she brought to work to walk home in. Now she was stuck walking ten blocks in the wee hours of the morning in shoes she wanted to toss into the nearest trash can. At least she had an even larger amount than her already generous nightly tips stuffed into her pocket, so her misery was a little more bearable given that she could send more than usual back home to her mother.
She was so dead on her feet and already dreaming of at least twelve hours of sleep that she didn’t even see the man outside the pub until she nearly bumped into him. Her adrenaline spiked and her heart nearly pounded right out of her chest as she stumbled back, assuming a defensive position.
A scream lodged in her throat as she frantically assessed the potential threat. Then she recognized the man, but realizing she knew him only ratcheted up her fear, and her first instinct was to run for her life.
Maddox, Drake’s minion, stood nonchalantly in front of her, effectively blocking her escape, his stance deceptively casual. She nearly allowed hysterical laughter to escape her mouth at the idea of having time to pry her too-tight heels from her feet and run for her life because this man would have her before she got the first shoe off.
“My apologies for frightening you, Evangeline,” he said in the same gentle tone he’d used at Impulse when he’d rescued her.
“Why are you here?” she stammered out. “How did you even know where to find me? What do you want?”
She sounded desperate and frightened, but she didn’t even bother trying to disguise that fact. What woman wouldn’t be terrified in her situation? She was surprised she’d even been able to articulate the questions for him that had come out more of a squeak than any sort of actual coherent speech.
Maddox’s expression was bland but there was a hint of warning in his eyes. “It’s not a good idea to keep Drake waiting. You were to be at your place at seven o’clock sharp and I had strict instructions to take you straight to him. And he is a man who expects—demands—obedience and compliance. In all matters.”
Her unease was fast paralyzing her as the last of his words sank in. All matters? He demanded obedience in all matters? Who did he think he was? God? What the hell had she gotten herself into by allowing herself to be coerced into going to that damn club? Damn it, but she should have just listened to herself and refused to set foot in that place. Where was her spine? Oh yeah, she didn’t have one.
He made a deliberate show of checking his watch before his gaze returned to hers, warning still clearly visible.
“It’s now four in the morning, which makes you nine hours late, and Drake doesn’t wait nine hours for anyone.”
Evangeline bared her teeth. “Good! But if that’s the case, then why are you here? By your own admission Drake waits for no one and it’s been nine hours. If he’s not waiting for me, then why are you here scaring the crap out of me?”
Amusement flashed in Maddox’s eyes. “It would appear he’s making an exception for you. My advice is not to make him wait any longer by standing here arguing at four in the morning.”
Evangeline’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? What gives him the right to order me around or expect me to comply with his demands, like I’m some minion or one of his employees?” She shook her head, because this had gone way beyond creepy. Even more so than the bizarre events at the club and in particular in Drake’s office. “You’re all crazy! Certifiable. Besides, I had to work. You know, that thing called a job, in return for which you receive a paycheck? Some of us don’t have the luxury of taking off on a whim. I have bills to pay and a family to support. I need this job, and I’m sure as hell not blowing off work just because the almighty Drake Donovan decided he wants my presence for God only knows what reason. That would make me as insane as the rest of you!”
Once again, amusement flickered in Maddox’s eyes, but there was also a gleam that looked suspiciously like . . . respect at her defiance and bluntness. She was not a rude person, but nothing in her responses could possibly be construed as anything but rude. Not to mention dismissive, and although her association with Drake and his watchdogs had been brief, she knew they were not men who were ever dismissed and certainly not by a meek, timid woman.
When he didn’t immediately respond, frustration made Evangeline lash out again.
“What could he possibly want with me? We exist in completely different stratospheres. I’m nothing. I’m average at best. Nothing to look at. The stereotypical plain Jane who wouldn’t even draw notice in a small group, much less a crowd!”
At that, Maddox’s expression went from amused to pissed and mean in the blink of an eye, his gaze glittering dangerously.
“Bullshit,” he snapped, not expounding further.
Instead he gently cupped her elbow, anchored his arm around her waist and began walking her toward a parked car just a few feet away. The same car he’d taken her home in the night before. He ignored her sputtered protests and her attempts to break his hold on her and merely tightened his grip, slowing his pace to ensure she didn’t trip or stumble in the ridiculous heels she wore. How could such a badass, scary guy use such extreme care to ensure her safety when he was kidnapping her? It just didn’t make sense and her brain was already fried from the night at Impulse and then an extra-long shift she’d spent entirely on her feet.
When they got to the car and Maddox opened the back door, panic kicked in and she immediately backed away only to collide with a very large, muscled man who didn’t so much as budge as she squirmed and began to fight.
Instead he very gently eased her back and began to solicitously seat her.
“You can’t just kidnap me!” she exclaimed, true fright nearly making the words she intended to scream come out more as a croak because her throat was rapidly closing in.
“And yet you didn’t protest overly much when I very gentlemanly handed you into the car,” Maddox said dryly.
“Define ‘overly much,’” she snapped. “Because from my viewpoint I certainly did not go meekly like a lamb to its slaughter. I’m sure it appeared that way to you because you could snap me in half with your fingers, but it doesn’t mean I’m not here under protest.”
But then she looked down to see that she was indeed seated quite comfortably on the soft, expensive leather, wondering how on earth he’d managed to get her into the car with such minimal effort. Despite her bravado about fighting and not being led meekly to slaughter. Self-disgust filled her because yes, to a man like him, it most assuredly would look like she did his bidding without a single objection.
“I was afraid you’d shoot me,” she muttered under her breath.
But Maddox heard and his lips twitched suspiciously, though she suspected he rarely if ever smiled. That too seemed to be a requirement to work in Drake’s establishments. Gorgeous, badass, well built, intimidating, scary and no smiling. Ever.
He shut the door and started the walk around the back of the vehicle to get in on the other side. Evangeline immediately yanked at the handle, fully intending to be out and running as fast as her shoes allowed before he got in.
But nothing happened. She tore at the handle, cursing under her breath, words that would have her mama washing her mouth out with soap because no true lady ever even thought the words Evangeline was spitting out in rapid succession.
Then a warm, comforting hand closed over the one not frantically grasping at the door handle. He squeezed, halting her futile attempts to open what amounted to a child lock that prevented opening the door from the inside. So now she was nothing more than a recalcitrant child, a nuisance Maddox had been sent on an errand to retrieve because she’d stepped out of line. A line she had no knowledge or understanding of. Things just didn’t happen like this in her sheltered existence. She felt as though the night she’d been bullied into going to Impulse she had crossed into an alternative reality that had an entirely different set of rules and she had no idea what the hell they were!
“Evangeline.”
Though not forceful or intimidating sounding, there was still a command for her attention. For her to look at him. One she felt compelled to obey despite the fact that she had no wish to face this man. She chastened herself for even contemplating obeying the order and yet, to her dismay, she found herself complying. How screwed up was that? If she couldn’t even stand up to one of Drake’s underlings, then how on earth was she going to have a chance against Drake himself? She was beyond fright and panic at this point. She was fast entering meltdown stage and wondered if somehow she could stealthily retrieve her cell phone from her bag and call 911. But she had no idea where Maddox was taking her and no actual crime had been committed. Yet.
Reluctantly, but unable to defy his command, she turned her head, her gaze lowered, eyes downcast as defeat settled over her. She sagged against the seat, exhausted both mentally and physically, tears burning the corners of her eyes. She inhaled sharply, calling on all her flagging reserves to pull herself together. This man would not see her cry, nor would he see her as a weak, helpless woman who’d accepted defeat.
“Evangeline, look at me,” Maddox said softly.
His hand still gripped hers but his thumb rubbed softly over her delicate skin as though to comfort her. And the really stupid, screwed-up thing about it was that it did give her a small measure of comfort. Surely if he planned to murder her, he wouldn’t be trying to offer her reassurance. She nearly groaned aloud, because again, her extreme naïveté was taking over her brain. Serial killers were often normal, average men who gained the trust of their victims before viciously ending their lives.
Knowing she was being a coward—and, well, she was a coward—she slowly lifted her eyes to meet Maddox’s intense gaze. She hated conflict and any sort of