Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

Lana touched her shoulder. “And listen. If anything, and I mean anything goes wrong, you call or text us. We can be there in no time flat and we’re not doing anything tonight. We’ll be here for you when you get home, but if you need us before then, you let us know. I don’t care how long that damn line is. I’ll kick the bouncer’s ass if he tries to keep us from rescuing one of my girls.”

A smile hovered on Evangeline’s lips and her eyes gleamed with amusement, not because she didn’t believe Lana. She absolutely did. Her friends were fiercely protective of her, of each other, and Evangeline had no doubt that Lana would take on a two-hundred-plus-pound bouncer—and win—if she knew Evangeline needed her.

She reached for Lana’s hand and squeezed. Hard. Then she glanced up to include Steph and Nikki in her grateful gaze.

“You guys are the best. Y’all have done so much for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Nikki rolled her eyes and Steph just snorted.

“Like you haven’t been there for us every bit as much? You haven’t nursed us through our share of broken hearts, held our hair while we puked after getting shit-faced over some asshole guy who isn’t good enough for us? Then told us that the douche bag who broke our heart wasn’t fit to touch the hem of our shirts much less anything else? Sound familiar?”

Steph’s reproach made Evangeline grimace. Because she was right. Everything they were doing now for her, she’d done for them. But she wasn’t used to being the recipient. She didn’t date much. Hadn’t dated at all in the first two years after she’d moved to the city from the small town in the south she’d been born and raised in. She’d been too focused on working, taking extra shifts, saving as much money as possible to send back to her mama.

It wasn’t until Eddie had walked into the bar where Evangeline waitressed and then kept coming back night after night until he had worn her down that she’d agreed to go out with him. He’d come on hard and fast, but Evangeline had rebuffed him. Looking back, she could see that she’d been nothing more than a challenge to him. Like waving a red flag in front of a bull’s nose. By holding him off and not putting out, she’d only made him that much more determined to get into her pants.

The fact that he was the first to do so just made his victory all the more sweet.

Bastard.

She nearly bared her teeth as anger made her cheeks go hot, but she didn’t want to mess up her carefully applied lipstick or makeup. The girls had spent an hour making sure she was made up to perfection. And the entire time they’d hovered, offered their unconditional support—in between muttering threats that didn’t bear repeating against Eddie—and boosting her nonexistent confidence.

And it was because of these three women that Evangeline was going to walk into the club that Eddie had been bragging about being a member of, even though the mere thought of it made her want to hide under her bed for a week, and she was going to pull it off. Bold. Beautiful. Confident. Give Eddie a taste of exactly what he could have had.

Her mouth nearly turned down into a moue. He’d already had her. And by his accounts, it was nothing special. No, not even that. It—she—had been terrible. How the hell was she going to walk into a club and make a man regret fucking her over when he’d already had what her friends said he’d regret what he could have had?

It was more likely he’d laugh in her face and ask her what man would ever want a frigid bitch like her.

The confidence she’d spent the entire afternoon summoning fled in a heartbeat and she glanced up at her friends in the mirror, her mouth opening to call the whole thing off, when all three of them pinned her with their fiercest glares.

How did they do that? They knew exactly what she was about to say. But then they’d always been able to read her like a book. For that matter, according to Eddie, so could everyone else. He made it sound like a bad quality. Honesty. Not playing games or pretending to be something she wasn’t.

She didn’t mind it with her girls because it made her feel special. Like they were close enough friends to know what she was thinking at any given time. But it hadn’t been remotely comforting to find out that apparently she was transparent to everyone else in the world as well.

How the hell was she ever supposed to protect herself, guard herself and keep from getting hurt if she couldn’t disguise her thoughts and feelings?