East End

by Nana Malone

  He just stared back at me, looking a little stunned at my outburst.

  I hopped down off the counter. "I'm fine, thank you for your assistance. It's appreciated." I made sure I softened my voice then lifted my chin so he could see my eyes. “And about that kiss in the park. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. It won’t happen again.”

  He nodded slowly as he licked his bottom lip. "That's too bad. And I want you to know, what you just said, I hear you. I was a dick just now. Never let it be said that I can't apologize and make an about face. You're right, it's not my perspective, and I am a rich ass. I do work hard for my company, but you’re right. You probably have to work a hell of a lot harder. So, I fucked up, and I'm sorry. Just give a holler if you need anything." And then he turned around and walked out.

  I closed the door with a soft click and leaned my forehead against it. Jesus Christ, why did he have to be so everything I wanted? I’d just checked him, and he took the check. He took it on the chin like a real man. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  East Hale was the last kind of headache I needed.

  No. Unfortunately, he's exactly the kind of headache you need.

  12

  East

  The moment I returned to London, I knew the lads would want a status report. I just didn't expect to have to give that status report at six in the morning. And I didn't really have any answers.

  I was only marginally surprised, but all the way pissed off, when at six o’clock the next morning, I woke to pounding on my fucking front door. The pounding forced me out of bed. I didn't have a housekeeper. I had a cleaning service that came every other day. I liked to cook, so I didn't have a chef. So unfortunately, I had to answer the door my goddamn self as well.

  I didn't bother throwing on a shirt. I was irritated and tired. We'd taken the plane back from Monaco in the wee hours of the morning at Nyla’s request. I'd crashed after arriving and making sure Nyla was settled and okay.

  When I dragged the door open, I scowled. "The fucking office had better be on fire, mate."

  Bridge leaned against my door and grinned. "What? You're not ready for a run?"

  I glowered at him. He was wearing running gear, and my frown deepened. "What the fuck are you on about?"

  He crossed his arms. "Mate, we’ve had this date every Monday morning for years. Get your kit on."

  I scowled. "Not happening. Get out."

  He laughed. "Uh-huh. No. And don't forget, I knocked as a courtesy. I have a fucking key."

  I scowled at him. Maybe if I just went back to bed he would go away. It was worth a shot. So I left him standing in the doorway and headed back to the bedroom, about to climb back into bed. But then he grabbed my arm and shoved me toward my closet. "Kit, now."

  "Fuck you."

  "Anytime. Come on. You look like shit. That's the best time to run. That's when you need it."

  "I hate you. If I put on my fucking running clothes, will you go away?"

  "No. Also," he plopped onto one of the chairs I had in the corner, "I want to hear all about your getaway to Monaco. Just how close did you and Miss Kincade get on this trip?"

  "Agent," I muttered under my breath.

  He grinned. "That’s right, Agent Kincade. It's funny you mentioned she's an agent, because who does she work for again?"

  I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a pair of running shorts. I found an old ragged T-shirt and a clean pair of boxers, and then I shuffled into the bathroom. A change of clothes, a quick brush of my teeth, and a little ice-cold water scrubbed down my face, and I felt marginally better. When I came out, he grinned. "Still waiting to hear about Agent Kincade."

  "Fuck you."

  "I love when you tell me I'm right."

  "I said no such thing."

  I pulled on my socks and grabbed my trainers. "Are you fucking ready?"

  "Jesus Christ, someone is a bit touchy, aren't you?"

  "I'm not sure I like you."

  "You've been saying that for years," he said with a chuckle.

  "No, honestly," I said. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a new best mate."

  Bridge shrugged. "Well, there is a replacement model downstairs waiting for us. I was the one lucky enough to be sent to come get you. Are you going to replace him too?"

  I nodded mutinously. "Yeah, I think I will."

  Bridge just shrugged. "Yeah, but who else would have you?"

  As soon as my shoes were on, Bridge shoved me out into the kitchen, grabbed three Granola bars and a bottle of water, and he was out the door. I could only manage short grunts as he spoke, asking me many Nyla questions, which I ignored or diverted.

  But once downstairs, I found a smiling, bed-tousled Ben. "Oh, he did manage to get you out of bed. Excellent, let's go."

  I scowled at him. "I hate you."

  Ben nodded. "I feel like you hate me every other week. Honestly, I'm not fussed."

  "Christ. Where the fuck is Drew? Why isn’t he the one being tortured?"

  Ben shrugged. "Poor Alice is teething. Apparently, he hasn't been sleeping at all. So it's just us this morning."

  Bridge practically frog-marched me out the giant glass rotating door. For once I was pleased with London's dreary weather, which meant no bright piercing sunlight to set my headache off. "Let’s just get this over with."

  Ben smiled. "Oh, not so fast. Before we start running, spill your guts about Nyla Kincade."

  I bit into my granola bar. "I don’t know anything more than I told you the other day. She's on a forgery case. I took her to see AJ, figuring she could help. That’s all. But now I’m digging. Because I think she has other reasons she’s not objecting to my help. She will stop at nothing when she’s got a scent.”

  Ben and Bridge exchanged glances. "Uh-huh." Ben said. "Do we go back to her father?"

  I shook my head. “No. I’m going to observe. See if she drops any clues as to what else she’s investigating.”

  Bridge started to slow jog and I groaned. My legs felt like lead. The last thing I wanted to do was run.

  Perhaps you shouldn't have had so many Irish coffees on the flight back.

  That was the problem with being shoved in a sardine can with Agent Kincade. I wanted her. But I was also worried. Worried about what she was looking into and about just how much she’d heard from that bug she’d planted on me before I disabled it.

  I was worried about what kind of trouble she was in, if her case was dangerous, and what that meant for her. I wasn’t sure why there was some primal part of me that wanted to take care of her. Protect her. It was also the same part that wanted to club her over the head and drag her off to a very large bed. But I wasn't telling my idiot mates about that. "I’ll keep an eye on her." I rushed to add. “From a distance of course.”

  Ben frowned. "Actually, it would be in our best interest if you kept a much closer watch."

  We stopped at a light and I frowned at him. "Wait, so let me get this straight, my Director Prime is telling me to shag the Interpol agent? The agent who's been far too curious about the Elite for, I don't know, two months?"

  Bridge interjected, "Your Director Prime is not saying that, because he’s not an arsehole. But I am. I’m the mate who knows you well and knows that she is exactly your type, and all I’m saying is that if you are shagging her, you might give her something else entirely to focus on."

  I shook my head. "You know what? You lot have the worst love advice. Remember Camilla?"

  Bridge groaned. "Oh, come on, I gave you one bad piece of advice. One time."

  "I've never forgotten it. I believe you said, ‘You’ve got to hoover the clit,’ right? Because they like that."

  Bridge groaned. "Look, mate, what the fuck did I know? I was seventeen. You were taking advice from an idiot."

  "Yeah, I know that. I won’t make that mistake again."

  Ben just laughed. "Bridge, you were such a git."

  Then he frowned, thinking of advice Bridge had given him. "I feel like you told me to stick my finger in Marley A
damson's bum too."

  Bridge laughed. "Yeah, but didn't she like that?"

  Ben snorted a laugh as he picked up his pace. "Yes, but she preferred that only when she was coming. At first she was livid."

  "I still hold it was solid advice," Bridge mumbled.

  I shook my head. "I feel like this just caused me to never believe a word you say, Bridge."

  Bridge rolled his eyes. "You know what, you're just jealous because you know I'm better with women than the two of you."

  Both Ben and I coughed. Neither one of us going anywhere near the possibility of detonating the ‘him and Mina’ bomb. Ben and I knew exactly what the deal was with Mina. But we'd made a promise, along with Drew, to never, not once, say a word. So, we were keeping our oath.

  As the run continued, we made our way over toward Primrose Hill. Bridge pushed the pace. He was the marathoner of fucking London and loved running even more than I did. Ben could take it or leave it. But Bridge, that asshole loved to run. And I was too competitive to let him win.

  When we reached Primrose Hill, Bridge called time. It was all I could do not to collapse in front of them from the heat. They never would have let me live that down. So, I pretended I was stretching while I forced air into my lungs and prayed to dear God that Ben was going to call a halt to this ridiculous pace Bridge was setting.

  Instead, he kept up the inquisition. "So okay, real question. How big of a problem is Agent Kincade going to be for us?"

  "Too early to tell."

  Bridge scowled at that. "What do you mean, it’s too early to tell? We need to figure it out. It's your job to keep her distracted."

  My dick seemed to like that idea. It twitched in my shorts, and I scowled at myself. My shit was complicated enough. I did not need her to further complicate my life. But still, I wanted her, so there was that.

  "Look, like I said, I have it under control. When Ben said he had Olivia under control, didn't we trust him?"

  Bridge screwed up his face into the universal are you fucking kidding me expression.

  Ben laughed. "I completely had her handled."

  Bridge snorted at that. "No. No, you did not. She had you handled. Pretty much like I assume Agent Kincade has East handled."

  "I'm not handled like Ben was handled. We just have to be more careful. And I'm not trying to shag her."

  Liar.

  "If you say so," Ben said as he stood. Bridge turned to me before he started running again. "Okay, you're not shagging her. But, you know, if you were thinking about it, how bad do you want her?"

  I frowned at that. "I don't know what you mean."

  His pursed lips told me he was going to ask an actual important question, one that wasn't about giving me shit. "How much do you want her? Enough to make a mistake? Because that's the real question."

  I had to think it through. I had a lot of balls in the air, especially now that I knew she might be in trouble, and I couldn't very well sit back and let her be in trouble. "I haven't thought about it."

  Bridge nodded. "If you say so. But if you want her, you need to be more careful. Shag her if you want. But if you get close, just know she's not dumb. She's not like the usual sort of air-headed models that are stunningly beautiful but give no shits about anything other than their Instagram followers. She's smart. She's determined. And she can put an end to the secrecy we need to maintain. So do what you want, but fucking be careful. Everyone's future is on the line."

  I stood up to my full height and met his gaze. Sometimes, even though he was Bridge and seemingly emotionless, he saw far too much. "She's not a problem for me."

  It should have worried me how easily the lie chirped off of my lips, but it didn't, which was the most concerning thing of all.

  13

  East

  This was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake. But still, I couldn't help myself, and I had valid reasons for being there. First, I wanted to see her and make sure she was all right. Second, my dick was still hard. No. No. That wasn't it. Second, I had someone for her to talk to. Someone AJ had recommended who'd attended Slade School of Art and had managed to make a name for herself with her raw talent and a knack for copying the greats. That knack had landed her in prison. But now that she was out, she worked for a prestigious insurance company, picking out some of the very same forgeries and helping them spot others. I'd called in a favor, and I knew she could probably be helpful to Nyla.

  Third, I was still hard.

  I tried to shove that thought aside. It wasn't helpful. It accomplished nothing, except to remind me what Nyla's bottom lip tasted like when I sucked on it. To make me remember how soft that patch of skin just on the inside of her elbow was and that she was completely untouchable. I liked it that way. This wasn't some woman who I was going to burn the panties off of. Nyla Kincade had seen it all. And she was unimpressed by any of it.

  The guy at the reception desk led me back to the double-pane glass doors toward the offices and down a long corridor that had names on each glass door we passed. When I finally saw Nyla's name, my heart rate kicked into full gallop.

  Easy does it.

  I forced myself to take a long deep inhale, just so I wouldn't have to smell her when I stepped inside. That would be for the best. I knocked on her door as I opened it, and she took a moment to lift her head. When she did, the shock was evident. But then there was a hint of something. Was that a smile maybe?

  Don't get ahead of yourself. This one is tough as nails and likely to be a lot of trouble.

  She waved me in, and I stepped inside. "So, this is where all the Interpol magic happens?"

  She sat back and spread her arms. "Oh yes, clearly. Magic happening."

  "Why do you look like you were busy engraving symbols onto a pad of paper?"

  "What are you doing here, East?"

  "Ah, I do love that we have graduated to my actual name, and not Mr. Hale, or that billionaire over there, or my personal favorite, jackass. I'm so glad we have progressed from jackass."

  "What is it about you that won’t take no for an answer?"

  I shrugged. "I'm just really stubborn. That's my greatest weakness.”

  She shook her head. “You know what, I don’t really have time for this. As you can see, I have a lot to do. But I’m not a rude person, so I guess I should say thank you for the visit, however, I really am swamped."

  "This isn't actually a social call."

  "Right. You could have fooled me. If you wanted a tour of the offices, all you had to do is ask."

  I laughed. "The thing is, as much fun as a tour with you would be, that's not why I'm here."

  She set her pen down and leaned forward. "Oh, yeah? Then why are you here?"

  "I thought that maybe you would like to meet Marielle Lipton."

  Her brows lifted, and her shoulders sagged briefly as though I’d knocked the wind out of her sails. "The Marielle Lipton?"

  I nodded. "Yup. I managed to arrange an appointment with her this afternoon if you think you have time."

  She gave me a look that said, oh, she would find time for this. "How do you know Marielle Lipton? She hasn't taken any interviews in, God, three years, since she was released from prison, and certainly not one with Interpol because, after all, she's free now. Free to become a valuable member of society. How in the world did you get her to agree to talk to me?"

  "Let's just say I know people in high places."

  "I swear to God, is one of your friends someone prominent in the government or something? I mean, just how rich are you three?"

  I laughed. "Yeah, money helps. I'm not going to lie. But also I called in a favor."

  The crease between her brows showed up again. "Why?"

  I shrugged, keeping it cool. “Just because. So, do you want to meet her or not?"

  She pushed to her feet. "Okay fine, how do you always know what to tempt me with?"

  "Well…" I grinned at her. "I know what you like."

  I knew I was pouring on the flirtation all the way, and s
he knew it too, because she just rolled her eyes and laughed.

  "You cannot help yourself, can you? You literally can't. If there's a woman in the room, you just have to flirt."

  "Okay, fine. I like flirting with you. That's person specific, not gender specific. Um, also, I am very good at it."

  She choked a cough.

  "Give me some credit. Come on, let’s see if we can catch your forger. Or at least get you some help."

  As we stepped out of her office, a man came striding down the hall, and I could tell from her body language that Nyla instantly tensed up. I knew he must be the ex she’d talked about on the plane. Her boss.

  Glued to his side as if by surgery was a brunette with big blue eyes and clear pale skin, but she lacked that fire that Nyla had. I knew the guy was Denning Sinclair because I had just done some discreet digging on my own. And the woman with him was Hazel Frost, his new girlfriend. How he thought he could do better than Nyla was beyond me.

  Nyla stiffened as she closed and locked her office door. When she turned to face the approaching duo, she murmured, "Denning," and then signaled for me to move on.

  But Denning stopped, his gaze dissecting me like an insect. "Where are you two off to?"

  God, what a prick.

  He reached out his hand to shake mine, and I just watched him and narrowed my gaze. Ben, Bridge, and I had decided not to use the Elite's powers of influence for evil, but at this moment, I really, really wanted to. I finally accepted his handshake and said, "Ah, Denning Sinclair. Pleasure. I’m East Hale." I had the incomprehensible urge to kick his teeth in.

  His brows drew down an inch. "What are you doing with Nyla here?"

  I shrugged. "Well, I was lost. She was helping me find my way. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere we need to go." And with that, I gently tugged at Nyla’s elbow, guiding her toward the exit.