East Bound

by Nana Malone

  There were no cars being stored there.

  Amelia frowned. "Without a warrant, there's not much we can do."

  "I know. Maybe we can just look inside a window."

  "Ny?"

  "What? We're here. Just give me a boost, would you?"

  She stood there, hand on her hip, muttering curses at me. But sure enough, she followed me to the window and clasped two hands together, interlocking them and giving me a landing for my boot. I stepped up, praying all the while as she boosted me. And at the top, my prayers were answered.

  Mostly I saw crates. Crates upon crates upon crates. But in the corner, there were several that were unboxed. Art. Paintings to be specific, and one or two of them looked familiar. That corner of the room had a long table, white linens placed on top. It was cleaner than the other parts of the warehouse. There were gloves on the table as well.

  For handling precious items?

  And what was that painting that was under glass? Holy shit.

  Amelia lowered me down. "What do you see?"

  Instead of answering her, I just locked my hands and hoisted her so she could see for herself. When she whistled quietly, I lowered her down, panting as I smiled. "Well, what's our next move boss?"

  She grinned. "Now we call for back up. It looks like there is millions of dollars’ worth of stolen art stored in there."

  Chapter 25

  Nyla

  East dropped me off at work. He’d insisted on driving that ridiculously flashy sports car. “You recognize this is unnecessary right?”

  “So you're saying I can't drop my girlfriend off at work?”

  I flushed and shifted on my feet. “I wouldn’t dare say such a thing.”

  He leaned against the door and pulled me into his arms, wrapping them around me. “And now, you're going to kiss me in front of everyone.”

  I laughed. “You don't have to do this you know.”

  “Oh, but I think I do. How else is everyone supposed to know that you're taken if I don't piss all over you.”

  I choked out a laugh. “That's disgusting. Please don't piss all over me.”

  He laughed. “Hey, don't knock my kink.”

  I couldn't help it. I snorted. “If that is your real kink, you know, I'm trying to be good, giving and game and all that. But I couldn't have you actually pissing on me. Not my kink. But maybe, warm tea would suffice?”

  It was his turn to snort. “I saw that episode of Sex and the City too. We’ll need to do a full re-watch together. You recognize if you tell anyone I watched that, I will deny it.”

  Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me in for a deep, lingering kiss. The kind of kiss that made my toes curl as his tongue licked into my mouth, as his fingertips pressed into the top of my arse, bringing me more firmly against his cock. The same cock that had woken me up twice in the middle of the night and first thing that morning.

  East drove his hand into my hair, tousling the loose curls and kissing me like he owned me in front of the world.

  When he released me, I was so dazed I couldn't even drag my eyes open. When I was finally able to force myself to blink, I stared at him. “What was that for?”

  “You said you didn't like pissing. So that was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

  “Right. That was much better than pissing.”

  “I aim to please. Now, get your little sexy arse inside and Interpol things.”

  “You recognize that's not a verb, right?”

  He smirked. “Sure it is.”

  “No, love, it's not,” I said with a laugh.

  “I could have sworn you said it was.”

  He was teasing me. East Hale was teasing me. And I loved every second of it.

  Because you are whipped.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the stern, disapproving gaze of my ex at the massive glass doors leading into our section office.

  I whirled around. “You did that on purpose.”

  He merely shrugged. “Yes, I did. I knew he was watching. Like I said, I've licked you. Now he knows you’re mine.”

  I wanted to read him the riot act for being a chauvinist pig. But he had licked me, and I was his. So technically he was right. And he fucking knew it. “No more antics.”

  “I do not agree to that. I will continue to lick you. You’re mine. He needs to know that there will be dire consequences if he puts his hands on what's mine.”

  “We will continue this conversation later.”

  I ignored Denning as I strolled in. Let him stare. I didn't give a fuck about him. He couldn’t ruin my day.

  How wrong I was. If I had been more self-centered, I would have thought it had to do with me. But it didn’t. The case wasn’t going well.

  Make that cases.

  Our original forgery case was stalling. And then there was the Grimwald Square incident. The team still didn't know it was us, and Denning was leading the hunt. And eventually, his search was going to lead to one place.

  I could see the tension lines etched around his mouth. He wasn't giving us any breaks. None. All of us were hopping.

  At my desk, I had the forgery files, thanks to a break in the case from Ryder Stone and the bust we made of some of the missing pieces of artwork.

  I had another chance to prove myself. Not to my father, or to Denning, but to myself. I'd been so close before I'd been suspended. I just had to figure this out.

  There were hundreds of pieces of art that had been recovered. The recovery team was going through each of them meticulously. Identifying who they belonged to through tedious research.

  I didn't want Amelia to look bad, as she was now my boss. So I was going through every single piece of evidence twice, as if my life depended on it. Certainly, there was a part of me that couldn't let it go. I knew I could do this. I knew I could make this work, and that if I just stuck to it, I could solve this case.

  For nearly three years, I'd been thwarted, trying to figure it out and determine where I'd gone wrong. I was nothing if not tenacious. So I planned to sit there and go through every single piece of the art catalog. Even when everyone else left to grab a bite and eventually, as most were headed home for the night to their loved ones. I'd already texted East to tell him I'd be working late. It still struck me as odd, calling his penthouse home. Not that I wasn't thrilled to be with him. It just felt too soon. Much too soon.

  And as a result, I was constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Which wasn't exactly fair to him. I knew that. And not that I was trying to be unfair, but honestly, the last experience had left me wounded.

  It certainly didn't help that Hazel, Denning’s fiancée, was quite insistent that we be friends. Every time she came to the section office, she made a point to come see me, suggesting that we get together for a drink or dinner again sometime. But I didn't want to be her friend. Nothing personal against her, I just didn't want to be. Why did she care so much?

  She's crazy.

  Or she was just honestly being nice. But if she was so nice, then why choose Denning? Because of all the nice guys out there in the world, she could have honestly done better.

  I looked up at the clock and saw it was 8 p.m. My eyes were tired and felt like someone had blasted sawdust into them. Ugh, maybe it was time to give up for the night. I could finish in the morning. But we were close. I could feel it. I could sense—

  I stopped at a photo.

  Now wait just a minute, that painting of a woman, the ballerina with her full white tutu flared out. She was on pointe, arching her back. It was a Wilson Collins. I had seen that before. But where? My brain offered no clues, no assistance, no quick memory. I was toast. I kept it out of the pile and put a little Post-it on it with a note. Where have you seen this?

  It was quite a famous painting. Maybe I had seen it in some gallery. It was certainly valuable. It was a ten-million-dollar painting.

  Maybe it was displayed somewhere at the Tate?

  Maybe that's where I'd se
en it. But still, my brain wouldn't let it go. Wouldn't release that string that I kept tugging on, no matter how hard I pulled. Before I could even grab my coat off of the hook behind me, there was a knock at the door. I glanced around and my stomach knotted up. "Hello, Denning, how can I help you, guv?"

  I forced levity into my voice and tried to release the sarcasm. Look at me. Team player.

  "How is it going?"

  "You know, it's good to be back. Just heading home."

  "I noticed that the rest of your team has already gone."

  "Well, yes, I think they headed to the pub for a pint some time ago. I declined."

  He sighed and crossed his arms. "I don't think we'll be able to work together."

  Damn it.

  "Are you suspending me again?"

  He shook his head. "I'm not sure what to do with you. You should consider a transfer."

  "Me? I'm not the one who thinks we can't work together. Working for Amelia has been great, actually."

  He sighed. "This is an old branch. You and I, we don't work well."

  "That's true. But again, I won't be looking for a transfer. You can choose to transfer me if you like, but given my seniority and the fact that I'm your only representative in this office from MI5, you’ll need a replacement."

  He narrowed his gaze at me. "Why do you insist on making everything difficult?"

  I sighed. "Denning, I'm not trying to make everything difficult. I just want to do my job and do it well. I'm telling you, that's the only reason I'm back. You might not believe me. Hell, you might believe me and just not care. I'm planning to stay out of your way if you can stay out of mine. We're adults. We should be able to make this happen."

  He scowled at me. “No one wants you here."

  The stab at the center of my chest nearly toppled me, but I stayed on my feet. I didn't waiver, just leveled my gaze at him. “They will have to deal with me. I have no intention of leaving.”

  He straightened his shoulders. "Are you threatening me?"

  "No, Denning, I'm not. And the moment you walked in here, I pressed record on my phone so you can't later say that I did."

  His jaw tightened. "You're such a pain in the arse."

  "Possibly. Oh, by the way, Hazel seems lovely. She was so nice. Insisted that it might be good for me to work here. Even if you don't necessarily agree."

  "Why the fuck would she say that?"

  "I don't know. She's not my girlfriend. But she seems to want to be my friend."

  "You stay away from Hazel." He jabbed a finger in the air toward me.

  "Sure. I'm not inclined to be her friend anyway. I feel like she makes poor judgment calls.” I was deliberate to not say anything specific, in case I needed to use the recording later.

  "Don’t you have a lead to chase? I'd rather not see your face."

  "Of course, guv. Off I go."

  He marched out ahead of me. Before I left, I paused in front of the photo one more time. And suddenly, I remembered where I had seen it. In Lord Jameson's house. That was the very same painting in his ballroom. Holy shit. This was the connection I'd been looking for. And I needed to tell East straightaway.

  East

  That night my gaze was trained on Nyla’s arse as she bent over my desk, but it wasn’t for the reasons I wanted.

  Oh no. She was vibrating with excitement about some work thing. "What's this?" I asked.

  Since she'd been working late, I'd sat in the office with Ben, talking about one of our Caribbean properties. "Look at it."

  Ben leaned over too. "Ah, it's a beautiful painting. It's a Wilson Collins, right?"

  She nodded excitedly. She looked like she was about to burst at the seams from her excitement.

  "Okay, babe, you have to tell us what's going on. Because I don't think either one of us gets it."

  "Okay, It's a Wilson Collins. But that's not the important fact. Nor is it important that it was appraised at a value of ten million dollars before it was stolen."

  Ben whistled low. "Well, okay, a ten-million-dollar painting, great. I'm with you so far."

  She gave him an exasperated sigh. "Look at it. Don't you recognize it?"

  Ben and I glanced down at the painting. It did seem somewhat familiar, but I didn’t know why I should know it. It wasn't one of ours from the family collection. It wasn't even the du Mont style. Wilson was too frenetic a painter. His paint was too close to the surface and didn't really fit into our style, so I'd never really tried to pick one up. Still though, it was gorgeous. "Help us out here."

  She sighed. "Oh my God, where do you think the last place I saw this painting was?"

  Ben shrugged. "Nyla, just tell us."

  She pouted. "You're ruining my excitement."

  He nodded. "I get that. But just tell us. It would make your life a lot easier."

  "I saw this at the Jameson estate."

  I sat up straighter just as Ben leaned forward, and we knocked heads. "Ow."

  "Son of a bitch," he muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair.

  We both rubbed our foreheads and she stood staring at us. "Oh my God, and the fate of the free world is in your hands."

  Ben shook his head. "It was his fault."

  I merely rolled my eyes at him. "Are you sure this is in the Jameson ballroom?"

  "Without a doubt. I remember it from the charity fundraiser.”

  "Okay, so if it's in Lord Jameson's ballroom, why do you have a file on it?"

  "Because when Ryder called and told us about the warehouse where all those stolen paintings were stored, guess what was recovered from it?"

  Now I understood. "You're telling me this Wilson Collins was in the recovered art?"

  "Yep. And I'm pretty sure, when they authenticate it, either everything in there will prove to be a forgery, or everything in there will prove to be a real thing, which means that Jameson's got a forgery, proudly displaying it. But maybe he thinks it's the real thing. I need those authentication results back."

  "Fucking aye."

  Ben scrubbed a hand over his face. "But it doesn't make sense for Jameson to be involved in that."

  "Unless he knows it's a forgery. Maybe the Jamesons are hard up for money, and they're selling off their assets."

  "Or," Ben theorized, "they reported it missing or stolen and got the insurance money. Which is a tidy sum, for sure."

  "Okay, so, how do we find out?"

  She started pacing. I knew this pace. She was excited. She was willing and ready to charge in. I'd seen this Nyla. This Nyla also worried me, because if this was true, and she'd seen that painting at Jameson's, then she was in danger and I had to protect her.

  She's not yours to protect.

  I knew she wouldn't appreciate it. And it wasn't that I didn't believe she was strong. Hell, it was one of the sexiest things about her. But I still wanted to keep her safe. I loved her. I knew what this feeling was. I’d spent weeks trying to avoid them. "Okay, I hear you. But remember, one step at a time. Did you call Amelia?"

  She winced. "No, I'll call her now. I mostly got excited, so I came here to tell you first, because I know that you are working on taking Garreth Jameson down."

  Ben nodded. "I'm not sure how to use this yet, but thanks for letting us know."

  "Why aren't you two more excited? We have him."

  "We don't have anything yet. You know this Nyla."

  "But come on, he has the same painting, so he is up to something."

  Ben chimed in. "The problem is, we don't know what he's up to exactly. And we can't prove anything."

  "No, I can't prove anything. Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you need a lot less burden of proof?"

  "You're trying to use this to help us against the Elite? Ny, don't get involved. We have this. We will find something to blackmail him with. We will find what we need. Have faith."

  "I have a hundred percent faith in you. But have faith in me too. I can help. This bastard was standing there just smiling at me like I was some kind of nuisance. An
d all along, he's running around with that forgery in his house. Or, hey, I'm willing to entertain the idea that he doesn't know."

  "How could he not? That's literally their whole business."

  "And what happens to his business if he has forgeries in his house? It’s one of the cornerstones of who they are. Who's going to trust them again? He knows something. You just let me question him again."

  East chuckled wryly. "I'm pretty sure Amelia’s going to say no to that."

  "No, she won't. Why don't you want me to do this?"

  "I don't want you to do this because it's dangerous. Garreth Jameson is dangerous, and so is his father. I care about you too much. I know you can do this, but let's take it easy here. Let's wait until the authentication results are in."

  She glanced back and forth between me and Ben. "You think I'm crazy? Jesus, you have the exact same look that Denning does."

  The fury simmered to life, and I locked my jaw as I turned around. "Stop talking, right the hell now."

  She opened her mouth and it looked like she was not going to heed my warning. It looked like she was going to say something else. But then, it was as if she caught herself. "You know that's not what I meant."

  "You still said it."

  Ben shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "Um, if you lot are going to have a fight, can you tell me now so I won't have to stand here awkwardly experiencing it for myself?"

  We both ignored him. "Ny, how could you say that to me?"

  "You know that's not what I meant. Come on. You are trying to bench me."

  "I'm just telling you to be more cautious. There’s got to be another way to do this other than charging right into the lion’s den. That's all."

  "I'm sure there is, but God, I pulled this great lead, and all you want to do is sit on it."

  "I'm not sitting on it; I'm just trying to keep us all safe."

  "One of these days, East Hale, you're going to realize that I never asked you to keep me safe."

  “You’re so bloody impetuous. It’s no wonder you were benched. You need to fucking look before you jump.” The moment the words were out, I knew they were the wrong ones. I reached for her, and she pulled away. “Ny—”