by Maya Banks
The agony couldn’t be suppressed in his voice and he could swear the doorman’s gaze softened just the slightest bit.
“She’d planned a surprise for you,” the doorman said quietly. “And after, she was devastated. I wanted to help her. I tried. But she told me that if I did, I’d be out the door just as she now was.”
Drake flinched and then the familiar ache of sorrow invaded his chest, depriving him of breath. The doorman had tried to help her and Evangeline had refused aid because she worried Drake would fire him if he found out. For just a moment he’d allowed himself hope that the doorman could provide him answers. Could tell him where to find Evangeline.
The doorman rubbed his hand through his hair, suddenly looking weary and uncertain.
“May God forgive me if I’m wrong. May she forgive me if I’m wrong.”
Drake surged to attention. “What? What do you know?” he said, switching tactics because he now knew what the man was battling. He was uncertain of Drake’s intentions toward Evangeline and so was reluctant to give Drake any information that would help him find her. Now, unless Drake could convince him that he was doing the right thing and that he wouldn’t betray Evangeline by giving Drake any information he held, Drake would never pry it from the man, even at the risk of his job.
“It is very important that I get her back,” Drake said in a quiet voice. “I’m only half a man without her. I must beg her forgiveness, but I can’t do that until I find her and bring her home where she belongs.”
Some of the doorman’s wariness faded as he studied Drake’s face pensively. “You know, Mr. Donovan, I think I believe you.”
“I just pray she does,” Drake whispered.
The doorman sighed. “I put her into a cab and sent her to a hotel in Brooklyn that my sister manages. Evangeline, Miss Hawthorn I mean.”
“It’s okay,” Drake said, momentarily halting the doorman. “I understand she is special to you, as she is to us all. You do her no disrespect in calling her Evangeline. If I had to guess, she insisted on it.”
A smile curved the older man’s lips. “That she did, Mr. Donovan. That she did.”
“Now, back to the hotel you sent her to?” Drake asked, trying to temper his eagerness.
“She had nowhere to go,” the doorman said, a frown once more in place. “No money. She had nothing with her other than a few changes of clothing. I couldn’t let her go like that, without somewhere to go where she would be safe.”
“You did the right thing, and you have my utmost gratitude for ensuring her safety. You will be rewarded.”
At that the older man’s face hardened. “My reward will be seeing her here, safe and happy again.”
Then Drake frowned. “But that’s been five days ago now. Do you know if Evangeline is still there? She’s not the kind of person . . . that is, she’d never accept charity. She’s too proud. She’d never stay somewhere she couldn’t pay her own way.”
“My sister gave her a job as a cleaner, even though Evangeline was honest and up front and told my sister she didn’t plan to stay long. Just until she earned enough money to move on.”
Drake’s blood froze. Move on. God. How close he’d come to losing her for good. If she was even still there.
“Her shift starts in an hour,” the doorman said quietly. Then he lifted his chin, staring Drake down as an equal, fire in his eyes. “Don’t make me regret breaking her trust, sir. I would never do anything to hurt that young lady. She’s seen far too much hurt as it is.”
“On that you and I agree,” Drake said, closing his hand over the doorman’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness to Evangeline when she needed it the most and for helping me find Evangeline to make things right, though God knows I don’t deserve it.”
“Just bring her home, Mr. Donovan,” the doorman said in a somber voice. “It’s just not the same here without her.”
The words hit him where Drake lived. Right in the heart. Because they were absolutely true. Nothing was the same without Evangeline.
He nearly turned and hurried back out of the apartment building after gaining the name and address of the hotel from the doorman, but he needed to shower and change and he needed to call Silas and Maddox. They were the two who liked Evangeline the most, had the most vested interest in the search. Maddox still carried the weight of guilt for allowing Evangeline to escape in the first place, and Silas . . . Drake wasn’t sure what the connection between his enforcer and Evangeline was, only that it was the most unlikely friendship he’d ever encountered.
But one thing was for certain. Silas was fiercely protective of Evangeline, and Evangeline was equally protective of Silas, taking on anyone and everyone who dared malign him in any way. It would only be fitting for Maddox and Silas to accompany him to bring Evangeline home, to ensure her safety—and his.
• • •
Silas swore violently under his breath when the car bearing him, Drake and Maddox pulled up to the dilapidated hotel five minutes after Evangeline’s shift was to start. Drake sent him a startled look, one eyebrow arched in question.
But Silas offered no explanation. His only response was a dark, brooding scowl, one that was echoed on Maddox’s stony features. Neither man was happy that this was where Evangeline had been living and working while they’d been combing the streets of the city looking for her.
But at least the doorman had been caring enough to ensure that Evangeline had a safe place to go. For that, the doorman would have Drake’s undying gratitude.
“Wait here for me,” Drake said as he opened the door to get out. “And hope like hell that I can convince her to come back with me.”
3
Evangeline plopped the mop down into the bucket of soapy water and then settled it into the wringer, using all her strength to wring as much of the water from the mop as she could before beginning the arduous task of cleaning the reception area.
She knew she had to be quick about it and not interfere with the comings and goings of the customers, which was why it was done at four in the morning each day. Her back ached, her feet were swollen and sore and her eyes burned from the storms of tears she cried every night when she lay on her cot unable to sleep.
She knew she looked bad and that her movements were robotic as she performed her task by rote. If it weren’t for the fact that her heart ached with pain that never subsided, she would have sworn she’d already died and was merely a zombie stumbling through her daily routine.
A few more days. All she needed was a few more days and she’d have enough money to buy an airline ticket back home to her parents. She was no stranger to hard work. She’d work two, three jobs, whatever it took to support her parents, and it would have the added bonus of giving her no time to think about . . .
A shudder rolled over her and her eyes burned like acid had been poured into them. Damn it, she would not cry here. Only at night, in the dark where no one could see or hear, did she allow her grief to consume her.
Who was she fooling? She wouldn’t stop thinking about Drake and his cutting betrayal until her dying day. Putting half the country between them certainly wouldn’t help. Not when her heart would forever remain in New York. With a man who had no heart, no soul, no capacity to love.
Oh God, what was she going to do? Why hadn’t she listened to her friends? Why had she been so naïve? And now, because of her own stupidity, she’d lost not only Drake but also her best friends.
What she wouldn’t give to be at their apartment right now, pouring her heart out and apologizing for betraying them. But she never wanted any of the people she loved to see her at her lowest point.
She had a few days yet to build her meager funds to afford the trip home and also to somehow find a way to get over what Drake had done to her so that she could face her family and not have her devastation reflected so clearly in her eyes and in her body language.
Sadness gripped her because once again she was fooling herself. A few days to get
over Drake? She didn’t have a prayer of ever being free of Drake’s impact on her life, even as short-lived as their affair had been.
But she could at least promise herself never to love with all her heart and soul again. How could she when Drake would forever possess pieces of them?
Weariness assailed her and she wobbled as she gave another shove of the mop, and then grief consumed her in a giant swell, robbing her of strength. She grasped the handle of the mop in a desperate bid not to crumple onto the floor and give in to the heart-wrenching despair cutting her to ribbons.
Her hand shook. Her entire body trembled and so she stood there, breathing in and out, hanging on to the mop handle for dear life. And then she made the mistake of looking up and all the blood left her face. If her grip hadn’t already been so tight around the mop, she would have folded on the spot.
• • •
Drake strode into the doorway of the hotel and looked to see no clerk on duty. He heard the soft sound of water and the slap of a mop on the floor and instinctively turned, seeking the source of the sound.
Evangeline.
His heart accelerated as she slumped tiredly, clinging to the mop handle, and Drake drank in the sight like a starved man, devoid of all life. Until now. His knees shook and his hands . . . God, his hands trembled uncontrollably and a knot formed in his throat that prevented him from doing anything but absorbing the only shining thing in his life.
Evangeline. His angel. He’d found her. Finally.
But when she lifted her head and their gazes locked, recognition was swift and he was gutted by the piercing fear that flared in her eyes. The immediate step back she took, her eyes turning wild, like an animal poised to flee from a predator.
His eyelids were on fire, burning, his nostrils flaring with a sudden expulsion of emotion—and from the effort of holding back the tears that threatened to unman him. Because beautiful angel eyes that had once looked at him with love and trust were now filled with terror and apprehension and worst of all . . . shame. It made him want to put a fucking bullet through his head for all he’d done to her.
She was quickly assessing her escape routes and he moved in like the predator he was, but his usual cold aloofness that fit him like a second skin when he closed in for a kill had been replaced by utter panic. He couldn’t lose her. Not again. Not ever. The last days had been hell. The kind of hell he’d never experienced and never wanted to repeat.
He was shaking as he held out his hands in a placating manner, as though she were a trapped wild animal desperately seeking escape. Any escape.
“Evangeline,” he said hoarsely. “Please, baby, don’t run. Please. There’s so much I have to tell you. To explain. It’s taken me days to find you. The worst days of my entire life. Please don’t make me go through that again.”
Her lips curled contemptuously and a combination of anger and devastation glittered in her eyes, glossy with unshed tears. She looked so utterly fragile, worn to the bone. As though he’d already lost her, no matter that she stood a mere few feet away from him. Almost close enough to touch. Just a few more steps . . .
“What you went through?” she whispered. “What you went through?”
Her voice rose to the point of hysteria and now her tears flowed freely down her pale cheeks. He noted her pallor, the weight she’d lost in the days since he’d so callously discarded her, the shadows under her eyes that looked far too close to bruises for his liking. She looked . . . defeated.
He closed his eyes, halting the progress of the hand he’d lifted, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t flinch away, that she’d reach for him despite the fact that she hated him with the same passion with which she’d once loved him. He wanted that back. God, he was perilously close to begging. No one had ever loved him until Evangeline. His generous, loving angel who didn’t give a damn about his money, his power, the expensive gifts he’d showered her with or the entire wardrobe that cost more than she made in five years. She’d simply wanted him and the one thing he couldn’t offer her. His love. And his trust.
And now he had no hope of ever regaining either.
“Angel,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You have every reason to hate me, to despise the very sight of me. What I did was unforgivable. But I had no choice. Please give me a chance to explain. If after, you still hate me, if you still want me out of your life, I’ll let you go. It will fucking kill me, but I swear to you I’ll let you go and you will never want for anything for the rest of your life whether I’m a part of it or not. You will never have to work in these conditions. You will be financially secure. I’ve already seen to it even though I know it isn’t what you want from me. You’ve never wanted anything from me but . . . me. Give me a chance, Angel. God, give me a chance to make this right. So that you’ll want me again. Just me and nothing else. I will never doubt you, I never have. But I will make damn sure you never have reason to doubt me again.”
“Bitch.”
“Whore.”
“Worthless.”
Her whispered words, so much agony inflected into every single one, words he’d thrown at her, direct arrows that had crippled her self-confidence, nearly destroyed the thin string to which he was clinging desperately. The one that was keeping him from losing all vestiges of his control. Because those words he’d thrown at her were now darts directed back at him, each piercing him like a kill shot.
He had recognized it in the restaurant, that awful evening that seemed a lifetime ago, that what he’d done to her had been far worse than the damage inflicted on her by Eddie, her ex. But knowing and seeing were two different things, and now he was seeing her, seeing just how much he’d ripped her to pieces and destroyed something so utterly beautiful and innocent.
“That’s what I was to you, Drake,” she said, still whispering, her body shuddering violently with each broken breath.
“No!” he shouted, making her flinch and recoil from the raw fury in his voice.
Her eyes were wide with fear, uncertainty, and so much pain, pain he well understood because he’d been living in hell from the night he’d betrayed her. But even knowing the anguish he’d suffered, he knew it in no way compared to her pain and suffering, and that only gutted him even more because never had he wanted to cause her such pain and ugliness. He’d made a sacred vow to himself. Vows. And he’d broken both as surely as he’d broken her.
“Never,” he said savagely. “They were lies, Angel. Terrible, ugly, necessary lies. Oh God, if I could only go back, if I could only have that day back. I would have made certain you were never involved, never exposed like that. In my arrogance I thought I could keep you safe and separated from that aspect of my life. It’s a mistake I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. I know you can never forgive, but God, please, I’m begging you. Give me the chance to explain, to try to make you understand the world I live in. A world I should have never allowed you into, but I could no more deny myself your sweetness and light than a starving man could refuse food and water. Angel, you were—are—the only good thing in my life, and God help me but I couldn’t do the right thing and let you go. I had to have you. I needed you. I still need you.”
Her brow furrowed, her expression perplexed. Her eyes were bewildered as she took in the anguished words he’d delivered with so much emotion and self-loathing. She seemed to filter through each and every word he’d said, her expression ever changing as she processed the conflicting statements. He didn’t even know if he’d made any goddamn sense. All he knew was that he was desperate and he would do or say anything to get her to come home with him.
“Necessary? Necessary?” she repeated, her face creased with pain. “It was necessary for you to humiliate me, to strip me bare in front of those m-men, to debase and degrade me, make me feel like a worthless whore?”
Sweet heaven, but every single word from that night was solidly ingrained in her memory because she recalled them verbatim, had absorbed them and worse of all, believed them.
Drake
groaned, and he didn’t even recognize his own voice, so great was the agony. Like a wounded animal or a beast mourning the loss of his mate. He was both, but not nearly as wounded as the beautiful woman standing so close and yet so very far away.
She shook her head and then covered her face with both hands, her knees giving way as she slid toward the floor. Drake vaulted over the cleaning equipment in an attempt to catch her, but he was too late and so he skidded to a halt and collapsed to his knees in front of her, his arms immediately going around her, ignoring her sudden recoil, her rejection of his touch and body. Ignoring her reaction, he anchored her shaking body to his, holding on in a vow to never again let go.
“My angel,” he said, choking on the words. “My beautiful, sweet, innocent angel. Please, baby, please let me take you away from this. Let me explain. I swear to you I won’t hurt you. Never again. Give me a chance to make this right. Give me yourself again. I’ll never hurt such a precious gift again. I swear it on my life.”
She went limp against him, a tortured moan escaping her lips just before ragged sobs shook her entire body. Hot tears spilled onto Drake’s neck, his heart breaking with each sorrowful gasp she took. But he read her acquiescence, or perhaps it was simply that she was no longer strong enough to fight, but he knew he had to take swift advantage now when her defenses were down or he might never get another chance. Praying she’d forgive yet one more sin in the never-ending list of his transgressions, he swept her into his arms, standing and carrying her down the hall of the run-down hotel and out to where his car waited.
Maddox and Silas were both standing guard, and when their gazes found Drake carrying a sobbing Evangeline, Maddox’s whispered “Thank God” echoed firmly in Drake’s mind. Silas looked relieved and for a moment, fire burned in his eyes as he took in the heaving, sobbing slight figure in Drake’s arms. He looked at Drake accusingly, but Drake ignored his man. All that mattered was that he had Evangeline back and at least a chance to explain and make right the many wrongs he’d done to her.
