East Bound

by Nana Malone

  “Just, you know, temporarily.” Not at all temporarily. “We just got shot at. I want you with me.”

  “I appreciate that, but I have a place. And I like my place.”

  “I know. But even you can’t discount that the penthouse is safer. And if you like we can stay in separate rooms.”

  She laughed but then sobered quickly. “You’re kidding..”

  “No, I’m not. Or I can have some men come and build in a panic room over here, maybe change your windows to tempered glass. My place is bigger though.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “When it comes to you and your safety, yes, I am.”

  Her brow creased ever so slightly as she considered my offer. “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course. And while you think, let me show you just how dangerous I am.” I lifted the sheet and crawled toward her as she giggled.

  Nyla

  I was being absolutely a hundred percent truthful with myself. East Hale was my kryptonite. Two weeks ago, when I was drowning in the fog of despair, I had sworn to myself I was not doing this again. I was not going to let him walk back into my life and pretend as if nothing had happened.

  But then he'd been there last night on my doorstep, insisting that we weren't done. He admitted that he had fucked up, and he wanted another chance. Not that he deserved one, but God, it was so hard to say no. And then he'd said the one thing that tipped the scale. "I know what it took for you to choose to protect my friends.”

  But it had been easy to choose to protect them. A little too easy. The old me would have never shared information like that with them. But I'd done it because they needed the protection. I was seeing things in all different shades of gray now. My mother died of cancer, and I felt her loss so viscerally every day. But I couldn't imagine the visceral loss of a friend and knowing that people you cared about and trusted had something to do with it. That's why I'd chosen to help them. Also, it might have been possible that, despite my words to my father, I still hated Denning.

  East said, "Can I ask you something?"

  I nodded, leaning into his fingers as his thumbs stroked my cheeks.

  "Why did you go back to Interpol? Your father didn't respect you. Denning treated you like dirt, and if you ask me, he's a creepy stalker. But most importantly, you don't feel good about yourself there. You are so sexy and confident most of the bloody time, but working under them, it's like you're trying to dim your light to match theirs. Why? Why would you go back?"

  I bit my bottom lip. It was an excellent question. Why had I gone back?

  Well, the truth of it was, I had my eyes on the prize. And I wasn't sure how much of that I was supposed to tell him. But when in doubt, I opted for truth. "It was one of my early bargains with Theroux. He said he needed me inside Interpol."

  East cursed under his breath. "What?"

  "I know. I don't know what he wants from me, but he demanded that I be an Interpol agent again, so it must mean I can access whatever he wants."

  "Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

  "Well, it didn't really come up. If you remember, you and I weren't exactly being honest and forthcoming with our feelings when he paired us up to work together."

  "Fucking hell. You have got to be kidding me."

  "I know. I know. I wish I was. I thought you knew."

  He rolled his eyes. "No, I didn’t fucking know."

  "Well, that's why I did it."

  "You should have told me."

  "For what? What would be the purpose in telling you?"

  "Don't you see? You should be asking what he wants from you, Nyla. You and I both know he has zero intention of handing himself over to Interpol."

  My stomach knotted. I knew he was right. Hell, I had already anticipated this, so why did it hurt to hear him say it? "Oh, I know. I'm just trying to get close enough to tag him."

  He stared at me then. "You plan on tagging Theroux?"

  "Yes. If we'd had our meet, I could have accomplished it. They have these tracking devices that are wafer thin. I might have acquisitioned one or two from Amelia."

  He blinked at me. "Who are you? The Nyla Kincade I know is dogged, determined and absolutely fierce, but there’s no way in hell she’d take that kind of fucking risk."

  "Look, I tried not going back into Interpol. I tried to pull off half the things I've been doing without Interpol. But I need to be inside. I need it for access, Theroux needs it for whatever he's doing, not to mention that it could be useful to the London Lords as well. So it's done."

  He sat up. "Like hell, it's done. If you need something, you tell me, and I’ll get it."

  I laughed, and his frown only deepened. Perhaps laughing was not the right choice. "Oh, like I'm the little missus? This little missus is very good with guns."

  "You're not even supposed to carry a gun."

  "I know. And I generally don't. It's because I'm former MI5 that I still get to have mine. It’s in my safe."

  He frowned at me then. "You weren't a field agent for MI5, were you?"

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  That deep crease in his brow only grew deeper and deeper. "Were you a field agent, or weren't you?"

  "Yes, but as it turned out, I was better suited for something like Interpol. Oddly, I’m happier there, even with the stress and pressure of having my father and Denning around."

  "You were a field agent?" He was genuinely surprised.

  "For the last time, yes. What's the problem?"

  "I just... I don't know. I knew you'd been MI5 before. I had assumed just as an analyst."

  "No. Field Ops."

  "That would certainly explain how you know how to fight."

  “Yes, but why are you making such a big deal out of this? It's really not."

  East rubbed a hand through his hair, making him look even more sexily disheveled. "I just... I don't know. I knew you were Interpol, and I knew that you were dangerous to me. I just didn't picture you being, you know, in the line of fire that often."

  Ahhh, he was going all protective. "East, I'm sorry you didn’t understand.” I sighed. Why did I even need to reassure him? "Okay look, Interpol isn't really even an agency in and of itself. Technically, I'm still an MI5 officer. Hence, I have a gun. Think of Interpol as a giant inter-agency task force. We're all on loan from our respective agencies, and we all work together. So, while my father and Denning are my bosses, I still do monthly reports to MI5 on any urgent cases I'm working on." I tried another tactic. "Okay, what worries you about me and Theroux?"

  He frowned. "What worries me is what he has you doing. The risks he asked you to take."

  "Those are risks that I stand up for. Even as an Interpol agent, I take risks every day. When I was chasing you lot down, at any moment, I could have been hurt or discovered. And can I just say that Ben and Livy are extremely difficult to track? Just the two of them. I had a team watching everyone at that Gem Gala thing, but we got nothing because the stupid lights went out."

  His lips tipped into a smile at the corners.

  "Oh, wait… You had something to do with that?"

  He shrugged. "Carry on."

  "All I'm saying is that I face danger every single day in some form. I went back because I'm good at my job. It’s possibly the only thing I'm good at. Obviously, I am shit with relationships."

  "Something we are rectifying."

  "Oh, we are rectifying? Because I swear to God, you're worse at relationships than I am."

  His jaw dropped, and he looked mock affronted. "I'm not that bad."

  "Yes, you are."

  He shrugged. "Okay fine, I am. I just don't trust Theroux."

  "Good. I don't trust him either. What I do trust is that no matter what he's got on you or whatever reason he wants me back at Interpol, even if he thinks he's using me, I have every intention of bringing him in. He can act like he's playing me all he wants, I'm okay with that. If I even get anything on him, that's already a huge clue because he’s such an enigma.
For once, I want to be able to do something big, something important, and prove that I am my own person. I don't want to be Roger Kincade’s daughter or Denning Sinclair's jilted girlfriend, though those comparisons are really unfair."

  "They are unfair because Denning’s lucky you even went out with him in the first place."

  "Right? But anyway, my point is that I went back because even if Theroux plans on double-crossing me, I get a real shot at bringing him in. A real shot. Closer than my father has ever been. I get to make my own mark. And to be honest, it's easier to chase things down if I'm inside Interpol. The civilian life sucks. I'm no super hacker."

  "But I am a super hacker. And even then, sometimes it's hard to get information."

  "Exactly. But anyway, that's why I went back. And I can use that access to help you lot as well."

  He cradled my face in his hands then. "Nyla, I don't want you to get hurt. I feel like the farther you go down this path the more likely it is that’s going to happen."

  "I'm not. And before you ask, I did tell Amelia about Theroux. But no one else in Interpol. Amelia has been so focused on the London Lords it hasn’t come up again. I haven't told anyone else at Interpol what's happening. And let’s just say she’s not speaking to me at the moment, so it’s unlikely she’s even thinking about Theroux.”

  East frowned. "Any chance you guys will work it out?"

  "I hope so, but it seems unlikely. Although now she's my new boss, so that makes things more awkward.”

  He pulled me close. "Just be careful. There are too many players. I don't know what's happening, and it worries me. All I want to do is wrap you in a sheet of bubbles so you won't get hurt."

  "What about you? What if you get hurt? You know I'll avenge you, right?"

  He chuckled. "You will avenge me?"

  "Yeah. I am a great avenger."

  "You know, I don't think that's the name of the movie."

  I frowned. "Oh, someone's funny. I can be just as fierce as you can."

  "Oh, I know." He stared down at his chest. "I have claw marks to prove it."

  A flush crept up my neck. "I… Uh, sorry about that. I guess I was a bit of a tigress?"

  He laughed heartily and then wrapped an arm around me and pulled me underneath him. "This is me acknowledging your fierceness and ferocity. And also me pulling you in for a kiss."

  "I am fierce," I muttered, even as I leaned in for my kiss.

  "Can you do me a favor? Just so I sleep a little better at night?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, what?"

  "If Theroux contacts you again when I'm not on the call, at least tell me first what the hell is going on."

  "I can do that."

  "Thank you."

  "My pleasure."

  "Okay. Now, since you're up and I can stop creepily watching you sleep, what's your preference?"

  He kissed the crest just below my breast. “Breasts?”

  He kissed between the valley of my breasts again, this time tracing his fingers where his mouth had just left. "Fingers?"

  His fingers rolled down my body. The juncture between my thighs was already pulsing, thanks to the way that he was kissing me. "Or do you want something stronger?"

  I couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "I'll pick something stronger please. Always something stronger."

  "I was really hoping you'd say that."

  Chapter 18

  Nyla

  I was in my office when I got the call that we had a walk-in.

  I was just finishing up a document when Amelia popped her head in. "You here? We have a walk-in."

  "Yeah, I was just headed downstairs. Do you know for what case?"

  Amelia shook her head. "No, but she requested the two of us."

  I grab my jumper and followed Amelia down the hall and then down the front stairs. When we checked in with security, they pointed us into one of the small conference rooms. There was a woman inside with dark hair and a slight build. She couldn't be more than in her mid-twenties. She looked so young, which made me think twice again about just how young Hazel looked. And what Denning was doing with her. But that was a whole other question for another day.

  With a slight knock, I let myself in. "Hello. Are you Chantal?"

  She stood and shook both of our hands, and Amelia introduced us both. "Hi."

  We took our seats, and then Amelia took over. "Ms. Anderson, thank you for coming today. We were told that you wanted to speak to us, but you wouldn't say what about."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be vague. But I just know that these men are powerful, and I didn't want to say something I shouldn't."

  Amelia nodded, opening her notebook and putting her pen to it. "Okay, why don't you tell us what we can help you with."

  Chantal's gaze slid toward me, and I gave her a warm smile. Or at least what I hoped was a warm smile and not one that said I didn't get a wink of shut-eye last night because my boyfriend, who I got back together with, wanted to spend all that time making up. Enthusiastically no less.

  "I spoke to Britney Jenner a couple of weeks ago. She told me that you were interviewing girls that used to do those parties, you know for the spoiled rich boys at Eton."

  I immediately sat forward. "Yes?"

  "I, um, I was visiting family. I just got back. I didn't know, or I would have come in here sooner."

  Amelia started writing rapidly in her notebook. I just kept eye contact with Chantal. "Chantal, you were at those parties?"

  She gave me a nod. "Once. I was fifteen."

  My stomach churned. "Jesus Christ. And your mom? She didn't know where you were?"

  She shook her head. "My cousin took me to the first one. She'd been invited. She asked if she could bring someone. She didn't want to go by herself."

  Amelia and I both nodded as if that seemed perfectly reasonable.

  Meanwhile, in my head at least, I was thinking, you have a young impressionable cousin, you don't take her around skeevy old geezers.

  "Right. You and your cousin spent a lot of time together?"

  "Uh, we did for a bit there. But, you know, after the party I went to, I didn’t do much of anything. So I, um... My parents sent me to stay with another cousin in Australia for a bit. You know, when things weren't seeming to get better here."

  In a calm voice, Amelia said, "Okay, why don't you just tell us what happened."

  Chantal’s hands shook as she wrapped them around the Styrofoam cup of tea she'd been given. "It was a party. At first, I was excited, you know? It was fancy. They provided dresses that were nicer than anything I'd ever owned."

  I nodded.

  Amelia was writing furiously.

  "It was like a camp, you see. They trained us, told us all kinds of things about the boys that we’d be meeting, what they were like, who they knew. I thought it was a bit odd, but the weekend before the party my cousin just said that they were important people, and we were going to earn a little cash. I thought it was just like a hostess gig."

  Her gaze flickered back and forth between me and Amelia. "I swear I didn't know."

  I reached out my hand, upturned so that she could see I meant no harm. "No one is judging you, love. I'm sure I would have gone to a party my cousin deemed would be fantastic."

  "She didn't know either, and we just thought it was a... So anyway, we go to this party. We were told everything about the boys we'd be meeting. Specifically, I was told about this boy, Bram. What he liked to talk about. His school interests. What he studied. We actually had a lot in common. I guess I thought so, anyway."

  Amelia kept writing. And then she prompted. "So you went to the party and you met him. What happened?"

  "It was different than anything I'd ever seen before. When I was introduced to Bram, he seemed nice. Like he liked me. No, that’s the wrong way to say it. He just, I don't know, he looked like he'd hit the jackpot or something. Anyway, at first, he was fine. I was supposed to hang on his every word and laugh at his jokes. He wasn’t that funny, but I could fake it. It wa
s nothing I hadn’t done on a date before."

  I kept watching her, thinking how young she’d been.

  "And then at one point, the woman who’d trained came and whispered in my ear that there was more work to be done, and I went with her. I told Bram I'd see him later, and he seemed excited. And then that woman, led me to a room and told me I was supposed to get undressed and—” Her hands started to shake as she took another sip of tea.

  My stomach churned. "It's okay, take your time."

  She took a deep breath. "I wasn't supposed to do anything. I just had to sit there and wait."

  Amelia frowned. "Wait for what?"

  "Twenty minutes later, that nice boy Bram came in. And I thought we were just going to, you know, hang out. I didn't”—she shook her head—"I didn't understand."

  I hated to make her say it, but we needed to know. “You didn’t understand what?”

  She sighed. "I didn't understand what was expected. What I was really there for. I was there for Bram, but not to talk to him or keep him entertained for the night. Bram expected sex. And I'd never done that before. It wasn’t a hostess job after all."

  Amelia cursed under her breath and stopped writing.

  I glowered at her, but then I saw that her eyes were shiny.

  "At first, the kissing was nice. And I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but I didn't realize what he liked."

  I swallowed, trying to force bile back down where it belonged. It was Amelia's choked voice that broke the silence. "You can tell us, Chantal. What happened?"

  "He, uh, he liked innocent girls, girls who had no experience, and he liked it when they fought. He liked fear. Seeing them scared."

  Amelia cursed under her breath.

  Meanwhile I kept my hand on the table, and Chantal finally took it. Her delicate hand coiled in mine. I squeezed it tight, trying to convey to her that it was okay. That she was safe with us. "I'm so sorry, Chantal."

  She nodded as her voice shook. "I didn't want to do that with him. He wasn't gentle, and he wasn't kind."

  "Did you tell anyone? Did you say anything to your mom, a friend, anyone?"