Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

“Yes. No. I will be. Just as soon as I leave,” she muttered.

Clearly Evangeline was losing her mind. Guys like him weren’t sweet and caring. He’d probably be horrified if she ever voiced the opinion that his touch was gentle and his expression tender. He’d likely take it as an insult.

He shook his head.

She looked at him in panic. “What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” he said softly. “The boss wouldn’t like that and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Mr. Donovan wants to see you. He sent me to get you.” Then his lips curled in disgust as he spared one quick glance over his shoulder as if to reassure himself the matter with Eddie was fully resolved. “And to take out the trash.” The last rumbled from deep within his chest, and she could tell he was pissed all over again.

Then she really panicked.

“But why? I didn’t do anything! I was standing here minding my own business and that . . . that . . . asshole assaulted me,” she sputtered.

His gaze darkened as fury crept over his features, and she wished she’d just kept her mouth shut. Then, as if he’d realized he was scaring the crap out of her, his expression went bland, and then the gentleness was back in both touch and expression.

“I truly am sorry,” he said, his voice soothing. “But Mr. Donovan wants to see you. He sent me to get you, so that’s what I’m going to do. I won’t hurt you. I’m Maddox, by the way. And I’ll tell you now, Drake is an intimidating son of a bitch, but he will not hurt you. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Don’t act afraid. You will tell him what made that asshole act like a douche bag before he got thrown out of the club. Furthermore, that bastard will never be allowed back into any of Drake’s establishments, but he’ll take it one step further. He has contacts all over the city, and that dickhead will not only be banned from any business Drake owns, but he will be blackballed from any similar establishments.”

She sent him another startled look. He was introducing himself like this was some social thing when he was, in effect, holding her prisoner. Just not in so many words.

“E-Evangeline,” she managed to get out.

He smiled then, and wow. He had a killer smile. Her knees went a little weak and she was suddenly glad his hand was still curled around her shoulder. Otherwise she might have face-planted.

“Very pretty,” he murmured. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to Mr. Donovan.”

The panic was back. Fear skittered up her spine and flooded her face.

Maddox had started to propel her in the direction of a set of stairs just outside the doorway leading to the dance floor when he saw her face and immediately stopped, staring directly into her eyes.

“He won’t hurt you. No one will hurt you. You have my word.”

“Then why . . . I don’t understand,” she said in frustration. She wanted to ask more but he stopped one more time and turned, gently cupping her cheek in a very surprising motion because he didn’t look like a man who made affectionate or comforting gestures, and he’d been nothing but extremely gentle and compassionate toward her ever since he’d put a stop to Eddie’s assault.

“You didn’t do anything, Evangeline. Now, please, come with me.”

She didn’t get to finish her endless questions because once more she found herself moving toward the stairs. She wasn’t sure exactly how he managed it. Her feet certainly didn’t want to obey. She didn’t want to obey. And yet in a matter of moments they were at the stairs. But then he bypassed them and entered a dark hall that did little to allay her fears.

He obviously felt her tremble because he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then suddenly he settled her against him, pulling her into the crook of his arm as he pushed the button to an elevator. An elevator?

“Relax,” he murmured. “I swore to you no one would hurt you. And I never break my word.”

“Never?”

His eyes flashed with amusement as the elevator door whooshed open. “Never.”

“It’s got to be a requirement,” she muttered, as the elevator closed and then began its assent.

He looked at her in confusion.

“For working here,” she said patiently. “It has to be a requirement.”

“What is?” he asked, clearly puzzled. “Not breaking my word?”

“Being hot. Everyone’s hot here. Even the bouncers. And the waitresses. And whatever you and those other guys are. It should be a crime.”

She said it like it was a crime, and well, it was. No one should be this freaking gorgeous. Or nice. They all looked too badass to take the time to reassure a confused woman who was scared out of her mind. The bouncer at the front door. The bartender. Hot guy number one, who’d crushed Eddie like a bug. Hot guy number two, to whom hot guy number one had tossed Eddie. Not to mention the other hot guy who’d appeared, apparently to help hot guy number two escort Eddie out. The waitresses. And then there were the clubgoers themselves.