Page 39 of The First Cut

I look up at the closed door. “You okay in there?”

When she doesn’t answer I shove my phone in my pocket and walk to the door, tapping it. “Lola.”

I hear a sniffle.

“Lola, open the door before I break it down.”

She curses, but I hear the lock click. When the door swings open, I stare at her tear-streaked face. She’s removed her sweatshirt, showcasing all her fading bruises.

“I mostly forgot about them until Claire asked if I needed help.” I tense at her words, but she continues. “I told her the truth that it was my ex that did this to me. That you haven’t laid a finger on me.”

“She believe you?”

She nods. “She said she usually had a pretty good radar about these things and though she can see you’re intimidating as hell, she thinks you’re sweet on me.”

“Sounds like she has pretty good instincts then. Still, I don’t like that she thinks I hurt you.” I grunt, reaching up to wipe away her tears.

“She didn’t have to ask. Most people don’t. They don’t want to get involved. I have a feeling she would've put herself between us if it meant getting me out safely. Don’t be mad at her for being a good person. It’s been so long since someone cared, it threw me.”

I step into her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I care, Lola.”

“Do you? Or am I just convenient?”

“Trust me, doll, there's nothing convenient about you. You’re a whole complication I never saw coming. I’m many things, but stupid ain’t one of them. When the chance came for me to make you mine, I took it. It wasn’t Havoc pushing you on me, if that’s what you’ve been thinking. I wanted you, and now you’re mine. It’s as simple as that.”

I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead as she reaches out and grips my cut. We stand there quietly, absorbing each other until a throat clears.

I turn my head and see Claire’s amused expression. “Definitely sweet,” she teases before holding up one arm with a bunch of clothes thrown over it and the other holding a bottle of water.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road. The sooner we get you kitted out, the sooner you can get home and maybe get yourself a foot rub.”

Lola groans. “Oh, a foot rub sounds heavenly.” And my cock throbs at the tone of her voice.

“That’s my cue,” I mutter, moving out of the way and taking my seat before either of them notice I’m hard.

I try to think of anything other than Lola and the noise she’ll make as I’m fucking her. Not because I’m worried about how she’ll react. I’ve caught the way she looks at me. There's wariness there, and rightly so, but there’s interest, too. Even better, there's no fear, something I’m not accustomed to. I’m not stupid. There's no way she hasn’t heard the rumors about me. But if she has, she either doesn’t believe them or isn’t fazed one way or another. Makes me wonder what she’s been through if she isn’t scared of me. Most smart people are.

Lola aside, I’d rather not traumatize Claire. She’s been good to us so far, and Lola needs this more than I realized. Being with her, I’m picking up on a ton of shit I’ve missed before— that we’ve all missed. As soon as everything dies down and we’re settled, I want the full story of what happened. Why she walked away from Havoc, who might be flawed but is a fuck of a better option than Driller. And why she stayed as long as she did. I know leaving domestic violence situations is easier said than done, but she had to know it would be ten times harder with a kid in tow.

I get that she was scared, but there are places out there that would not only help her but hide her if she needed them to. The question is, why didn’t she? She sure as shit didn’t stay out of love. I might not know what it feels like to love someone, but I know what it looks like. Seems to me Lola would rather attend her own funeral than wedding.

It’s not loyalty because she wouldn’t have come to warn Havoc that trouble was brewing. Of course, there's still the chance she’s a spy, but that is beginning to seem more and more unlikely. Aside from the fact she’s asked zero questions and done no probing for information, she also hasn’t tried to leave the room. I know because I’ve had someone watching, curious to see what she’d do. Each watcher has reported back the same thing. That, as far as prisoners go, she’s boring as fuck.

“Okay, Dad, what do you think?”

The door opens, and Claire steps aside so I can see Lola. She steps forward, her head tipped down in that way it always seems lately. How a woman this spectacular thinks she can just fade into the background is beyond me.

I let my eyes rove over her body that’s tightly encased in a black dress that has thin straps and a scoop front that shows a glimpse of her perky tits. The hem hits just below the knee, a length I don’t think I’ve ever seen on her before. It should, in theory, be classy and demure, but the fact that it shows off every inch of her gorgeous fucking shape makes this dress almost obscene. There's no fucking way my dick is going down anytime soon now.

“Yes,” I growl, making Claire grin.

Lola flushes but keeps her gaze averted.

“You should get that one in every fucking color.”

“It shows a lot of bump and boobs,” she murmurs.