East End

by Nana Malone

  Once we were outside, Nyla breathed a sigh of relief. "You know what, it’s good to see Denning slapped in the face like that, but he's my boss. And you can't just antagonize him.” Her lips twitched as she did her level best to not smile.

  I shrugged at that. "I can, and I will. He's a twat. And he's discourteous with women. So, what do you say we go and meet the forger now?”

  Nyla

  Outside in the foggy London gray, I paused on the sidewalk on my way to the sleek black sedan that was waiting at the curb. "I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me where we're going."

  East's lips curved into a wry smile. "You never do anything the easy way, do you?"

  "Nope. I don't." I folded my arms across my chest. Then I realized that it probably amplified my breasts, and I dropped them. Meeting his gaze, I said, "What are you doing here?"

  "I already told you. I'm here to help you with your case."

  "Yeah, but why?"

  He tucked his hands into the pockets of his fitted suit. Three pieces with some kind of plaid design. There were vibrant strips in the plaid of green and blue. It brought out the color in his eyes. His shirt was crisp white, and he wore no tie. He could have easily been headed out to conquer Fleet Street, or on a date, or on a night out with the lads. He looked casual and sexy. Which was bad for me.

  He was basically sex on a stick.

  I was not going to be tempted. Just because I’d been weak in Monaco, that didn’t mean I had no willpower. "Look, I don't need your help."

  "Yes you do. You needed it before Monaco. You need it now."

  I resented him being right. "Fine, I did need your help. And I appreciate it. I didn't anticipate any help beyond the introduction to your sister."

  He approached me, and ever wary, I took a step back. When he was close it was harder to focus. But he wouldn’t be deterred. He reached out and touched my elbow, gently trying to guide me to the car. "Nyla take the help, okay?"

  "Maybe I’m wary because I don't know what strings come with it. One day in Monaco with you, and we were attacked. People are telling me to stop looking into my case. Something is up with you, and I'm caught in the crosshairs. The question is why?"

  He nodded slowly. "I see someone who clearly needs help. But you know what? I’ll tell you the truth. What's up is that I can't get you out of my head. You know what else is up? That despite myself, despite how bad it will be for me, I can't seem to stop thinking about you. So, instead of being smart, instead of doing what is wise and prudent, I'm here trying to help you." He emphasized that you by pointing at me. He did not look pleased about it.

  "Tell me what's going on. Who are the London Lords?"

  He gave me a brusque nod. "We are hotel magnates."

  "Yeah, but who are you really?"

  He flashed a grin. "Hotel magnates. If you think the answer's going to change just because you keep asking the question, you would be incorrect. So ask again, and again, and again. Because then I will say the words hotel magnates until you learn to scream them in bed. That is who we are."

  "You think I don't realize you helped me with my last case because it served your purposes?"

  "Or maybe it's always good to play nice with law enforcement. You never know when you'll be in a spot and need a friend."

  "Is that really it?" I narrowed my gaze at him.

  "My God, you are persistent, obstinate, tenacious."

  "Those all mean the same thing." I barely resisted the temptation to stick my tongue out at him.

  He grinned again, and my resolve nearly dissipated. Jesus Christ, he was sexy. And I could remember the slide of his tongue into my mouth. The way he coaxed it. The way he'd gripped my hips with those big hands as he rocked me over him. The low rumble in his chest when he knew that I was getting off.

  I wanted him. I also knew he was absolutely dangerous.

  So then why can't you stay away?

  That was the thing about bad boys, right? They were enticing because you knew you shouldn't. And I knew I shouldn't. East Hale was going to be a problem. He was up to something. And I needed to find out what it was.

  But that smaller voice deep down inside said that if he wanted to really hurt me, he would've done it by now. He’d had an opportunity in Monaco.

  I could choose to trust him now. The choice was mine to make.

  “One thing…” I inhaled sharply. "If you want to watch me, tell me the cameras are on. Don't be a creeper."

  He lifted a brow. "You want me to watch you?" His voice was low and barely a feral growl.

  Excellent. "I just want to know when I'm being watched. Who knows, you might get a show."

  And then I eased past him to the car. The driver had already opened the door, waiting for me to slip in.

  When East turned around, my gaze slid down that very fine form in that gorgeous suit to the very noticeable bulge in his trousers.

  Yeah well, if I was feeling needy, then he should feel it too.

  When he slipped into the seat behind me, he muttered instructions to the driver and settled back into his seat. "Nyla Kincade, you are trouble."

  "You are not the first man to tell me that."

  "I will be the last though."

  I chuckled at that. "You wish."

  He groaned and shifted in his seat. "Yeah, I do."

  I had no idea what to make of that. For most of the short fifteen-minute drive, I was running over our interactions in my head. And no way was this situation with him in any way healthy. Nope. Completely unhealthy. I'd been warned off him and his friends, but I'd found a loophole. I was exploiting that loophole. But so far, I hadn't found anything on them. Nothing. Which was disconcerting because they were pulling strings. I felt like I was a dancing puppet, and I couldn't figure out where the strings were to cut them.

  And then there was this other piece of him, the part that acted like he wanted me. Like I was the one woman on this planet that he wanted the most. I knew it was a game. I could see people like him playing these games with unsuspecting women. They probably got bored with their rich debutantes and socialites. Time to slum it for a while. We pulled up to a brick row home in Victoria, and I frowned. "Where are we?"

  He laughed. "God, you ask a lot of questions. Just go with the flow. I promise you it won't hurt."

  Go with the flow. Right. "Uh-huh."

  I slipped out of the car and followed behind him to the tidy brick house. At the top of the stairs he pressed the doorbell. When the door opened, a middle-age man stood there. Tall, lean in his youth probably, but it had now given way to just being slight and slim. "East Hale. Didn't plan on seeing you again for a while.”

  "Ryder Stone. How's it going mate?"

  "Well, it was going great until I found you on my doorstep. Will, I be needing a solicitor?"

  East put up his hands. "Ah, Ryder, you wound me. As if I would bring Old Bill to your door. Honestly, what do you think of me? Besides, I’ve brought a friend. You’re not going to make me look bad, are you?”

  Ryder rolled his eyes. "Better come in then."

  When we strolled in, we were led into a back room that was more office than anything. He offered to take my coat and bring us tea. Once seated, Ryder's gaze swept over me. "Miss, you are stunningly beautiful. And I would embarrass myself by tripping over what to say to you, but, and don't take this the wrong way, you have the stink of the Bill."

  I grinned then. "That's because I'm Interpol."

  Ryder's gaze shifted to East. "And you said you wouldn't bring Old Bill to my door."

  East chuckled low. "Technically she's not Old Bill. She's Interpol. It's different."

  Ryder sat back. "I don't know what he's told you. But whatever you’re looking for, I don't have it, I don't know anything about it, and I can't help you."

  "Now, Ryder, don't be like that. Help us out. Nyla's got a case. And you may or may not have any information about it, but you could help her at least identify a few things."

  I looked between them. "I'
m sorry, but who are you? What do you do?"

  Ryder shrugged. "Well love, I used to be one of the best fences in London. You name it; I could move it. But I had a specialty. It was jewels. I used to have a toy store. It was my family's really. And I would smuggle jewels in and out with the toys. Until I got busted."

  I frowned. "You know, I vaguely remember a case like that."

  He nodded. "Yeah. And they never did find the jewels. But I got busted on a technicality. And I had two choices: Go away for a long time, or give up the money and the bigger fish in exchange for my relative freedom and a whole new gig."

  "You took the deal?”

  "That I did, madam. I am not cut out for prison life.”

  I sighed. "Well not many people are. I vaguely remember the case. You were part of the Wilson crew?"

  "No, I was never part of their crew. I got drafted in their service, as they say, when I was too young to know any better. I was just the fence. But the Wilsons, they were the hardcore type. Murderers, rapists, you name it. If it was violent, they were into it. They happened to like pretty bits and bobs, too. But I wasn't down for anything violent you see. It was easy giving them up."

  "Wow, so you’re a grass."

  Ryder stiffened then. "Yeah, I grassed them. I like to call it surviving."

  East nodded. "Ryder was instrumental in the Monaco case. He helped us find at least part of the crew that pulled the job."

  I sat forward on my seat then. "Do you know how they pulled it off?"

  He shook his head. "Not really. My job was finding lower value gems. Ones that could be cut to look like the real deal. They were looking for the best quality for the least money, and I was able to find them. I think they already had the art forger on hand, and they had a man inside replacing the pieces after they’d been authenticated. I had a buyer set for the originals, at least for the jewelry pieces. But the buyer wanted the whole collection, not just certain pieces. So the mistake was waiting. If we would have just offloaded some of those, made out with some of the money, we'd have been golden. But that’s not how it worked out. We got nicked. Not for the jewels, mind you, but for the art. Then the whole bloody thing unraveled."

  I frowned. "And their man inside talked."

  Ryder nodded. "Yeah. Started giving us all up, so when The Bill showed up on my doorstep, I sang like a bird. Returned the jewels and never saw a stitch of money.”

  "Do you know who they were using for making the fake jewels?"

  He nodded. "I can get you a name. I don't know if they're still working or not. I'm out of the business."

  I glanced around at the fine oak furnishings. "Dare I ask, what is your new business?"

  Ryder grinned. "Well, I'm an appraiser, of course."

  I blinked. And then I couldn't help it; I laughed. "You're kidding?"

  "No, not kidding at all. I have the contacts, I know the industry, and obviously, I have the experience. That's legit, all above board, but I have a new name. It was part of my deal. So I keep my nose clean and stay out of trouble. I have a nice life."

  I knew I had my work cut out for me. I needed to speak to what was left of the Wilson Crew. "Thank you. This is further than I've been able to get along on my own."

  He nodded. "Yeah well, Mr. Hale here is responsible for my new life. So, if he comes calling, I have to deliver the favor.”

  I turned to East. "Why give him his new life? After all, he tried to steal from you and your family."

  East shrugged. "Well, the Wilsons did. Ryder was just a fence. And you never know when you're going to need someone like him in your life."

  Ryder stood to go get us that number, and I turned my full attention to East. "So what, you're trading favors?"

  East shrugged again. "Sometimes. Not everything is black and white, Agent Kincade. There are shades of gray. And, Ryder is not violent. Yes, sometimes he will take the easy way out. He's lazy. But he's also shrewd, and he’s a survivalist. I like survivors. He didn't dick us about when we came calling, either. He knew exactly what we wanted, gave us what we needed, and made his deal. I can respect that."

  "Wow. You really don't believe in law and order, do you?"

  I had dedicated my whole life to putting the criminals away. To getting the bad guy. Things had been cut and dry my whole life. But for him? Shades of gray, like he said.

  "Unfortunately the world isn't cut and dry. You lose if that's the game you play. I don't like losing. Like I said, you needed something, and I was able to provide it because I didn't cut him loose then. That's how it works. It's how most of the world works. Not many of us have the luxury of seeing the world in black and white."

  "So, you're like my fairy godfather?"

  He grinned. "I'm not wearing a tutu."

  "No, you're wearing a bespoke suit. So I’m just supposed to trust you."

  "Well, it's called surrender. You will either trust me one day or you won't. But for now, you have something that you can use. And I won't even ask for a favor in return."

  14

  Nyla

  I liked him. Damn him and his stupid charm. It was hard not to like him.

  Despite every instinct for self-preservation, I liked him.

  He had more charm than one single man should possess. He was beautiful in that kind of way that made women stare. And he damn well knew it.

  But he was also thoughtful. And smart. And considerate. And he was loyal. I could tell by the way he spoke about his mates, his sister, his mother.

  The one person he did not talk about was his father. The man was good at getting information out of a stone though. We talked about my mother more, but he also rooted around my feelings toward my father. I was less than forthcoming with those feelings.

  And he talked about his family... clearly leaving out his own bits. But it felt real. It felt like connection.

  All that and he had taken me around to some of the best former forgers and fences in London. After Ryder we’d gone to see Marielle Lipton, the forger. Also a few other forgers and safe crackers. From the shady and dodgy to the absolutely wealthy. Spending a day with him was like running around with Gatsby. There wasn’t a single person he didn’t know. Or one who didn’t meet him with a grin.

  And every single one of them had an East story. One where he helped them or got them out of trouble. It was like he’d taken me to everyone who could vouch for him or mark him as a stand-up bloke.

  I’d expected the beautiful fancy galleries we’d toured. I’d expected the lessons on art and authentication. I hadn’t expected the street artists and the students and the inspiration.

  Now it had turned into... what? A date?

  Sadly a day with him was the closest thing resembling a real date I'd been on since Denning and I broke up. When he'd suggested we pop up for a bite to eat, I had said yes, instead of the 'No, thank you so much for your time, Mr. Hale, but I have everything I need now' response I should have given.

  I wanted to be near him. The memory of the other night, us rolling in the grass as the sprinklers rained down on us made me want to laugh more than once. And he’d caught my eye more than once to tease me and say I still had grass in my hair.

  "So, are you going to tell me how you did it?"

  He grinned at me then. "Oh what, you mean get a bird's eye view into your flat?"

  "Yes, actually, I would very much like to know that."

  He laughed. "You’ve been dying to ask that all day, haven’t you? But then I would be revealing one of my secrets. And as it is, you've already started closing the blinds, so that's going to make it more difficult."

  I narrowed my gaze. "You recognize I know how to shoot a gun, right?"

  Another laugh, this one a bit deeper. "Yes, you’ve reminded me more than once."

  "Are you going to tell me now?"

  He took a sip of his scotch as we stood at the bar waiting for our table, totally ignoring my question. Then he popped off into this hidden little alcove. The lighting was definitely a mood. Not quite romanti
c, but the candlelight sure lent itself to clandestine affairs. He had stepped away at the far end of the bar, where the bartender, who clearly knew him on sight, called something back to the kitchen area. Next thing I'd knew, upscale bar food had appeared. Scotch eggs and sausage wraps, but these were different from the normal bar fair. They had green onions, sliced finely on top of them, and what appeared to be mango chutney, and God, all of it was so delicious.

  "Just because we’ve broken bread together doesn't mean I'm going to tell you all my trade secrets." East said as he laughed.

  "I figure if we’ve nearly shagged in the grass I’m deserving of your secrets."

  He laughed once more, that dark rich laugh that raised my temperature and shot tingles of awareness through my system. Then, of course, it drew my attention to his Adam's apple, and then up along his jaw, and to his lips.

  Stop looking at his lips. You can't look at his lips. You cannot trust him.

  I snapped my gaze to his eyes then. His eyes were safer. But then he turned his attention to me and narrowed his gaze. "PS, I caught you looking."

  I rolled my eyes. "You caught nothing."

  He lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "If you say so. I know I'm very nice to look at."

  "My God, you are such an arsehole."

  "You know, it’s strange. I've been told that before."

  "Again, I'm not shocked." I wiped my hand on my napkin. “Fine, if you won’t tell me how you’ve been playing peep show with me, what were you were doing when I ran into you at the party?”

  His grin was sly, and he asked, “How are your appetizers?”

  “No you don’t. Don’t you dare change the subject.”

  He chuckled. “Okay. I’ll tell you. But you tell me first.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “I guess we’ll both have to live with the curiosity.”

  “Just tell me. You know you want to.”

  “Go ahead and admit it, Nyla… I’m not so bad.”

  He’s not. “Yes, you are. You know what? I’ll tell you something you want to know if you’ll admit the secret society really exists.”