by Nana Malone
More laughter. God, he was just full of laughs, wasn’t he? “Why are you so obsessed with the secret society?" He used air quotes when he said the last two words.
"Call it a hunch, but I know something is not right. This would all go faster if you tell me what it is."
"I'm telling you the London Lords are three businessmen running hotels. That's all."
"Uh-huh. And I'm an Amish virgin."
His gaze flicked over my body as if to call out the lie with an unspoken 'the hell you are.' But instead, his voice was low when he said, "Well now, that would be a damn shame."
I shrugged. "I had a case when I was in the US. Nasty stuff. Crazy international crime ring. It was quite exciting actually. An Amish gang had paired themselves with an Irish gang to sell guns and other weapons."
He whistled low. "You know, it's no wonder you have no faith in humanity. The kind of things you see, I can only imagine."
"That would be accurate. My faith right now is a little derailed."
"Well hopefully, I’ll restore some of your faith in my abilities by finding you delicious restaurants."
"Yeah, what is this place exactly?"
“I call it ‘The Hiding Spot.’”
"Is that its real name?"
Another flash of his grin and I was pretty sure my panties were in that melted category. "The restaurants and the decor in the hotels are my purview. So whenever we come across some new and fresh chef that we want to try out, I put them back in the kitchens here."
"So this is a restaurant?"
"Yes. Actually, it’s more of a proving ground. He does this British comfort thing. You should eat his chocolate pie. It's honestly complete insanity. It made me want to slap my nanny."
I choked a laugh then. "Of course, you had a nanny."
He winked at me. "Didn't everyone?"
I laughed. “No. The rest of us are mere mortals.”
His phone rang, and he glanced down at it. "Um, would you be all right if I just step in one of the back rooms and take this call?"
I nodded. "Actually, can I get another plate of this?"
He signaled to our bartender/waiter who gave a nod and winked at me. And then he was gone around the corner. And for the first time all day, I felt like I could take a deep breath. God, that nervous energy being around him felt like first-date jitters. Butterflies in the tummy. Anticipation dancing and skipping and jumping all over my skin and my nerve endings.
See? You do like him.
No, I did not.
All of a sudden, someone slid into the seat across from me as the bartender brought me another plate. "Here you go, miss."
He nodded to the man sitting across from me then. "Mate, I'm not serving you anymore. Three drinks, maximum. It's how the boss likes it."
"Just give me my fucking drink."
I slid my gaze over. "That seat is taken."
The man that turned his gaze back on me was handsome in that sort of overly polished sort of bland way. Neatly trimmed hair, pale blue eyes, decent jaw. But something about the roundness of it suggested that there would be softness there in the future.
"Well aren’t you a pretty thing? Been left all alone, have you?"
He smelled like gin and poor decisions.
"Listen, I just want to enjoy my food and drink. That's all."
"Well, in that case, you're going to enjoy my company too."
"No, I'm really not. That seat is taken, and I advise that you vacate it before my companion realizes you've plopped yourself in it."
"Now, now, I'm just being friendly. Why is it you can't accept a friendly chat?” He leaned forward over the table. “What is wrong with women these days? Either you chat to a woman and she thinks you're ready for fucking marriage and kids, or you chat to a woman and she's a complete cunt that thinks she's God's gift.” The sour liquor smell hit me in the face as he wagged a finger back and forth. “You're not God's gift. You're not even pretty. I'm merely bored and trying to get the fucking bartender to serve me another drink."
"Fabulous. In that case, you won't mind me telling you to go fuck off out of my friend's seat." I met his gaze levelly and did not waver once.
And maybe that was my mistake, because that classic mask of irritation and annoyance mixed with drinking bravado was a recipe for disaster.
"Look, you stay, and I'll move." I stood and picked up my purse, but then he grabbed my elbow hard. I glanced down at his hand. "You’ll want to remove that."
"Oh yeah? Make me."
I placed my free hand on top of his and easily used my index and middle fingers to turn his wrist. He yowled, and then I added pressure to his joint for good measure.
"I already told you once, so don't make me repeat myself. Do not touch me."
"You're a cunt."
"Well, I mean, I do have one. I think you're misunderstanding the grammar here."
"You—" He didn't get to finish because somehow, he was being thrown back. It happened so quickly. He was wrenched out of my hold and his back was against the wall, and then someone in a suit was choking him out.
"Holy shit, East. East, stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. I'm fine. Honestly, I am fine. You can let him go.”
"Jameson, you fucking touch her again, and I will kill you."
"Already been there, mate."
East squeezed harder, and the guy's eyes started to bulge out. "Hey, look at me. We don't want to do this. Not publicly, not here, not anywhere. Let him go. I'm fine."
When that still didn't work, I stepped between them, wedging myself between East's hands as he asked, "What the fuck are you doing? Get out of the way."
"Look at me, I'm fine. Let him go."
His gaze met mine, and he blinked several times and then released the hold.
From some shadowy corner to my left, a nondescript bouncer appeared. “Easy boss. I have him.”
East released the other man then. His gaze met mine and dropped before I could get an answer. Then he turned and strode out, leaving me standing there at the bar wondering what the fuck had just happened.
Nyla
Thanks to the bartender, I found him on the roof, the wind slightly rustling his dark hair. "Are you okay?"
He didn't turn around. "Yup, fine."
I sighed. Great. Taciturn. I was used to taciturn. "I'm just saying, if you're not fine, I might make a half-decent listener."
"I'm fine, Nyla."
"East, you're not fine. You almost took that idiot’s head off. I mean, I don't know him, but based on what he did earlier, he seems like kind of a twat.” I raised a brow in query. “So I assume he deserved it?"
"That's a safe assumption to make."
"Great, he deserved it. But then, why did he deserve it? And are you okay, or are you going to leave here, break into his place, and kill him?” I held up a hand. “If you are, I advise that you don't tell me because I feel like I’ll need to report that."
I heard that chuckle, the small exhalation that was part laugh, part irritation. "I wish I could. But I can't let my personal feelings about him get in the way."
"Personal feelings. Okay.” I gestured toward the rooftop door. “I handle men like him every day.”
"I know."
"Okay, so as long as you know that."
As I spoke, I moved closer and closer. "So, do you want to tell me what's going on?"
"Sorry, I scared you. I just—" His voice broke off.
“You just what?”
His voice lowered to a growl. “I hated seeing his hands on you.”
"I—” What was I supposed to do with that? “I'm just saying how you handled it was not ideal. I think you owe me some kind of an explanation."
"Do I?” He turned his gaze on me. ”You said it yourself, we're barely even friends."
I winced at that. "I was being facetious. I appreciate you stepping in. I do. But honestly, I thought you were going to stab him in the eye. So I'd really like an explanation. I don't know anything about you, East Hale. So, tell me somethi
ng about you so that I don't have to disappoint you and tell you that you are never going to see me again. Unless, of course, if I'm going to put you in jail."
He laughed then. "You don't want me in jail. I'm too pretty to go to jail."
I rolled my eyes as I approached the railing and placed my elbow on it. "So talk to me."
"I went to school with him. I've known him forever. I am pretty certain he assaulted my sister."
My mind spun. Of all the things I'd expected him to say, that wasn’t even on my list. Anything but that. I thought back on how that guy had been too handsy, a little bit drunk, and not listening to my more-than-firm no. And the look on East's face as he safely extricated me and then rounded on the other guy like he could have put a hole in that bloke's face and not thought about it twice. Which was not the picture of elegance that East presented.
East Hale was old money. His family were gentry. His mother was an heiress of a vast art fortune. So where had that bottled up anger been hiding?
"It's fine,” he insisted. “I'm fine. You don't have to do this, check on me. You're the one who should be checked on. Are you okay?"
I crossed my arms and nodded. Because somehow, up here, with nothing but the city lights of London below us, I could tell the truth. I had been a little scared. Not that I didn't know what to do or how to handle somebody like that, but that flare of fear that women are told to swallow, that we’re told to never feel, that moment when someone wanted to use a woman’s body against her will, it was very real. It was something male agents never had to contend with. But every single female agent did. "The point is, I'm fine now. I'm okay. You were there, thankfully. Though we both know I can handle men like that. Everything turned out exactly like it was supposed to."
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Tell me about your sister?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. AJ was like every other big sister, I suppose. Annoying. As a kid I desperately wanted her to see me, you know? She was always off at some tennis tournament or something. And there are some moments where I had to miss football matches and things because she was so damn good at tennis, and I really had to be there and see it. There were moments I was jealous of her. I always thought I was never going to be some wildly famous football player. But she—she could have gone all the way. But, you know, other than the annoying brother-sister stuff, we were close."
"You two seem so close now."
He nodded. "We are. I don't know, though. Something changed that night. There was a party at our house. Mom and Dad… We'll just say they were noticeably absent for a lot of our teenage years. God only knows where they were at the time. I still remember the look on AJ's face after Jameson left her bedroom. She looked shell-shocked. I didn't know what to do or what to say, how to offer her comfort.” He released a ragged sigh. “So I just placed a hand on her back and rubbed. It was a gesture I remembered Mom used to do for me when I was little. As it was, I didn't get much myself in the way of comfort. I didn't realize how much I really missed it. Not that I needed much, but that easy knowledge that somebody was there and cared for me would have been nice."
The deep timbre of his voice sent a lull through me, even though I was the one comforting him.
"AJ was never really the same after that."
"Did you try talking to her?"
"I did. All the time. I can understand Mom and Dad not knowing, but me, I was her brother. I saw it. I had to always take it upon myself to protect her. From what I didn't know. I'd never thought I'd have to protect her from a mate. Someone I knew well from school. She tried to tell me he'd just called her names. That he just made her feel uncomfortable, but the way Jameson looked at her that night, the way he looked at me with derision, I knew something had happened. I knew. But I couldn't do anything about it. Not then, and now I could, but I'm an adult, and beating a man within an inch of his life, well, that's not how things are done."
I frowned. "Do you want me to look into him? If he did hurt your sister, he's done it to someone else. Maybe someone wants to come forward and speak up."
His brows furrowed as he turned his attention to me. "What?"
"I mean, since I've seen firsthand for myself how handsy he gets, if he's taken it further, I'm sure someone somewhere has reported it."
He blinked at me. "So you'd look it up, just like that?"
I nodded. What didn’t he understand? "I mean, if you want me to. Because how many girls were just like your sister? Too scared to say anything, to even talk about it. I'm sure he's done it before.” I spread my hands in front of me. “I can look."
He studied me for a moment, his eyes warm and going darker. "You're an interesting woman, Nyla Kincade."
I shrugged. "You know, I'll take interesting over beautiful any day."
His lips twisted into a smirk. "The thing is, you're interesting in a way that your beauty isn't worn around you like an armor or shield. Sure, your face is stunning, and your body is, wow, and even though you’ve got a tough shell, you feel deeply. I can see it."
"Don't get excited. I can't guarantee anything, but I can certainly look."
He shook his head slowly. "I really appreciate the gesture, but I've already looked."
"Oh, come on. I have access to databases you've never even heard of."
He chuckled low. "Trust me, I understand, and I appreciate it, but when I say I’ve looked, I have really looked. I’ve had a poke at SIS and MI5 and anything anyone might have on him. There's nothing that will stick."
I blinked. "You expect me to believe that you have access to the agencies? Hell, I can't even get into the SIS."
"It's amazing what money will buy you access to."
"You really will use your money for anything, won't you?"
He shrugged. "For my sister, yes. But I couldn’t find evidence to put him away. Nothing that's not circumstantial anyway. And I know good agents like you demand things like proof."
"Well, what he just tried to do to me was proof enough.” I released a sigh. “But tangible and usable in court, I'm not sure."
"Isn’t that the kicker."
"So what, you're just going to give up?" How could he not want to kill Jameson? Hell the idiot had barely touched me, and I felt like I could take a blow torch to his feet.
“No.” He shook his head. “But I need to tread lightly. Vengeance is on the horizon, but it needs to be done carefully.”
“I don’t understand. He’s done this horrible thing. He should pay.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, he will, but my hands are tied. I have to follow a code.”
My brows snapped down. “What do you mean?”
“Nyla, I can’t talk about it. The more you know, the more dangerous it is for you.”
My brain whirred, and I staggered back from him. “What do you mean? What are you planning?”
He shook his head. “Nyla, once you know, you can’t unknow. And there are people who would hurt you for that knowledge.”
I’d been right. From the beginning, I’d been right. “You are hiding something. You and your mates. There is a reason you seem untouchable. It’s because you are.”
He sighed then licked his lips. “We call ourselves the Elite.”
My mind whirred. “The corruption. The underground dealings.” My stomach pitched. I’d wanted him to be different, so I’d fed myself the lie.
He shook his head. “It’s not like that. At least not anymore. With Ben at the helm, we’re cleaning up. For years we’ve watched our fathers use us as pawns. We’re not playing by those rules. But there is a code. You aren’t supposed to know anything about it for starters.”
I tried to follow along as he told me how they’d been recruited, the training they had to go through. The lengths that some would go to in order to hold onto power. And the most interesting tidbit of them all… that Ben Covington was now at the helm.
“So two months ago when you handed me the sex trafficking case, that was what, to get me off your scent? Van Linste
d was a way to keep me busy?”
East scowled. “No. Bram Van Linsted is a liar. His family held onto their power and position for thirty years, and to move against them meant unpleasant, even dangerous, consequences. And that corruption you talk about. The filth of power. That was everything they stood for. And it was vile. We couldn’t let it continue once we knew. But we couldn’t very well tell you directly.”
My brain tried desperately to fit the jigsaw pieces together. “The trafficking ring. Was that part of the cleanup?”
He nodded. “The men involved. They went after Liv.”
The knot in my stomach tightened. “Christ. Because of Covington?”
His voice was soft when he spoke. “No. She stumbled into it because of a book she was writing. So we had to protect her.”
“Jesus.”
He voice was low. “Nyla. I don’t trust anyone. But I’m trusting you with this.”
I could see it in his eyes. I didn’t want to see it. I wanted him to be lying. But no. He was telling the truth about all of it.
The real question was, what was I going to do with the truth?
15
Nyla
I was still reeling from East’s confession when I shoved my keys into my lock. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention when the knob turned easily.
I pulled out my phone, set it to dial 999, and then eased myself into my flat, turning on the lights as I went, checking and clearing the tiny powder room off to the right and then the hallway. It was when I rounded the corner that I saw the actual reason for my alarm.
Denning, on the couch with a glass of scotch in his hand, watching my bloody TV. "Jesus fucking Christ, I could have killed you."
"But you won't." His voice was surly and gruff.
"What are you doing here, Denning?"
As I asked him, I kept my phone in my hand, with the panic button at the ready as I turned on the lights.
He winced as light flooded the room. "Do you mind turning off the lights?"
