Page 22 of Draven

By my watch, a full sixty seconds passes before Rick’s defeatist sigh comes over the line.

“Do I need to plan for a new career?”

“Trust me.”

Rick snorts. “Trust you? Ha.”

“Chill. I have a plan.”

Rick groans. “Fuck’s sake, Draven. For my sake if not your own, dial it back, okay?”

“I won’t lay a finger on him. You have my word.” If everything goes as I expect it to, I won’t need to.

Another long pause ensues, followed by, “I’ll set it up.”

“Perfect. Hey, Rick?”

“Yeah?”

I open my mouth to ask him about Louise and whether they’re more than “just good friends”, then change my mind. I’ll ask her instead. Less risky. Rick will see right through me if I go down that route, and the last thing I want or need right now is that kind of attention. It’s bad enough that Ciaran’s already on to me.

“Forget it. Call me when it’s done.”

I cut the call when the server brings me my food. After thanking her, I demolish the entire meal within minutes, making sure to leave a generous tip before I start the walk back to the motel. The moment I round the corner I find myself holding back a smile.

There’s my girl. She’s come around far quicker than I predicted. Her eyes track my every step, a hint of anger still blatant in her sapphire irises.

Without uttering a word, I go straight to my door, insert the key, and step inside, leaving it open. She can either walk through…

Or not.

Up to her.

I already know what she’ll do, and that both pleases and worries me. Even after eight years, I can read her as easily as a large font book.

Tossing my keys on the nightstand, I shrug out of my leather jacket and discard it on the bed. The door slams behind me, I’m guessing with Louise on this side rather than the other. Ignoring her, I go into the bathroom, unzip my pants, and take a leak.

She huffs loudly, bringing another smile to my lips. Baiting Louise is the most fun I’ve had in a good long while. She’d make a terrible poker player.

“Wash your hands,” she calls out.

Flicking on the faucet—not because she ordered me to—I run my hands under the spray and poke my head around the door. “Don’t worry. When I finger your pussy, I’ll give them an extra thorough scrub.”

“Urgh. You’re disgusting.”

I run my tongue over my top lip. “Don’t pretend you’re offended. You fucking love it.”

A sound bursts from her throat, tantamount to a growl. “Asshole. I hope you get crabs and your cock falls off.”

I finish washing up, dry my hands, then join her in the bedroom. “Just so you know, insults turn me on.” I glance down at my crotch, my thick erection clearly visible. “Want to help me out with this, Lola?”

“Fuck you.”

“Anytime, sweetcheeks.” I go for my fly.

“Argh.” Louise fists her hands and sets them on her hips. “You are impossible! I came here to talk, to figure out what we do next, and this is what I get. I’m furious at you for throwing me out of Ms. Fowler’s house, for almost choking me, and for leaving me to find my own way back. But you… you…”

“Me… me… what, Lola?”

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