Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5)

by Kirsty Dallas

  My gut rolled and bile crept up the back of my throat.

  “He broke me, just like he said he would.”

  “What?” Dillon asked.

  Had I said that out loud?

  “That’s what Lola said last night . . . motherfucker,” I cursed, glaring at him. “He found her, and he tried to break her. He’s as good as dead.”

  “We need to tread carefully, Drew,” Dillon cautioned.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t leave a mess,” I promised, already planning out the sick, painful way he would die.

  “Ben Crane is currently running for senator in Georgia and has gained a great deal of support from some powerful people. His pity story—unwanted kid who was adopted by parents who died in a tragic fire, followed by a sister who disappeared off the face of the earth—has gained him a lot of support and a lot of money. He has influential people standing behind him.”

  The throbbing pain in the back of my neck was settling into a full blown headache. Lacing my hands behind my head, I tried to rub away the tension that was sitting there. “Then Lola has to file a report. We’ll bring him down . . . legally.” It appalled me to say it, that Lola wouldn’t get the revenge she deserved and I wouldn’t get to take out that vengeance like I needed to.

  “One step at a time. I’ve got Parker taking a look at her apartment now before uniforms get there. We need to do this without a mistake. Once Lola is able, we’ll talk to her about pressing charges.”

  I nodded, shoving my clenched fists deep into my pockets just as Charlie exited the hospital.

  “Rebecca’s with Lola. She’ll be in there a while.” He gave me a solemn look. “Wanna go a few rounds in the ring, big fella?” he asked.

  Charlie looked like an unassuming, pretty boy, but in reality, he was deadly. A fighter in the ring who apparently handed both Dillon and Braiden their asses more than once. I’d often wondered if he could best me, and with the mood I was currently in, it was unlikely. The chance to let off some of this pent-up tension was a godsend, though. I nodded as Charlie turned his attention to Dillon, a crease settling between his brows.

  “You’re bleeding, again? Momma bear is going to froth at the mouth if you broke your nose. You better tell her it wasn’t me this time!”

  Dillon offered him a small smile. “As if I’d let you bust my nose twice, asshole.”

  Charlie chuckled as I followed him to his truck.

  “Keep telling yourself that, princess,” he called back.

  CHAPTER 4

  LOLA

  I couldn’t tell if it was the medication they gave me or if it was just me, but I felt numb. The aches in my body were distant, and my face felt puffy and swollen but not sore. It was weird. The bruises and cuts were there, I could see them, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything; I was as numb inside as I was on the outside. I hadn’t shed a tear since I had woken up to Rebecca’s watery smile. Then, I’d cried, I’d sobbed, I’d thrown up, and I’d sobbed some more. Eventually, the doctors gave me something that made the world around me fall into oblivion, and when I woke again, I was dry. Not a single tear fell. I couldn’t even find the place where that despondent sadness existed; there was just nothing.

  “You ready for this?”

  My head rolled, and I took in Mercy who looked tired. She owned and operated Mercy’s Shelter for Abused Women and she had come straight from her nightshift to see me. Her gentle, kind eyes watched me as if I might break down at any moment. I didn’t blame her. I probably should break down, surely that’s what victims did. I was just too numb to offer any more emotion. I felt detached from myself, like I was a spectator watching an awful movie. Giving a slight nod, she moved to open the door to my hospital room.

  Nerves propelled my hand into action, and I ran them over the little ball of fluff that was buried against my side. Max, Drew’s tiny little terrier, had been snuck into the hospital this morning, and his presence soothed me. What wasn’t as calming was knowing Drew sat right outside my room. He’d been there for most of the week, only leaving to shower, sleep, and change clothes. He didn’t try to come in and talk to me, he hadn’t offered me fake smiles or pitying glances; instead, he remained a stoic presence just outside my door. While I felt a sense of safety having him so close, his presence also made me nervous, an unhealthy mixture of shame and self-loathing battling against logic. I had nothing to be ashamed of, and yet the humiliation at what had happened to me sat like a heavy, uncomfortable weight in my heart.

  “Hey, Lola, you’re looking better today,” Dillon said with a genuine smile as he took a seat beside my bed. I should probably smile back, but I couldn’t find anything but a frozen kind of indifference inside me right now. “I spoke to Sergeant Maitland. He said you didn’t want to press charges.”

  And here it was: the moment I would be chastised for being so stupid, for allowing a man to get away with such a heinous crime. Mercy stood on the other side of the bed, her motherly gaze full of patience. She knew what I was about to ask for, and there was no reprimand behind that gaze, just solemn acceptance.

  “I just want to go somewhere safe. I don’t want to press charges,” I admitted in a voice barely audible.

  Dillon was quiet for a moment before resting back in his chair with a nod.

  “I understand that, honey, but did you consider there may not be somewhere safe if we don’t put the person who did this behind bars?”

  “He won’t go to prison. I just need to move; I stayed in Claymont too long.”

  “Lola, we know the man who did this has power, but he can’t beat this. He's not above the law.”

  My head dropped as Max nuzzled my hand, begging for more attention. Absently, I caressed his tiny head. They knew who attacked me; somehow they’d figured it out. I wasn’t exactly surprised. If there was anyone who could find things out, it was Dillon and Braiden Montgomery. It made me wonder what else they knew.

  “Did they find anything?” I wondered out loud.

  “Did who find what, honey?” Dillon asked.

  “The police, in my apartment . . . the . . . rape kit,” I struggled to spit out the word.

  Dillon was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. “There were no prints or fibers found at your apartment. Your Jeep was found at a motel on the outskirts of town, also no prints, and the room it was parked outside had been paid for in cash. It was clean, nothing to connect him to Claymont. The kid on duty that evening gave a description of a local prostitute. The police spoke to her, and she admitted she was paid a lot of money to rent the room for the evening and leave the key under the mat.” Dillon paused. “He wore a condom; he was careful not to leave any evidence.”

  And there it was, the evidence was carved into my skin and torn from my body, and yet it would come down to his word against mine. He was successful and powerful. He had money. I was a delinquent on the run; nobody would ever believe me. My fingers distractedly scratched at the stitches on my chest, hidden beneath the unsightly hospital gown I wore. I’d have scars there. No, not just scars. It was a disfigurement of the worst kind. Ben had carved his memory of that night right into my skin. He might have well as carved it into my soul.

  “I’ve been hiding from him since I was eight,” I whispered. “I gave up school and left the only home I’d ever had. I couldn’t even attend my parent’s funeral. I ran. I hid.” I gave Dillon a nervous glance. “I was a virgin. He took that from me; he’s taken so much.”

  “You can fight him, Lola,” Dillon murmured. “I’ll help you. We'll all help you.”

  “I’m too tired to fight,” I said with a sigh. “And I’m so tired of running. I just want to stop for a while and be still.”

  Dillon rubbed a hand down his face. “Okay, honey. I’ll make it so you are safe and you can stop running, but only if you promise me you’ll think about pressing charges.”

  He pinned me with a look that demanded my consent. “I’ll think about it.” It wasn’t completely a lie. I’d most likely thi
nk about it all the time, but I’d never do it. There was no way a girl like me would defeat a man like Ben.

  “We’re going to have to move you, and I have an idea where. I just need to sort through the details. I’m going to set you up with a new bank account and new identification. I’ll make it safe for you, Lola.”

  The promise in his tone almost brought forward those stubborn tears. Instead, my cheeks remained dry, and I focused on the patterned curtain behind him. Counting the beige circles against the grey backdrop had become my daily routine. There were forty-four on the right panel, a nice even number. There were thirty-nine on the left which pissed me off. I recounted that side repeatedly, hoping it would change. It didn’t. My gaze moved to the nice, even right panel, and I began counting. I barely noticed when Dillon and Mercy left the room. However, Drew’s silent, steely presence in my doorway only moments later caught my attention.

  His eyes had always captured my attention, such a pale brown, like amber. There was curiosity behind his gaze, and his face, which was normally set in stone and gave nothing away, held a question. Lately, he wore a short-groomed beard, and I liked it; it looked soft. I unintentionally rubbed my fingers together wondering what it would feel like. His hair was buzz cut short, as usual, and the thick scar that ran down one side of his face only added to the danger he radiated. That danger didn’t scare me, though. He was Ben’s polar opposite, and if anything, that made me feel safe. Danger came in all different shapes, sizes, and colors, but often from the most unassuming and gentle looking beings. While Drew’s appearance was the epitome of danger, I knew his heart was filled with kindness. So no, he didn’t scare me.

  He nodded to the little ball of fluff under my hand. “I should take him outside to do his business.” My hand rose, and Max whined in protest. “You want anything? Coffee?”

  My stomach betrayed me and growled. I hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee since I had been admitted a week ago.

  “The stuff they have here is too bitter,” I quietly confessed.

  “There is a café over the road.”

  So few words, I was greedy for more. His gravelly voice was like a balm in the rough ocean where I was currently drowning. “I don’t want to put you out,” I whispered.

  “You’re not.” He took a step towards the bed, his gait careful and slow, but confident. “Anything else?”

  My fingers idly toyed with Max’s soft fur. “Dillon is finding me somewhere safe to go.” I watched as Drew’s head tilted in thought, and after a short pause, he nodded. “There’s a bag in my freezer that has money in it.” Drew remained silent, not asking any questions even though I could see the curiosity burning in his eyes. “My leather satchel, I don’t know where it is, but it should be in my apartment somewhere.” He gave me a short nod of acknowledgment. “And there’s a packed bag in the top of my closet, right in the back. Can you bring them to me?”

  “Clothes?” Drew asked after a long pause.

  “There are already some clothes packed in the bag. I’ll buy more when I get to wherever Dillon sends me.”

  Drew nodded in Max’s direction again, and I lifted my hand off Max, allowing Drew to scoop up the little terrier, his hands careful not to touch me. When he reached the door, he paused with one big meaty hand under Max’s belly, another gently rubbing his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. I physically blanched at his murmured apology; pity wasn’t something I needed right now. “Should have talked to you sooner.”

  His confession was like dousing flames of irritation with a cold cup of water. Shock held my tongue quiet. He had wanted to talk to me? He always watched with an intensity that screamed interest, though I assumed, since he had never spoken to me, he wasn’t. “Things might have been different,” he seemed to wonder out loud, his eyes looking toward the ceiling as if deep in thought. “I’ll be back soon.”

  With that, he slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. My gaze remained fixed on where he had been standing. Things might have been different . . . his words bled an ache into my heart, a mourning for something that would never be. My life was a never-ending cycle of wishing things could have been different. A different mom and dad, ones who hadn’t given me away; different foster parents; different adoptive parents; different hair; different name; and now with the way my skin felt glazed in a layer of dirt that would never wash off, I wished I could be a different woman.

  My head rolled back towards the windows, and I found the top right circle on the curtain and began counting, letting the rhythmic cadence of each number lure me into sleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  DREW

  12 months later

  The chair I sat on was balancing precariously on its two back legs, my booted feet propped up on the table in front of me, Parker’s latest edition of Blades and Babes in my hands as I read with rapt attention about a new carbon fiber nine-inch knife. I was pretty sure I was going to buy it. Cash had never really been a problem for me. I hated shopping, I didn’t spend frivolously, and I wore clothes until they literally fell apart. My first real purchase of substance had been a ranch style house on the outskirts of Claymont, along with my dark grey Jeep and an investment property over by the college. I wanted for little, and instead of spending what I had on material objects that didn’t mean anything to me, I invested in things that mattered, like Mercy’s Shelter for Abused Women. I volunteered my time at the shelter when I could, and I made regular donations.

  Thinking about the shelter and its inhabitants made me think of Lola, and a fierce ache throbbed in my chest. I felt like I’d let her down somehow, even though we didn’t even have a relationship, not even a friendship. Our conversations had been limited to two: one at the hospital after her attack, and the second right before she left the air strip Montgomery Securities used for their private jet, but every word from those conversations stayed with me. I’ll miss you. Those words dug into my dark heart and buried themselves there. Nobody had ever told me they were going to miss me. Her downtrodden expression as she whispered those words had stayed with me. We barely knew each other beyond our names, and hers wasn’t even real, and yet she was going to miss me. She had been a damaged doll who cast me a look that echoed such deep sadness as she stepped onto a jet that whisked her away to safety. I didn’t even know where Dillon and Braiden had sent her; all I knew was that she was safe. The woman had me tied up in knots long before her attack. Her delicate features, gentle smiles, and social oddities made her endearing to me. She was unlike any woman I had ever met, and her quiet nature called to me on some level, calmed me even. Talking to women had never been an issue before meeting Lola, but like a fool, I became tongue-tied every time we were together. I didn’t know how to explain my odd reaction to the woman, having never engaged in more than one night stands and the occasional friends with benefits set up; relationships puzzled me. Perhaps the thought of Lola as something more than a quick indulgence sent me into a state of perpetual fear. Fear of the unknown and the fear of fucking up a good thing.

  “You do realize people eat off that table?” Parker murmured as he strolled into the kitchen of Montgomery Security.

  Glancing over the magazine, I took in Parker. He looked like a runway model ready for a night on the town, not a freaking security employee with an affinity for cracking locks and safes.

  “My boots are likely cleaner than the table,” I replied. It was true, my boots were so clean you could see your reflection in them. It was hard to break habits practically beaten into you by your father and then the military.

  Parker snorted. “Don’t let Alice hear you say that.”

  “Say what?” said woman asked as she stepped into the room.

  My feet hit the floor, and I gifted Alice with a sheepish smile, hoping she hadn’t noticed my lack of manners. She looked more like Alice from the Brady Bunch than the woman who kept this intricate, booming security company operating like a well-oiled machine. Between her organizational skills and Dillon’s business
smarts, relaxing in the office like this was a rare luxury now days. As it was, Parker and I were the only active field operatives currently home. Even Braiden, who rarely left his woman’s side, had been working overseas for almost two weeks now.

  “You’re going to tip back in that chair one of these days and really hurt yourself, Drew King,” Alice reprimanded.

  “Sorry, Alice,” I said sheepishly.

  “Not to mention the criminal hygiene of having your feet on the table,” Parker added with a smirk.

  “Nobody likes a snitch, Parker Evans,” Alice added

  I ran my hand over my mouth to hide my smile while Parker flipped me off from behind Alice’s back.

  “Hey, anyone know where Dillon is?” Sam asked from the doorway.

  Sam was the company’s resident tech guru and the epitome of an IT geek. He had a chaotic nest of bedhead, thick-rimmed glasses that seemed to always sit crooked on his nose, and a pasty-white complexion that suggested he rarely saw the sun. The only thing that set him apart from my own biased view on how a computer nerd should look was the lean but well-built body he hid beneath wrinkled work shirts and the same cargos field operatives wore. He was also pretty fucking good with a gun, and I had no idea how that came about; maybe it was from the long hours he spent on those gaming sites.

  Sam stared at us while we stared right back at him, and the wildness in his eyes caught me by surprise.

  “He’s grabbing lunch. I offered to go, but he wanted to see Annie,” Alice said with a knowing smile.

  “Let’s hope they lock the store room door this time,” Parker muttered, and Alice slapped his shoulder.