Mastered(20)

It was then Evangeline had paused in the retelling, and Steph, ever the astute bulldog who never let anything go, narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she stared Evangeline down. She had the uncanny ability to make Evangeline feel like a guilty schoolgirl caught cheating on a test.

“Okay, all of that went down within minutes of you getting there. I mean, you had only just arrived and gotten a drink when Eddie came up to you with his little tramp clinging to his arm. What he had to say couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes at most before the bouncer dude got involved and tossed Eddie and his floozy out, but you were gone a hell of a lot longer than that. So what else happened?”

At that, Nikki and Lana both clued in to what Steph was getting at, and Nikki pinned Evangeline with a piercing stare that was almost as squirmworthy as the ones Steph was so famous for.

“You’re holding out on us,” Nikki accused.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lana muttered. “Spill, girlfriend. We mean everything. And don’t leave a single detail out or swear to God, me, Nikki and Steph will all make a trip to Impulse, find this bouncer who took care of Eddie and find out exactly what happened afterward.”

Evangeline groaned, because they absolutely would. The men who worked with or for Drake—she hadn’t exactly been able to figure out the dynamics of that situation in the short time she’d been there—were all badasses. She hadn’t needed more than a few seconds in their company to figure that much out. Anyone with eyes and any modicum of common sense could tell these were not men to fuck with. Ever.

She nearly laughed at the mental image of Maddox being confronted with three petite but very stubborn, determined women who were like pit bulls latched on to a prime steak when it came to something they wanted. They wouldn’t be intimidated or put off by Maddox—or any of the other badasses who worked at Impulse. The poor guy—or guys—would never know what hit them.

Well, except for Drake. She very nearly shivered at the memory of him simply looking at her. Like he was peeling her, layer by layer, and seeing every single thought, reaction or emotion she so carefully tried to hide from the rest of the world. For all the good that did her.

No, her girls wouldn’t have a chance with him. And though her friends weren’t intimidated by much, one look from Drake would likely send them scurrying in the opposite direction. Which was what Evangeline should have done, and she still questioned why she hadn’t done just that. But she’d been in shock and utterly overwhelmed by the entire sequence of events. Nothing had gone according to her friends’ carefully laid-out plan. But then Evangeline had never really truly believed it would, but foolishly, she’d allowed herself to be talked into the whole sordid mess. And what a mess it was.

She bit into her bottom lip, a sure sign of agitation. Her “tell,” as her friends often told her—in an attempt to get her to quit it. Not that it did any good. Because if she did relate what all happened after Maddox took care of Eddie . . . well, they would get it into their heads to go confront Drake, and that was the last thing she wanted. For a variety of reasons, the foremost being their safety. A close second was, well, it was humiliating enough already. To have her friends march down to Impulse and make a scene with Drake over it?

She shuddered at the thought. She’d already come across as a complete wimp incapable of taking care of herself, and having her friends go to bat for her would only further solidify that fact.

Steph’s narrowed eyes and deep frown softened, and a look of concern creased her pretty features and she asked in a gentle voice, “Vangie, what happened?”
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Evangeline swept them all with a glance. Not a look she gave her friends often, because she was too wimpy to cause conflict and she was the peacemaker of the group. She was a perpetual pleaser, much to her friends’ dismay. They wanted to toughen her up. Make her more of a bitch on wheels—what they considered themselves, and they were so not. They were the very best friends any woman could have. But Evangeline just wanted peace. She didn’t want a chaotic existence. She liked her quiet life, her small group of friends and her job at a local pub that wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as a place like Impulse, but it was frequented by locals—except for Eddie, of course, who’d only been at the pub to seduce her. Policemen, firemen and EMS personnel in particular, which made her feel safe. More evidence of her naïveté, no doubt. The patrons were friendly and remembered her by name, and the tips were good, thanks to her gorgeous legs, fuck-me shoes and sweeter-than-sunshine smile—according to her friends. Because she sure as hell didn’t remotely regard herself in that manner. Their description of her made her hysterical with laughter, but she loved them dearly for their unconditional love and support and for the effort they put into trying to convince her they knew her better than she did herself. The endless hours they spent bolstering her self-confidence, and the absolute conviction she saw in their eyes and heard in their voices, warmed her inside and out.