The Fearless King

by Katee Robert

  To kill him?

  She wouldn’t put anything past her father, not once he’d fixated on an enemy.

  I have to get to him. I have to get to him now.

  She headed for the doors, José on her heels. He caught her arm as they hit the sidewalk. “Ethan is bringing the car around.”

  She started to say they didn’t have time for that but forced herself to stop and think. Flagging down a taxi might mean action right now, but it would take time they couldn’t afford to waste. Ethan was one of Frank’s men. He had just as much interest in keeping Frank safe as she did.

  On that note…

  Her hands shook as she dialed Frank’s number. Please pick up, please be okay, please don’t have let him hurt you. She almost cried out with relief when he answered in a low tone. “Duchess? Is everything okay?”

  “Where are you?”

  Instantly, the hint of softness disappeared from his voice. “At the office.”

  “Stay there.” His office had to be safe. Frank was too smart to work in anything other than what qualified as a fortified building. “I’m on my way. Just…stay there.”

  “What happened?”

  She couldn’t answer that without getting into Elliott’s call, and if Frank thought Journey was in danger, he would ignore her warning and come for her. Which will play right into Elliott’s hands. Maybe. The problem was that she didn’t know what her father’s plans were.

  Her heart beat in time with her panicked thoughts. “Promise me you’ll stay at the office. Ethan is driving us there. We’re on our way.”

  Silence for a beat. Two. “Okay, Duchess. I’ll be here waiting.”

  It was as good as she was going to get. “Thank you.” She ended the call as a black SUV pulled up to the curb in front of her, Ethan at the wheel. José opened the back door for her, and Journey slid in. She stared at her phone the entire trip to Frank’s office. A live snake in her hand would have been less dangerous.

  At any moment, her father could call to gloat that he’d done exactly what he threatened, that he’d drawn Frank out of his office and removed him from the equation. That he took out the trash. Frank was trash? The very idea would have been laughable if she didn’t have panic beating frantic wings inside her. Frank was the best of men. Ruthless, yes. Ambitious, without a doubt. But with a core of goodness that anyone who dealt with him for any length of time could see.

  It had just taken Journey a little longer than most.

  She slipped her phone into her purse and stared out the window, silently counting down the blocks to Evans Inc’s building. Journey had never been there before, but she knew where it was located—everyone knew where it was located. Including Elliott, no doubt.

  As they pulled up to the sidewalk, Frank stepped out of the doors and strode to the car. Journey muttered a curse under her breath even as she drank in the sight of him. No injuries. He was there and he was safe and Elliott hadn’t gotten to him.

  Yet.

  Frank yanked open the door and stuck his head in. The relief on his face would have been comical under any other circumstances. “You’re okay.”

  “Get in here.” She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and towed him into the backseat with her. Journey didn’t take a full breath until he shut the door behind him, and even then, she was too aware of how exposed they were sitting here on the street. They could go back to her apartment or to his…but ultimately they would be vulnerable. Frank would be vulnerable. “I need to get out of town,” she blurted.

  He sat back and looked at her. Those dark eyes missed nothing. “He threatened you.”

  No, he threatened you. If she told him the truth, he would brush her off. Frank had power in spades and he wasn’t stupid or complacent…but he wouldn’t expect Elliott. No one expected Elliott.

  She couldn’t tell Frank the truth. Not yet.

  But if he wouldn’t go to great lengths to protect himself…maybe he would to protect her.

  She took an unsteady breath. “Yes.”

  Frank leaned forward. “Ethan, take a roundabout route to Journey’s apartment. We’ll be inside long enough to pack and then we’re heading to the airport.”

  Thank God. She grabbed his hand. “My family has a place in the Hamptons. It’s safe, and it’ll get us—me—out of town for a few days.” Long enough to figure out the next step without having a target painted on Frank’s chest.

  An insufficient Band-Aid to a very large problem, but she wouldn’t be able to breathe until she knew he was safe—really safe.

  He gave her another of those long looks. “That will work.” Frank typed out a quick text on his phone and then pulled Journey closer to tuck her beneath his arm. The warmth of his big body reassured her better than anything else could. “I have new security being installed in your building, and it will be ready in a few days. He won’t get to you again—not like he did before. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll keep you safe, Duchess.”

  “Okay,” she murmured. Journey laid her head on his shoulder, making plans of her own. I won’t let him hurt you, Frank. No matter what it takes, I’ll keep you safe, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Frank didn’t realize that Journey had made alternative plans with Ethan until the man drove them to a private hangar at the airport. The plane sitting outside it wasn’t overly flashy as such things went, but there was no mistaking the King family jet. He pinned Journey with a look. “This isn’t necessary.” One thing Frank had never bothered to put money into was private transportation like this. It was easy enough to book an independent company for any traveling he needed to do, and he made a habit of resisting the urge to prove that he had the biggest dick in the room by making new-money purchases on things like jets and stupidly expensive cars and the like.

  “On the contrary, it’s entirely necessary. As he’s more than proven by this point, Elliott isn’t above bribing people to do his dirty work. This plane is owned by my mother, and the staff is hers.”

  He hated to burst her bubble, but Frank still didn’t know what had caused her reaction today. He’d left her in the hotel, looking a little lost and a little confused, and now she was sitting next to him, practically vibrating with nervous energy and shooting him looks like she wasn’t quite sure he was real. “Duchess, everyone has a price.”

  Journey rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of that. Just trust me on this—the staff of the plane isn’t bribable. Not by Elliott, anyway.” She opened the door and climbed out. “I’m sure you have calls to make, so you might as well do it now while you have some privacy. I have to talk to the pilot.” She strode to the stairway leading to the plane’s door and disappeared inside, leaving him staring after her.

  He’d seen Journey King weak and flailing. He’d seen her drunk and laughing her ass off. He’d seen her coolly professional as she gave a presentation.

  He’d never seen her take charge so efficiently before.

  There was no doubt from the moment she picked him up outside his office. It wasn’t like the last time her father cornered her, where she’d needed Frank to step in and bolster her strength. Everything from her tone to the way she held herself was different this time.

  He didn’t know why.

  The entire drive to her apartment, he’d braced himself for her to come apart at the seams, to need him to hold her together. It never happened. When they arrived, she’d turned into a whirlwind, throwing together a small bag, and then muscling Frank into the elevator and down to a waiting car. All the while, acting like there were snipers on the roofs and boogeymen lurking just out of sight.

  There was definitely something going on that she hadn’t told him about.

  With a muffled curse, he called Mateo. The man answered instantly. “You okay, Frank? You went outside and never came back.”

  “There was an incident.”

  Silence for a beat. Two. “Do you need backup?”

  “No, I have it handled.” There was no reason to think Elliott would follow them to the Hampt
ons—not when his plan was based so heavily in Houston. It gave them the window of time they needed to get security in place without Frank worrying about Journey. “I have the security being reconstructed in Journey King’s building, so I need you to put someone on it until it’s completed.”

  “I’ll oversee it personally.”

  “Thanks, Mateo.” He glanced out the window, but Journey hadn’t reappeared yet. “Ethan.”

  The man nodded and got out of the car to head into the plane. Frank trusted his men with his life—with Journey’s life—but he’d found out the hard way that it was better not to let the left hand know what the right hand was up to. “You didn’t get a chance to update me before I was called away. Anything useful?”

  “Not quite. A string of mistresses longer than my left leg. Two look like they were paid to abort his love child, and one disappeared off the face of the earth after he was done with her. I’m looking into the circumstances around that—if she disappeared or if she disappeared.”

  Knowing what he did of Elliott, none of that surprised him. “Who paid them off?”

  “Wasn’t his wife. She doesn’t seem to give a damn who he fucks as long as he stays the hell out of Houston. Nearly impossible to track the funds because they came from an offshore account, but my money is on Elliott’s mother, Esther Bancroft. She’s one mean lady, and fiercely protective of her little monster.”

  It might be a pressure point to examine. If they could convince Esther Bancroft that Elliott was up to no good in Houston, she might pull funding until he fell in line. It was a long shot, but they couldn’t afford to ignore a potential solution. One never knew how things would shake out. “Keep digging. A man with his habits and history hasn’t kept his nose clean all these years. There’s something we can use. We just have to find it.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Mateo hesitated. “You coming back to the office today?”

  “I’m taking an unscheduled trip. I’ll be back in a few days, but I’ll be in contact the entire time.”

  Mateo very carefully didn’t ask why he was taking an unscheduled trip. Or point out that Frank didn’t do unscheduled—not when he had as many balls in the air as he currently did. “You want me to move your meeting with Jacob about Cocoa’s to early next week?”

  “Yeah.” He looked up as Journey strode back down the stairs and headed toward the SUV. “I’ve got to go. Keep me updated.”

  “Will do.”

  He hung up and joined her outside. Frank ran a critical eye over her. She’d changed in her apartment and now wore black leggings and a long shirt that hit her around midthigh. She was flushed, but aside from the looks she kept shooting at the other hangars, she didn’t seem much the worse for wear. “Now’s a good time to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  “I’ll tell you when we’re in the air. Come on. Ethan got the suitcases, so the only thing missing is you.” She took his arm and tugged him behind her.

  Frank allowed it, his mind whirling to click the pieces together with each step he took. It wasn’t until the plane door closed behind him and the tension bled out of Journey’s shoulders that he understood. “He didn’t threaten you.”

  She dropped into a seat and waited for him to take the one opposite. Journey leaned forward and shook her head. “No, he didn’t threaten me.”

  The plane jerked into motion. Frank shot a look at the window and gritted his teeth at the sight of the pavement running past. “What did your father say, Duchess?”

  “He knew about this afternoon.” She wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. “And he’s furious. He isn’t the type to issue explicit threats, but he came closer than I’ve ever heard him today.” She finally looked at him, her hazel eyes filled with too many things. “He’ll kill you, Frank. Or make you disappear.”

  “I’m not going to be brought down by the likes of Elliott King.” Better men than him had tried and failed, but telling her as much now wouldn’t accomplish a damn thing.

  She shook her head. “You’re not listening to me. He won’t come at you in a fair fight. He’ll play on your weaknesses—he’ll use someone you care about to get your guard down—and that’s when he’ll strike. You can’t defend against an attack you don’t see coming.”

  Frank sat back, shock temporarily stealing his ability to respond. This wasn’t about a threat leveled at Journey like he’d thought. She was reacting differently because, this time, the perceived danger was for Frank.

  She frowned. “Are you okay? You’ve got a weird look on your face.”

  “Your father didn’t threaten you again. He threatened me.”

  Guilt flared across her features, but she set her jaw in a way he was coming to recognize. She wasn’t sorry that she’d let him believe she was the intended victim in the most recent threat—and she’d probably do it again if given half a chance. Journey lowered her voice, but she didn’t look away. “I won’t let him hurt you. Not because of me. Not at all.”

  “You don’t have to protect me, Duchess.”

  She didn’t blink. “If I don’t, who will?”

  Frank didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know if there was an answer for that. People didn’t protect him. He protected his people. He was the one who’d fought tooth and nail for power to be able to do so. Because he’d looked around after his father was arrested and realized that if he waited for a savior, he’d be waiting his entire life.

  Their world looked at people like him a certain way, and he’d never be able to change anyone’s prejudices by being a good person. No, the only way people changed was because they were forced to, and the only thing capable of that was power.

  If Frank’s father had the kind of power he now wielded, maybe things would have fallen out differently. Then again, maybe not. He’d been a black man on trial for killing his white mistress—in Texas. If there was ever a deck stacked against someone, it had been stacked against Henry Evans.

  But if he’d been powerful enough, maybe those charges wouldn’t have landed in the first place. Those assholes wouldn’t have dared put him on trial with nothing but circumstantial evidence.

  Henry Evans was determined to be a real-life superhero. Larger than life and putting the wealth and influence he’d worked his ass off to acquire to good use to help those who couldn’t help themselves. In his ideal world, that was the only logical course for rich men to take—to give a hand up to those who needed it, who could spend their entire lives fighting and never make it to the next tier. People had loved him for it. Frank had loved him for it.

  And it was all a lie. His saintly father was fucking his secretary, and then, when she threatened to go public with it, their fight ended with the woman dead at the bottom of a staircase. It didn’t matter that Henry hadn’t pushed her—that she’d lost her footing and fell. The jury didn’t give a fuck. Neither did the media. They saw their chance to take him down—a black man who’d gotten uppity and threatened the status quo that Houston’s elite fought so hard to maintain—and they gleefully took it. All while Frank and his mother were forced to watch as their life was dismantled, piece by piece.

  His father had single-handedly ruined their family, and Frank learned an invaluable lesson. The world wanted to see men like him burn for simply being born with a darker tone of skin. One mistake was enough to knock his father off the tightrope he walked, and a lifetime of good deeds didn’t hold water in comparison. The only way to keep himself and the people he cared for safe was to accrue power. To shove his presence in the faces of those who wanted to crush him beneath their boots. To make his existence impossible to ignore. To make him fucking untouchable.

  If his father had learned that lesson, he wouldn’t have died in a prison shower.

  His mother wouldn’t have spent years fleeing the heartbreak she never got over—right up until it killed her.

  “I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

  Journey gave him that sad little smile that made his chest ache. “Everyone needs protection sometimes.�
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  * * *

  Journey’s phone rang as they turned onto the long drive that would lead to the Hamptons house. She’d been expecting the call, and there was no point in trying to put it off. “Anderson.”

  “Funny story. I get out of a hellish meeting with Elliott only to be informed by Bellamy that you took Frank Evans to the Hamptons house. Jo, it’s Monday. What are you doing?” He lowered his voice. “We can’t afford to make a misstep right now. Elliott is playing a deeper game than I expected, and I don’t know if I can block his moves as well as I’d hoped. He just informed Eliza that she’s going to marry Asher fucking Bishop to help secure a merger with Cardinal Energy.”

  What are you up to, Elliott? “He can’t coordinate a merger without board approval.”

  “He has board approval.” Anderson cursed. “We only hold two spots—Bellamy isn’t even on the board of directors. While we were focusing on Elliott showing up, he’s already managed to turn the majority of the board to support him. They voted on it this morning.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  The rest of what her brother said caught up with her. “Wait, back up. Why the hell would Eliza have to marry him? This isn’t medieval Europe. We don’t have to barter our sister to secure a business deal. He just signs on the dotted line and that’s that.” She was oversimplifying, but the fact still stood that there wasn’t a damn reason to turn her sister into an unwilling bride. Because Eliza was unwilling—there was no way she’d agree to that unless she was under duress.

  “It might be as simple as getting her out of the way. I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.” Anderson cursed. “I’m in over my head, Jo. I can’t be everywhere at once, and every time I turn around, another thing I’ve fought to protect is being thrown to the wolves.”

  She pulled up in front of the house and held up a finger to keep Frank in his seat. Journey climbed out and shut the door, walking several steps away from the car. “He threatened Frank.”