The Fearless King

by Katee Robert

  “Hey, you have a minute?”

  “Pretty sure that’s in my job description.” Mateo grinned. “You’re looking rumpled. Who is she?”

  He shook his head. “Business first, then you can try to pry details about my private life out of me.”

  “Promises, promises.” Mateo spun a pen around his finger. “I kept digging on Elliott Bancroft over the weekend. So far, nothing is popping. He racks up a truly outstanding amount of debt every couple of years, but someone always pays it off. Up until about five years ago, that someone was Lydia King.”

  What happened five years ago…? Frank leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “She stopped paying him right around the time their youngest kid hit eighteen.”

  Mateo hummed under his breath and rotated his chair to face his computer. A few seconds later he nodded. “Yep. Right down to the month Eliza King turned eighteen. Interesting coincidence.”

  Frank had a feeling Lydia King could give him all the dirt he could possibly want on Elliott, but calling her was out of the question. Not only would Journey be pissed, but if Lydia came back to Houston to protect her family, Beck would have to follow through on his threat to ruin her and her company. A fucking mess didn’t begin to cover that situation. No, better to leave Lydia out of it completely.

  “Find out who’s paying his debts now.” With a man like Elliott, following the money was their best bet at figuring out his agenda. He straightened. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “There’s a list in your office.” Mateo’s fingers flew over the keyboard, his tone distracted. “Nothing urgent, or I would have called you. I can handle anything you want to pass off.”

  “Noted.” Frank was going to have to hand out significant bonuses this quarter to his key team. Between dealing with Beck’s situation a few months ago, and now having to step out on operations to secure a favor from Kingdom Corp and Journey King, he was letting them take on more than he usually did. They were more than capable of handling it—Frank only chose the best to trust with running Evans Inc—but it felt strange to let the machine grind on without him at the helm 24-7.

  He headed for his office, and he’d barely opened the door before his phone started ringing. Frank dug it out of his pocket. “Frank Evans.”

  “You know, I thought you looked familiar when we ran into each other, but I wasn’t sure.”

  He stepped into his office and shut the door softly behind him. “Elliott Bancroft, I presume.”

  “The very same.”

  Elliott had no reason to recognize Frank—they’d never met before the incident at Journey’s apartment—so he must have done some digging. It was the first step Frank would have taken if he was in that position. “I didn’t expect to hear from you after our last conversation.”

  “Unfortunate business, that. You know how it is with family.” A genial laugh that set Frank’s teeth on edge. “What am I saying? Of course you don’t. You’re an orphan, I hear. Shame about your old man. Even bigger shame about your mama. Lucky you that she had that life insurance policy paid up, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

  Fury nearly stole his words. Do not react. If he told this asshole to keep Frank’s parents out of his fucking mouth, it wouldn’t do anything but tell Elliott exactly where to push to get a reaction. “You have a reason for calling, I assume.”

  “My girl didn’t come home this weekend. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Frank stalked out of his office and back down the hall to Mateo’s. He snapped his fingers at the man. Mateo barely got the pen and pad to him in time for him to write. Get two men on Journey King. Subtly. Mateo nodded and went for his phone.

  It took everything he had to keep his voice calm. “Journey’s an adult. She hasn’t needed you for the last twenty years, best I can tell. No reason to think she’s going to need you now.”

  “A girl never outgrows needing her daddy.”

  The smugness in the man’s tone had Frank seeing red. This piece of shit had hurt Journey, even if he hadn’t left a mark on her in the apartment. He didn’t get to sit there and talk about her as if they had anything resembling a healthy father-daughter relationship.

  Keep him talking.

  Focus on the facts.

  Before he could ask what the hell the man wanted again, Elliott continued as if they were having the nicest of chats. “You’re a hard man to get a read on, Frank. I thought I recognized the Evans last name and, sure as shit, your daddy was the one who got too big for his britches all those years ago, and look where that got him. Shame he couldn’t control his temper. That sort of thing run in the family?”

  Frank gritted his teeth. He’d been dealing with attitudes like this since as long as he could remember. When he was a kid, that bullshit was leveled at his father—who had too much ambition for the color of his skin, according to those who held power. He had to be better than his political opponents, had to be damn near fucking perfect.

  But no one was perfect.

  Not even Henry Evans. Especially not Henry Evans.

  He was a good father, and a better politician, but he was a shitty-ass husband. His selfishness led to the death of his mistress—his secretary—and he’d been convicted in the court of public opinion long before the judge and jury made it official.

  “Get to your point.”

  “Now, now, Frank. We’re having a nice little chat. Don’t go and mess it up by being an asshole.” The joking disappeared from Elliott’s voice, revealing the truth of the man beneath it. “Your daddy killed a woman. It’s my fatherly duty to ensure my daughter doesn’t share the same fate as that poor girl. Journey’s not thinking clearly or she wouldn’t be with a man like you.”

  A man like you.

  He could lie and pretend Elliott meant a murderer like his father, but he knew the truth. As a black man, he’d never be good enough for Journey in Elliott’s opinion—in the opinion of far too many in Houston. No matter how noble his intentions, no matter how much power and money he accrued, the color of his skin would always outweigh anything else for some people.

  Elliott numbered among them, which didn’t surprise Frank in the least.

  Frank couldn’t change people’s opinions, but he could damn well make sure he was too big of a fish to fuck with. If his father had the kind of power Frank wielded, he wouldn’t have been charged with murder for what was obviously an accidental death, much less convicted.

  He wouldn’t have died in prison as a result.

  Frank made an effort to unclench his hand. When he spoke, he kept his tone even and bored. “There’s one key difference between me and my father, Elliott.”

  “Do tell.”

  “If I killed someone, it wouldn’t be an accident—and the body would never be found.” He hung up.

  Mateo poked his head out of his office. “I have José and Ethan on their way to her place. If she’s not there, they’ll head to Kingdom Corp, but I told them to keep a low profile.”

  “Thanks.” Frank walked back into his office and shut the door behind him. Journey wasn’t going to thank him for the security detail, but he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.

  She picked up almost immediately. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just about to walk out my front door. Why?” Nothing in her tone to suggest fear or that she was in danger.

  “I have two men who are going to keep an eye on you for the time being. The situation has changed, and until I know how things fall out, you’ll have a security detail on you whenever you aren’t with me.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “Your father has made it clear he will try to get you alone, and my men will ensure that doesn’t happen.”

  A long pause, as if she was weighing whether to fight him on this. “Are you sure it’s necessary?”

  “I wouldn’t have assigned them if I didn’t think it was.”

  Finally, Journey sig
hed. “Text me their names and photos. They can’t come into Kingdom Corp for obvious reasons, but having a security detail makes sense.”

  That, more than anything, said she knew the stakes of this situation better than he did. Frank hesitated. “Something you need to tell me, Duchess?”

  “You can’t read my mind in addition to micromanaging every aspect of my life? Shocking.” Her laugh sounded forced. “Just…don’t underestimate my dad, Frank. He’s smart and really good at pushing people’s buttons to get what he wants. Be careful.”

  “I’m not the one who’s going to be in the same building as him for most of this week.” He hated reminding her of that, hated her sharp intake of breath in response.

  “You’re right. I’ll be careful, too. Talk to you later.” She cut off the call, leaving him fighting against the need to get back in his car and drive to her. To protect her.

  Not part of the plan.

  Nothing was going according to plan. He’d fully intended to keep his distance and operate like he always had. He hadn’t expected Journey to get under his skin so effectively in such a short time.

  And he sure as hell hadn’t expected it to take more than a few hours’ search to get the dirt he needed on Elliott Bancroft. We’re missing something there.

  He needed to find out what and to find out sooner, rather than later.

  * * *

  Journey had to give it to Frank—his men were good. After they introduced themselves and waited for her to verify their information, they melted into the foot traffic on the street as she walked to the office. She had no doubt they were close enough to deal with any potential threat that arose, but the one time she glanced over her shoulder, she hadn’t seen either of them.

  She barely made it to her office when she got the call that Samara Mallick was headed her way. Journey had expected her friend to show up at some point after she heard the news that Elliott was back in town—Houston’s gossips would have the information by now—so she took a deep breath and tried to get her game face in place.

  A few minutes later, the door flew open and Samara Mallick charged in. Her best friend shut and locked the door behind her, her black hair wild around her shoulders and a determined look in her dark eyes. “We’re going to talk.”

  Journey held up her hands. “Whoa there, Turbo. You look like you’re about to whip a gun out of your thigh holster and start shooting.”

  “If I see that piece of shit father of yours, I just might.” Samara strode over and took her shoulders, peering into her face. “He’s the reason you’re not sleeping, isn’t he? Damn it, Journey, you should have told me. I shouldn’t have had to hear from Frank that Elliott’s back in town.”

  Frank told Samara?

  They were so going to have words about that the next time she saw him.

  She opened her mouth to tell Samara she was fine, but the lie wouldn’t come. She couldn’t tell the full truth, but her friend at least knew part of it. “Him showing up is doing a number on me.”

  “I bet.” Samara guided her to the couch situated against the wall opposite her desk. “I know I don’t work here anymore, so you might not want to tell me, but—”

  “He’s the main shareholder now.” It wasn’t a secret, exactly. If Beckett didn’t know already, he would soon enough.

  “Shit,” she breathed. “I bet Lydia is ready to chew through bricks at the idea of Elliott Bancroft at the head of Kingdom Corp.”

  “I don’t think she knows.” Her mother had taken losing Kingdom Corp hard, and leaving Houston even harder. They still spoke once a week, but Lydia flipped between asking five hundred questions about how the company was running and not asking at all. This most recent week had been one of the latter, which was just as well. She knew for a fact that Anderson hadn’t told Lydia that their father was back, and Journey sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to mention it.

  “That’s for the best. If she comes back to Houston, Beckett will do what he has to do and…no one wants that.” Samara cursed. “What’s Elliott up to?”

  She couldn’t tell Samara his plan, couldn’t reveal just how flawed Journey was, right down to her core. If she was better adjusted, even a shrink who had been paid off by her father wouldn’t be able to unsettle her enough to declare her unfit. She was the weak link, and if she confessed the truth, Samara would realize it. The only other time Journey had been perfectly honest with someone outside the family about the abuse she and her siblings had suffered at her father’s hands was with her ex-fiancé.

  It was the beginning of the end of their relationship.

  Every time he looked at her after that, she’d catch a glimpse of a toxic combination of pity and disgust in his blue eyes. He might have really believed she was a victim instead of being damaged goods, but he wasn’t prepared to deal with the level of baggage she brought to a relationship. So he’d bailed, leaving her to pick up the pieces and put on a brave face in the midst of a media storm that would have knocked her on her ass even on her best day.

  If Samara reacted the same way upon hearing the truth…

  Journey didn’t know if she’d survive it.

  Samara reached out and took her hand. “Is there anything I can do? Or, if not me, then Beckett? He’d be happy to help in any way he can.” No censure in her friend’s tone over the fact that Journey had been dodging her cousin’s phone calls ever since he ran Lydia out of town. She might not hold that against Beckett, but she wasn’t ready to take the first step in mending their broken family. Not yet. Not while she was so damn broken herself.

  “This is one of those problems that needs to be handled internally.” She squeezed Samara’s hand. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

  “Uh-huh.” She narrowed her dark eyes. “In that case, why don’t we talk about the fact that you spent the weekend at Frank’s place? Because I did not see that coming. How do you go from hating his guts to sleeping over?”

  She didn’t want to lie to her friend, but if Samara knew the truth, it would just spawn more questions Journey couldn’t answer. Better a little lie now than the alternative. The lies are adding up so freaking fast. Soon I’ll be drowning in them. “We’re dating.”

  Samara blinked. “I’m going to need you to go back to the beginning and explain, starting with the fact that we talked last week and you didn’t mention that you and Frank were seeing each other, let alone that it had progressed to the weekend sleepover stage.”

  Journey studied the photograph on the wall above their heads, the oak tree’s leaves painted all the colors of fall. It usually calmed her, but she could feel the flush spreading up her chest to her cheeks. “We didn’t want to tell anyone at first while we figured things out.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And this weekend wasn’t like that. I had a fight with Elliott, and Frank just happened to show up right around the time things were getting ugly. He took my plans to hole up in a hotel personally and offered his house as an alternative.”

  Because it was Samara and because she and Journey were friends, her very real frustration crept into her voice. “He barely touched me the whole weekend. I slept in the guest bedroom for God’s sake. And I didn’t see him most of the time because he was holed up in his office working.” She started to mention that he’d held her hand and listened to an audiobook the entire night, but it felt like revealing too much. Journey still wasn’t even sure how she felt about it. She’d woken up Sunday morning with Frank’s fingers still entwined with hers and his big body wrapped around hers.

  Protecting her.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Don’t hmmm me. I can’t help that I have terrible taste in men.” She spent the entire time in Frank’s house switching between obsessing over what waited for her back in Kingdom Corp on Monday and obsessing about the feel of Frank’s mouth on hers. The end result was a shitty mood in which she wasn’t inclined to give Frank the benefit of the doubt.

  Samara shifted back and leaned against the side of the couch. “I mean, I c
an’t say that I blame you. He’s gorgeous and there’s the whole helping me save Beckett’s life thing, which puts me firmly on Team Frank. But normally when someone is still in the honeymoon phase, they tend to be less…cranky.”

  Journey gave her the expression that comment deserved. “You know me. Since when do I gracefully begin to date anyone ever?”

  Instead of laughing, Samara sighed. “I know Adrian did a number on you, but—”

  “Nope. Absolutely not. We are not invoking the name of my ex. It’s been ten years, Samara. Does it still sting sometimes? Sure. But this isn’t about him. This is about Frank being infuriating to the utmost degree and me dating him despite my better judgment.”

  Samara studied her nails for a long moment and finally dropped her hand. “Shelving that topic for the time being—you’ve skipped the last two happy hours we’ve set up. What gives?”

  Guilt flared. Journey started to go with the time-honored excuse of work keeping her too busy to spend time with her best friend, but it wasn’t the truth any more than her dating Frank was the truth. Journey clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m having a hard time with the transition since Mother left. Part of it is the longer hours, but we were already working that leading up to that whole mess. It’s just…” She shrugged, going for nonchalant—as if she hadn’t spent the last few months waking up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and breathing hard, a scream trapped on the inside of her lips.

  You didn’t have nightmares Saturday night.

  Yeah, not prepared to deal with that.

  Journey ran a finger along the hem of her dress. “I turtled instead of being a good friend. I’ve been out a grand total of one time since you left Kingdom Corp, and it wasn’t even a fun night out—it was me making bad life choices.”