Drake Page 4

  "Yes, yes, definitely, yes," she nodded. "More than okay. Definitely more than okay."

  "So, uh, do you feel all right about going to my house alone? You can stay here and wait until I get off if you'd prefer. Either is fine with me."

  "I've been so on edge about meeting up with you I haven't eaten all day and now I'm starving. Do you serve food here?"

  "We do. You can eat upstairs in the booth, or down here if you want."

  "In the booth."

  "The booth it is, but it can get a bit raucous later, and a lovely lady like you sitting in that booth by herself—you might get some unwanted attention."

  "I definitely don't want to deal with that."

  "I'll give you my keys and the address when you're finished, and I'll bring this bottle of Pomerol home with me."

  "Is that okay? What about your boss?"

  "Can you keep a secret?" he said with a grin.

  "Very funny!"

  "Sorry, I wasn't trying to be facetious. Aren't you quick?"

  "That surprised even me," she remarked, thinking she was feeling almost normal. "What's the secret?"

  "I own this place but nobody knows, they think I'm just a bartender."

  "Really? It's fabulous, but why are you working behind the bar?"

  "I like being in the trenches. It's the only way to know what's really going on, and I enjoy standing back there. It's fun, but I do need to get back. Let's take your glass upstairs. If you're going to be driving you probably shouldn't have more than that."

  "Drake?" she said softly as she rose from her chair. "Thank you for everything."

  "You don't have to thank me," he murmured gazing into her deep green eyes. "I want to thank you for reaching out to me. Having you here means more than you can know."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  In the dark days of her recovery, Courtney wondered if she'd ever feel like a woman again, if she'd ever be able to trust enough to fall in love, or feel unburdened enough to laugh, but as she ate the delicious meal and watched Drake behind the bar, she could feel a glimmer of life stirring inside her. He had a winning personality and a physique to die for, and it was obvious all the girls adored him. Every so often he'd flash her his killer smile and she'd smile back, remembering dark days when she thought she'd never smile again. When she'd finished her meal and the waitress had cleared away her table, she asked for the check and was told there was none. It didn't surprise her, but she was still grateful, and as he moved from the bar and headed towards her, she felt a slight stirring of butterflies in her stomach. It was a miracle.

  "You seemed to enjoy that," he said sliding into the booth opposite her.

  "It was fantastic. It's the first meal I've had outside my house since…you know."

  "I think you're about to have many firsts," he said warmly. "I work here Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, so any time you want to join me you're more than welcome."

  "I wouldn't want to take advantage, and I would have been happy to pay for the meal."

  "Your money's no good here."

  "You don't come in on the weekends?"

  "Fridays and Saturdays are mayhem. Sometimes I'll stick my head in for a short time but it's rare, and those two nights I'm usually playing bodyguard, though I haven't been doing that for a while."

  "Otherwise engaged being Superman?"

  "Exactly," he said with a wink. "Anyway, here are the keys, the remote for the gate, and this is my address. There's a small motor court where you can park, and if you go to the far edge your car won't be seen from the road. The alarm is on the wall next to the painting of the woman looking through the window. The code is two-four-six-eight. Just punch it in and you'll hear a beep. If you don't hear a beep run for the hills. The house will explode."

  "I'll bear that in mind. Anything you want me to grab and take with me while I'm dashing out the door?"

  "The painting."

  "Will do."

  The amusing banter had been quick and comfortable, and Courtney wanted to slide into the booth next to him and hug him from sheer gratitude.

  "Make yourself at home. There are a couple of guest rooms, just pick the one you want. I have nothing to hide, at least not from you, so don't feel weird about anything."

  "I don't know what to say. Thank you seems so totally inadequate."

  "I'm glad you came to me, and I'll be so relieved to have you in my house where you'll be safe. Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

  "You can do that? Don't you need to stay behind the bar?"

  "They can manage for five minutes. We cover for each other all the time. The boss doesn't know," he said with a wink.

  Helping her with her coat he walked her outside, and as she led him to a BMW, he noticed it was parked directly under one of the bright parking lot lights.

  "I rarely go out at night, but when I do I park my car in a parking lot that's busy. If I can't, I leave."

  "Courtney," he began, his voice sober, "tomorrow, or the next day, whenever you're ready, will you tell me how you ended up with those two bastards?"

  "Yes, I will, then you'll understand one of the reasons I didn't want to go to the police. It would have made the hellish nightmare even more horrendous."

  "I'm sure your decision was justified. I didn't want to be involved with the authorities either. I've seen things spin out of control with some of my clients. My only concern was getting you out of there."

  "I wondered why you used their phone. I was too out of it to ask at the time, but it's been one of those little things that stuck in my mind."

  "We're both people who like our privacy, and I totally get why you would want to stay out of insanity."

  Giving her a gentle hug, he held the car door open as she climbed inside. The night was damp and drizzly, and leaning down he gave her a solemn look.

  "The streets will be slippery. Drive carefully, and do me a favor; text me when you get there?"

  "Sure, and—"

  "Don't say thank you," he said, smiling as he interrupted her. "Get it through your head that I'm very grateful you got in touch. Okay?"

  "Okay. See you later, or in the morning. I have a feeling tonight I'll be sleeping better than I have in a long time."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  In a wealthy suburb not far from Fairfield Park, Ned Romano and Richard Hewitt where whooping it up. Their lawyer had been less than hopeful they'd win their pretrial motion for dismissal, but being a litigator himself Richard was sure it would happen. He'd even drafted some of the language and had insisted his lawyer use it. He'd been so confident he'd instructed his girlfriend, Susannah Gibson, to make arrangements for the celebratory party. Now the champagne was flowing, bow-tied waiters were carrying delectable morsels on silver trays, and music was blaring through speakers in every room. Though it was a drizzly chilly night the festivities had spilled outside, and bikini-clad girls were swimming in the heated pool. Richard was enjoying the sight while groping Susannah underneath the terrace portico when his criminal cohort caught his eye.

  "I'll be right back doll face," Richard muttered. "Make sure you keep those nipples hard for me."

  "You can count on it, babes."

  Reluctantly releasing her, he walked across the patio, but Ned moved inside so Richard had to follow him. Ned like to play the leader, but they both knew it was Richard who called the shots.

  "What's so fucking important?" Richard demanded as they entered the library. "We don't need to get into serious shit on our first night of freedom. What the hell?"

  "Courtney, that's what's so fucking important," Ned barked. "That bitch will go nuts that we're out. She's probably nuts right now. Our release has been all over the press, and forgive me if I'm being paranoid, but don't you think she'll change her mind and start yapping, or hasn't that occurred to you?"

  "Of course it's occurred to me, but she won't do anything tonight, and I need to get laid. Once I fuck Susannah into whiplash I'll be able to think straight."

  "What's there to th
ink about? Courtney has to disappear, and right now! She could start spilling her guts tomorrow. What's to stop her?"

  "The same thing that stopped her before, but you're right. She could flip out and think her humiliation will be worth putting us away, but we need to plan this carefully. We can't kneejerk it."

  "Yeah, yeah, you're right, but--"

  "I know, Ned, I know. Just cool it. Enjoy the party. We'll figure this out tomorrow. Are you staying over?"

  "No. I've got some girls coming back with me and I want to wake up at home. There's some stuff I've got to deal with in the morning."

  "Come over for lunch. I'll send Susannah off shopping and we'll figure this shit out."

  "Okay. I'm just nervous."

  "Is there something else on your mind?"

  "Yeah. The asshole who showed up in the woods and beat the crap out of us and took her. How the hell do we find him?"

  "You're right. We need to think on it," Richard agreed. "Maybe one of us will come up with something, but right now I'm going back to Susannah. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Richard marched from the room, but as he moved through the raucous crowd Ned's concerns cloaked him. Courtney was a problem, but the stranger was an even bigger one.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Arriving home in the dead of night, Drake moved quietly through the house making sure everything was secure, then deciding against his nocturnal jog he moved silently up the stairs. Noticing the door of the first guest room was slightly ajar he poked his head in. The bed was empty. He smiled. Courtney had left to open so he would know which room she was in. He was pleased it was the one next to his, and pausing he pressed his ear against the door. Not a sound. Hoping it meant she was getting the rest she needed, he moved through the double doors into his master suite, quickly changed, took a shower, then crawled into his king-sized bed.

  He'd had several women pass through its sheets, several of whom had shared his love of decadent delights. Having a woman in bondage, her body his to do with what he wished, and spanking her for some misdeed, feigned or real, took sex to a whole other level. As much as he felt a deep connection to Courtney, he couldn't imagine she'd be interested in such things after her horrendous ordeal. He had to believe the terrifying experience would have extinguished any submissive yearnings she may have possessed. It was a disappointing thought.

  The day had been long, the evening longer, and closing his eyes he wrapped his fingers around his semi-stiff cock. He often pleasured himself before sleep, his mental meanderings taking him to one of his previous liaisons, usually a young woman named Julie. She had been on the verge of stealing his heart when she'd left for a fabulous job in New York. She had loved being tied over pillows while he lashed her upturned backside with a heavy black flogger. The image materialized, and he surrendered to the decadent memory as he urgently massaged his member, but just as he was about to climax, Julie looked over her shoulder and suddenly she wasn't Julie, she was Courtney. His cock exploded, spewing his essence across his hand and sending scintillating sensations through his limbs. After the powerful spasms had ebbed away he stared up at the ceiling, shocked at what had just happened.

  Taking a moment to catch his breath, he slipped from the sheets and padded into his bathroom. There was no denying the sparks he'd felt during the time he'd spent with Courtney at The Lounge, but he hadn't realized she had crept under his skin in such a profound way. Feeling slightly bewildered he returned to his bed, and as he sank into the mattress, very aware she was sleeping on the other side of his bedroom wall, he let out a heavy sigh. This was an unexpected development, and he had no idea what, if anything, he should do about it. Dare he attempt to cross such a line?

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  When Courtney had arrived at his house, after turning off the alarm and texting him to confirm her safe arrival, she had paused to study the painting of the dark-haired beauty gazing through a paned glass window. It was a compelling image and she'd had to pull herself away. Moving upstairs she'd found a guest room and unpacked her suitcase, then left to explore. Wandering into his bedroom she'd found an impressive king-sized four post bed.

  Drake was a hunk. Did he have many women in his life?

  The thought had dropped unexpectedly into her head. Feeling a bit odd, though not sure why, she'd left his room, and after meandering through the rest of the house she was drawn back to the painting by the alarm. The image touched her. It reminded her of how she'd felt when she'd been locked away in her house afraid to venture out. Finally moving into the comfortable living room, she had spent the remainder of the evening relaxing in front of the television feeling wonderfully safe and at peace. When she'd slowly climbed the stairs and slipped into bed, she was asleep almost as soon as she'd closed her eyes, and surrendering to an amazing dream.

  She was Wonder Woman and Drake was Superman. They were flying through the city rescuing damsels in distress and whisking the bad guys off to an isolated planet where they had to fend for themselves. No guards, no services, no nothing, just small huts and a variety of plant life they had to harvest in order to survive. While Superman delivered them to the sparse isolated world, she stayed behind providing comfort and reassurance to the victims, and flying them to Dr. Paul if medical help was needed.

  Upon waking, the dream had been as clear as if it was a real-life memory, and a sudden epiphany rolled through her. She wanted to join Drake in his nightly patrols. She wanted to help him take care of the women he rescued, even help rescue them! The idea filled her with energy. It would be empowering, it would help her feel less like a victim and more like the woman she used to be. It would help her heal!

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Showered, dressed, and ready for the day, Drake left his bedroom, and as he passed the guest room he saw the door was open and the bed was made. He smiled. He wasn't just looking forward to sharing breakfast with Courtney, he was looking forward to having her around the house. Moving down the stairs he headed through the formal dining room towards the kitchen, and to his surprise the delicious aroma of bacon wafted around his nostrils.

  "Good morning," she said cheerily as he walked in. "I hope you don't mind. I made us eggs, bacon and grilled tomatoes. For a bachelor you're amazingly well stocked."

  "Mind? I'm ecstatic. I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me," he said relishing the sight of her.

  Dressed in a red cowl-neck tunic that ended just below her butt, black leggings, thick wool socks, and her long hair falling loose around her shoulders, she looked sexy as hell. He wanted to amble across to her, raise the slinky sexy top, deliver a sound swat, then a passionate kiss to start her day.

  "The coffee's on the table. Everything's ready. I've just been keeping it warm."

  "Thanks. A guy could get used to this."

  "It's the least I can do. I can't tell you how well I slept last night. I felt so safe."

  "I'm glad," he said moving closer to her. "I hope you'll always feel that way around me."

  He was standing directly behind her, and she ached to sink against his hard body. Unable to resist she turned around to face him.

  "Would it be okay to ask for a morning hug?"

  "Absolutely."

  Opening his arms he drew her in, loving the feel of her body against his. She felt starved for affection, and he guessed she hadn't had many hugs since the terrible incident.

  "Thank you," she breathed, letting out a sigh as they broke apart. "Those have been few and far between since that night."

  "Feel free to grab one any time you want."

  "I'll take you up on that."

  "I hope you do!"

  Stepping away he moved across to the kitchen table, sat down and poured himself some coffee. The creamer, sugar bowl, butter and a plate of toast were already there, and a moment later she appeared with two plates piled with scrambled eggs, cooked tomatoes and bacon. He wanted to hug her all over again.

  "This is fantastic. I try to make myself a decent breakfast, but somet
imes I just can't make the effort."

  "It's almost eleven o'clock. This is more brunch than breakfast."

  "On the nights I work behind the bar I usually jog afterwards," he said as he began to eat, "so I'm in bed at a ridiculous hour and I don't get up until about this time."

  "I can't remember the last time I slept so late. I woke up around ten-thirty. I couldn't believe it. I feel great."

  "You look great."

  "Thank you," she replied, feeling a slight blush cross her face, then turning her gaze to the window she added, "This is such a beautiful spot. I can see why you live out here."

  "It's peaceful, it feels like the country but it's only a twenty-minute drive into town."

  "Drake, I did sleep very well but I had an amazing dream."

  "Really? I take it you want to tell me about it."

  "I do," she said turning her eyes back to him. "You were Superman and I was Wonder Woman, and we were working together. While I was taking care of the victims, you were flying the bad guys to a remote planet to fend for themselves."

  "That's quite a dream."

  "The thing is, I want to do it."

  "Do what? Dress up like wonder woman?"

  "Actually, that's not a bad idea. It would be a great disguise."

  "Courtney, what exactly are you saying?"

  "I want to be your partner. No, that's not true. I need to be your partner. I felt it the minute I woke up. It would help me so much. I'm tired of feeling like a victim, and I know if I was on the streets with you taking out these scumbags and comforting the women they've hurt, it would make such a difference to the way I feel."

  "Uh-huh," he said, nodding his head as he scooped up another forkful of eggs and tomatoes.

  "Is that a yes?"

  "That's, I understand."

  "Will you think about it?"

  "I will while I finish this delicious meal, and you haven't touched yours. Eat, young lady," he said firmly.