Page 31 of Draven

“Rare, yes, but not impossible.”

I just don’t see how. God, my head hurts. Here’s hoping it’s not a migraine. Dealing with Draven is difficult enough at the best of times without having to deal with tiny hammers going at my skull as well.

“But Moretti would have known the difference. He would. I understand impersonation can be impressive, but not to those who know the person intimately.”

“Octavia is one of a kind.”

She fucking must be if she can fool the woman’s husband. “So… so, Moretti’s wife is okay?”

Draven nods. “And happily spending Franco’s money while his second-in-command keeps her bed warm.” He claps a hand on his thigh. “Damn, I knew there was something else I wanted to share with Moretti.”

I drag a hand down my face and push out a heavy exhale. Shit. I screwed up. I should have known better. Draven is a lot of things, but allowing the abuse of a woman, innocent or otherwise? No, not his jam at all.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help the grimace that accompanies my apology. It’s not that I find apologizing difficult in general, it’s that I find it difficult to say those particular words to Draven. If he chooses to walk away and leave me to find Kiera alone, I won’t blame him. I will, however, chase after him and beg him to give me another chance, no matter how much he taunts me.

“What did that cost you, Lola?”

A lot. I risk a faint smile as an attempt at bridging the gap between us—one I caused. Every muscle in my body tenses, bracing for rejection. “I mean it, Draven. You asked me to trust you, and I didn’t. I fell for it, just like Moretti.”

He stares at me in silence, his nostrils flaring and eyes flat, any emotion he may be feeling tightly contained. Electricity zips through the air, and I hold my breath, waiting for an explosion of anger. For him to punch the wall or sweep every item off the nearby desk onto the floor. Instead, he stands, brushes past me, and opens the door.

“We have a name. Now the fun begins.”

Chapter 13

Draven

After cutting the engine, I dismount, remove my helmet, and run a hand over the top of my head as I glance up to the fifth floor. The drapes part, and Louise’s face appears in the window. She must have heard the throaty growl of the bike. From here, it’s difficult to gauge her mood. I know what it cost her to apologize to me yesterday. If the roles were reversed, I’d have struggled just the same, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed off, because I am. I told her to fucking trust me, and she didn’t.

It cut me deep that she thought I could not only condone, but arrange the gang rape of a woman. That’s going to take me some time to put aside, and a lot more groveling from her before I fully accept her apology.

Without acknowledging her, I enter the building and take the stairs two at a time. She’s already waiting outside her apartment for me when I exit the stairwell onto her floor, dressed in skin-tight black jeans, a fitted pale pink button-down, and a pair of ankle boots with a two-inch heel.

My dick, oblivious to what she did to me yesterday, twitches.

Damn those legs… practically all the way up to her armpits. They’d look fantastic hooked over my hips, her back braced against the wall as I pound into her while bending my head to suck on those fabulous tits. Oh yeah, despite the contained fury that’s kept me awake most of the night, I still want to fuck her, but if she thinks she’s getting heart-eyes and scented flowers…

Bad luck, sweetcheeks. One punishment fuck coming right up.

“Draven?”

Realizing I’ve been daydreaming, I jerk my attention back to the present. “What?”

“Are you coming inside?”

If I wasn’t still raging at her, I’d answer with something along the lines of, “You bet your ass I’m coming inside.” Instead, I shrug out of my backpack and skate past her.

“What’s up?” she asks as she closes the door behind me. “Your text was cryptic.”

I plunk into an overstuffed chair, set the bag on the floor, and make the decision to park our personal issues until we’ve found her sister. I’m good at compartmentalizing things until it’s time to unpack them. Even better, she won’t see it coming, but one way or another, I’m exacting more than an apology for what she did to me yesterday.

“I’ve had every member of my team and a few other contacts drafted in, working through the night and all of today, trying to find as much intel on Arjan Shala as they can.” I twist my lips to the side. “He’s bad news. Originally from Albania, he’s built up a decent sized business running girls in Europe. Two years ago, he appeared in the States, basing himself in California to snatch desperate girls crossing the border from Mexico in the hopes of a better life in the US.” I snort. “Some life, huh?”

Her face turns ashen, and she jams her hands under her armpits but doesn’t say anything. I know she’s thinking about what her sister could be facing while we’re sitting here in comfort and safety.

“Three months ago, Shala shifts his operations to the northeast, but he’s been lying low, probably working on this deal in the background. My guess is that once he laid the groundwork and found enough paying customers, his men began taking the girls.”

Louise pulls her hands from under her arms and presses her fingertips into her temples, rubbing in circular motions. “Oh, God,” she mutters, her eyes on the floor. “Kiera…”

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