Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5)

by Kirsty Dallas

  “I like yours, too,” I mumbled.

  A bus turned onto the street, and even though I was alert and ready to go, my shoulders pressed back a fraction more as I shifted my feet. The man following us would be getting desperate, and if he was any good, this would definitely be one of the first places he’d look for us.

  “Okay, Mouse, there is a small queue of people ready to board. We’ll go last, right before those doors close, okay?”

  “Okay.” Her voice lacked confidence, but she stuffed the uneaten half of the chocolate bar into her back pocket and took a subtle step towards me.

  The bus pulled to a stop, the doors popped open, and the passengers on board disembarked. Lola’s tension was like a thick fog shadowing me. She was fidgeting, and her feet shuffled from side to side. Ignoring her anxiety was the only way I could stay focused. My eyes squinted as I searched the rooftops and open doorways. Eventually, the passengers, lined up on the side of the street, began to board, and as the last person climbed on, I grabbed Lola’s hand and pulled her toward the bus. The driver barely noticed us as I stood to one side and gently pushed Lola up the stairs, handing our tickets to the young Thai woman who stood on the street. We took two empty seats towards the back and waited for the new driver to slide into the seat behind the wheel. Just as I’d claimed the window seat, needing the unobstructed view of the street, the bus doors shifted closed with an audible swish. The familiar figure of the man tailing us stepped out of the alleyway to our left. My body tensed, but I kept still as I watched him, taking in every notable nuance in his behavior. He looked military, not just in appearance but the way he held himself and the way his eyes took in everything. His gaze settled on the bus as it roared to life and slowly drew away from the curb. Our eyes met as we pulled away, and I saw the frustration there, but more importantly, the determination. He didn’t waste time running after the bus, or firing his weapon in public. Instead, he turned and headed back the way he had come, no doubt to find out where our bus was headed. It would take nothing at all to figure out we were on our way to Bangkok, and he, or one of his associates, would be there waiting for us.

  Pulling my phone from my jacket pocket, I sent Dillon a quick text message to let him know what was happening. The message was sent in a code the Montgomery team was familiar with. If anyone got their hands on my cell phone, they wouldn’t understand the information I sent.

  “We can’t sit here,” I heard Lola whisper from beside me. I glanced at her before checking my phone again.

  “We’ll be fine. We're safe for now. We won’t be on here too long.”

  “How long?” The tremble in her voice dragged my attention from the message I was typing out. Lola’s knee bounced a steady cadence; her hands were linked together in her lap so tight her knuckles were beginning to turn white.

  “Depends, ultimately I want to get us as close to Bangkok as possible.”

  Her eyes darted around the bus, agitation clear in her movements.

  “We can’t sit here,” she whisper-hissed, casting me a look of irritation entwined with a good dose of desperation.

  Over the year I had spent watching Lola, I knew she had some quirky habits. Numbers was one of them. She liked order and tended to group things into even numbers. I’d watched her gathering roses together in bouquets once, and every group consisted of six flowers. Next were lilies and every bouquet held four flowers. Several times I had watched her count out the business cards that sat on Bouquets’ counter, always making sure there was an even number. I’m not sure if anyone else noticed her unusual habit, but my stalker-like tendencies had picked it up fairly quickly.

  Numbers . . . I counted the seats before us. We were in row seven. “You need an even number, right?”

  The surprise in her startled gaze was followed closely by a blush. She gave me a small nod, and noticing the seats behind us empty, I encouraged her out into the narrow aisle and took the window seat in row eight.

  “This better?” I asked once she took her seat again.

  “Yeah,” she breathed, her body visibly relaxing.

  “You like even numbers and order.” She looked anywhere but at me as she gave another hesitant nod. “I saw your apartment. It was really neat; the things in your cupboards grouped into even numbers, labels all facing forward. Your fridge was a work of art. I’ve never seen anything so clean and orderly.”

  She gave me an accusing stare. “You sure had a good poke around my personal space.”

  “Rebecca and I packed up the place for you. We figured it was a place you would never return to. We boxed up anything we thought might be of value to you and stored it in the basement of Montgomery Security.”

  Lola breathed out a frustrated breath of air, and her eyes focused on the scenery passing us by through the window over my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she finally murmured. “And I like order.”

  “No problem.”

  “It’s not like I need a straight jacket or anything,” she said after a short silence.

  “I never thought you did.”

  “I have OCD. I like order . . . and numbers.”

  I nodded, not wanting to pry but happy to listen. I wanted to know everything about her, especially the things she battled.

  “I was diagnosed when I was fifteen. I used to see a psychologist, and I learned some techniques to quiet the foolishness in my head, but when I get stressed, it gets bad.” Her brow arched. “I guess this would constitute as a stressful event. I like even numbers, but I can survive with odd ones. I just don’t like them. I’ve heard of some people who walk on every second tile because they can’t cope with the odd ones in between. I’ve even heard cases where phone numbers have had to be changed to all even numbers. I’m not that bad; my crazy is subtle.”

  Giving her shoulder a nudge, I relaxed back in my seat. “Don’t knock crazy. Some of my favorite people are crazy.”

  CHAPTER 8

  LOLA

  Drew King was officially the most confusing man I had ever met. His face was set with a perpetual frown, and without facial cues, I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. This was the most I had ever heard him speak, and the slight tug at the corner of his mouth was the only thing that made me think he might have been pulling my leg, but I couldn’t be sure. One thing was obvious, he knew about my OCD and didn’t seem bothered in the least by my obsessive need to move to an even number row of seats. Allowing my head to fall back against the head rest, I closed my eyes, and as soon as I did, images of Norman and Pen-Chan fired through my brain. Their bleeding bodies lying against the stark white tiles. My own body came to rigid attention as I reached out and gripped Drew’s arm.

  “Someone needs to tell the police about General Gillies and Pen-Chan. Pen-Chan had family who came to visit often. They live in Chiang Mai.” My stomach lurched at the thought of Pen-Chan’s sister finding their lifeless bodies. ”

  Drew’s sharp gaze rose from my hand to my eyes. He gave me a solemn nod. “Dillon knows. He'll take care of it.”

  Realizing I was still holding on to the sleeve of his jacket, I pulled my hand away quickly, trying not to be obvious about it.

  The memory of Norm and Pen-Chan lying in pools of blood made my heart feel as though a knife were lodged in it. The Gillies had been so good to me, and we had become close. I couldn’t stop the weight of sorrow that bore down on me. Who had killed them? Had this happened because of me? How was it that Drew turned up right at that pivotal moment? Shifting my gaze to Drew, I watched as he typed another message on his phone.

  “Why are you here?” My question caught him off-guard, and he opened his mouth to speak before promptly closing it again, as if measuring his words with exquisite care. “It’s because of Ben, isn’t it?” Even saying his name made bile rise in the back of my throat. Memories threatened to creep out of the vault I had firmly locked shut, and I pressed my eyes closed, forcing them away. I concentrated on the bus and the heavy roar of the motor revving as we inched up a slight incl
ine, trying desperately to keep the door closed. When Drew spoke, his low, gruff voice brought me back from the brink of insanity.

  “He’s running for Senator. He needs to tie up loose ends.”

  “And I’m one hell of a loose end,” I whispered, fear making my heart pound a little harder.

  “Yeah, Mouse, you are.”

  “How did he find me? Only Dillon and Braiden knew where I was.”

  Drew rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m not an expert on computers, but Sam said Montgomery Security was hacked, even though his system is supposed to be impenetrable. Yours was the only file accessed, and we just assumed it was Ben looking for you. Dillon sent me here right away to bring you in.”

  My body was tense, my palms clammy, and the world around me disappeared under the fall of black blotches floating before my eyes. Ben found me. If Montgomery Security couldn’t keep me safe, no one could. Once again, my mind tried to drag me back to that awful night. There were still large holes in my memory; only flashes of the horrors Ben inflicted on me existed there, and they tried to burst into my thoughts like a crumbling damn. Touches, scents, Ben’s guttural moans, my own falling tears, the pain . . . it all tried to drag me away.

  “Hey.”

  When a large, heavy hand touched my own, I jumped, pulling my hand away from his touch. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me but right at that moment touch wasn’t something I could accept.

  “Lola, open your eyes.” I hadn’t even realized I had shut them. Drew’s commanding tone had my eyes snap open, and his concerned face crowded my vision. “Where did you go just now?” I glanced away, ashamed of where my thoughts had turned and my reaction to his touch. “He won’t get you again.” My palms were slick with sweat, and I wiped them on my shorts. “He may have crept past Montgomery Security’s defenses, but no one has ever crept past mine. I can assure you, I have never, ever failed a mission, and I’m not about to now.”

  Wow, I think that was the longest sentence I’d heard from him, and probably my favorite so far. Nodding, I quietly agreed that if anyone could keep me safe, it was likely Drew. He was a terrifying figure, so tall and wide. If his physical presence alone didn’t intimidate, his dark, intelligent and intense eyes and low gravelly voice would. It wasn’t just the way he looked and sounded either, it was a manifestation that screamed confidence and danger. Drew was a man of deadly silence, and all those attributes combined led a formidable man. For all that frightening bluster, he didn’t scare me. For some reason, his presence calmed me. His take charge actions and direct commands were something I could obey and appreciate. The world around me felt fragile. I felt fragile. My life was a crumbling brickwork that could fall apart at any moment. Depression, caused by my assault, made me angry, , and since I was unable to channel those negative emotions into something positive, I let it stew inside me, which had created a deep well of desolation. What I needed was someone who could hold me together and keep me in one piece. Drew was a freaking sturdy cement wall. If anyone could prevent me from crumbling, surely it was him. He might seem like a complicated and dangerous man to others, but to me he was my sanity. When it felt like I was bordering on a permanent trip to crazy town, Drew seemed to anchor me to here and now. Having him here with me made me realize just how much I had missed him this last year.

  “Okay,” I murmured when his steady gaze remained on mine, and his brow furrowed as if not completely satisfied with his answer. “Okay,” I drawled out, rolling my eyes.

  Drew rested back into his seat, still watching me warily, probably thinking I was going to slip back into my dark mind, right around the corner from my frontal lobe, otherwise known as crazy town. A soft snort escaped my lips. I’d told Drew I wasn’t crazy when I was pretty sure a picture of my face sat beside the word in the dictionary.

  At that moment, my stomach growled loudly, and I tried to pretend it wasn’t me even though Drew would have clearly heard it. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the half-eaten chocolate bar and stuffed the delicious, sweet candy into my mouth. I hadn’t eaten since morning, and it had to be late afternoon by now. When I finished, another brightly wrapped candy bar appeared before me. Drew held it out, fighting a smile. Oh, what I would give to see those lips curve into a full out grin. I glanced back at the candy. For some of us there is therapy, for the rest there’s chocolate, I recalled the quote from my quote-a-day calendar, which was back in my room in Chiang Mai, I noted glumly. Dragging my gaze away from the heavenly promise before me, I took in that ruggedly handsome face. His smile would be stunning, I just knew it. His lightly bearded cheeks hinted at dimples, and the small creases around his eyes showed the promise of genuine happiness.

  “That sounded pretty serious. You should eat mine, too.”

  The heat in my chest and cheeks only flamed my blush onwards. “I’m fine. You need to keep up your energy. You eat it.”

  Drew shook his head. “I’m fine, take it.”

  He shoved the chocolate bar closer, and I took it, not wanting to argue over something as ridiculous as candy. And I did love chocolate. We had a special relationship; it offered both nutrition and comfort. I savored every mouthful like the heavenly treat it was.

  “Chocolate is health food for the soul,” I whispered, as I bit into the chocolate bar.

  Drew grunted. I had no idea what the gravely noise meant, but I was too busy eating heaven’s ambrosia to worry about it. Casting him a sideways glance, I did note those stubborn lips tip in a small smile that quickly disappeared. That tenacious trait felt like a challenge. Seeing him let loose a full-on, unobstructed grin was fast becoming my newest obsession.

  ***

  The rain beat down on us like a relentless sheet of misery. The hot, steamy day had led right into a thunderous evening. The temperature had dropped slightly, and the water sure as hell helped wash away the perspiration that gathered on my skin from the humidity. But that was the only good thing I could find about being soaking wet. I cringed every time the thunder cracked like an angry god out for vengeance. I liked storms. I just didn’t like being stuck under the unforgiving skies as they broke apart in a deafening battle.

  It was late at night. The bus trip had been several hours of uncomfortable hell. A restless sleep had claimed me for about an hour and then I spent the rest of my time counting white and blue cars, then yellow and red followed by black and silver. I’d counted electricity poles, birds, and even the people on the bus, women first, then men, then grouped them into age groups. I counted until my mind became sluggish and a headache began to thump behind my eyes. We had slipped off the bus at a busy stop a couple of hours from Bangkok. Drew had quickly hailed a tuk-tuk which had rattled and bumped its way deeper into the city until I thought my teeth would break.

  We were walking briskly through the backstreets and alleyways; Drew kept an ever-vigilant eye on his surroundings, while I felt completely miserable and mind-numbingly exhausted. Not even the vibrant colors of city life that shined brightly through the sheet of rain could capture my attention. My feet were killing me, my eyes were burning with fatigue, my head pounded, and I hated being wet. A flash of lightning followed by the sharp crack of thunder made me jump. Did I mention I hated being stuck out in a storm?

  Drew came to a halt at the end of the narrow alleyway we had slipped down, and he remained still and silent before me. I’m not sure if it was exhaustion or simply the forgotten need for human contact that had me take a small step into Drew’s impressive, large body. Leaning closer, I let my cheek rest against his wet back and sighed. My eyes slipped shut as I felt Drew stiffen for a moment, before his big hand came around to pat me awkwardly on one arm before he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Nearly there.”

  “Okay,” I murmured, feeling as though I could simply float off to sleep where I stood.

  “Come on, Mouse. A few more blocks and you can shower and sleep.”

  The thought of a shower and bed filled me with the little burst of energy I needed to s
tep away from the big man and follow him out onto the busy street. It might have been late at night and storming like the end of days, but apparently, Bangkok ran all night, rain, hail, or shine, like an unstoppable machine. Vendors were still open for business; tourists were still bartering with locals for food and souvenirs; bars and restaurants were still thriving; busty women stood practically naked outside strip clubs, trying to entice men into their establishments.

  “Hey, big boy, you come in for a good time?” A Thai woman with heavy makeup and sparkling bra with matching panties stepped bravely toward Drew. His sopping wet appearance and me by his side didn’t dissuade her.

  Drew didn’t spare her a glance, though, as he brushed past her, reaching down to gently take my arm and guide me down another street. Finally, we stopped again, and this time Drew stood watching for what felt like a long time. His body remained taut, and he stood straight and tall as if he hadn’t spent the last day on the run. Meanwhile, I leaned heavily against the wall by his side, and my eyes slid shut again. His hand grasping mine spurred me into action, and I quickly stood tall, expecting to run again.

  “That’s our target, yellow door.” He pointed out the dimly lit door beside a busy restaurant. “If I tell you to run, you turn and run that way.” He pointed to our right. “Got it?”

  God, I hoped he didn’t tell me to run. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to. By some small grace, we made it to the door. Drew produced a key from his jacket and quickly opened it, ushering me into a small corridor with a staircase. Drew moved so he was back in front of me, and led me up the stairs to the first floor, where we reached a small alcove with another locked door. The same key opened this door, and Drew cautiously entered.

  “Wait here,” he murmured as he moved into the apartment. He wasn’t gone more than a minute before he was back and the lights behind him were switched on. “Come on in.”

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. I stepped into the apartment, stopping just inside the doorway, water dripping to the tile floor beneath my flip-flops. Drew shifted behind me to shut the door, and I just stared. I had never been in a safe house before, and maybe it was a result of too much TV, but my mind had conjured images of a musty old space, with a creaky old bed layered in crusty old sheets. This most certainly wasn’t what I had been expecting. The room was large, clean, and modern with straight lines and furnished sparsely but efficiently. A small living space with a leather sofa sat in front of a large, flat screen TV. The kitchenette had granite countertops, a small microwave, fridge, and stainless steel stovetop. Two doors led off either side of the room, the lights on in both. One was clearly a bedroom with a large queen size bed that I was contemplating collapsing into, wet clothes and all; however, the sheets looked expensive and luxurious. I couldn’t bring myself to mess them up. Walking further into the apartment I noticed the bathroom was equally opulent with a large shower stall and one of those huge, beastly shower heads that I think were referred to as a rain shower head. The wall and floor tiles were white with black granite counter tops and matching, fluffy black towels.