The Fall of East

by Nana Malone

  "Shoot, or we'll have a problem."

  "I don't want to shoot you Nyla."

  "Then I'm going to be forced to shoot myself, and there's going to be an investigation as to why the bullet came from my own gun. Save me the trouble. Shoot me."

  He winced and said, "I really don't want to do this."

  "You don't have any choice. Do it."

  He raised his gun, and then he fired.

  White-hot, searing pain blasted through my shoulder, and I cried out, "Jesus fucking Christ. Why does it hurt so much?"

  My father watched me. "You are stubborn."

  "Yup, been told that too."

  "Nyla…"

  "Stop it. You shot me, now go."

  "But I—"

  "Old man, move your ass. They're coming, and I promise if they find you here, Denning Sinclair is not going to believe anything that comes out of my mouth. So go."

  "Just so you know, I loved you always. I watched every single accomplishment of yours, and I've been nothing but proud of you. Even if you did have a little bit more of me in you than I wanted."

  "You mean, I make a good criminal?"

  He chuckled. "You're fiercer than you think. You care about your people. And you're a little impulsive."

  "I guess from you, maybe that's a compliment."

  "It's intended as one."

  And then Francois Theroux was gone, taking the Collins painting with him.

  The pain spread through my body, and I wanted to cry as I dropped to my knees.

  Jesus Christ, my fucking shoulder would never work right again. But still, it was better than being shot in my other shoulder and having both of my arms not quite work right.

  When the doors to the crypt busted open, Amelia was in first. "I heard a gunshot."

  I winced. "Theroux's gone."

  She stared at my shoulder. "Jesus Christ, Ny, what happened?"

  "Ah well, you know, Theroux got away. What do you think happened?"

  Her gaze narrowed on me. "I guess we'll talk about this later?"

  "Yeah, I think later is a fantastic time to talk about all of this."

  Denning was behind her, as were the rest of my team. Denning stared at me. "What the fuck happened?"

  "Francois Theroux and Jameson were after the same Wilson Collins painting. He made off with it."

  Denning cursed. "Theroux was here? You had him?"

  "Yeah. Well, almost had him. Not quite the same."

  Amelia scowled at him. "Do you mind if I take my agent to the hospital?"

  Denning stared at me. "You're fucking shot again?"

  "Yes. Apparently, I should not have gone running off halfcocked after an international art thief."

  "You got shot by Theroux?"

  "Yeah. What, you think I shot myself?"

  "Just... God fucking damn it."

  He stalked out of the room, and Amelia grinned at me. "Oh my God, his head is about to spin off its axis."

  "I know."

  "Are you okay though?"

  "You know, generally I’ve been better."

  "Ny, you’ve got to stop getting yourself shot."

  'Yes, I will keep that in mind. Thanks for saying that."

  She laughed. "You have a very nervous boyfriend on the other perimeter, screaming at me that I need to get you the hell out of here. When you wouldn’t respond to him, there was only me left to scream at."

  I winced. "Yeah, I took off my com unit while I was talking to Theroux."

  "Jesus Christ, it's almost like you like to fight with him."

  "Well, sometimes you need to fight to get what you want."

  She shook her head. "You know what, the two of you deserve each other. I'm being serious. All your whining, you deserve each other. Entirely."

  "Are you too tired to take me to the hospital?"

  "Well, since you're the one who got the collar on Garreth Jameson, I suppose I could get you some medical attention."

  "God, you're such a wuss."

  "And you're such a twat. I could have killed you myself for going back in that tunnel. It was dangerous, Ny."

  "I know. I know. And you don't even know half of the story right now."

  "Good thing we’ve got the whole ride to the hospital for me to hear it."

  "Yeah. Any chance you can ping East for me? I'm pretty sure I need to get that extra helping of 'what the fuck were you thinking’ over with before he— No, on second thought, give him a chance to cool off."

  "That’s probably a good decision. He's not at all thrilled. How do you feel?"

  "Like I’ve been shot. God, I fucking hate being shot."

  She laughed. "I can imagine. Maybe next time, wait for backup?"

  "Yeah, backup. Sure."

  "You're okay?"

  "Uh, not exactly sure, but I think I will be. Now, can you get me out of here before Denning has an afterthought to pick my brain about?"

  "You don't have to worry about that. He's more concerned about saving his own arse right now. The director called after we arrested Jameson. He asked to speak to Denning, of course, to find out who to credit for the arrest. But when he asked to speak to me, I gave him the real deal. And then he asked to speak to Denning again. Since then, he's been shouting orders."

  "You know what, at least one good thing came out of it."

  "Yeah, at least one good thing. Come on, up you get."

  "What would I do without you?"

  "Thankfully, you never have to figure it out."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  East

  She'd scared me. Seriously fucking scared me half to death.

  When her eyes blinked open, I scowled down at her. "You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady." Nyla’s lips tipped up in a small smile, and then her eyes fluttered closed again. "Oh no, you don't. You're not asleep. You will explain to me how the fuck you got yourself shot again."

  "Oh my God, can you bring the volume down a little? You're up here at nine point five. I really, really need you to dial it back to like a two. The meds they'd given me make my head hurt."

  Panic raced through my blood, choking me. "Do I need to get you a new doctor?"

  She coughed a laugh. "Oh my God, no. I don't need a new doctor. I perhaps need to stop getting shot, but I don't need a new doctor."

  I glared down at her. "Do you think this is funny?"

  "A little?"

  "Nyla!"

  She winced again. "No, goddamn it, I don't think it's funny."

  "I don't love this new habit of yours."

  "Well, you started the tradition, so this is really your fault."

  "What the—" I forced myself to take a deep breath. "You're trying to make me lose my temper."

  "Is it working?"

  "Nyla, this isn't funny." I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts and make sure that I said the words correctly. "At any point, I could have lost you, and I wouldn't have survived that."

  Her eyes went soft. "I know, and I promise you, I was in no danger."

  I was going to shoot her myself.

  You tried that already, remember?

  I scowled. "Would you take this seriously? I was scared.”

  Her gaze softened then. "I understand. And I'm okay. I promise. See? Almost good as new. And he only managed to scrape my upper shoulder."

  "So, you're saying I shouldn't go after him?"

  "I think you can leave him be."

  "Nyla, this isn't one of those times where you tell me Interpol will handle it. He shot you."

  She sighed then. "I asked him to."

  "What?" She had to be kidding.

  "Look, I know you're jealous that you're not the only one to have ever shot me, but I let him go."

  The woman I loved was lying on a hospital bed because some idiot had shot her. It was all too familiar. "What are you talking about?"

  "Denning was coming, so I told Theroux to shoot me so he could get away."

  Again, I blinked at her. "You need to start using English, b
ecause I'm clearly not understanding what language it is that you're speaking."

  "Hardy-har. East, you understand."

  "What is there to understand? He shot you, Ny."

  She sighed. "I know he did. East, he's my father."

  I froze then. "What?"

  "Theroux is my father."

  "Bullshit."

  She sighed. "My mother was in a relationship with Theroux. And it seems that she and Warlow and Theroux were partners. And then something went wrong. They were going after a painting, one her family used to own. She was obsessed with this painting and she planned a heist to take it thirty-two years ago. And they did manage to steal it. It was the Wilson Collins painting that's been hanging outside of Lord Jameson’s, I mean, Henry Warlow’s office this whole time."

  I whistled low. "Jesus fucking Christ."

  "Yeah, Jesus fucking Christ. They stole it. Pulled off this huge heist, and then Warlow, jilted and upset that my mother chose Theroux instead of him, stole it from under their noses."

  "God, he really is a peach, you know?"

  "He is a piece of work, all right. So, anyway, he stole it from them, and then made my mother believe Theroux had done it and turned the police on them. Once the evidence fell on my mother, she started cutting deals.”

  I stared at her. "Wow. My God. He really— I guess there really is no honor amongst thieves."

  "Nope, there sure isn't."

  "All right, so she thought Theroux had betrayed her and Warlow, and then what?"

  "Interpol had her, and she started to talk, more than willing to give up any and all information on Warlow, on Theroux, the whole thing."

  "Christ. So, she informs, and then what happened?"

  "I don't know. I guess she grew closer to my father. By then he’d gotten her a new ID. And then I guess she was still in love with Theroux, even though she thought he'd betrayed her. She left my father for a short time, and I suppose that’s when she and Theroux briefly got together again, and my father almost caught him. Soon after she went back to my dad, they found out she was pregnant, and Theroux said she wanted me to have a stable life, so she stayed with my dad. She and Theroux saw each other again several years later, the second time my father almost caught him, and she realized that it was Warlow who had betrayed them, not Theroux."

  "That had to sting."

  "Yeah, considering at that point she had married my father and was living this whole new life. That's when Dad, or Agent Kincade… I'm really going to have to figure out what to call both of them. Anyway, that's when Agent Kincade went after Theroux with a vengeance. My father was obsessed with him because he knew that my mother loved him still, after everything, and he just couldn't let it go. Couldn't fathom why she would not want the life that he'd given her, the ease that he'd made of her life. So, he relentlessly pursued him, even long after my mother passed away. Desperate to bring him to justice, even if it was just in his own head, because the woman he loved, loved someone else."

  "Jesus, these people had some complicated shit."

  "So anyway, Theroux was here to steal back the Collins painting. He said he wanted to return it to a place he knew my mother always loved, so I let him go. What he doesn’t realize is that the painting he stole isn’t the original. It’s the one that was forged by Garreth Jameson, the son of his sworn enemy."

  I still frowned down at her, stunned by the revelations she was sharing with me. "I don't like seeing you hurt, Ny."

  "It's fine. Hell, you shot me. And he's a better shot than you are."

  "Impossible," I said, scowling.

  I saw her lips twitch, and I knew she was fucking with me. "Woman, you almost died. If you don't mind, I prefer if you don’t joke around about it."

  "Who said I'm joking?"

  "I swear to God, I will kill you myself, Nyla."

  "Oh, the threats you make. You're welcome to try, East Hale. But I'm pretty hard to kill. Besides, the man I love is very protective. You harm one hair on my head, and he will come for you, full of vengeance."

  I watched her even as she teased me. "You know it's true, don't you? If anyone harms you, I really will come after them full of vengeance."

  "Yes, I know. The good news is you don't have to. I can take pretty good care of myself."

  "Yes, but think of me as your backup."

  "I like having a backup. It makes me feel fancy."

  I shook my head. "What am I going to do with you?"

  "Love me? Not berate me for getting shot? Because honestly, it wasn't my fault."

  I rolled my eyes. "You asked him to shoot you. That's the very definition of your fault."

  She chuckled then. "You know what? Why don't you just go ahead and give me a kiss? You'll feel better. And then we can forget about this whole I-let-the-rogue-go thing."

  "We're not done, Nyla."

  "Oh, I know we're not done. Reprimand, reprimand. Can we just skip to the sex part? I think that even with my arm in a sling, I can make that happen."

  I choked back a laugh. "What am I going to do with you?"

  "Like I already said, love me forever. It's not hard."

  "Jesus." I leaned over the bed. "Scoot."

  She grinned at me then. The sweetest smile I'd ever seen in my life. "I knew you'd give in. You might have to do all the work here. My movement is limited."

  I shook my head and tucked her into my side. She tried to turn and nuzzle my neck, but I wouldn't let her. "For now, Nyla, I'm just going to hold you. Remember what that's like?"

  "Ugh, not back to that thing where you take care of me and you don't give me sex."

  I had to laugh. "Okay, orgasms are in your future. Jesus woman, you drive a hard bargain. But for now, you rest. And know that I'm here keeping guard until you can guard yourself. How's that?"

  "That's pretty good, East Hale. Not bad at all."

  "I'm so glad I have your approval."

  This woman tucked into my arm was both my salvation and the end of me. And I was pretty happy about it either way.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Nyla

  "Do you want to tell me why in the world we're taking a private jet? This is terrible for the environment."

  East nodded. "I know it’s shitty for the environment. But rest assured that this plane is being made good use of after it takes us where we're going. We're also transporting supplies for a school in Haiti, so it's important."

  "Well, where's everyone else?"

  "Everyone else is flying commercial."

  I eyed him suspiciously. When he said we were taking a surprise trip to the Winston Isles, I jumped at the chance. I'd never been. Bryna had been suggesting we all needed to go. She wanted me to meet Penny, which I was terrified about, because honestly, what did one say to a queen? But if she was cool like Jessa, we shouldn't have any problems.

  Something was up though. Lucas had been cagey, so this impromptu team trip felt like something big. "Do you know something I don’t?"

  East blinked at me. "Like what?"

  "Like why we would suddenly all be going to the Winston Isles?"

  He just grinned. "Don’t ask so many questions and just be surprised by life, would you?"

  I rolled my eyes. "But why isn't anyone else here? I doubt they all wanted to fly commercial when they could get on a private jet."

  "Well, when I spoke to the lads, they agreed that this was probably something we wanted privacy for."

  "Oh, am I becoming a member of the Mile High Club now?"

  He laughed. "Um, no."

  I furrowed my brow. "Why not? We're all by our lonesome."

  I attempted to climb onto his lap, but oddly, he picked me up easily and settled me in my seat. "I'm serious, Ny. No."

  I frowned. "What's wrong?"

  He cleared his throat and settled back when the pilot announced we’d reached cruising altitude. "Um, I'd rather not have you attempting to shag me with your father in the stateroom."

  I blinked at him. "What did you say?"

&nbs
p; He nodded at me, looking the picture of serenity. No that wasn't right. He might look serene, but his shoulders were tense, and his hands clasped each other. Something was wrong. "What do you mean, my father?"

  The stateroom door opened, and out stepped Francois Theroux.

  "Hello, my daughter."

  I stared at the older man. "Holy fuck, you're here."

  I glanced around looking for the police. "What are you doing here? You didn't even ask me if this was okay."

  He waved a hand, saying, "Relax, my passport says Luc Besson."

  I laughed. "Like the director?"

  He shrugged. "I suppose. Good a name as any."

  "Right. But what are you doing here?"

  I slid my gaze over to East, and he said, "Well, I figured the two of you could use some time together. The twelve-hour flight to the Winston Isles seemed the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other. Besides, I had something to ask him."

  Theroux grinned at East and nodded. "And I'm very glad you did ask me. It was a beautiful way to include me."

  I stood and stepped into the aisle so I could stare at both of them. "What's happening?"

  My father waved a hand in the air then handed East a box. A small black box. My eyes went wide. East swallowed hard and said, "Oh boy, so we are doing this."

  I stared at him. "What are we doing? What are you doing right now?"

  He laughed. "Well, I thought of doing this big splashy thing. But I realized that given the situation there will be very few times that you get to be with your father for long stretches. And I didn't want to wait to do this." He stood up out of his seat then, and I stared at the box in his hand. As he kneeled in the aisle, he said, "Nyla Kinkade, you are a handful. Honestly, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever met in my entire life. You are obstinate and mule-headed and goddamn, woman, you really can't let anything go."

  "All those words mean the same thing."

  He nodded sagely. "Yes, they do. They mean that I love you. I will always love you. I think I have loved you from the moment that you tasered me in the park. I loved you even when I thought I could hate you. Even then it was love. Even when I told myself it would be safer for you and for me if we were apart, I loved you. And I know that you always feel like you don't have family and people in your corner, but I want you to know that no matter what, you will always be part of my family. It was important for me to ask your father's blessing before I asked you if you would allow me to become part of your family."