East End

by Nana Malone

  “Mum finds herself quite busy with charity work, so somehow I have become the London point of contact. A part of me thinks this was her evil scheme all along to bind me to her family’s legacy. It might have broken her heart that I went the route of my father into business.”

  “But still, you don’t work for your father.” That had nothing to do with the case. More of a curiosity.

  His lips compressed ever so slightly, his tone becoming sharp when he said, “I do not.”

  I wanted desperately to poke at the obvious sore spot, not to cause him pain, but because the urge to know more about him was nearly eating at me. But I kept on task. “Three years ago, your collection reported an attempted theft and forgeries of a visiting collection.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes. There was a problem. I believe the thief and forger was caught.”

  I nodded as I took more notes. "If you don't mind, I would love to see your collection. I’m particularly interested in the authentication process the museum used. Any security from that time. A first-hand account maybe. If you could walk me through the process and how you were tipped off, that would be ideal. There are similarities between what happened at the Royal Museum and a case I’m working on.”

  "Interesting. Do you think it’s the work of copycats? Or perhaps all the thieves weren’t caught?"

  "I don’t know. Which is why I’d love your firsthand account. Anything you can think of, no matter how small. I would love the opportunity to examine the collection and authentication procedures."

  “I can make that happen. We shared the bulk of the responsibility with the Monaco Art Trust. We were lucky the forgeries were discovered within the day."

  “Who was responsible for authentication?”

  “Since all of our pieces are on loan with the caveat that my sister be named curator, we are responsible. One of us is in constant oversight of the care of the collection, obviously. The challenge was with the loan of the Tillson collection. They were supposed to be showcasing a set of jewelry they had that was a sister set to something in my grandmother’s collection as well as several paintings."

  “Is there any possibility that the procedures were suspect in any way? No disrespect, but if the forgers were indeed caught, it would be unlikely that I’d have another piece with the same signature.”

  He crossed his arms then. “No, it's not possible. The Royal Museum of Monaco is one of the most well-guarded and respected institutions. There's no way."

  "Is it possible to speak to your sister, just to confirm any staffing changes, background checks, anything like that?"

  His brow furrowed. "You think we missed something?”

  “I’m just following all avenues right now.”

  “Fine. I can give you her number, but it’s probably better to meet her in person."

  "So I would have to go to Monaco?"

  He grinned. "Well, that's how it works if you want to see the paintings and jewelry up close and personal."

  I closed my notebook and plastered on a polite smile. "I'm sure your family has done everything that they can, and I understand that this is an inconvenience for you, but it would be very helpful if I could look at your authentication paperwork."

  “I’ll make it happen.”

  "It's much appreciated, Mr. Hale."

  The smile widened into a grin. "There is something about the way you say that. Anything for my favorite Interpol agent."

  "Mr. Hale, flattery will get you nowhere."

  Lies. If we play our cards right flattery will get him in our knickers.

  "Well, I find flattery is useful to bring women around to the idea of having dinner with me.”

  I bit back my chuckle. “Never going to happen.”

  “If you say so. I'll be in touch to let you know about the collection."

  "Thank you very much. I’ll get in touch with your sister.”

  His wolfish grin broke free again. “Oh, perhaps you misunderstood, Agent Kincade. Not only will I arrange for you to see it, but you’ll also have the pleasure of my company."

  My eyes flared wide as I nearly choked on my next breath. Speaking rapidly I said, "Well, that's highly unnecessary. I'm sure it'll go faster if I can work on my own."

  He shrugged. "My family, my collections. If you want to see it, I come with you."

  "Mr. Hale, I'm an Interpol agent. I have a partner. I don't need you."

  "Well then, maybe you don't want to see that collection nearly as badly as you say."

  I rolled my eyes. "Fantastic. It looks like we're going to be heading to Monaco together."

  His grin was broad. "I knew you'd see it my way."

  9

  Nyla

  When I returned to work, I went straight for Amelia's office. She had her own case. A run-of-the-mill murder. Since when had murders become run-of-the-mill? She greeted me with a, "Hey where'd you go this morning?"

  I plopped into one of her chairs and then grabbed a handful of Skittles off of her desk. "Are they fresh?"

  She squinted her eyes at me. “Yes, they're fresh. I put a new fresh bag in there daily. Between you and me, we eat a whole bag every day."

  I frowned. "We've eaten that much sugar?"

  "Yes, you have a habit, and now I have a habit."

  "Okay, fair enough. I popped two Skittles in my mouth. "So, I am going to Monaco."

  She lifted a brow. "What, for the weekend?"

  "No, apparently tomorrow. I'm chasing a lead on the jewelry thing."

  She leaned forward. "What lead?"

  "Same MO on a three-year-old case. I’m trying to identify if it’s a copycat or if we missed something. Don't worry about me. You have your hands full with catching a murderer. It's fine.”

  "But I do want to help. I don't want you feeling like I've abandoned you."

  "You aren't making me feel that way. Denning has assigned you to another case. You're only assisting me. It's fine. I can do a lot of the work by myself."

  "Okay. What's in Monaco?"

  "That, my dear, is the rub.” I popped some Skittles into my mouth. “I don't want you getting excited."

  She lifted a brow. "Okay. Excitement contained."

  "A couple days ago, I found this similarity between my case and a case from a few years ago featuring a couple of pieces in the Du Mont collection shown at the Royal Museum of Art in Monaco."

  "Okay, why is that exciting besides, you know, Monaco? Make sure you go in and gamble in one of the casinos just for me. Do me a favor and please pack a dress."

  "No, I'm not going there to gamble."

  "You're always ruining my James Bond fun. How else are you supposed to meet a sexy international spy who's also hot, amazing in bed, and ridiculously wealthy if you don't walk into a casino?"

  I giggled at that. "You know what? Accurate."

  "Ugh, does that mean you'll be destined for losers forever?"

  "Hush your mouth. We don't want the fates to hear you."

  "Good point. Okay, so why is the case so exciting?"

  "Well, it seems that the Du Mont family representative here in London is none other than East Hale."

  Amelia's brows lifted. "As in hottie billionaire who is part of a shady secret society that we're trying to crack wide open? Dare I ask if he’s the reason you left me at the party last night?"

  I answered around a mouth full of Skittles. "I told you. I wasn’t feeling well. Besides I didn’t see him inside the party.” I consoled the twinge of guilt by reminding myself I didn't actually see him inside the party.”

  "This is huge. And a lucky coincidence. Because this way, you're not actually breaking any rules. And you get to be close while you’re investigating."

  "Yes. Which is why I'm excited. There's something else though." It didn’t feel good holding this back from Amelia. She was usually the person I told everything to.

  She knew enough about me to be suspicious. "Okay… What have you done?"

  I couldn’t tell her about East, but I needed to tell so
meone about Theroux. I was going to need all the help I could get. "No, this time it's not me. I got a phone call the other night while I was at the hospital benefit bugging East Hale."

  "From who?”

  “Someone claiming to be Francois Theroux.”

  Am myriad of emotion played over her face. The most prominent being shock. “Stop shitting me.”

  “I shit you not. I wouldn’t.”

  “What did your father say?”

  “I winced. “You mean when I didn’t tell him?”

  Amelia blew out a breath as she leaned forward and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Ny!”

  “I know. I know. I walked in there to tell him and then I just couldn’t. He was looking at me with all this… disappointment. And let’s be honest. Even if I had told him, Denning would get to work on it not me.”

  “Fuck, you’re right.” she grunted and slammed her head back against her seat." Your father is so smart. How can he not see through Denning?”

  "I don't know. Denning's probably the son he's always wanted.”

  It was her turn to wince because she knew I was right. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

  "It's fine. It is what it is. And after all, maybe it’s nothing. I’m certainly not going to spin my wheels trying to get my father to pay attention if it’s nothing."

  The corner of her lip quirked up. "Abso-fucking-lutely. After all, I work under Denning. And no one told me to stay away from Theroux."

  "Thank you.” It meant a lot that she was in my corner. At least I had someone.

  “Ride or die. I’ll start some research, last knowns. Get a tracer on your phone. I’ll be discrete."

  “You’re a mate, you know that?”

  "Absolutely. And hey, try and have some fun in Monaco, okay? Get into some trouble."

  "I'll be gone for two days max. No fun or trouble to be had. Besides, remember when we said no more shady blokes?"

  She nodded. "Yup, I remember that pact."

  “East Hale definitely falls in the shady-bloke category."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but he's so pretty. He might need a shady-bloke waiver."

  I started to laugh as I stood, grabbing another handful of Skittles. "I swear it's my last fix.” I liked to think that the hit of sugar made it easier for me to think.

  "Fine, take the Skittles."

  "Thanks, partner."

  "Of course. Anytime. In the meantime, see what you can get out of East Hale. Use your feminine wiles."

  I glanced down at myself, my wide-legged trousers and my plain button-down white shirt. "I don't exactly understand what feminine wiles you're talking about."

  She rolled her eyes. "Nyla, how can you not see that you’re a complete fucking knockout? "

  "I'm an Interpol agent. I don't need to be sexy." Even as I said that, I frowned down at myself. I loved these pants.

  "I'm not saying you're not sexy. Like I said, I've tried to borrow those pants off of you several times."

  "And I keep telling you you're too short. You can't tailor my pants that you're borrowing to fit you."

  She harrumphed. "The point is, if you wore that button down and tied the shirttails in a knot, or even better, wore it as a one shoulder, you'd be even hotter."

  "You do realize I'm not trying to tempt East Hale into bed, right? You know that's not what I'm doing here."

  "Of course I know that. I'm just saying. He might open up more if he thinks you're falling under his spell."

  "No dice. I'll get him to tell me what I need."

  "Of course you will. After all, you're Agent Nyla Kincade. But it would be easier if, you know, you embraced the thing that he loves. And from what I've seen, it's women. And you and I both know he likes you. He really, really likes you. You just have to feed that. Get him to trust you."

  "You know what? Why haven't I realized just how diabolical you are until right now?"

  "Oh, you know how diabolical I am. I'm pretty sure it's the reason we're best friends. Have fun in Monaco."

  I gave her a little salute as I popped another sphere of sugar into my mouth. "Yeah, will do." As I opened the door, she called out after me. "And wear something sexy."

  The last thing on earth I wanted to do was entice East Hale. The man was already dangerous to me. I didn't need to make it any worse.

  Nyla

  I tried to swallow the bitter burn of annoyance as I dragged my overnight bag down the stairs of my flat. I loved my flat, the high ceilings, the open space. I didn't need a modern and fancy condo, but it needed to feel light and airy. I hated the sensation of being closed in. It was probably more than I should be paying, and Lord knew, this was London. But I loved it.

  But instead of having a Sunday morning lie-in, I was leaving for Monaco. With East Hale. I was frustrated after all my careful planning to bug him and his friends, and they’d never said anything incriminating. He’d found me out before I could get anything of use.

  God help me. There was something about the man that just irritated me. His utter calm, that underlying arrogance, and I was going to be trapped with him for a couple of days.

  There's another reason you hate him too.

  But I wasn't going to think about that. No way was I going to pay any attention to that pull of awareness I had around him or the way his green eyes flashed and held mine, captivating, stopping me from movement like I was a snared rabbit. Oh, he was affable and friendly enough, but there was something underneath all that, a core of steel. A core that said he was a mountain and wasn't being moved unless he damn well wanted to be.

  And I was a woman accustomed to moving mountains.

  I checked my watch and frowned. I was told to be outside at bloody six o'clock in the morning, that there would be a car and—

  "Nyla."

  I whipped around, hand on my pepper spray. Since I was stationed in the UK, I wasn't allowed to have a gun unless I was on assignment, so my gun was locked in my briefcase along with my paperwork. But I breathed a sigh of annoyed relief when I saw it was Denning. "Oh, for Christ's sake. What are you doing lurking in the shadows?"

  He rolled his big shoulders. "I was hardly lurking. I went for a run. You were on the way."

  "So what, you just stood outside of my flat waiting for me? I suppose I should be happy you didn't let yourself in."

  He frowned slightly. "I turned over my key."

  "Did you?” That was still one of our points of contention. “Not to worry, though, I changed the locks."

  His brow furrowed. "You and I both know if I wanted in, I could get in."

  I shook my head. "I was always better at lock-picking than you were, Denning. I can’t see why you would want in anyway because, what did you say? You were slumming it with me?"

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "There's been a development."

  "What kind of development?"

  "One that we'll discuss when you land in Monaco. Things have changed."

  "Yeah, you already said that. What's wrong?"

  He cursed under his breath. “You need to be watchful of Hale.”

  I frowned. “Correct me if I’m wrong but weren’t you and my dad the ones who said to leave him alone, Denning? I don't have time for this right now. My car is arriving any moment. Just—"

  A Mercedes Maybach pulled up to the curb, and a driver dressed in all black stepped out. "Miss Kincade, apologies for the delay. There was traffic on M1."

  I blinked at the sight of the car and the man dressed in black. "Right. Yeah, thanks." I handed him my rolling suitcase and turned to Denning. "You have thirty seconds to tell me what you’re going on about."

  "Fine. I don’t trust Hale. I think it’s dodgy that your father told you to let it go."

  My brows popped. "What? So when I needed you to back me a week ago and you didn't, what was that about?"

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I was sure you were off on one of your tangents. But now I’m not so sure. I have to be aware of the optics."


  My heart sank just as quickly as it had risen. "Oh Jesus Christ, Denning, if you’re worried about optics, what are you doing here bothering me?"

  "I want you to keep us, keep me, informed. If you notice anything off with Hale, you must notify me immediately."

  "I'm sorry, but isn't that against fucking protocol? You and Dad need to get on the same damn page."

  His lips curled up into a sneer. With his light brown hair, sharp jaw and shrewd eyes, I’d always thought him handsome until his cruelty made all of his features stand out in sharp relief. "Why do you always have to be so goddamn difficult?"

  And there he was. The real Denning. He wasn’t worried about me. He was worried about himself. "I'm not trying to be difficult, Denning. You're just always a dick, so I respond to that."

  "This is important, Nyla."

  "Denning, does my father know you're here? Does your new girlfriend know you're here? What's her name? Hazel, right? Does sweet Hazel know that you are standing in front of my doorstep at six in the morning trying to whisper sweet nothings in my ear?"

  His intense stare raked over me. "I’m on your side, Ny."

  I suppressed an eyeroll at his intimidation attempt. "Since when? This whole thing reeks."

  His brows lifted. "What the fuck do you mean?"

  Stepping back, I released a silent chuckle. “This,” I added, waving my hand through the air, “I’m so glad to be free of it. I want to see how it turns out for you when your fairy godfather realizes that you are a twat. Wish I could watch."

  "Why are you always such a bitch, Nyla?"

  I paused mid-turn and gave him a broad grin over my shoulder. "Yup. Always. I revel in it. Careful now, though. If my father hears you call me a bitch, he won't like that. And then you wouldn't be his golden boy anymore."

  I pivoted on my heel and sauntered to the waiting car, leaving him standing on the stoop of my building, jackass that he was.

  10

  East

  When we pulled up to the hotel in its stunning opulence, Nyla’s mouth dropped open. "I expected modern and shiny, like the hotel in London."