by M. Never
I let the girls loose in Bloomingdales with a boatload of cash. That will keep them busy for a while and give me some down time. Not that I really need it. They aren’t half the headache they could be. Kayne alone drives me more crazy than eight vivacious women.
I pull the limo into a nearby lot, pay a small fortune to park, then climb into the backseat. I lay across the leather, close my eyes, and pick apart the past.
How a series of rash decisions brought me to where I am now.
I was a rookie field agent. I didn’t know she was a diplomat’s wife. What kind of high society woman hangs out in a dive bar at two a.m.? This one. She was beautiful, exotic, smart, sexy—everything a hot-blooded young male could ever want. We fell hard and fast, and there was no turning back after that. Even after I found out who she really was, I forgave her transgressions. We continued to sneak around, knowing the price we could both pay. I didn’t care about the costs. I was young and stupid and in love. She was older, worldly, and captivating.
The last few months we were together, her husband started receiving threatening letters, targeting their family. My office was investigating while we were secretly burning up the sheets. Everything surfaced the same fatal night. I was on a protective detail when she called me frantic. She thought someone was following her and was scared to go home. I left my post to find her. I believed I was doing something heroic. Protecting someone I loved. Something I was trained to do. Turns out, I was nailing the coffin in my own career. She was being followed, but not by an adversary. By her husband. He caught wind of our affair and wanted to expose us. And expose us he did. He had set the whole thing up. Conniving bastard.
Once our scandalous relationship surfaced, I faced disciplinary action. And because of the sensitive nature of the diplomat’s relationship with the state (i.e. he had deep pockets and a far reach), I was ultimately fired for misconduct. It was a crushing blow. I never in my wildest dreams believed I would get fired if we were discovered. Reprimanded, yes, but fired, no. In the blink of an eye, I went from having everything—the career I worked tirelessly for, a future laid out, and a beautiful, intelligent woman by my side—to having nothing.
Even if she wasn’t totally mine, we were still making plans. She was going to leave her husband. We were going to get married. Or so she had me believe. When I turned to her in my darkest hour, she turned away. The truth was, she never really loved me. She only loved the things I could do to her. The things I could make her feel.
Young, stupid, and blindly in lust. That’s what I was. Because she could make me feel things, too. She was a match for my sexual prowess, but the emotion was never real, and I figured that out too late. After I lost everything, including her.
My pride took a beating, and I retreated back to the one place I felt safe. Back to the two people who were my home. Alistair and my mother.
They helped me nurse my wounds but never coddled me. I stood back up on my own. And it was fucking hard. Probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
About a year later, a man in a suit knocked on my door. He handed me a white business card with one word inscribed on it—Endeavor. He said if I wanted a second chance, I should call the number on the back. It was a one-shot deal. Take it or leave it.
Blindly I took it. Jumpstarting my career and sending me in a completely different direction. I was placed on a special task force with this new secretive agency, ordered to recruit soldiers who possessed certain qualities—like apathy for their own and other human lives—train them for black ops missions, and then set them free in the world to see what kind of enemy lines they could infiltrate. One of these recruitments is where I met Kayne, and our fates intertwined.
Speaking of the devil, I mull over what Kayne said. Is London just another Illaya? Am I again wrapped up in a second smothering blanket of blind lust?
I didn’t think so until he questioned me. Now, I’m questioning myself.
But I can’t ignore what’s right in front of me. What my body is telling me. And what my heart is screaming.
Yes, like Illaya, London matches my sexual prowess, but she also matches so much more. Something on a metaphysical level.
It’s almost indescribable.
It doesn’t matter what’s about to begin—or end—one thing will remain the same. Whatever the storm brings, London and I will learn to dance in the rain. There’s no other option because she’s my choice—my today and all my tomorrows.
After I load two tons’ worth of shopping bags into the trunk, I scoop up Kayne from Expo. There is a different air about him when he gets into the car.
“See your girlfriend?”
He clears his throat and tugs on the lapels of his suit jacket, hiding behind his aviators. “Shut the fuck up and drive.”
“You’ve got some red shit in your teeth,” I point out.
Kayne flips down the vanity mirror and inspects his mouth. “Motherfucker.” He scrapes away the food.
I don’t hide my amusement. “Bet she found that real sexy.”
Kayne groans. “It couldn’t have turned her off too much because she asked me to Mark’s party tonight.” There’s a haughty edge to his tone. Very unlike Kayne.
“And are you going?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because the last thing I need is a distraction.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m not fucking chicken.”
“Yes, you are. You’re twenty-six and never been on a date in your life.” I can’t see his eyes through the mirrored lenses, but I know he’s glaring at me. Truth hurts, buddy. “I say go. Javier is flying in tomorrow night. It’s game on after that. Don’t miss an opportunity to go after what you want. Even if you only get it for one night. You’ve been pining over that girl for a year. What’s the worst that can happen? You go, have a few drinks, hang out, and maybe if you’re lucky, she’ll let you bang the shit out of her in the bathroom before you leave. Sounds like a good time to me.”
There’s a perturbed rumble in Kayne’s chest. I’m not sure what’s irking him more, the fact he wants to go and is scared shitless or the fact that I’m right.
He hates it when I’m right.
And I’m always right.
“The answer is still no.”
“Suit yourself, scaredy cat.”
“Put a fucking sock in it and drive.” He pulls out his phone and ignores me the rest of the way home.
I do the last of my checks and balances. In less than twenty-four hours, we’re going to have the right-hand man of one of the planet’s most notorious drug lords staying in this house. There’s no telling what’s going to happen after that. The plan is to lure El Rey out. Set up a meeting face to face. Mano y mano. If we’re going to do business, we want to know exactly who we’re doing business with. He’s the one who contacted us, after all. This is our ploy. And once he slips from the shadows, we’ll make our move. Execute a sneak attack.
That’s if Javier doesn’t smell anything fishy. His preliminary visit will determine whether this plan pans out. One wrong move, one questionable action, and everyone in this house could end up in a body bag. El Rey isn’t known for his patience or compassion. He’s known for his ruthlessness and the blood trail he leaves in his wake.
Kayne and I get one shot to do this right. We’re drawing the string, aiming the arrow, preparing to hit the target.
And there’s no fucking room to miss.
Everything is quiet. No clients, no work, no bullshit. The calm before the storm. I make my way out of my office, desperate to find some Zen. After tomorrow, who knows if and when I’ll get to meditate again. As I round the corner into the foyer, I run smack dab into Alistair and Amber in the midst of a heated conversation. Honestly, I don’t even want to know. Their issues are their issues, but I warned Alistair that if he’s going to stick around he needs to straighten things out with Amber, fast. Javier will sniff the tension a mile away. We need to come across aloof. Stringent busi
nessmen who care more about the money than about the women. Not sure how well that’s going to fly. Secretive, cunning, and crafty are our middle names after tonight.
I walk straight past them; they both eye me but don’t say a word. I hear the heated whispers pick up after I’m halfway up the stairs. When I make my way past Kayne’s room, I stop short. It looks like his closet threw up. There are clothes scattered everywhere. I wander in as he buttons a dress shirt in the mirror.
“Whatcha doing?”
“What does it look like? Getting dressed.”
“A little indecisive tonight?” I make note of the room.
Kayne yanks the collar of his shirt uncomfortably. “Just looking at all my options.”
“Where ya going all dressed up?”
“Out.”
“Out where?” I smile obnoxiously. Like I don’t already know.
“Just out.”
“To see her?” I tease him. Oh, I am loving this. I wish I had a camera. Maybe I should get London to capture this moment. Kayne’s first date.
“Yes.” He turns around, agitated. “Are you happy? I said it.”
“Acceptance is the first step to recovery.”
“Are you here to annoy me or encourage me?”
“The latter. I’m glad you’re going. You need this.”
He grimaces. “I’d better get to fucking bang her in the bathroom.”
“That’s it, caveman. Show her who’s boss.”
“You’re the one who planted the idea.”
“And what a good idea it was, no?”
Kayne glances at his watch dismissively. “I gotta go.”
“Okay. Be safe. Use protection,” I advise parentally.
“Spare me,” he grumbles, pushing past me.
Aw, my little boy is all grown up and going out into the world.
“About time you grew a pair!” I yell.
“Keep talking and your pair will be a painful memory!” his voice carries.
I walk out of Kayne’s room overly amused and slam right into his broad chest. “Didn’t you just leave?”
“I forgot something.” He pulls a black phone out of his back pocket. “If it rings, answer it. It’s the only number Javier will call.”
“Burner?”
Kayne nods.
“On it.”
“We shouldn’t have to worry about it until tomorrow, but you never fucking know.”
“I’ll sleep with it taped to my chest,” I assure him.
Kayne nods again, the weight of the world reflecting in his unique blue eyes.
“Don’t wait up.”
I beam. “That’s my boy. Go get ’em, tiger.”
“Dear god, shut up!” Kayne snaps, stalking down the hallway.
I chuckle to myself. Tooooo easy.
I sit cross-legged in the middle of my dojo, finally able to absorb the tranquility. In this room, I can find my mental silence, regain my balance, and reach a higher state of awareness. Meditation is my drug. London is my addiction.
Two very different things that have the same effect. Both alter my consciousness like a narcotic.
Inhaling and exhaling fluidly, I clear my mind and mentally prepare for what’s to come. Tomorrow morning, I’ll sit down and inform the girls that we’ll be having a house guest. I wanted to wait until the last possible second to tell them to avoid added stress. The less they know, the better. I don’t want Javier’s presence to interfere with business, so I’m attempting a quick, smooth transition. No time to slow down and analyze—just go, go, go.
We’ll see how well that works out.
From what Kayne has told me, Javier has little regard for the opposite sex and even less for a slave. Which none of my girls are. And he’d better realize that.
I have zero tolerance for violence against women, especially my women.
The floor creaks softly, and I suppress a smirk. I wonder if she has any idea I know she’s here. She’s been prowling around the room for the last five minutes. I continue to sit with my eyes closed, sensing her every move. When she’s so close I can smell her, I hear the snap.
I pop open my eyes to find a large lens pointed in front of my face.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to smile like a goof.
“Thirty-day photo challenge,” London informs me, snapping away.
“What’s today’s challenge? The art of deception?”
“No.” She drops the camera for a split second so I can see her cheerful face, then covers it with the black body, and the shutter clicks away. “Something interesting.”
“You find me interesting?”
“You are by far the most interesting man I’ve ever met.” Snap, snap, snap.
“I take that as the highest compliment coming from you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.”
London lowers her camera, despondently. “I’m not interesting. I’m . . .” She lets the sentence linger and goes back to shooting.
“You’re what?” I press. Snap.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
I shoot my hand out and snatch her forearm, dragging her onto my lap before she can decipher what’s happening.
“Whoa. Ninja.” She giggles as she falls into my arms.
“Damn right. Don’t forget it.” I hug her tightly and nibble her neck. “I have an entire dojo to prove it. Complete with incense and Katana swords hanging on the wall.”
“I can see that.” Her giggles morph into laughter as beautiful and enlivening as a string quartet. It’s such a rare sound I revel in it. “And I won’t forget it,” she purrs, stretching her neck, granting me better access.
I inhale the beachy scent of her perfume as she cuddles against me. I’ve learned I’m happiest just touching her. No matter the where, when, or why. Just like this, simplicity in my arms, is more than enough.
“You’ve taken a liking to that camera, huh?”
“Very much. It makes me happy. Now that I sort of know how to use it,” she confesses sweetly.
“I’m glad it makes you happy,” I hum contentedly, as I possessively run my hands all over her body. “What else makes you happy?”
Okay, so I’m totally fishing, but I’m dying to hear her say it. Say that I make her happy.
“Nothing. That’s it. It’s all I need.” Her answer is flat, unambitious.
I pause my petting and gaze dubiously at her. “C’mon, London, you have to want more than that. More than just what you do in this house.”
She frowns with a wounded, guarded look in her stormy blue eyes. “This is all I am, Jett. This is all I deserve.”
Her response renders me speechless. “You can’t believe that. This, right now, is just a pit stop. You can have more. A better life.” With me, I want to tack on, but I choke.
“A better life?” She pushes out of my grasp. “There is no better life for me.”
“There can be,” I argue.
“No, there can’t.” She shoots to her feet and heads for the door. I’m in front of her in a millisecond.
“Why are you getting so upset?” I push, but she just keeps her head down in silence. “London.” I take her chin, battling with her to look up at me. The pained sigh she emits breaks me; the tears brimming in her eyes finish me off. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” she huffs.
Tough little bird. Even when she’s visibly upset, she won’t own up. That’s one of my favorite things about her. Her grit.
“Fine,” I pacify her. “You’re not technically crying, but you’re clearly upset. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing,” she replies meekly.
I pin her with a skeptical glare. “Don’t make me tie you up and tickle it out of you. I’m deadly with a rope and feather,” I warn.
She stares at me blankly. “You’re threatening me with tickle torture?”
“If that’s what it comes to. I’m a
ruthless man.”
London’s lip quivers. “No, you’re not.” Her voice is hushed.
“I can be if I need to,” I caution, tucking some burgundy hair behind her ear.
She steps back cautiously.
“I would never hurt you,” I promise.
“You say that now.”
“And I mean it,” I spit seriously. “I mean it today, tomorrow, and the next day. And every fucking day after that.”
London’s cagy demeanor doesn’t change. She doubts me. And it fucking stings.
We stare at each other at an impasse.
“Don’t do that,” I entreat.
“Do what?”
“Push me away.”
“I’m not pushing you away.”
“Bullshit. You’re doing it right now. I see it on your face. In your eyes. What is it going to take for you to trust me? For you to believe I mean what I say?”
“I do believe you.” Her reply is so robotic she may as well be a Stepford wife. Every syllable a rehearsed response. The second we take two steps forward, we immediately take three steps back. Whatever she’s suffering with, whatever her past, it’s hindering her life. Hindering her from any kind of relationship and closing her off to the world.
“If that’s the truth, then tell me what you want,” I challenge her. “Open up to me.” I trap her face in my hands. Tell me you want me.
A moment of heavy silence passes and then a complete blockade.
“Why are you pushing this?” She turns defensive.
“Because I want to know you.” I shake her head, hoping I’m shaking some sense into her.
“You do know me.” Her eyes flare with anger. “You know how to dress me up and sell me to your clients. You know how to make me come, and now, you know how to piss me off. I’d say you know me pretty damn well.”
My jaw drops open, shocked at what I’m hearing. Not that any of it is untrue, she’s just never hinted that it bothers her. Until now.
“I’m just a pawn in your shitty game of chess. That’s all I’ll ever be. No one. Nothing.” She yanks her head out of my grasp.
“Hey.” I snatch her arm before she gets too far. “I’ve never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do. And I’ve never treated you like you’re no one.”
