Dominated: The Enforcers 2 (The Enforcers Series)

by Maya Banks

  “Jackson area,” Thane said vaguely.

  Evangeline got the impression that Thane didn’t talk much about his past, but then none of Drake’s men ever did. They treated their past as though it hadn’t happened, was off-limits or it was simply distasteful. Maybe all three.

  “What do you say we grab lunch before our shopping ordeal begins?” Hatcher asked with an indulgent smile in Evangeline’s direction.

  “Ooohh, do I get to pick?” she asked.

  “That depends,” Zander said, glowering at her.

  “Wagyu steak?” she wheedled.

  “I’m in,” Thane emphatically announced.

  “Hell yeah, I’m in,” Hatcher said immediately.

  “You’re outvoted,” Evangeline told Zander smugly.

  He snorted. “As if I’m going to turn down Wagyu steak.”

  And so it was half an hour later that Evangeline found herself seated at a table in the corner of the restaurant where Justice had first taken her to eat the sumptuous steak.

  “Does it make me a horrible person to say I could eat this every single day for the rest of my life and die happy?” she asked, once their orders had been taken.

  “Nope,” Zander replied. “It’s good stuff. Why eat shit if you can eat the best?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not all of us are in the position of affording to eat like this once a month, much less every day.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that anymore,” Thane said. “If it made you happy, Drake would hire the chef away from this restaurant and he’d have him to the apartment every day cooking it for you.”

  “Oh good Lord,” she said in disgust. “Not a single one of you better even jokingly suggest such a thing to him. I would die of mortification.”

  Zander shook his head and chuckled. “There are worse things a man could do for his woman.”

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room to freshen up before our food gets here,” Evangeline announced, rising from her chair.

  The men immediately frowned and when Thane would have risen to go with her, Hatcher, who was at the end of the table, slid from his chair.

  “I’ll walk her back,” he said easily.

  She refrained from rolling her eyes again. Barely. But to be fair, Drake had warned her of the way things would be from now on. It wasn’t his fault she’d momentarily forgotten. The day seemed so . . . normal. As if none of them had a care in the world. Just a group of friends out for lunch and shopping. Only, if Drake and, well, Maddox and Silas too were to be believed, there was significant danger to her anytime she was by herself.

  That thought was enough to quell any protest she might have made that she could go to the bathroom by herself. Drake didn’t ask her for much, and he’d been so generous with her that no way would she throw a fit and act like a recalcitrant child.

  “Thank you, Hatcher,” she said, smiling at him.

  Hatcher walked her toward the dark foyer and gestured toward the end. “The ladies’ room is at the very back. I’ll stand here and make sure no one gets by me who I remotely think could be a threat.”

  She shivered at the gravity in his tone but didn’t respond, nor did she ask him the question she was dying to ask—if he really thought danger lurked around every corner or if this was just Drake being overprotective of her.

  Instead, she hurried into the bathroom, not wanting to take any longer than necessary. Her last trip to a public restroom had been nothing short of disastrous when that tall brunette had ripped her to shreds with those ridiculously long claws of her. Figuratively speaking, of course. She’d certainly scored a few direct hits, but then so had Evangeline.

  Given time and distance from the event, Evangeline could actually be proud of herself for not allowing the woman to see how upset she had been. She’d made cutting remarks of her own that had definitely found their target, judging by the way the woman’s face had paled and then the flash of feminine rage had sparked in her eyes.

  But she’d had no comeback to Evangeline’s remarks about Drake not sharing anything he considered his or that Evangeline was on his arm when it was a well-known fact, according to Drake’s men, that he never had a “bitch” on his arm in public.

  She cringed, flinching from his men’s use of the word to describe women. It wasn’t flattering in the least, and if she didn’t know for sure that they didn’t put all women into the bitch category she’d tear each of them a new asshole for referring to the female species in such a derogatory manner.

  She finished her business and then washed her hands and did a quick once-over of her makeup. She blinked as she saw the woman staring back at her from the mirror. She stopped in her tracks, staring even harder when she realized the woman she was studying so hard was herself.

  How much she’d changed in the short time she’d known Drake and been drawn into his world. Gone were the grubby, secondhand clothes, her hair perpetually pulled up into a messy bun or worse, a ponytail holder, and the plain, unsophisticated features of her face.

  She looked . . . Her eyes widened and she gasped as she realized where her thoughts were headed. She looked like she . . . belonged. Here. In Drake’s world. She looked like someone Drake would be likely to be seen with. When had it happened, this transformation from small-town, hopelessly gauche and naïve girl to someone more worldly and sophisticated? She looked almost . . . pretty.

  She touched her mouth and then ran her finger over the expensive eye shadow. She wasn’t made up heavily. Her makeup was subtle and elegant looking. It made her look naturally beautiful instead of like someone who had to wear several layers of cosmetics to achieve that fresh, effervescent look.

  Her lip gloss was sheer with a shine and sparkle she was still enough of a girl to appreciate. What woman didn’t love sparkly things? Even if she wouldn’t admit it. She had no problem admitting her feminine predilections because Drake enjoyed each and every one of them. He’d confided in her several times that he loved how much of a “girl” she was and that it took a strong, self-assured woman to allow herself to be utterly feminine and not concern herself with being taken seriously by the rest of the world.

  She smiled. Drake might love that about her, but it was himself he needed to thank for that metamorphosis. Because it was he who’d given her that confidence in herself.

  Realizing if she didn’t hurry, her food would arrive and begin to grow cold, she finished drying her hands and then walked out the door into the darkened hallway. Almost immediately, she bumped into another person, and she murmured her pardon. But when the person didn’t move and she realized that it was a man, when the men’s bathroom was all the way at the front of the hall with the women’s in the very back, she became alarmed and started to step around the figure so she could call for Hatcher if needed.

  But once more, he effectively blocked her path by moving to intercept her, and as he did so, he opened his coat to reveal a badge affixed to the waist of his pants. And she also saw the really big pistol in the shoulder holster he wore. Fear spiked through her blood until she was dizzy from it.

  “What do you want?” she croaked out.

  “Ms. Hawthorn,” the man said in a low voice. “May I have a moment of your time, please? I won’t take long. I promise. But it’s about a very important matter. A police matter.”

  23

  “What do you want from me?” Evangeline managed to squeak out.

  He gave her an impatient look that suggested he didn’t buy her dimwitted act. Only it wasn’t an act! What could the police possibly want with her?

  “Your boyfriend is Drake Donovan, correct?”

  An icy chill slithered down her spine, and then her back went rigid and she notched her chin up defiantly.

  “I fail to see how my personal life is any of your business, and it hardly constitutes a police matter.”

  “Do you know just what all he’s into?” the cop asked, his expression darkening.

  “He’s a businessman,” Evangeline snapped. “He own
s several businesses, as a matter of fact. One of them is the club Impulse. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

  The cop shook his head. “You’re too naïve and trusting for your own good, Ms. Hawthorn. He’s been linked to organized crime, as well as heading an organized-crime syndicate. The men escorting you around? All soldiers in his organization. He’s got his fingers in a lot of dirty pies all over the city. He’ll take you down with him. You know that, right? If I were to guarantee you police protection, would you be willing to be an informant? Pass along any information pertinent to our investigation?”

  Her mouth fell open in horror. “Are you out of your mind?” she exploded. “No, I won’t spy on him for you, the cops or anyone else for that matter. He’s a good man. Why don’t you focus your efforts on taking down the real criminals in this city?” she added acidly.

  He shook his head regretfully and then reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. “If you ever change your mind or if you get into a situation where you need help or you come across something you feel we should know, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll make sure you don’t come to harm.”

  She snatched the card from his hands, not because she had any intention of ever using it, but because Drake needed to know who was asking questions about him.

  “Drake does a perfectly good job of keeping me safe. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lunch is getting cold.”

  She pushed by him and this time he let her go and she stalked down the hallway and back into the restaurant, her gaze scanning the area for Hatcher. He was only a short distance away on his phone, but when he saw her, he came to alert and shoved his phone in his pocket.

  “Everything okay?” he asked sharply, staring intently at her expression.

  “I’m fine,” Evangeline said stiffly. “Let’s get back before our food gets cold.”

  Not waiting for him to agree or disagree, she walked rigidly back to their table but made a concerted effort to mask the tension and upset in her features. Fortunately for her, the food hadn’t arrived yet and both Thane and Zander were staring inquisitively at her but the waiter interrupted, bearing a tray loaded with their plates before they could question her.

  It was just as well, because she needed time to compose herself and figure out her best course of action before she went off and did something half-cocked. But the further into the meal they got, the more furious and sick with worry she became. She couldn’t just go shopping like nothing had happened. Drake needed to know immediately that he was evidently being investigated by the police. For what, though?

  Her thoughts drifted back to the time she’d asked him exactly what he did and his soft request for her to let it go. For him. And she’d agreed. In that moment, she was wholeheartedly glad he hadn’t confided in her because her conscience was clear. She couldn’t very well tell the police anything if she didn’t know.

  After they finished eating, she pondered her options, but this time she suffered no remorse whatsoever for deceiving Drake’s men. She flashed pleading eyes on Zander. He might well be gruffer and more of a Neanderthal than the rest, but she knew he’d do what she asked of him with no hesitation. Especially if she hinted that she needed to warn Drake.

  “I’m afraid I don’t feel very much like shopping after all,” she said, pushing back her half-eaten steak. “My stomach is pretty upset and my head is starting to hurt. It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather go home and lie down. Perhaps we can go shopping another day this week?”

  “Do you need a doctor?” Thane demanded.

  She smiled, ignoring Hatcher’s piercing stare and the fact that he was all but peeling back the layers of her skin. “No, of course not. I just need to lie down. Maybe take a short nap.”

  “Let’s go. Call the car around, Thane,” Zander said after pulling off several bills and tossing them onto the table.

  Thane and Hatcher went ahead while Zander put his arm around Evangeline’s shoulders and herded her toward the entrance as well. A few minutes later, they were in the car and whizzing back to Drake’s apartment.

  The men studied her during the ride home, but she ignored their scrutiny, instead focusing her attention on the passing scenery through her window. When they arrived at the apartment, she touched Zander on the arm.

  “Will you walk me up? There’s no need for everyone to come. After all, I’m just going up to bed.”

  Zander’s brow furrowed as if that were the last thing he was expecting her to ask. “Of course. You two go on ahead. I’ll call for a car when I’m ready to leave,” he said to Thane and Hatcher.

  He helped Evangeline from the car and escorted her inside the building. She looked back to make sure the car drove away and as soon as they were inside, she turned to face Zander, her expression one of urgency.

  “Zander, I need you to take me to wherever Drake is. Now.”

  His eyes widened with shock. “What the fuck? What’s going on, Evangeline? And swear to God, if you tell me nothing, I’ll throttle you.”

  “I’m not going to say nothing,” she said in a quiet voice. “What I am going to say is that it is very important I see Drake immediately. And you can’t tell him I’m coming. I don’t care how busy he is, what he’s doing, who he’s meeting with. You take me straight to him so I can talk to him immediately.”

  The urgency in her voice registered because grim worry set like stone into his features. He picked up his cell and made a phone call to his driver or Drake’s, presumably. His directive was short and to the point. Come pick him up at Drake’s apartment and be here as fast as possible.

  • • •

  Drake disconnected the call from Hatcher, his features rigid. Some cop had approached Evangeline at the restaurant where his men had taken her to lunch. They’d spoken in the hall for a period of time before she’d gone back to the others.

  Ice invaded his veins at the idea of Evangeline betraying him. Could he have been so wrong about her?

  He paced the interior of his office and then stared out over the Manhattan skyline, his thoughts dark and brooding. Should he plant false information and then see what happened? Feed her just enough evidence that he’d know if the cops came sniffing around that she was the only person who could have given it to them?

  Nausea swirled in his gut. She’d said she loved him and he’d been too gobsmacked, too . . . humbled by her fervent and tender words and the love he’d seen plainly etched in her eyes to do anything more than hold her tightly to him, so afraid that if he let go, even for a moment, it would have all been a dream. The most wonderful dream of his life, but a dream nonetheless.

  He let loose a savage torrent of curses that would blister the hide of anyone in earshot. Fuck me. What the hell was he supposed to do with the knowledge that Evangeline, his angel, had spoken to a cop?

  She’d probed him for answers that night, seemingly a lifetime ago, when she’d asked him what it was he really did and he’d asked her to let it go, that it would never affect her, never touch her. He’d thought and had been relieved that she had let it go, but had she? Had he only heightened her suspicions, enough for her to go to the police?

  He turned and threw his phone across the room. It shattered on impact and he left it there in unrecoverable pieces.

  He should be pissed. He should even now be plotting his revenge. But the only thing he could process was . . . pain. Endless, unending, overwhelming . . . pain.

  Closing his eyes, he cupped his nape and rubbed up and down as weariness assailed him. God help him, but he couldn’t bring himself to punish her, to throw her out. Could he blame her for what she might think when he’d never offered to trust her? To tell her anything of his life apart from her? He knew enough about women to know there weren’t many who’d be as accepting as Evangeline had appeared to be.

  His thoughts turned bleak, because he didn’t know what to do. But he couldn’t be with a woman who intended to sell him and his brothers out to the fucking cops.

  He went to the phone on his desk aft
er making a mental note to send his assistant out to purchase another cell phone. He was about to pick up the phone to call Evangeline when the door to his office opened.

  His head went up, a reprimand for disturbing him when he’d left clear orders for the opposite poised to fly off his tongue, when he saw who was standing in the doorway of his office.

  Evangeline?

  He dropped the phone and strode around the front of his desk and over to where she stood, visibly shaken and pale.

  “Evangeline, what’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

  Despite the fact that he was looking at a suspected betrayer, his concern for her temporarily edged out all other thoughts and emotions. She looked frightened. Hell, she looked terrified. And she was shaking from head to toe.

  She’d never even been to any of his offices other than the one he kept at the club. Though he’d never forbidden her access, it was an unspoken agreement that she was kept separate from work.

  What would cause her to break that tacit agreement now? Then his eyes narrowed sharply and a black frown took over his face.

  “Where the hell are the men who are supposed to be protecting you?” he asked in a dangerously low tone.

  “Z-Zander came with me,” she stammered out. “I’m so sorry, Drake. I don’t mean to disturb you, but I had to come right away, so I asked Zander if he would bring me. Please don’t be angry with him. I didn’t give him a choice. I’m sorry for just barging in on you like this, but I had to talk to you.”

  Puzzled by her panic, Drake guided her toward the couch in front of his desk. “It’s all right, Evangeline,” he said in a soothing voice. “Sit down.”

  He took her hands, shocked by how cold they were and how hard they were shaking. Once settled beside her, he studied her features even more closely than before. Anger and a keen sense of protectiveness surged within him when he took in just how pale, scared and shaken she was. Despite his initial anger over her meeting with the cop, he pushed those black thoughts aside for the moment.