“I will have a word with your mother,” Sensei Nolan spat as he jumped back to his feet. “Obviously there’s no need for you to be at this school if you have another teacher who teaches a young child skills against our recommendations.”
“Are you sure, Sensei?” Malika peered up at the Sensei dubiously. “I don’t think you want any part of my mom. Can I just have my brown belt and we can forget this ever happened?”
“Malika, just get your things and leave!” Sensei Kijimuta demanded.
“With pleasure, Sensei,” Malika smirked. She started across the room to retrieve her backpack.
“Not so fast.” Sean came forward. “I didn’t hear an apology, and from what I saw, Duchess won that fight.”
“Mr. Anderson, this is none of your business. I suggest you stay out of this. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want you involved with such an unsavory child.” Sensei Nolan was almost frothing at the mouth now.
“Guess what, Sensei, that unsavory child is my little sister. And I’m someone who can do more than just drop you on a mat.” Sean had lost all traces of humor on seeing the instructor’s abuse of his powers over Malika. “I suggest you apologize to her and give her the well-deserved brown belt.” Sean expected the instructor to be stubborn, but he didn’t expect the man to be stupid.
“And I suggest you leave these premises also before we make you do so.” Sensei Kijimuta nodded at two of other instructors, who then stood on either side of Sean.
Sean grinned with anticipation.
“You don’t have to do this, Sensei.” Malika had her backpack slung over her shoulder, walked to where Sean was standing, grabbed his hand, and started pulling him toward the exit.
“See, we’re leaving.” Malika continued moving toward the exit, dragging Sean behind her. He wasn’t putting up any resistance to her smaller grip.
Sean’s smile faded to sadness as he remembered how close they had been back then. Everything in him had wanted to beat those instructors to a pulp, but Duchess had always been as protective of him as he had been with her. He had gotten the apology though. After leaving Malika at home, he had returned to the school and knocked both instructors to the ground numerous times. With a few broken bones and dislocated joints, they had called Malika the next day with very humble apologies.
To say Malika had been pissed was putting it mildly. “Let me see your hands! I’m sure they’re bruised from the beating you heaped on those guys.”
He hadn’t admitted to a thing.
Sean pulled out his phone and called Neo.
Sean: “Hey man, that’s the last Devin on this island.”
Neo: “Nothing?”
Sean: “No, I don’t know who Mavis is calling, but I wouldn’t put it past Malika to have sent us on a wild goose chase.”
Neo: “Sorry, man. It’s never a good idea to piss off a tech genius. They can really screw with your head. Are you headed back Stateside now?”
Sean: “No, I’m heading to England. I’ll be there for a while.”
Neo: “Okay, let me know if any other leads come up. I’ll continue to look for your lady.”
Sean: “Not my lady, my friend.”
Neo: “Okay, we’ll go with that. I’ll find her.
Sean: “Thanks, man. Catch up with you guys later.”
Chapter Four
(London, England)
Malika knew she shouldn’t be so paranoid, but there was a leak in her department and she could no longer trust the usual agency personnel. Someone was setting up MI6 and CIA agents. None of the higher-ups were talking, but they had lost six agents in the past month. It was not limited to field agents either. A data analyst had been killed in his home just two days ago. The only reason she knew this was because she always had algorithms running to pick up on all anomalies in the intelligence world. After the second unusual killing, she had been immediately alerted, and she had dug deeper. In an effort to establish a link between the agents, Malika uncovered a possible suspect or suspects who would have to order such a hit. However, after she had sent this information to her handler, Jason, her message, which should have been securely delivered, had been inexplicably intercepted.
Within an hour of her sending the data to Jason, he had been killed. His body had been found in the parking lot of the agency offices. The only reason she wasn’t completely freaking out was because she had lived in the shadows for years. No one, not even her co-workers or Jason, knew where she lived or who she really was. The agency knew her only by her alias, Duchess. Up until now, that hadn’t been a problem. Having employed her while she had been in university, the agency only cared that she was one of the best analysts in the world and she always delivered.
Malika had received a demand to come in a few hours ago. In all the years she had been working for MI6, she had reported in eight times. This demand, on the heels of the intel she had uncovered, seemed suspicious, especially since she had only just reported her findings and her handler had been killed. She didn’t recognize the agent who had messaged her to come in. There was no way in hell she was going in now. If the Irishman, or the Irish as she liked to call him, thought he could get her out in the open as payback, he could go to hell.
Her agency cell phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Jeremy: Hey, Duchess, u there?
Malika: Depends.
Jeremy: Best way to be. Go dark, go completely dark!
Malika: What’s wrong?
Jeremy: I fucked up.
Malika: What happened?
Jeremy: Agents are being killed.
Malika: Ik. CIA and MI6. What did u do?
Jeremy: I sent a file in. Now they are coming for me.
Malika: How do u know?
Jeremy: They’re coming for you too.
Malika: Again, how do you know?
Jeremy: Your name appeared on the list.
Malika: List?
Jeremy: I just sent a few files to you.
Three files appeared in her messenger.
Jeremy: Can you help me, Duchess?
Malika: You need to find someone in the Agency who’s clean. I’m just a tech person.
Jeremy: You know people. Can’t you help me like you helped those people the other night? I don’t know who to trust.
Malika: I don’t know enough about the threat to help you.
Jeremy: I’m going to die tonight. I need someone to help find out who’s selling us out. I’m sure you know someone who could help.
Malika: I may know someone.
Jeremy: Thank God! I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t help me. I know my life’s in danger and so is yours.
Malika: Can you get to 1 London Bridge Street?
Jeremy took a longer time to respond. Malika wondered if he had already resigned himself to being a martyr. She wasn’t certain whether to trust him or not, but she couldn’t ignore his situation or his plea for assistance.
Malika: Jeremy?
Jeremy: I can try.
Malika: Remember my friend?
Jeremy: Blond guy? The guy at the awards show?
Malika paused. How did he remember Sean so well? Am I making a mistake with this joker?
Jeremy: Are you still there?
Malika: Text me once you get to the location.
Jeremy: You trust him that much?
Malika: With my life.
Jeremy: Ten minutes.
Malika: Good luck.
Malika’s fingers flew across her keyboard. She knew that Sean had been first in Bermuda three weeks ago and was now in London. God, he came so close to finding me. It’s a good thing that I no longer truly exist.
She knew exactly where Sean would be. He took his job as CEO of his father’s media empire very seriously. Whenever he was in London, he worked long hours in their offices on Bridge Street. Now all I have to do is convince him to help. She quickly texted the message to Sean before she changed her mind knowing that Jeremy’s life depended on her.
Malika: I need your help.
&nbs
p; Malika watched her screen with bated breath. She knew he would still be pissed about not being able to find her, but she also knew he would never give up trying to find her. Her eyes pooled with tears at what they had lost and could never have again. It was now bittersweet knowing he was out there looking for her, looking for someone he had no hope in hell of ever finding. She swiped away the single tear that ran down her left cheek and then counted slowly to ten.
Sean: Sure you do.
Malika rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.
Malika: Someone’s life depends on it.
Sean: You wouldn’t contact me if it wasn’t life or death.
Now it was her turn to go silent. He wasn’t asking a question. He was stating what he thought was fact. She was sorry he felt that way, however true his statement was.
Malika: There’s a young man in his mid-twenties, black hair, Asian American about five-feet-eight.
Sean: What kind of Asian?
Malika: Indian.
Sean: Where?
Malika: Downstairs, your building.
Sean: What am I doing with him?
Malika: Keep him safe. He will explain.
Sean: What’s his name?
Malika: Jeremy.
Malika: Sean, he doesn’t know who I am. So don’t mention my name. To him, I’m Duchess.
Sean: My nickname for you? That’s fucked up.
Malika didn’t dare respond to his accusation. He had no idea that after her “death,” she needed something of theirs to hold on to. She couldn’t afford to have him distracted right before going into a potentially dangerous situation. If he wasn’t on top of his game, he could get killed.
Malika: Be careful, the environment will be hostile.
Sean: It always is. Keep your phone close.
Malika: There’s an earpiece in your desk drawer, left-hand side.
Sean: Should I even ask how you know this?
Malika: Place it in your ear once you enter the elevator to the lobby.
Sean: We’re going to have a long talk after this.
Malika: Don’t forget the earpiece.
Malika was sorry to have that brief connection between them terminated. The memory of how close they used to be washed over her like a tsunami. How can I go back to the empty void without him?
Chapter Five
(Melbourne, Australia)
Three years ago…
Malika was running late again. She had waited too long studying in the library and was going to be late meeting up with her friends at the nightclub in downtown Melbourne. Despite the late hour of the night, there were quite a number of students milling about the university’s campus. Her friends were used to her eccentric behavior. At nineteen years old, she had already obtained B.S. degrees in foreign languages, chemistry, and engineering; she was completing her Ph.D. in both science disciplines. Her twin, Malcolm, was just graduating high school this year.
Malika was so intent on searching for her keys in her handbag that she didn’t notice the bulky figure of the man leaning against her car until she was almost upon him and he grabbed her forearms to stop her from plowing into him.
“Whoa! I taught you better than to be so unaware of your surroundings.”
The sound of that masculine voice immediately paralyzed every muscle in her body and jolted her heart rate to an alarming pace. “Sean!” She was embarrassingly breathless, and her situation was made worst when he smiled down at her. Unable at first to meet his gaze, Malika stared intently at his left ear. She felt as though the diamond stud winked at her in its brilliance. That earring was another reason his mother disliked her. His mother had been convinced that Malika had talked Sean into that piece of jewelry.
She shifted her gaze to his eyes and was instantly drowning in their vivid green depths. His boyish grin did what it always did to her, making her sparkle and pop like nothing else could.
“Hi, Duchess. I came home a few hours ago, and they reminded me that you’re graduating in a few weeks. I forgot to ask you about uni when I saw you two years ago.”
“Well, you were too busy tanning my ass.” Malika wanted to curl up and die. She had been dreaming of the moment when she saw him again, how classy she would be dressed, how her makeup would be flawless, and how suave and cool she would act. Tonight she was in a ratty T-shirt and a long skirt that reached her ankles. There was nothing cute about her outfit. When she had left her flat this morning, which she shared with two other girls, she was only concerned about getting to her lab class as early as possible. Wasting time with makeup and a pesky thing like a comb to her hair had been the furthest things from her mind. The bun she wore her hair in had been sitting on top of her head for three days without her brushing or tiding it up. It was probably a huge bird’s nest on her head by now. God, I must look a fright!
“As I recall, you deserved it.” Sean finally released her arms and resumed his nonchalant slouch against her car.
“Let’s not litigate that again.” Malika deliberately looked over his shoulder, not wanting him to see the embarrassment in her eyes at the memory of that awkward incident.
“I went by your flat and your roommate Simone told me that you were still here.”
Her gaze flew to his. “It’s after ten p.m. Why were you looking for me?”
Sean looked her solemnly, his usual grin no longer visible.
“I came home as soon as I could,” he said softly. “I need to resolve things between us.”
The sound of his deep voice so close to her ear made her shiver with desire. It was impossible for her to hide her reaction to him. “I would like that.” The words were barely above a whisper from her suddenly dry lips.
“Have dinner with me. I need to talk to you.”
She swallowed, trying to speak past the sudden dryness of her throat. What is it about this man that makes a supposedly smart woman like me start acting like a love-struck teenager?
“I have to change,” she croaked out.
‘Trust me, I couldn’t care less what you’re wearing. You would look beautiful in rags. So don’t change for my benefit.”
She laughed softly. “Glad you think so, but I look like shit. So, given how late it is, why don’t we get takeout and go to my flat?”She walked toward the driver side door of her car.
“I’m not in the mood for dealing with your roommates right now.”
“It’s all right; they’re all at Club 23 and probably won’t come home for hours.”
“I’ll go get us your favorite Italian food from Cantuccio’s and meet you at the flat.” Whenever Sean came home, they always got food from the Italian restaurant and pigged out.
“Okay,” she said before sliding behind the wheel of her second-hand Toyota Corolla. Thank God! Now I’ll have time to take a shower and look somewhat decent.
A little over an hour later, they sat at her tiny dining table in the sparsely furnished flat eating a medium-cooked marinated Porterhouse steak with seasoned potatoes and vegetables.
Malika was feeling a lot better after a hot shower and washing her long hair. Letting her hair dry naturally, it fell with slight waves down her back, settling at her waist. Her hair was jet-black and straight like her Trinidadian Indian grandmother. She usually wore it in a messy bun at the top of her head, but for Sean, she made an effort. She’d put on her favorite lip-gloss, moisturized her skin, and then pulled on a clean T-shirt and jeans that hugged her hour-glass figure to perfection. This time around she wanted to make a good impression, show how mature and grownup she had become in mind and body. She had applied a charcoal liner to the edges of her pale hazel eyes and gave her long lashes some more volume with mascara. Malika knew she looked good, certainly better than she’d looked earlier. I’m not his little sister anymore.
If she was waiting for a reaction from Sean, or for him to make a comment about her appearance, she was sorely disappointed when he barely glanced at her on entering the flat. He seemed distracted and acted as though he had the weight of the world on h
is shoulders.
“I can’t believe you’re completing another Ph.D. in a few weeks,” Sean said quietly. He was on his sixth bottle of beer since they started eating dinner. From the looks of him, he’d had a few bottles even before he got to her. With reddened eyes and a worried frown on his face, he seemed tortured.
“I sent you an email two weeks ago about my graduation date.”
“Sorry, Duchess, I’ve been kinda busy. It was impossible to communicate from our location.”
“You’re talking to a pure academic. I’m not sure how this communication stuff works.” Malika knew that Sean had no idea that she was a tech genius and could hack into any system in the world. He was still under the illusion, as was everyone else, that she would be a scientist or become a professor of foreign languages.
Sean laughed softly. “Sometimes reaching out to the civilian world can get you killed. I like keeping my ass intact.”
She stood and started clearing the table, not wanting him to see how devastated she was that he had yet to respond to her heartfelt pleas to him for forgiveness. If he had responded to the invite to her graduation, at least she would have known that she had another chance with him. Part of her wanted desperately to know what he thought about her emails while the other part of her was pissed that all of her groveling had been for nothing. She kept her eyes downcast, fighting to keep her emotions in check. When he had left initially, they had exchanged emails as usual, talking as though nothing had changed between them. However, based on his short impersonal responses and the lack of his usual carefree banter, Malika knew that things had changed and had been determined to get him to forgive her. She had sent the emails asking for his forgiveness after months of his evasiveness.
That had been three weeks ago. Now here he was acting as though their encounter almost two years ago hadn’t happened.
Waiting For You (The Guardians: Book 3) Page 4