Andrew’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Needs must and when I want something nothing stops me from getting it. Take that Brooke bitch for example.”
Drake stiffened. Give me a reason.
“Rosen, easy.” Oliver said through the side of his mouth.
Andrew leaned back and crossed his legs. “Now that…that was sweet.”
Drake roared, crouched and slammed his body into Andrew. They both fell, the impact throwing the seat several feet away.
“You motherfucker!” Drake slammed his fist against Andrew’s jaw. “You coward! You pile of shit! You had me kicked out so you could hurt her! You planned this from the fucking start!”
Drake didn’t see Andrew’s fist fly and he took a hard one against his face and he fell sideways. Pain bloomed on his cheek and his nose. He didn’t fucking care. He stood. God this felt good! Adrenalin hammered his skull and flushed through his limbs. He was going to give the dipshit what he should have received a long time ago.
Something trickled down his face. Blood. Bile churned.
Goddamit, focus Rosen!
As long as he didn’t see the blood oozing from his broken nose or the cut on his cheek, he was fine. His stomach clenched at the sight of Andrew’s blood marring his teeth before he spat it out.
Drake seethed. That kind of blood being spilled? He could handle that. He turned his eyes to slits. He’d handle anything to bash Andrew’s face to the ground.
Oliver and his men formed a loose circle around them. Drake vaguely saw his friend raise a hand to stop any of his men interfering.
“Want to know how sweet your bitch was when she was under me?” Andrew sneered. “She squealed like a sow. But she had claws.”
“Enough!” Drake bellowed. Focus! He raised his fists chest level.
Andrew sauntered in a circle, fainting then changing directions on the spot when Drake did the same.
Fuck!
“I’ve been watching you, Rosen. Watched all of your fights.”
Drake smirked. “So Caius tells me among other things. Why bother with me? I’m not in your league.”
“Exactly. I wanted to see how you’d get pulverized.”
Drake couldn’t stop the chuckle bubbling up his throat.
“My fights must have disappointed you.”
Now!
Before Andrew could react, Drake fainted right just to trip Andrew then shifted to the opposite side before swinging his leg against Andrew’s side with such force hoping he broke a few ribs. Andrew grunted but stayed up.
Shit.
Drake saw red. He surged forward and threw a double punch into Andrew’s face. Andrew’s head shot back at the momentum. Drake didn’t stop and pressed his advantage. A side kick in the stomach made Andrew double. Drake held Andrew’s head and kneed him. He heard another satisfying crack. He punched Andrew’s face in succession, his knuckles burning with satisfying pain as he struck Andrew over and over again. On his face, gut, stomach.
Drake altered punches, the rage he felt pouring into his own bruised fists as he tried to cleanse himself of his failure. Andrew staggered over and over again until, bloodied, he crumpled and fell flat on his back. Blood oozed in several cuts and stained his shirt. Drake stormed towards him but steel bands prevented him from moving.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
“Enough, tovarisch.” Vincent’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “He’s already down. You’d be given a penalty if you were in the cage.”
“See if I care!” Drake struggled.
“Rosen!” Oliver snapped. “We need him alive.”
The red film over his eyes subsided. He stopped struggling against the Russian’s hold and all fight drained from him. He became slack. Vincent let go of him and Drake staggered back. He looked down at his cut up knuckles, the bloodstains on his shirt, his slacks. The hangar swam.
“Whoa…” Oliver gripped him. “We okay?”
“I don’t like blood.”
Oliver arched a brow. “No shit. Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m fine, Cray. I’ll be fine.” Shit, his face stung and he wanted to heave. But the sight of Andrew out cold on the floor was like ice water on his face, pushing the urge to vomit down.
“Malcolm, see to Drake.” Oliver said, suddenly weary. “Let’s wrap this up. I need to get back to Felicity.”
Andrew moaned, moving from side to side while Chaps tended to him.
“He’ll live.” Chaps was non-committal. He smiled at Drake and nodded before he stood. Just then two black SUVs drove into the hangar stopping a hundred feet from where Drake, Oliver and his team gathered. Two men approached Oliver, shaking his hand before their attention turned to Andrew and Drake.
“Something we should know about?” asked one of them.
Oliver gave a sly glance at Drake. “New recruit. Interrogation got messy.”
The agent had an I-don’t-believe-that-crap look while his companion cuffed Andrew.
“I was assaulted,” Andrew slurred, pointing at Drake. “He assaulted me.”
“Mr Tabler, your money laundering for terrorism is well documented,” the agent’s voice was cold. “What you’ve been through is nothing compared to what might happen to you.”
Andrew continued to plead his innocence shouting expletives in between as he was hauled off.
“Wait!”
Everyone looked at Drake.
He strode to Andrew, unspent anger still burning through his insides.
“Why?” He grabbed Andrew by the collar of his shirt.
“Rosen!” Oliver snapped.
The other agent pulled Drake away. He placed both his palms on Drake’s chest to pushing him further from Andrew until Vincent held Drake back again.
“Why, Andrew? Just tell me why you just had to destroy our lives!” his voice ricocheted all over the place.
Andrew looked at him through a bruised eye that was slowly closing. He squinted and gave Drake a hard smile.
“Because Bethany Brooke wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
Drake’s eyes widened, stunned. “What?”
Andrew chuckled then sneered. “You were too blind to see that I wanted her for myself. You think I gave a shit that she was deaf? She was the only one I was willing to accept to become part of my social station. I would have given her everything. I didn’t give a shit that she wasn’t perfect or she didn’t come from money. She was the only person able to do that. What I did give a shit about was that she preferred you. She wanted you over me!”
“Let’s go Tabler!” The agent pulled Andrew back to the other waiting agents.
“If I couldn’t have her, nobody would! You hear me Rosen!” Andrew was shoved into the back of the vehicle. “Nobody would have her but me! I love her! She’s mine!”
Drake was rendered immobile from the shock of Andrew’s confession. Oliver came to his side.
“That was intense.” Air whistled through Oliver’s teeth. He turned to Drake. “You okay, mate?”
Drake pulled away from his stupor and looked at his friend. “All this time…that was it? He destroyed our lives so he could have her?”
Oliver shook his head, his face grim. “There are a lot of psychos in the world.” He slapped Drake’s back. “He’ll out of commission for a very long time.”
They walked back to where Malcolm was. Oliver pointed. “Take a seat, Rosen, and let Malcolm attend to your cuts.”
“Cray, I have to get to Bethany.” Drake winced when antiseptic touched a cut. “Shit, Malcolm easy!”
Malcolm scowled. “Mr Rosen, unless you intend to faint, sit your arse down on this chair until I’m finished cleaning you up.”
Drake scowled. “You’re just like Miles.”
“I will assume he’s a very patient man,” Malcolm quipped. He continued to dab antiseptic on the other cuts causing Drake to wince. “Didn’t peg you for a cry baby, Mr Rosen. Hold steady.”
Malcolm placed the bottle of antiseptic and gauze in the first
aid box. Oliver, Chaps, and Vincent looked on. Malcolm held on to Drake’s nose.
“Wha— Bloody fuck!” The crack putting Drake’s nose into place and his oath reverberated around the hangar. He brought his hand to his nose. “That hurt.”
“For a cage fighter, you whine a lot,” Malcolm muttered stuffing Drake’s nose with rolled gauze to stem the blood flow. He dabbed more antiseptic on Drake’s raw knuckles before wrapping them with sterilized gauze. “That’s better, even if you do look like a quarter Frankenstein’s monster. Keep that on for as long as you can.”
“Thanks.” Drake grudgingly said. He turned to Oliver. “Cray, where is she?”
“It can wait until tomorrow.”
“But—”
“It’s 3 a.m., Drake. You look like hell. Get some rest before you drive yourself in that direction.”
“I’m good. I’ll get my car and go…where exactly?”
Oliver gave out a long suffering sigh. He rubbed his forehead. “Newcastle.”
Drake closed his eyes. “Fuck, really?”
Oliver let out a dry chuckle. “So you’re still up for driving? Give it a rest. She’s not going anywhere.”
“What if she bolts again?”
Oliver turned, slightly limping towards his car. “With her entire family with her? Not bloody easy.”
With Malcolm wiping his face like he’d just finish a round, Drake stood and thanked him again before jogging to Oliver’s car.
He wasn’t thinking straight. After hearing Andrew’s admission, who would be? Oliver was the voice of reason Drake didn’t want to concede even if he wasn’t fit to drive. He just wanted to let Bethany know that it was all over. He’d break down her walls and show her how much he loved her. He’d gone through hell and had returned. He had to make her understand he didn’t look at her any less. Would never do.
He just hoped that she’d be willing to take the next step forward.
With him.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Bethany left the estate agent’s office blowing out a sigh of relief.
She bagged the two bedroom apartment just minutes before it was advertised. The steady flow of money coming to her form the club and later the flower shop and the sale of her house, would tide her entire family over for the next six months. She’d have to get a job in the city, maybe tweak her CV a little bit. Then she had to look for a school for Amara…
Her to-do list crowded her mind instead of staying put in her phone calendar. Giving up, she surveyed her surroundings along Grey Street.
Greek style architectural buildings of Doric columns hugged both sides of the street and beyond was the Grey Monument. Returning to the hotel where they were currently staying wasn’t that appealing. There were so many decisions to make that Bethany couldn’t hear herself think. Glad she had worn flat boots and a coat that kept her warm in the early Spring day, she walked away from Grey Street and found herself along the quay. She looked around, dying for an espresso and sighing in relief when she found Starbucks tucked inside the Malmaison hotel.
Escape from Manchester. She let out half a snort and a laugh. They’d all been so intent on leaving, Bethany hadn’t even called Cinzia. Except for Amara, who was still bewildered. The moment she came home from the movie, she had been told to pack up a few belongings and dress up warmly because they had a train to catch. The whole time in the train she kept asking her mother what had happened. But Bethany was too intent on widening the distance between her family and the person who destroyed her life. Even if it meant that she also widened the gap between herself and the man she had long ago given her heart to.
She looked at her phone. There were more than a dozen missed calls from Drake as well as text messages. She didn’t answer at first believing it was better that way. But when the dull pain inside her intensified, she finally gave in to say they were okay.
The messages stopped and now she wished she hadn’t answered the texts. If she called him, what would she say? That she had seen Andrew and was fearing for her life? That she still had nightmares of the afternoon Andrew raped her? That she believed life would always favour the rich because her case had been swept under the rug by Andrew’s own father?
If Drake found out, he’d get into trouble for her. She didn’t want that to happen again. Besides if she saw the hurt and accusation that might leap into his eyes, she didn’t think she’d be able to hack it.
Cinzia was frantic with worry when Bethany finally rang her and her heart thudded one hard beat before slowly resuming its normal tempo when her friend told her about Drake.
“He was frantic, cara. I almost pitied him.”
Bethany released an exhausted breath. “You should. He has nothing to do with my leaving.”
“Oh Bettina,” Cinzia tutted after Bethany told her the whole story. “What are you going to do?”
“Lie low for a while.” Her voice lilted up. She looked out of the café’s window. “I’m sorry for leaving you like this, Cinzia. I just felt I didn’t have a choice.”
“After encountering the man who destroyed your life?” Cinzia made a sound. “If I had friends with the mafia, I’d ask a favour.”
“I’m glad you don’t.” Bethany said dryly. “You’d be indebted to them for life.”
“Whatever. I’m just glad you called and stopped me from having a heart attack.”
Bethany suppressed a chuckle. “Stop being so melodramatic.”
Cinzia huffed. “Comunque. Keep safe and keep me posted okay? The girls and the staff in the shop are worried about you.”
The sentiment warmed her heart. “Tell them I’m fine. You don’t mind watching over the businesses for me while I get my shit together?”
“What a question, Bettina! Besides, now that you’re no longer incommunicado we can discuss things over the phone.”
“Grazie, cara.”
“Kiss Amara for me and send my love to Papa and Mama Brooke.”
“I will.”
Bethany lifted the demitasse to her lips, inhaling its aroma and savouring the caffeine buzz.
Amara still wasn’t as talkative and it wrenched Bethany’s heart to see her that way. It was a far cry from her daughter always talking, and her parents being tight-lipped about the situation wasn’t endearing Amara to her either.
And Drake?
Bethany’s lips trembled at the tidal wave of pain tearing into her. Despite all that had happened, she was thankful for those moments she had with him. She’d never love another man the way she loved Drake Rosen nor would she ever give her body and soul the way she had offered them to him. She raised a silent prayer hoping that in time, Drake could forgive her.
“Bethany.”
Her cup cluttered on the plate as her fingers lost all feeling at the voice just a few feet away from her. Hot and cold waves washed over her. Her heart thudded like the loud bass line of one of her dance numbers. She stared straight at a pair of muscular thighs.
And a pair of bandaged hands.
Bethany’s eyes flew to Drake’s face.
“Oh my God, what the hell happened to you?” Her hand rushed to cover her mouth at the sight of his battered face. “Did you get into the ring?”
A few patrons gave Drake cursory glances.
“It was more like a fight inside a hangar,” Drake said. He lifted his bandaged hand to caress her face.
She swallowed and blinked away the emotion that threatened to spill down her face. She reached for his hand and pulled him to the chair opposite her. Drake moved his chair closer to hers.
His face was haggard, drawn, and his eyes were bloodshot as though he hadn’t slept. He hadn’t shaved either but his unique scent mixed with a fresh shower scent made her want to sit on his lap and cuddle with him. His hair was tousled as though he’d only had time to get out of the shower, drying quickly and didn’t bother to comb his hair before he left. He wore a band named t-shirt that stretched across his muscled torso under a distressed leather jacket.
“How
are you holding up?”
“Okay, I’m confused.” She tittered nervously. “I thought you’d be angry with me for leaving without telling you. This kind of understanding isn’t what I expected.”
“I was just asking how you were.” Drake’s forehead puckered. “What’s so confusing about that?”
“I’m fine,” she said through her lips.
Drake grinned when she tucked her hair behind her ear. “You changed your hair. Since when?”
“Since I decided to surprise you yesterday.”
Pleasure lit Drake’s face before it dimmed.
“I love whatever colour your hair is.”
Bethany licked her bottom lip. “Drake. What did you do?” She searched his face for answers but her breath hitched when all she could see was the adoration and love in his eyes.
He cradled her head before covering her lips with his mouth. She opened up to him, missing him so much it hurt. Bethany gripped his jacket to pull him closer, kiss him deeper, and pour all of the love she had for him in one kiss as the tears she fought so hard to stop fell down the sides of her face.
“Shhh….don’t cry, baby.” Drake swiped her tears from her cheeks and kissing the ones he missed on her jaw. “Please don’t cry, Bee.”
But that only led to the dam bursting its banks. She hid her face inside his jacket. Drake enveloped her in his arms and allowed her to let it all out.
Oh God, why does he have to be so gentle? Why does he have to love me?
The drone of people arriving and leaving the coffee shop, the scraping of chairs against the floor, the chatter of diners and the cashier at the till couldn’t buffer Bethany’s grief. All of them were dull sounds that sharpened when it filtered through her hearing aid. In all that time, Drake just held her without speaking as though he was absorbing her pain as his own.
“I can’t help it.” She hiccupped, her breath entering and leaving her mouth. She burrowed against his neck inhaling the smell of soap, leather, and man. It was the best smell in the world.
He kissed her forehead.
“I love you, Drake. I really do but I’m so scared to keep loving you.”
Slow Dancing (The Second Chances Series Book 4) Page 27
