Deliverance (The Maverick Defense #1) (21 page)

I kept my head low as we entered Shakers as if somehow it would protect the secret hanging over me. All week I’d tried to balance appeasing Donnie with doing my best not to piss off Dawson any more than I already had, but it was impossible, and all I really wanted was to escape. The hunger was eating me, and if I didn’t give in soon, I felt like I might lose my mind. What did that say about me?

“I need to handle some business. Go see the girls, drink, enjoy yourself. Tonight, we’re celebrating.” Donnie leaned in to kiss me, but my mind was reeling.

Celebrating?

Stunned, I found Sherri at her usual place at the bar. She took a sip of her bottled beer and eyed me warily. “What the hell is going on, Joy?” she hissed.

“What?” I replied, leaning closer.

“Don’t play games with me, darlin’. How long do you think you can keep this up? I thought we agreed you should let Dawson handle things.”

Actually, Sherri insisted there was no other option, not since he came to Hank’s to deliver his final ultimatum. Twenty-four hours had passed, and I was still stalling.

What are you so afraid of?

“I’m handling it. I can’t let Dawson go up against him. Donnie will kill him,” I rushed out unable to catch my breath.

“That’s what this last week has been about, you trying to protect Dawson? Darlin’, that man doesn’t need protecting. Can’t you see that?”

My lips quivered and a tear slipped through my carefully constructed exterior. Sherri turned us away from Shaun’s eye line and ran her hands down my shoulders. “Pull yourself together. If someone notices, he’ll notice.” She half-smiled and retrieved my drink from the bar. “Drink.”

Plastering on a fake smile and deflecting her inquisition, I accepted the glass and sipped the vodka cooler. “Do you know what we’re celebrating?”

“Celebrating?” Sherri’s perfectly drawn on eyebrow arched.

“Don said something about a celebration.”

Concern crossed Sherri’s face. “I have no idea.” She glanced across the room at where Donnie was meeting with his associates. “But it can’t be anything good where that man is concerned.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.” The vodka swished in my stomach as I watched Donnie reach over the table and shake hands with a fat, balding man in a tailored suit.

“Now would be the time. He’s coming over here.”

I spun on my heels and slammed my drink down on the bar. Did he know? Was that what all of this charade was? Him luring me into a false sense of security?

“Hey, Don.”

“Sherri,” his baritone voice answered.

“I think your girl’s sick. Perhaps I should take her home?”

Donnie’s hand snaked around my waist, turning me to him. Lifting my jaw with his finger, he searched my eyes. “You’re not going anywhere tonight, baby. Let’s make a toast. Shaun.” Donnie raised his fingers in the air and signaled the bartender. Shaun had two flutes filled with the club’s best champagne in front of us in less than a minute. Donnie relaxed his grip on me and handed me one of the glasses, picking up the other for himself. “I’ve been waiting for the right time, but life is too short, too delicate to waste. I know you love that shithole you call home.” He laughed. “But I want you to move in with me. As soon as possible. I shouldn’t have let you keep the apartment for so long.”

My eyes widened as I tried to find my words. “Don- Donnie, I, hmm, I don’t know what to-”

“Yes, say yes. You have to say yes.” Donnie clinked his glass against mine and gulped down the fizzy liquid. If I didn’t know him better, I would have said he sounded almost desperate. But I had to be wrong. Donnie DeLuca was many things, but desperate was not one of them.

Before I could process what was happening, let alone protest, Donnie had spun me around to face the room. The music stopped and all eyes fell on us. As he announced our news, I stood motionless, lifeless in his arm still firmly around my waist. Our small audience clapped and cheered, and some of the guys came over to congratulate us, lining up shots to take with Donnie. Sherri joined us shooting me a questioning look as I forced myself to smile—to do something, anything, other than just stand there like a puppet. It became a small intimate party; the drinks flowed and Donnie gloated how he’d finally persuaded me to move into his apartment. Unable to listen to another second of it, I excused myself feigning another stomachache. Donnie pressed a tender kiss to my cheek, and I could see the swirl of intoxication in his eyes. Barkley thrust another shot between us, breaking the connection, and I took the opportunity to slip away.

Sherri caught up with me in the restroom. “What in the hell was that?”

I dropped my head into my hands and said, “I have no idea. What in the hell am I going to do, Sherri? What am I going to do?”

The door opened and both our heads whipped around. One of the waitresses appeared, “Umm, hi,” she murmured glancing between us.

“Out, darlin’,” Sherri commanded, shooing her out and yanking the door shut behind her. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Leave? I can’t leave. He’ll know something is wrong.” My voice came out shrill echoing off the walls.

“Joy, he already knows. What do you think that stunt just now was about? Donnie DeLuca might be a bastard, but he’s no fool. Especially when it comes to the one addiction in his life.” I stared wide-eyed at her. “You, darlin’.”

“How did my life end up this way, Sher? Why, why me?” I sobbed in frustration suddenly overwhelmed with all the truths I’d refused to see staring me in the face.

Sherri closed the distance between us and pulled me into her. “Now, you listen to me good, Joy. Now is not the time for tears. Pull yourself together, get out there, smile, and tell him you’re sick. Tell him you need to leave. It’ll buy you some time.”

I nodded because it was all I could find in myself to do.

“Okay, clean up your face, and let’s get back out there.”

Sherri dabbed some tissue under the faucet, wiped the smeared mascara off my face, and then ushered me out of the restroom. My eyes immediately picked Donnie out of the crowd, which seemed bigger than five minutes ago. People laughing and joking and celebrating surrounded him. Sherri nudged me forward and I inched toward them—to
him
.

Donnie noticed us and cut through the thrum of people. His eyes burned into me, searching and accusing. It took everything not to turn and run. He knew. Sherri was right; he knew something had happened. Maybe not the whole story, but enough to make him bring up moving in together tonight, of all nights.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

I clutched my stomach and said, “I really don’t feel so well, Don. Sherri can get me home, right, Sher?”

“Of course, you know I’ll see her home safe.”

Donnie ran a hand over his jaw as if considering my request. “Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me through the room. I tried to glance back at Sherri, but fear had immobilized me. Within seconds, we were moving through the low-lit hallway down to Donnie’s office. He opened the door and pulled me inside. The air crackled with tension.

“You can’t leave, baby. We have to celebrate.” Donnie slipped a hand into his gray jacket and retrieved a clear baggie. “I brought something special, real special for you.”

Hunger ripped through me and I snapped my eyes shut, refusing to look at the contents of the bag. “No. I’m sic-”

“You don’t look sick, baby. You look hot.” Frantic hands clawed at me, and Donnie backed me up against the wall. “So hot, Joy. I’m going to make it all better, baby. I’ll fuck you real good and make everything better.”

His words were slurred, his hands clumsy. The sound of material ripping pierced the air, and I pressed myself into the wall trying to put some space between us. “Donnie, Don, I really don’t feel-”

“Shhh, baby. Shhh. I can make it better.” He fumbled between us, yanking down his zipper. Bile rose in my throat, but somehow, I managed to swallow it down.

Dawson’s face flashed in my mind igniting something in me. I couldn’t let Donnie do this to me again, not now. Not when I’d worked so hard to keep myself from him. Still brandishing my skin with kisses, I slipped my hands between us and ran them over his chest. He groaned under my touch but stilled when I pushed hard.

“I said no, Donnie. I’m sick.”

His breath came ragged as his head lingered in the crook of my neck. And then I felt myself being yanked across the room. Donnie’s hand knotted in my hair, pain slicing through my scalp. The force of him slamming me against the desk caused me to yelp, but none of it mattered. Donnie was lost to his demons.

“I said I’ll make you feel better,” he snapped covering my body at an awkward angle. I bucked against him and he swayed. Using it to my advantage, I drove my elbow into his side. He stumbled backward in shock. It was right there in his eyes, for a second, before he backhanded me with such force he knocked me off the desk and onto the floor. My head exploded as it rebounded off the corner of the desk, warm liquid seeping down my face.

“What the hell?” a voice cried out just as everything went black.

I
shoved my phone back into my pocket and turned to Mikey “It’s Joy. We need to go.”

As soon as I got the text from Joy’s friend, Sherri, Mikey and I ran out of the house leaving Lex staring after us. We had been in the middle of a frustrating ‘strategy meeting’ as Lex called them. But we didn’t have anything new to go on since our last meeting.

Mikey tossed me the keys to his truck and climbed in the passenger seat. I caught the door before he could shut it and scowled at him.

“We can’t take your car; it’s too noticeable. They won’t think twice about seeing my truck,” he explained, and I hated the inference that this wasn’t the only time he’d been called to pick her up. “Your Camaro, on the other hand, will raise questions. Trust me.”

“Fine,” I ground out and jogged around to lift myself into the driver’s seat.

When we reached Shakers, I slowed the truck down, ready to park at the front, but Mikey shook his head and pointed farther down the block. “Go around the corner and take a left, there is a back alley. They’ll meet us there and there’s less chance of us being seen.”

Holy fuck. How many times has he done this?

But I did as he asked and pulled into the alley behind Shakers. Light spilled out into the dark alley from a door that was open a fraction, and a head peeked out when the truck rolled to a stop.

“Wait here,” Mikey ordered, and my grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turned white. What was with Mikey and his bossy attitude? He swung his door open and climbed out. Joy stood in the doorway, with another woman who I guessed was Sherri, while a heavy-set guy stood guard behind them. One of Donnie’s men, I assumed. A shawl or blanket draped over her shoulders, gathered in a fist at her chest, her head dipped. My patience was running thin.
Hurry the fuck up and get in the truck
, I muttered to myself. Joy was bundled into Mikey’s arms, and he kept a protective arm around her. Sherri said something to Mikey in hushed tones, but I couldn’t make it out. Her hands made jerking motions, and Mikey nodded.

“Yeah, right. I got it,” he snapped. Sherri patted Joy’s shoulder before Mikey turned and helped her into the truck. I caught the eye of man mountain, and he surprised me with a curt nod and beckoned for Sherri to come in before he closed the door. I put the truck into gear and got the hell out of there.

The whole drive home, I cast surreptitious glances at Joy as her head rested on Mikey’s shoulder. It was hard to quell the mounting anger as I looked at his arm around her shoulder, his head resting on hers. It should have been me looking after her, but I was driving and it made sense for me to keep a low profile. Whatever Donnie had done this time; it would be the last time he laid a finger on her—my promise to Joy and myself. Whether Joy picked me, I was done. If Donnie DeLuca so much as looked at Joy again, it would be the last thing he ever did.

I pulled into the drive, killed the engine, and stalked around to the passenger side. Mikey opened the door, and he climbed out and headed toward the house, letting me lift Joy out of the truck and carry her to the kitchen.