Page 13 of Flames of Ruin

Trying to hide my surprise at his answer, I defiantly cross my arms over my chest.

Rolling my eyes, I scoff and say, “I can take care of myself.”

He rises from my bed, leaning over me. “Yeah…You proved that last night by getting attacked.”

“You must be forgetting the guy I killed.”

Shaking his head, he lets out an exasperated sigh, “Killed? The bullet bounced off the concrete into his chest.”

“I still defended myself, jerk.”

His surprised gaze finds mine as though no one has stood up to him before.

“There are instructions on your bedside table on how to treat your concussion. The number to my private physician is also on the back of the paper, should you need him.”

“My my, aren’t we fancy? Private physician, huh?”

I can tell he is struggling to ignore my smartass mouth. I wonder what he would do if I wasn’t injured. The thought should scare me. After everything I have heard about this man, I should be running in the other direction. Instead, I want to know more about him and the pain he carries around with him like an anvil on his back.

Turning on his heels, he walks out of my room and into the hallway. I can hear him as he tells Miranda in a hushed voice to take care of me.

Moments later, his footsteps fade, and he walks out of our apartment.

Within seconds, Miranda is bounding through my bedroom door.

“What the fuck happened last night? One minute you’re yelling at the fucker who didn’t tip you–not a smart move by the way–and then I get some cryptic text from a number telling me you were attacked, but that you were safe?! CiCi, what happened? Why were you with Drake Reign?”

She plops down on the edge of my bed, and the sudden jolt causes my stomach to flip.

Miranda must realize I am still reeling from the night before, when I begin rubbing my temple with one hand and the other hand clutches my stomach.

“Shit. Sorry.” She apologizes, “I was just freaking out.”

Sighing, I sink my back against the soft pillows lining my headboard.

“I don’t remember much. When I chased that thug outside to yell at him for not tipping me, I was met with him and three other guys. Apparently, they were members of Las Serpientes.” I pause for a moment, trying to remember the footage Drake showed me earlier.

“Were? What do you mean ‘were?’” The fear is clear in her voice, as if she already knows the answer.

“One of them attacked me, and somehow I managed to kick his gun out of his hand right as he pulled the trigger. The bullet ended up ricocheting off the ground and into his chest.”

Realizing how that sentence doesn’t seem to stir any emotion within me, I inhale and continue.

“That’s when Drake and I’m assuming one of his cronies appeared,” I lie. I don’t want her to know that Drake is The Dragon.

Not yet.

I know this was our goal, to find him and learn about what happened that night. I know I shouldn’t keep this secret from her, but I have my own answers I want to get first.

Ignoring my own feelings of guilt, I continue.

“They killed the other three guys. Apparently, I passed out after that and woke up in Drake’s bed sometime in the middle of the night.”

I reminisce about the events of the night. How safe I felt waking up in his bedroom. I know he will not hurt me, no matter how many times he tries to scare me off. The question is, why? Men like Drake Reign don’t just let people go, especially when they know his deepest secret.

“Did he…He didn’t? Hurt you, did he?” Her voice grows concerned.

“No! Surprisingly. I figured someone like him would take advantage of any woman lying in his bed unconscious.” I try to feign a smile, remembering how I had offended him at my comment.

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