“Only for a few seconds?”
Good, let him focus on what I saw or didn’t see.
“Yes.” Well “a few” is subjective. What’s a few to me could be plenty to someone else. As long as we’re not being specific, I’m not technically lying, right?
“And you have never spied on me before?”
“Well, there was that time you stole a piece of my mom’s peach cobbler before it cooled and you scalded your tongue,” Malika answered. Okay, so I only partially answered him. He doesn’t have to know that, in addition to Amanda, I have seen him screwing Joanna, Laura, Michelle, and at least three other girls in high school. Hey, I can’t help it if he brought those girls home and did things in the family pool, in his mom’s orangery, by the pond in the backyard, you get the picture. He was a damn horny teenager and seems to be an even hornier man!
“I expect you to apologize to Amanda.”
Malika grated her teeth, weighing her response options.
“Duchess?”
“Let me get back to you on that.”
Sean laughed.
Malika closed the distance between them and placed her forehead on his broad back, sighing with contentment at his familiar masculine scent and easy smile. No other part of her touched him.
Sean stiffened but didn’t step away from her.
“Are we good?” Malika asked softly.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
It was his turn to sigh. “I don’t recognize you anymore. When did I start being a dumbass?”
“I’m growing up, and you still want to keep me a little girl. I’m not that girl who followed you around without question anymore. Today, you were a dumbass. Who comes home after being away for so long and immediately screws the first thing that walks in the room?”
“I don’t mind you growing up, but I don’t want you to be like those girls you say you hate. I don’t want you to be promiscuous and hateful. You’re a brilliant kid. Use that brain of yours.”
Malika punched him in his back lightly. “How the hell am I promiscuous? I’ve never even been on a date, and I’m still a virgin. I’ve been too busy.”
“And I want you to stay that way. Your behavior today doesn’t give me any comfort.”
I’ll bet he’s not feeling any comfort, at least not with a swollen dick. Malika wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. “Well, don’t waste your time. I’m good, and there’s no reason for concern.”
Sean grunted and moved away from her then, stalking toward the front door of the cottage, opening it, and leaving without saying another word to her.
When Malika went to the big house the next morning, expecting to grovel for Sean’s forgiveness again, Sean had already left the house and the country. Everyone in the family was baffled by his abrupt departure.
Malika wasn’t baffled; she was devastated.
Chapter Three
(Melbourne, Australia)
Present…
“You lied to me,” Sean muttered. He had just walked into his mother’s charity event, ignored the elegantly dressed men and women of the Australian higher echelon, and approached their long-time housekeeper, Mavis Hendricks. Uncaring that Mavis was currently carrying a tray laden with glasses of Dom Pérignon and serving his mother, Sophia Anderson, and her closest cronies, he glared down at the older woman.
Mavis flinched under his scrutiny.
His mother and her friends went rigid with indignation.
It was obvious Mavis knew precisely what he was talking about, which only served to piss him off further. Did she call and warn her mother that I’d seen her? Did she tell her to continue to lie to me? “Don’t even think to lie to me now.”
The noise level in the ballroom had grown considerably lower on hearing his coldly delivered demand.
“This is neither the time nor place for this,” Sophia, his mother, whispered fiercely.
Sean turned his gaze on her. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’m getting to you.” His deadly promise was met with a stunned indrawn breath.
“Sean David Anderson, I will not stand for this! Control yourself this instant, or leave. Your father and I will speak to you about this tomorrow,” his mother hissed.
“I’m sorry, Mother, but when the people I’m supposed to be able to trust lie to me and take away the most important thing in my life, I don’t give a fuck about—”
“Sean, come with me. Mavis, please join us.” His father, Harold Anderson, had come up behind them. His glare and clipped, hard voice promised retribution.
Sean couldn’t care less about his father’s ire. He was spoiling for a fight. Ever since he’d seen Malika two months ago in Kiya’s house in Springhurst Close, he had been in a cold rage. It hadn’t helped that his search for her had been unsuccessful. He was no further to understanding why the girl he had thought dead eight months ago was still alive, and apparently he was the only one in the family to have been ignorant of that fact.
His father marched toward his study, obviously expecting Sean and Mavis to obediently follow in his wake. The guests openly watched their progress as they traversed across the ballroom.
Sean smirked as a few debutantes looked at him as though he were their next meal. He was used to the attention his looks garnered. From his dirty-blond hair, which he kept in a close-to-the-scalp military style, to his bluish-green eyes, his dark olive skin, and his large frame, he had been attracting women in droves ever since he hit puberty. His years in the United States military had shaped the man he was now, much to his American father’s disappointment. With a Scottish mother and American father, it had been difficult to explain to his parents his desire to enlist in the U.S. military and become a Navy SEAL. His mother, a Scottish aristocrat, and his father, one of the wealthiest international businessmen in the world, had both wanted him to take his place as his father’s heir. However, he had wanted more from his life.
When his SEAL team had retired from the military, he had grudgingly resumed his role in his father’s corporation as CEO, while his father was chairman. Although he had never hated the job, he still had little patience for the bullshit corporate games and the ass-kissing from the people who worked for him. The work he had done as a SEAL and the work he continued to do whenever his mates called with an assignment were far more gratifying and helped keep the demons at bay. The demons that had started when he’d lost the woman who had been his honorary little sister and friend but who, he acknowledged only after her death, was the love of his life.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” his father asked even before he crossed the threshold into the office.
Sean deliberately held his father’s angry gaze. They were so similar in looks that Sean had always found it difficult to remain angry at his parent for long. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I asked Mavis a simple question. Why are you and Mother trying to stop her from answering me?”
“We’ve done no such thing,” his father’s voice boomed throughout the room.
Sean ignored him and pinned his gaze on their housekeeper, who was hovering near the door, obviously ready to bolt at any moment. Her brown toffee skin looked pale, and her hazel eyes, so much like Malika’s, stared back at him with regret, silently begging him to understand. Unfortunately he was not in the forgiving mood. “Mavis, why did you tell me Duchess was dead?”
The older woman flinched again as if he had slapped her; the sound of her daughter’s nickname in this house after such a long time appeared to have shocked her.
“Sean—”
“Not another fucking word, Dad,” Sean said calmly. His stare had not wavered from Mavis’ face.
“I never told you that,” Mavis whispered.
“Don’t,” Sean warned her in a menacing voice. “You held me, when both of us cried after her supposed accident in Trinidad,” Sean spat, his voice growing hoarse as he remembered that horrible day. “You said that it was so bad that there was no body for a funeral.”
His father sighed. “Nothing
will be gained by us rehashing this. That girl was never your sister. I have no idea why you insisted on acting like she was. Why don’t you move on with your life?” The older man paced around the room impatiently. His obvious discomfort was baffling. “Malika has moved on and hasn’t given you another thought.”
Mavis gasped and looked at his father with an unreadable expression.
Sean couldn’t tell whether she agreed with him or not. Fuck this! I need to find Malika and ask her why she did this. “Where is she? And don’t tell me you don’t know because I know all of you know where she is. It must have been convenient that I rarely came home and was rarely in Australia. Has she been in England all along? Is that why you always insisted I didn’t need to visit our London office?”
No one answered him.
Sean stalked toward the door, intent on getting out of there before he resorted to physical violence. Coming here tonight had done nothing to appease his anger or his quest for knowledge. He hadn’t wanted to get his teammates involved, but he needed the intel only Neo could provide. There was nothing and no one Neo couldn’t find. However, he wasn’t looking forward to explaining to them who Malika was. He never talked about her to anyone. He glared at their housekeeper again. Yeah, no one except Malika’s mother. She knows how close Duchess and I were. She knows how torn up I was when I was told Duchess was dead. Why did she let me go through that?
(Florida, United States)
Sean cussed up a blue streak as, yet again, Neo shook his head.
“Sorry, man, there’re no Malika Hendricks anywhere in the database and no MI6 agent who meets her description,” Neo told him.
“You haven’t tracked her from her phone or from any other avenue we’ve tried?” Sean stopped pacing suddenly and stared intently at Neo as he was filled with renewed hope.
“What? What’s going on in that warped mind of yours?” Neo stared back at him and waited.
“Why don’t we track her from her mother’s phone? I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that from the beginning. There’s no way Malika won’t be in contact with her mother and vice versa.”
Almost an hour later, Neo looked up in defeat. “The mother speaks to her son, Malcolm, once a week and to someone called Devin in Bermuda at least twice a week via FaceTime, but no Malika.”
“Mavis is from Trinidad,” Sean muttered.
“So?”
“I’ve never known her to have any relative or friend from Bermuda. Certainly not one she would have to call every week.”
“Ah, I get you.”
“See if Malcolm talks to this Devin as well.”
Apparently, Malcolm’s electronic footprint was relatively easy to access. Not only had Malcolm not contacted this Devin person, he didn’t seem to have contacted anyone from Bermuda. Malcolm lived in New York with his boyfriend and had recently purchased a penthouse flat in the city.
“He may not have contacted this Devin person, but I’m still going to Bermuda to check this out. It’s the only lead we have. Bermuda is a British territory, and it’s too much of a coincidence that Malika is MI6.”
“Well, your search shouldn’t take long. There are fifteen people on the island named Devin, and only six of them are female. I’ve uploaded the addresses to your phone.” Neo handed him a newly programmed phone. “I can’t tell you which Devin the FaceTime account belongs to. That’s encrypted.”
Sean grunted in annoyance. “Be prepared to bail my ass out of the prison in Bermuda.” He was now certain he was on the right track on finding Malika.
“Why?”
“Because I may need to fuckin’ turn that place upside down.” Sean stalked from the room.
(Recreational Center in Bermuda)
Two days later, Sean wasn’t feeling as confident as he had when Neo first gave him the addresses of every Devin living in Bermuda. After visiting five of the women, all of whom were definitely not Malika and had no friend named Mavis in Australia, he was left with only one name on the list. As he approached the martial arts school where this last Devin was apparently having a class, Sean thought about the last time he and Malika had been in a martial arts class together. She had been seven at the time and was just as proficient as he was at fifteen years old. Duchess had hated the fact that their Sensei insisted on her wearing a belt well below her skill.
“One last time, Malika. You will perform the technique with Sensei Nolan.”
“Yes, Sensei,” Duchess answered.
Sean stood back with the other older children, trying his best not to laugh at the pissed-off look on Duchess’ face. She was a beautiful kid with mocha skin, dark brown hair that she wore in a long ponytail, and whiskey-colored eyes, and she was tiny for a girl of seven years. She seemed like a perfect little doll until she blasted you with that piercing gaze. She was one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen. He was always proud to have her at his side. People often stared at her in wonder whenever she entered a room.
As she went through a number of maneuvers with Sensei Nolan with about twenty other students looking on, Sean wanted to grin with pride at her skill. Having been in the same training as he with his British bodyguard, Leo, Malika had taken to the complex fighting techniques with incredible ease. She soaked up everything taught to them like a sponge. Leo was often hard-pressed to keep her contained. He had suggested they attend more traditional classes in order to have opponents their own size. They had been coming to the school for only a few weeks, and Malika wasn’t happy. She was definitely more skilled than the blue belt Sensei insisted she wear.
Sean suspected that, after today, they might not be welcomed back to the school. I know she’s going to kick this guy’s ass.
Each time she brought the adult teacher, who was inches over six feet and well over two hundred pounds, to the ground, the entire room erupted in thunderous applause. Sean allowed a brief grin as Malika executed a particularly difficult technique Leo had taught her a few weeks ago. It seemed to have stunned her teachers as well because they suddenly stopped the demonstration. They probably want to prevent any further embarrassment of the instructor. Sean shook his head, knowing what was coming next.
“Malika, you’re only allowed to use moves taught in class,” the head instructor admonished.
“Yes, Sensei, but you said we should show our skills. It’s not fair I have to wear this belt.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, young lady. You’re only nine years old. Your parents have no business teaching you such lethal moves,” the instructor muttered, peevishly.
“I’m seven! And that still doesn’t answer why I have to wear this stupid belt.” She stood with her hands at her waist, pulling at the belt in question with utter disgust on her face.
The class erupted in laughter.
“Malika!”
“Tell ya what, Sensei Kijimuta. If Sensei Nolan can avoid me dropping him to the mat, I’ll keep your dumb belt.”
“That’s an inappropriate request,” Sensei Nolan hissed.
“What? You scared of a girl?”Malika taunted.
The class oohed, showing that they were all in agreement with the challenge.
There was no way now that Sensei Kijimuta could walk away without looking bad in front of the class.
“I won’t fight a child,” Sensei Nolan fumed as the head instructor opened his mouth to speak.
Sean laughed; he couldn’t help it. Every eye turned in his direction. Sean shrugged. “I agree with Duchess.”
“You will be respectful, or I will have a word with your father,” Sensei Nolan yelled, appearing to eagerly jump on Sean’s statement as a distraction.
“Are you avoiding the challenge?” Sean smirked.
“I’m avoiding nothing. This child is disrespectful and lacks discipline. I won’t encourage her in this nonsense.”
“If it’s nonsense, why don’t you take me on? I’ll even give you a time limit to stay on your feet,” Malika continued to taunt. “How does ten seconds sound?”
“Ten seconds, ten seconds, ten seconds,” the other children chanted loudly.
Sensei Nolan glared at Malika.
She grinned up at the instructor. “Surely you can stay on your feet for ten seconds.”
Sean started to get worried on seeing the angry scowl on Nolan’s face. He stepped out from the other students, intending that his size and presence would intimate the other man to control his temper. Sean had always been tall for his age. He was already over six feet tall at fifteen years old.
Sensei Kijimuta came forward and stood on the fighting mat instead. The Japanese instructor seemed just as upset by Malika’s challenge as Sensei Nolan. “I agree with Sensei Nolan. Your behavior is very disrespectful. Once you lose this challenge, I want an apology for disrupting this class with your insolence.”
“And if she wins the challenge,” Sean said silkily, “both of you need to apologize to Duchess for your ignorance.”
Sensei Kijimuta frowned at Sean but otherwise ignored him as he beckoned Malika and Sensei Nolan forward.
The room went quiet.
Sensei Kijimuta slowly left the mat.
Malika bounced gracefully from one foot, and her pint-size body looked fragile next to her adult opponent. She was immediately on the offense and advanced on the instructor with a complete lack of fear.
Sensei Nolan blocked her first move, but Malika was so fast she swept a leg behind the instructor’s knee before he could recover and drove him to the mat in less than three seconds.
Everyone was so stunned by her skill no one reacted at first. Sean started clapping, and very soon, the entire room joined in, everyone except the instructors.
Waiting For You (The Guardians: Book 3) Page 3