Page 12 of Draven

With a deep sigh of surrender, she sticks out her hand. “Deal.”

I suppress a grin that threatens to give away my pleasure at her submission. “You got anything you can leave with me?”

She nods, reaching into her purse and producing a blue folder. “Here’s what I have. It’s not everything, but as I’ve been kept out of the case, that’s as much as I’ve been able to lay my hands on.”

I take it from her, give it a cursory flick. “Go home. I’ll read through this, get myself up to speed, and then we’ll meet in the morning. I’ll find a motel near your precinct and text you the location.” I could stay at Mom’s, but I don’t want Louise asking where she is, and she will. Bank on it. Her curiosity is what made her such a good cop, and I doubt anything’s changed in the last eight years on that score.

“Okay.” She nibbles her lip. “Um, we haven’t discussed your fee.”

My mouth slowly curves upward in a glimmer of a smile, teasing, taunting. “No, we haven’t.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “I don’t have much spare cash. What’s your daily rate?”

When I tell her, she gasps.

“I can’t afford that.”

I tap my forefinger to my bottom lip, and our eyes lock when I say, “I know.”

She kicks up her chin, defiant to the last. “So, what do we do?”

My gaze travels down the column of her throat before inching slowly back up. “I guess you’ll just have to owe me.”

Chapter 6

Louise

Once I drop my purse by the front door, I head straight to the fridge, helping myself to a large glass of wine. Who cares that it isn’t yet three in the afternoon? I take a huge gulp, the alcohol hitting my stomach fast, settling my insides. Then my mind returns to my nightmare meeting at Draven’s place earlier today.

I guess you’ll just have to owe me.

A shiver tingles down my spine. Yeah, and I know the day will come when Draven wants to collect. Exactly what his non-cash fee will be is up for debate.

I’d almost choked when he dropped the towel. He knew exactly what he was doing, but if he let me glimpse his enormous cock to try intimidate me, he failed. Working in a man’s world, I’m well versed in sexual politics. That I can’t get the image out of my head is a matter of concern I’ll have to think about on another day.

His size shouldn’t surprise me. The guy has feet big as boats and hands like shovels. It makes sense he’d have a big dick to match. And those tattoos. Gah! During our time working together, I’d only ever seen his forearms covered in tats. I’d hoped there were more, and, by God, I’ve gotten my wish. His arms, chest, and back are all covered in delectable ink. I could spend hours exploring every inch with my fingertips, my mouth, my tongue. Only his abs have been left untouched, the ridges of muscle clearly visible, the light dusting of hair from his navel disappearing beneath the towel to the prize beneath.

Stop it!

My personal feelings are moot, because Draven still holds a grudge over our parting of ways eight years ago. The day he entered my life was indelibly imprinted on my memory. My first day on the job for real, fresh out of the academy, eager to “make a difference”. Looking back, I’d had impossible ideals, my mother’s words acting as a guiding beacon—a map I slavishly followed.

“Do the right thing, Lola. Rules are good. They light our way, showing us the difference between right and wrong.”

That first day, all the rookies had gathered into one of the large conference rooms, and one by one, their training officers had arrived to pick them up. The scheme had been a fairly recent initiative by the captain at the time, its objective to mentor the new recruits and help them settle into life in law enforcement. I’d watched each of my coworkers leave with their TO, bounding along like eager puppies anxious to please.

And then in walked Draven, with menace seeping from his every pore, his natural charisma catching the eye of, well, everyone. Instantly, the room felt smaller, the walls closing in as if his sheer size had sucked all the oxygen from the air. My palms slicked with sweat, heart pummeling my ribcage. If I’d seen him in a line-up, I’d have pegged him for a perp rather than a police officer. At least six and a half feet tall, he wore his hair long, and his beard full and thick. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and his hands—the only visible skin apart from his face—were covered in tattoos. The glass of water on the table in front of me had rippled when he strode in, then he’d glanced down at a sheet of paper, the same as everyone else who’d arrived to pick up their protégés.

“Louise Rhodes, ” his voice boomed—deep, masculine—sending a ripple of pleasure ricocheting up my spine.

If I’d pictured my perfect guy, this giant was it, and if that ink was just a taster of his tats, then I’d somehow stumbled across the man of my dreams.

I’d scrambled to my feet. “That’s me.”

My voice had come out strong, confident—a direct contrast to how unsettled I felt on the inside.

He’d treated me to a full-length eye sweep, then cocked his head, beckoning for me to follow him. “Come on, then. Jump to it. Let’s see if we can knock you into shape.”

And so, our working relationship had begun. Six months passed, throughout which I spent more time with Draven than without him. We worked long hours, but I didn’t care. The night shifts had been my favorite. During our breaks, we’d often go grab something to eat at a local diner, and I’d occasionally pretend we’d been on a date rather than on duty. I’d prattled on about my family, the love for my sister and my parents, as well as my hopes for the future. He’d grunted in response, giving up little of his own background. His secrecy to share anything about himself only served to intrigue me more.

---