by Nana Malone
I shook my head. "Yes, I mind. There's a strange man in my flat. So I'm not going to turn off the lights so you can get along with murdering me."
"You know full well I'm not going to hurt you."
"Do I? And look, for the record, you are trespassing. I’m an Interpol officer."
"And so am I."
The inherent threat had my hackles up. "This place is littered with cameras, live recording and sent to an offsite feed. So just think about that."
He sighed and sat back as he cradled his glass. "You think I would actually hurt you?"
"Well, considering you've done actual harm to me, then, yes. My answer is yes."
He sighed again and then shook his head. "You don't know anything at all, do you?"
"Nope, I guess I don't. What do you want? And please, just cut the bullshit and tell me why you’re here so you can get the fuck out."
"Are you fucking East Hale?"
My jaw dropped and I sputtered. “What the fuck?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“First of all, as you’re my ex, it’s none of your business. Second of all, as my boss, you have no right to ask me who the hell I’m fucking. That’s an HR violation.”
“Don’t evade, Nyla.”
"You really don't have any right to an answer. Especially not after what you did to me."
He cursed under his breath and then sat forward. "Fine. I don't have the right to ask. But you know as well as I do that we couldn't continue the way we were."
"Ah, you know what?” Still holding my phone, I folded my arms across my chest. “I don't even know what this is about. All I know is that you are in my flat uninvited, asking questions that are none of your business, and it's time for you to go."
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I know how things ended up hurt you, and I went about it the wrong way. I should have told you before I took the job."
"You think this is about the job?” I stared him down. “No, this is about you being creepy as fuck right now."
"Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Unfortunately, I had to give you and our relationship up in the process. You think that doesn't haunt me every day?"
"Oh my God, yeah, you look so haunted with your young grad student plastered against your side.”
"Look, just seeing you with him today and him putting his hands on you like he owns you—“
I held up my hand to cut him off. "Well, there’s your first problem. Assuming that someone could own me. Your second problem is being an overall douche. I know you can't help it. It's just part of who you are. Since we're doing this right now, I'm going to point out your shortcomings. First of all, you broke in here like some kind of creeper. You are my boss. What the hell are you doing here?"
"I didn't like how Hale was looking at you. Like he owned you. I hated it. You have to be careful with him.” He shrugged. “I came to warn you."
I barked out a laugh. "What? You're insane. And Hale has actually been helping me on this case today. He took me to meet Marielle Lipton."
He frowned. "The forger?"
"Yes, the forger. She got out of prison a few years ago, and now she works for an insurance company.”
“Have you heard of the Elite?" he suddenly blurted out.
I frowned at him. "What?" The hairs on my arms stood at attention. I knew I was being paranoid, but I’d only just found out myself that they existed.
"Yeah, it's a bloody secret society they're part of. Hale and his mates. I asked some contacts of mine. It’s one of those organizations shrouded in secrecy.” He stood and began to pace. “That secret society stuff. No one can get any information on it. And I have asked all over Interpol. It's a hush-hush group, which means, of course, there are probably several special agents at the highest level who are part of it. I know Hale is part of it. All I've been able to piece together is that Ben Covington is the head.”
"You’ve already come here once to warn me, and I told you it wasn’t necessary. And now I find you in my flat, in the dark, drinking my scotch, and you’re talking about how I need to be careful of East Hale and some secret society?"
"Technically, it’s my scotch. I know you don't like scotch. I left it behind."
So like him to twist the subject. "Well, for your information, I bought some for a party. And you would never buy this kind of stuff because you're a cheap bastard."
He winced. "I'm just frugal."
"And that's good. So am I. I just don't like my every decision to spend money frowned upon, especially when it's my money."
He sighed. "Same old argument, damn it. Why can't you just let it go? Why are you so fucking compulsive and irritating and bossy and—"
I glared at him. "The best part of everything you just said is you no longer have to deal with it because you dumped my ass, remember?"
He sighed. "This man, East Hale, he's dangerous. His mates are dangerous. Why can't you see that?"
"You’re a hypocrite."
He stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “I’m trying to do the right thing. Hale shouldn’t have come anywhere near Interpol. I’m going to make a task force. Take them all down.”
"You know full well you need cause for that, and without it, you won’t get anywhere. Besides this is bullshit. You could have backed me at the briefing, but you didn't. And now you're in here with the same bullshit trying to act like you believe my theories? Please don't. This is plain old-fashioned jealousy. And maybe East Hale and his mates are part of some secret organization. I don't know,” I lied. “Right now, Mr. Hale is someone assisting me with an investigation. If you can't handle that, have me yanked from the case. But if you do that, I'm going to ask a whole lot of fucking questions.” I held up my phone. “And I'm going to send my Dad this little video here of you in my flat, drinking my alcohol, acting like a weirdo. Even you can't explain this away."
He stared at me. "Are you that vindictive?" He watched me warily. "Nyla, I'm just trying to keep you safe."
"No!” I made a slashing movement with my free hand. “That’s some bullshit men use to excuse their behavior. And guess what, I'm no longer in the mood to excuse any of your bullshit behavior. You used me. You dumped me. Now you're feeling jealous. I have no time, and I am in no kind of mood to be good to you. If you come near me again, you'll find out just how far you have pushed me."
"You need to understand. Men like East Hale are dangerous. You think I chewed you up and spat you out? All that money, all that power, imagine what he's going to do to you."
A laugh slipped out. "The joy of that is that even if I were dumb enough to get involved with anybody again, whether it was a man like East Hale or a bum off the street or the next Jack the Ripper, that would be for me to determine. Not you in your ivory tower, making your decisions and condemning me to them. No, I'm not here for that today. Or any other day for that matter. So I will be filing a harassment charge with HR, asking that they keep this matter private, but it will be on your permanent record. Come near me again, and it will be the end of your career.” I narrowed my eyes and glared. “Do I make myself clear?"
His brow furrowed, and he stared at me. "You’re making a mistake."
I tilted my chin to stare up directly into his eyes. "No. We are done. Your jealousy is your problem, not mine."
"Nyla—"
I marched to the door and yanked it open. “Out.”
For a long, horrid moment, I didn’t think he would comply. But the moment he did, I engaged all the locks and leaned back against the door, tears pricking at my eyes.
Make the call.
I didn’t want to make it, because I was scared about what was going to happen, but I made it anyway.
Before he could even mutter a greeting, I blurted out, “I need help. Can you please come?”
East
The git really was going to force my hand.
Belinda's husband tumbled out of the bar with his arm wrapped around a woman who was not his wife. They both swayed on th
eir feet. When the woman tried to shimmy out of his grip, he grabbed her wrist hard and tugged her back to him. I almost stepped out of the shadows then. Luckily, some other drunk outside had a sense of right and wrong and called out, "Oi. That's no way to handle a lady."
Jack Lloyd was no gentleman though. "Mind your fucking business."
The woman tried to get free of his grip again. The other guy wasn't letting up. "Oi, I said that's no way to treat a lady. Let her go."
Lloyd, assessing the other bloke, shrugged and shoved the woman away from him. She stumbled, almost falling over, but the drunk caught her.
"It's not fucking worth it, mate."
I followed him. Knowing exactly where I needed to apply pressure to make him rethink his ways. Leave town for bit even. I knew exactly what needed to be done. Normally I watched from afar. It was easier. I'd threatened someone's money, their bank accounts. And they would ease up, level off. It was called leverage. But this guy? No. What he cared about was his "freedom." His ability to roam and drink and gamble. So I was going to have to restrict his movements. Or let him know that those gambling debts he'd racked up… that I was going to buy the debt and the debt had come due.
I had several options, depending on what he said. But alas, tonight wasn't going to be the night. Instead I got a phone call.
Nyla’s voice was still as husky as always, but there was a noted tremble in it. Then she said the words that I never thought I'd hear Nyla Kincade say to me of all people. "I need your help."
I abandoned Jack Lloyd right then as if I’d never even thought to stop him. Oh, I’d see him later. But at the moment, Nyla was my worry.
I knew where she lived, of course, but she gave me the address anyway. When I turned up to the block of row houses in Camberwell, I glanced around. This area of Vauxhall was established, quiet. Close enough to the tube and directly across from a parking garage where I’d placed my cameras in order to surveil her townhouse.
London Lords owned the development. There was a security gate with a doorman and a pretty courtyard with a community fountain. There was also a gym on the property.
Sooner or later she'd figure out how I watched her and cut off my access to her, but for now, she was letting the wolf inside the henhouse. I could've let myself into her flat, but considering how frightened she sounded, I wasn't going to do that. I knocked when I arrived, and she opened immediately. She leaned against the door. "Is now a good time to tell you I feel dumb having called you?"
I needed to get in her flat to make sure she was okay. I didn't have my laptop. Breaking into the CCTV feed from my phone was going to be more difficult and take more time for me to confirm whether someone was in her flat or not. "Are you alone?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I sent him packing."
I frowned. If she didn't need me to physically do something, what did she need? I wasn't used to being unsure. "Are you okay?"
It was only then that I realized she carried a glass of something amber because she brought it to her lips and took a long sip. "Um, okay is not the right term. Not the one I'd use anyway."
"Let me in, Nyla."
She stepped aside. "In." Even though she said she was alone, I did a sweep. Kitchen was easy enough, and the whole dining room area was open. I checked the closet, the bathroom, and then turned down the hall toward the bedroom. My breath caught. It smelled like her. Something fresh with just a fair scent of sweetness. Like clothes drying on a line. With maybe a vanilla candle. It smelled like her. And God help me, I was hard. But I tamped that down because she'd called me for a reason. She had called me because she was... what, scared? I strolled back out into the living room. "What's the matter?"
"I don't know." She put her glass down on her coffee table and sat on the edge of her couch, pulling her knees up. "I... It was just... I don't know why I called you."
I lifted a brow. "Last I checked, Agent Nyla Kincade was a tough cookie. If you called me, it was for a real reason. Just stop beating yourself up and tell me what happened."
"I got home. Took the tube like always. Came to my flat. And Denning was here."
I frowned. What the fuck had that git been doing in her place?
"My ex. Well my boss." She started blabbering as if I had no idea who he was.
"I know who he is."
"Right, because you know things."
I shrugged. "I do know things, but why was he in your flat? Was there some pressing work thing?"
She shook her head. "No. He just let himself in like he owned the place."
"Does he still have a key?"
She frowned at me and shook her head. "No. I changed the locks, but that wouldn’t stop him."
"Is it standard protocol that your superiors have access to where you live?"
"No. But he's Interpol. We all know how to pick a lock. And we know how to disengage a deadbolt."
"But you didn't engage the deadbolt when you left, did you?"
She shook her head. "No. I have two locks. Honestly, I shouldn't have to engage a deadbolt too."
She had a point there. She had a doorman, but bypassing him was easy enough. All I did was flash my ID, and lookie there, easy access. But I wasn't going to tell her that. "Okay. What did he want?"
Nyla slid her feet back down to the floor and then ran her hands through her thick mane of dark brown hair. "Uh, he wanted to tell me to stay away from you. That you were dangerous. That I was going to get hurt if I continued down this path with you." She licked her lips in what I now recognized as a nervous gesture. “He also knows about the Elite. I swear I didn’t tell him. He already knew.”
My gut twisted. I shouldn’t trust her. But there was something in her eyes that told me she hadn’t divulged that to him. More than likely it was her father.
"I don't know what’s happening. A little over a week ago, my father sat me down and told me to back off the London Lords, back off the stupid secret society angle, back off everything."
"Okay. And you did, right?"
She laughed. "Well mostly. Until I got call from Francois Theroux. He said he'd turn himself into me if I looked something up for him."
I dragged in a breath. “Jesus Christ, Nyla."
"Theroux is my father's case. The case I told you about that he’s been chasing for more than thirty years. But Denning doesn’t know about that phone call, yet now all of a sudden, he’s interested in pursuing the secret society angle and taking down the Elite.
"What?" I frowned at her. "I don't get it. You didn’t share what I told you about the Elite with him, did you?"
Her gaze lifted to mine. "No. I wouldn't do that. And I believe you. What you said about you and Covington changing everything, I believe you."
I studied her face and saw her sincerity. She wasn't being dishonest. She hadn't confirmed anything for Denning. "Okay. So let me ask you this. Did he exhibit any of this behavior when you broke up with him?"
She shifted then. Her nose wrinkling. "Well, no actually. Because I didn't break up with him. He broke up with me. He decided since he was going to be my superior it was not appropriate for us to continue to see each other, and I was blindsided by it, like a moron. I know, some Interpol agent I am."
I couldn't help it. The pull to comfort her was too strong. "You're a great agent. You follow your instincts." I stood in front of her and then pulled her to her feet and wrapped my arms around her. "I'm sorry. He's a wanker. Full-on, grade-A wanker. So what we're going to do is circulate his photo to the doormen. And then we're going to change your locks again. I don't trust him not to have made an imprint and a cast. And then you're going to start engaging your deadbolt every time you leave. Do you understand?"
She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I understand."
"Do you have a gun?"
She furrowed her brow. "It's in the gun safe. I'm authorized because I was with MI5 before Interpol, but I’ve never had occasion to use it."
"Do me a favor. Just take it out and put it by your bedside when you sleep at night."
<
br /> "Why?"
"Because I don't trust him. Not with you."
"This doesn't make any sense."
She spoke into my chest, her warm breath heating me, and I had to beat back the immediate wash of desire. Because that was not what she needed from me right now. What she needed was comfort.
"He was clear that he didn't want me anymore so why? Why is he doing this?"
"Do you think he's rattled because of something you're working on? Maybe it’s the jewelry case."
She shook her head. “No. He’s my boss. If I solve it, he still gets credit, so that’s not it.”
The fact that Theroux had contacted her had my brain spinning. What did Theroux want with her? Why had he offered her his capture? That didn't make any sense. And why go to Interpol instead of just pressing us to get him whatever information he wanted? I needed to meet with the lads and let them know that there was another player in the game.
Every instinct in my body told me to lie. To hide. To not share myself with her. But I couldn’t do that. I was compelled to bare my soul to her. “You should know that Theroux contacted us too. That night at the hospital gala.”
Her jaw fell open as her eyes rounded. "W-what the hell? What in the world is going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he want from you?”
“He hasn’t told us yet. Just like with you, he wanted blind compliance. We are not inclined to give it.” I left out that we might not have any choice.
Nyla’s hands shook as they clenched my shirt. “I’m scared.”
"You're going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything hurt you."
Nyla wrapped her arms around me tighter and burrowed in, her bones melting and relaxing as her body sank into mine. And if that wasn't the ultimate show of trust for her, I didn’t know what was.
She tipped her head up, eyes wide, lashes still damp with tears. "I shouldn't have called you, should I?"
"Hey, if you're scared, call me. If you're tired, call me. If you just want to drink a whole bottle of whiskey because you're pissed off, call me. I want to hear your voice."
"Why are you like this? I can't seem to stay away from you. And believe me, I’ve tried."
