Deliverance (The Maverick Defense #1) (7 page)

“I don’t know.” Mikey chewed on his finger. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“Aw, man, come on.” Lex turned to him and gripped him by the shoulders, kneading them with his hand. “After today, we all need to let loose and blow off some steam.” He paused and a sly smile spread across his face. “I bet there are girls. With a name like Shakers, there has to be girls, right?” He nodded at Mikey, who still looked unenthusiastic.

“Am I right?” Excitement written all over his face.

“Something like that,” Mikey muttered and walked away.

“Looks like we’re going to Shakers tonight.” Lex turned back to me barely able to contain his excitement.

“Looks like it.” I stifled a groan because Shakers was the last place I wanted to be.

T
roy closed the door to the Escalade and climbed in the driver’s seat. He didn’t speak. He never did. As the SUV purred to life, I leaned my head back on the leather.

Sherri said, “You holding up okay, darlin’?”

Stupid question.

I hadn’t been all right for a long time.

The buzz of the alcohol numbed everything but not enough. Only one thing could do that—the thing I hated most about myself. “Do we have to go?” My words were slurred, my hold on reality slipping.

“Shit, Joy, how much did you drink?”

“Enough,” I garbled.

“Donnie will kill me. Troy, hand me some water. Lyla, make sure she doesn’t fall asleep.”

A hand laid on my bare arm rocking me gently. “Joy, stay with us. She’s out of it, Sherri.”

“She’ll be fine …”

I could hear their voices. Words. Sounds.

“Fine. I’m fine …” Was that my voice? I couldn’t be sure as everything started to blur together.

“We need to sober her up pronto. We’re almost at the club.”

“Joy? Joy, take a sip of this, darlin’. Come on.” Something cold pressed to my lips. “Shit, Lyla, open the window.”

A blast of cool air rushed across my face, and I started to fall forward, water splashing around my face.

“Shit, fuck, grab the bottle, Ly.”

A hand steadied me as the car ground to a halt.

Are we here already?

No.

No!

Troy grumbled something. Words. But my mind was playing tricks because he didn’t talk. Not to Donnie’s girls.

“Give us a few minutes to get her cleaned up. Please,” Sherri said softly.

Another grumble and then the door opened and closed.

“Ly, get her face cleaned up.”

My face?
What was wrong with my face?

Lyla huffed and shuffled beside me. “Hold still and if you puke on me, you owe me.”

“Joy, hon, keep your eyes shut but open your mouth. Sip this water for me.” Something poked at my lips. “Open, darlin’.”

I willed my mouth to take the straw and suck. Ice-cold liquid soothed my throat clearing some of the fog clouding my head. Hands brushed the hair away from my face and something damp wiped my eyes.

The cool air, cold water, and stillness began to sober me and I flickered my eyes open. “Lyla, I’m good.”

She smirked and backed away from me. “Fine, clean up your own face.”

“Lyla, go easy on her,” Sherri snapped.

“Why? Because she can’t hold her liquor? She’s not the only one who feels his wrath, you know. It’s bad for all of us.”

Guilt uncoiled in my stomach. Although it could have also been the half bottle of Johnny Walker I drank at Sherri’s.

“Enough,” Sherri said in her motherly tone. “We need to get inside before he comes looking for her.” She turned her attention to me. “You think you can walk?” I nodded. Suddenly, I felt very sober. “We’ll go straight to the girls’ changing room and get you cleaned up proper. You look like shit.” She flicked her head at Lyla. “Ly, you go and buy us some time.”

“Me? What in the hell am I supposed to do?”

Sherri rolled her eyes. “Tell your boss about Patrick or use that fine little ass of yours. Think of something, anything. Just buy us five minutes.”

Lyla shot me a glare and muttered something under her breath before opening the door and disappearing into the darkness. Troy was nowhere to be seen when we climbed out of the car. I stumbled in my skyscraper heels, but Sherri caught my arms and I managed to right myself. “I’m fine.” I shrugged her off smoothing down the dress molded to my curves.

“Your face says otherwise. Come on.”

We slipped in the side entrance of Shakers unnoticed. It was rarely used and was the only unguarded door in the whole building, but Sherri had an all-access pass to Donnie’s club. She knew every darkened corner, escape route, and quiet storage closet. I knew she knew because she’d shown me every single one when Donnie first announced I was his.

His.

I was his now—body and empty black soul. He’d taken everything I had to give. Except my shattered heart. I refused to surrender that. He couldn’t have it.

Not when it belonged to another.

After cleaning up in the small bathroom adjoining the girls’ changing room, I rejoined Sherri.

“You look better,” she said glancing me up and down.

I nodded turning my head to catch my reflection. The girl staring back was a stranger. Long, tousled dark hair framed her face. Even the once bright streak of red running through the front now seemed dull. Full lips glossed in red contrasted the darkness of her eyes and the smoky kohl liner defining them. No longer did she resemble the fresh-faced girl with the sweet smile and bright eyes. No, that girl was gone.

Dead.

Sherri led us to the bar and ordered herself a drink. I declined, my stomach still churning from all the alcohol I’d drunk back at her place. Perched on one of the leather and chrome barstools, I glanced around the room. Two girls were dancing on the smaller podiums, slinking around the poles, writhing and popping their bodies as a couple of guys leered up at them.

Lyla approached us, her lips drawn into a thin line. “He wants to see you.” She glanced at Sherri and then back at me.

I clenched my eyes shut and sighed. “His office?”

“Yeah. I held him off for as long as I could.” Her eyes dropped down to the floor. The action would have had most girls on high alert. Suspicious. But I knew the lengths some of these girls would go to get things done.

Myself included.

I should have cared—I didn’t.

“You did good, Lys.” Sherri slid a glass across the bar toward her and added, “You want me to come with you? Take the heat for getting you drunk?”

“No. No! I can deal with him.” I hopped down off the stool and smoothed my hands down my dress again. Donnie had demanded my presence at the club, so it was inevitable he wanted to see me.

I didn’t glance back at Sherri and Lyla as I walked toward the back corner of the bar to the door that led into a long hallway. Donnie’s office was the last door on the left. I knocked and entered, pulling on my hardened mask.

“Baby, there you are,” Donnie drawled as he looked up from the leather couch he was sitting on. “Was there a problem?”

“No, no problem. I just wanted to freshen up. Is everything okay?”

Did today go okay?
The words lodged in my throat, not that I would have asked them anyway. I knew better.

Donnie rose from his seat and stalked toward me, his eyes raking me up and down causing my whole body to break out in gooseflesh. “You look nice, baby. Real fucking nice.”

I sucked in a silent breath. Donnie’s eyes were darkened, full of lust and something much worse. He reached me and buried one of his hands in my waves. “Come here.”

Something was wrong. I’d learned to predict Donnie’s behaviors, and right now, the way he brushed the hair off my shoulder and curled his fist around it had my heart thumping in my chest.

In one swift movement, Donnie’s hand tightened on my hair. Pain ricocheted up my scalp, but I swallowed the cry that tried to tear from my throat. He yanked me around until he was positioned behind me. “Look at yourself.” He forced me forward. The full-length mirror reflected the scene back at us.

I stood unmoving in Donnie’s grip. He stared at me through the glass. “Look. At. Yourself. You see this?” His free hand roughly roved over my dress, up and over stomach and to my tits. This.” He squeezed hard, and I bit down on my lip to keep the tears at bay. “Is. Mine.”

Donnie’s eyes were wild. His jaw ticked, the carotid artery pulsating in his neck. “Tell me, Joy. Say the words.”

“I am yours.”

Each word shattered another sliver of my soul. Soon, there wouldn’t be anything left to give.

He relaxed his grip on me and his touch softened. Donnie smiled into the mirror. “I love you, baby. So fucking much.”

The words were like bullets ripping through me. I’d heard them a million times, but it was always the same. What Donnie and I shared wasn’t love. It was lust for him. Survival for me.

Desperation.

Love made you feel warm and safe and comforted, didn’t it? Not scared and sad and tired. So tired. This couldn’t be love; it was ugly and wrong and devastating.

It had ruined me.

Needy lips connected with my neck, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to watch him lose himself in me. Donnie’s hands became frantic, clawing and pawing at my dress, my skin. His mouth moved up and down the column of my neck, licking and sucking. It was as if he was marking me. Claiming me. His actions were possessive, territorial, and it hit me. He’d seen Dawson.

I didn’t have time to process the realization, as a loud knock sounded on the door. “Boss, you’re needed out front.”

Donnie paused holding me close to him. I waited. No one demanded things of Donnie, not even his right-hand men. In the past, I’d watched him beat members of his own staff to a pulp because of a question they’d asked or the tone of their voice. He was unstable. Volatile.

You never knew which side of Donnie would rear its ugly head.

“I’m coming.”

Relief washed over me. In a life with Donnie DeLuca, you had to steal these rare moments and bask in them because you never knew what was coming next. He pressed one more kiss to my neck and righted himself. “Come on, we have guests to attend to.”

The two big loves in Donnie’s life were his business and me. At that moment, I’d never been more thankful for coming in second place.