After finally finding her that was all he could come up with? Okay, Bee. Talk?

Shit.

Drake was a host of contradictions at that very minute. He didn’t know whether he should whoop for joy, or whether he should lash out at her for looking the way she did. Gone was the girl he had no choice but to leave. In her place was a woman.

A very sexy and desirable woman that excited him enough to make him tent in his pants in five seconds flat. She had removed the wig she wore earlier and the thought of what she hid underneath her coat made him want to drag her inside his car and open her coat for his own private viewing Just for him. He was going to make damn sure she didn’t parade her body in front of strange men.

Yet, who was he to tell her what she could and couldn’t do?

Fucking conscience.

He wanted to bury his face against her neck and encircle her waist from behind to pull her close. He wanted to hide his face in her hair and inhale the scent forever been imprinted in his mind. He wanted to tug her into the shadows and kiss her into submission, until all of his frustration and desperation at finding her were put to rest. He couldn’t think around Bethany. His heart couldn’t stop thundering in his veins. And his brain had a multitude of questions dying to be answered. But he’d wait.

Right now, all he wanted to do was to hold her, to make sure she was real and not just a figment of his imagination that floated away the moment he blinked.

Thank God his phone rang. At seeing Caius’ name, irritation reared its ugly head once more. It was enough to slap some sense into him to pull his shit together. Still a smile teased the corners of his mouth when her lips twitched at hearing his pet name for her.

He watched Bethany slowly down to sit on the edge of the concrete flower box by the hospital’s main entrance. A couple of ambulances with their blue flashing lights rounded the bend to bring more patients into Emergency, their sirens no longer blaring. When the lights hit her, parts of her face glittered and sparkled.

His own wishing star.

A patient wearing a dressing gown over her hospital gown braved the cold for a cigarette break at the far end. Drake envied him. He could use a cig or two after years of quitting.

The vehicles sitting in the parking lot looked like used cars for sale under the lamp posts’ illumination. And there was a man hunched into his coat walking out of the hospital lot until his form disappeared into the shadows, much like Drake when he left. It didn’t matter that he refused to resemble a dog with its tail between its legs. But that walk away from the only girl he cared for blew back in his face.

“What do you want me to say?”

Her husky voice had a seductive quality that went right to his cock. His jaw clenched, slow anger burning a hole in his gut.

Who was the lucky bastard to hear her talk like that? If Drake knew who he was…

Fuck it, he was overreacting. Drake knew that. But when it came to Bethany, particularly now that he’d found her again, he couldn’t stop himself.

“I searched for you,” he said, trying to relax his mouth so his words didn’t come out as biting. To scare, let alone antagonise Bethany, was the last thing he wanted to do. “I came back only to find you and your family gone.”

She looked up in surprise. The glitter in her make-up twinkled at him.

“You came back?”

He nodded.

“I went to your house that day.” She looked at her hands. Then in a hesitant tone, “Your dad threw you out. You mum said so.”

A band tightened around Drake’s chest. He nodded before slowly walking several feet away and looked up at the starless sky.

“He did.”

“And you never called me? You had my number. I worried.”

Drake’s heart squeezed at the hurt and accusation threading through Bethany’s voice. He exhaled gently and closed his eyes, his ears attuned to Bethany’s movements behind him. His nose greedily taking in the floral perfume that was so her. Light and sweet. A contrast to the sexy as fuck woman she was now.

“I wasn’t given time to bring anything with me before I was shown the door.” He looked over his shoulder before perusing the sky once more. He still remembered the taste of bewilderment in his tongue, begging his mother to stop his dad. “I left my phone in my room. I didn’t have another until several months later.”

He knew her number by heart. Knew that when he saved Bethany’s number on speed dial, he’d see his reason for living. That there was another soul in the world who accepted him for who he was and not a discarded and unloved first son.

He snorted. “When you only have the clothes you’re wearing and some loose change and in your pocket not worth shit to even buy you a meal, the last thing you think of is a bloody call.”

He glanced sideways and saw her wince.

“Ouch.”

Drake swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Laughter bubbled from her.

“Of course you did,” she said. “I was just the girl you protected.”

“Bee–”

“Don’t…” She held up her hand, derisive laughter coming out of her. “Don’t call me that anymore, Drake. That girl is gone.” She gathered her hair in her hands then let it fall. “I better go back. We’re done here.”

She swept away from him raising her hand in farewell and not bothering to face him.

“Thanks for bringing Cinzia. You saved her a lot of taxi fare.”

Fuck.

Drake watched Bethany’s retreating figure through narrowed eyes. He wanted to wrench her back, explain further why he couldn’t call. He bade his feet to move but they remained in place. He was no different from someone who had lost control of his legs.

Bethany’s ramrod back and her clenched hands at her sides made him think twice even as he became mesmerized by her swaying hips and her dancer’s legs that took her away from him. Not once did she look back, not like when they were younger when she turned to see if he had started walking the opposite way to his hell hole because he had no other choice. No, Drake waited until she turned the corner and he could no longer see her.

He always waited.

Maybe Bethany thought she was out of sight but Drake caught a fleeting glimpse of her shoulders slumping and her head bowed low the minute she passed through the hospital’s entrance doors before the wall hid her from view.

Drake laced his fingers together and placed them at the back of his neck. Flexing, his spine made several cracking sounds as it realigned. He snorted a laugh.

He fucking deluded himself into thinking Bethany would take him back with open arms. Like a long lost friend who had feelings for her, he was just too dumb to show. But it didn’t matter. If there was anything life had taught him, it was to get what he wanted at all cost. Nothing was handed to anyone on a silver platter. If that were true, that silver platter had grease money underneath it.

This time he had the freedom to pursue her. Hardship no longer pulled his strings. He’d severed them. He wanted Bethany. Always had. Knew from the very start that she was the one for him. And nothing was going to stop him from getting her back again.

His phone buzzed inside his pocket.

“What?” he growled harshly.

“Where the fuck are you?” Loud ineffable music filtered through with the voice.

“Is someone squeezing your balls Caius ‘coz you sure can audition for Aida.”

“Rosen, we’re still at the club. The buyer can’t make it tomorrow.”

Drake’s face hardened. Leave it to Caius to fuck up the lives of the fighters they managed. He wanted to bash Caius face so badly but some speck of rationality held him from doing so. As for the buyer…he wasn’t holding back.

A cruel smile contorted Drakes’ mouth. His eyes narrowed, staring in the distance. Caius had no idea about his past and Drake planned to keep it that way.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“You what?!”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Drake said. “I’m not selling. Least of all to Andrew Fucking Tabler.”

“He’s returning to London tomorrow evening before leaving for the States.”

“Didn’t you hear me? It’s not my bloody problem! Tabler is not getting my gym.”

“Drake, please.” Caius wheezed almost in pain. “I’m fucked up in shit.”

“Then sell to me.” Drake’s voice was icy. “I’ve told you I was willing to buy your shares. You didn’t even tell Miles and me you were planning to unload your interest. Why go to someone else?”

Caius didn’t speak.

“I can’t hear you.” Drake exhaled putting a hand on his hip, his legs slightly braced apart. The noise on Caius side of the conversation died away.

“It’s not possible.”

Drake stopped his pacing. “Say again?”

“It’s not possible.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because my shares have already been sold.”

Drake stood still, his gut twisting like his opponent hit a good one. He saw red.

“Drake, are you still there?”

“What a dumb fuck question is that?” His life paraded through his mind. Caius owned twenty percent of the club and the rest was divided between Miles and himself.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, asshole,” Drake said, the words pushing their way out his clenched teeth. Bloody fuck. He ran his hand through this well-groomed hair. He only had himself to blame and that truth swirled around his stomach like he drank a whole bottle of cane vinegar. “Whom did you sell to, dickhead? Tell me, and I’ll buy the shares from whomever you sucked cock for.”

“Now Drake,” Caius huffed. “No need to swear with almost every sentence.”

“You think, dipshit?” he sneered. He was furious. Since he couldn’t punch Caius sorry excuse for a face, let his mouth do the dirty fighting. “Now, the name?”

“Drake ˗˗˗”

“Name!”

“Tabler…Andrew Tabler.” Caius almost whispered.

Another sucker punch in the gut. Drake glared at the shadows. Even before any deal went down, his nemesis already owned twenty per cent of his gym?

Bloody hell!

“What you did was illegal.” Drake was having a hard time keeping a tight rein on his fury. “Without mine and Miles’ approval? The deal is off, Caius.”

It was going to be a hard climb to wrestle those shares from Tabler, but Drake was sure-as-fuck going to do it. Even if he bled in the process. “I’m buying those shares back.”

“You can’t, he owns more than my shares.”

Fucking coward. You couldn’t tell me face to face knowing I’d rearrange your despicable mug.

“Whatever the hell you did, that’s not a legal transaction. In the office at six tomorrow morning ˗˗˗”

“That’s bloody early.”

“˗˗˗ you will hand over all the accounts, receipts, and papers relating to the shares you sold.”

“I will go to fucking prison!”

For the first time during the conversation, he smiled grimly. Some tiny justice, that, was but he’d grab it. “Not my problem.”

“Please, Drake,” Caius whimpered. “You have to protect my back.”

“Like the way you stabbed mine?”

“I didn’t even know you knew Tabler,” Caius shouted.

Caius had a point.

Like he gave a fucking shit.

Drake wanted to end the call but a film noire strip of his fighters faces ran through his mind. They had families who depended on the money they raked in from fights. Men like him who wanted to turn their lives around the only way they knew how. So Drake added an educational programme the men could pursue if they wanted to. Some of his fighters were business professionals long before they joined and helped those who were not as fortunate as they were. Satisfaction for his sense of accomplishment had spread like butter on warm toast inside him.

It gave his fighters something to be proud of apart from a unique brotherhood. The EC Gym was a place to belong.

Caius had just turned it into a nightmare of cage proportions.

“Tabler is going to hurt my family if I don’t give EC Gym to him.” Caius voice trembled.

Drake’s lips thinned. No surprise there, but a family?

His face hardened. He was disgusted with Caius but loathed Andrew more. Drake still had some decency to consider Caius’ family. He had met them briefly—his wife and three children who were oblivious to what Caius was doing.

“You should have thought of that before you sacrificed your shares, Caius.” Drake exhaled. All that energy expended drained from him.

“Your shares are on the line too.”

“You’re shitting me right? Say you’re shitting me.” Drake’s laugh was derisive and cold. “Give me one good reason why I, family or not, shouldn’t haul your arse to jail right this very minute.” He paused as the enormity of what Caius did dawned on him. “Did fake my signature?”

“Drake —”

“You sold my shares without my consent.” Disbelief was an understatement. “Stupid doesn’t even begin to describe you, Harvey. You make me sick.”

“Please.” Caius begged.

Nothing was getting through to his business partner. Correction. Ex-business partner. Caius was blubbering away giving Drake a pretty good idea of the quagmire he was in.

“Be at the office at six, Caius or I call the police.”

“But—”

“They won’t nail your sorry ass on the wall just yet,” Drake snapped. “Tabler won’t get his money without you. He can’t coerce me to give my shares to him since that transaction was wrong in so many levels.” He heard Caius sobbing. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t deal with this shit now. Six o’clock, Caius. You’ve been warned. You don’t show up and I’ll send big game hunters after you.”

Drake terminated the call, sure as hell knowing Caius was about to wet his pants if he hadn’t done so already. He walked calmly towards the AMG, opening the driver’s door and wanting to slam it back hard. But he closed it gently. The car wasn’t to blame. Besides it was brand new after his old one became the dart board of the vindictive drug lord who came after Felicity Cray intending to kill her.

He sat inside for a long time. He knew what it felt like when someone breathed down his throat the way he just did to Caius. He had experienced the cold fear of his life hanging in the balance when he was unable pay up so he could buy food to stop his stomach gnawing at itself. It had been a time when he moved with the wrong crowd, sleeping under the Mancunian Way or the Arches. Until Miles came upon him being beaten up by those who just felt like it. Whether by accident or Lady Luck had decided to finally give him a break, Drake took the new life Miles offered. He had been naïve then, but he learned hard and fast. Every lesson shed off a part of his humanity until the only part he saved was the centre of his heart for Bethany.

Because he swore he was going to find her and make her his.

He entered street fights and gave up almost all of the money he earned to those he owed just a fiver or a tenner. Extortion at its very best. Drake crawled up from his hole with Miles’ help making a name for himself in the octagon. In the end, the loan shark stopped bothering him. His body had been found floating in the Salford Ship Canal. Police reported it as an accidental death due to the amount of heroin and alcohol in his system and no identifying marks of foul play on his body.

Drake knew better. The loan shark had fucked with a great white.

He looked at his phone and speed dialled another number. He winced when the phone bumped the stitches on his palm.

“Rosen, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Luke Bryce yawned. “Shouldn’t you be grinding some girl? It’s two in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Drake countered.

“Gracie is beside me working too.” There was amusement in Luke’s voice.

“Would have called Cray but didn’t want to cramp his honeymoon.”

Luke chuckled. “Spit it out. What do you need?”

“A solicitor.”

“Really?” Luke became more alert but still amused. “You in some deep shit?”

“Not exactly. More like one of my businesses is balancing on a tightrope.”

“I’m listening.”

Drake told Luke everything not withholding anything about Caius. Luke remained silent on the other end of the line save for some chill out music in the background.

“I need to know what Tabler has been up to.” Drake drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Barry Slater can recommend a PI,” Luke said naming his solicitor. “Though I expect if Cray was here he’d have a dossier on Andrew Tabler by tomorrow.”

Drake exhaled. He knew that and wished to God this cesspool had opened later when Oliver and Felicity were back in the country and not in some island paradise.

“Leave this with me.”

“Thanks, mate.” He ended the call and called another number.

“You better give me a bloody good reason for calling me at this hour.”

Drake’s lips curved to one side upon hearing a woman’s moan of complaint.

In French.

“Mon Dieu.” Drake smart-assed.

“Screw you, Drake. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Didn’t think you were a grouch in the morning, Rouen.”

“Out with it.” A rustle of sheets. “I need to check the stock markets and vineyards anyway.”

“How soon can you get your sorry ass back here?”

Another ten minutes and Drake ended the call.

His eyes tracked a movement from the A&E entrance. Bethany and Cinzia. Bethany was looking around before bowing dejectedly. Cinzia placed an arm around Bethany’s shoulders before they found a black taxi waiting at the curb.

Drake’s gut twisted while he blew a long drawn out sigh. Not even the thought that Bethany was possibly looking for him lightened his mood.

If he wanted to salvage whatever they had in the past, he needed to fix the shit Caius brought to his doorstep. Most of all, he needed to remove Andrew Tabler from his life if he wanted a shot at relationship with Bethany.

His lips flattened. He wanted to be with his golden girl. Desperately aching to hold her for the longest time, for her to be by his side. To fill his bed. To complete his life. To be his home. He looked at his phone and forced all desire for her to the back of his mind.

He was going to keep her safe again.