East

What the hell?

That woman. First, she was a hell of a fighter. Second, she was quick. She moved like she had proper training. She managed to put me on my ass.

I hadn't even bothered to head back to the restaurant. After Bridge had picked my ass up off the ground, I headed back to the Penthouse. There was no way I could let it go.

She'd been taking pictures of us.

Exactly what did she see?

We were discreet.

Or so you think.

I scrubbed a hand down my face. Chances were, she hadn't heard anything she shouldn't have. But all of us together, that was a risk. Especially with Interpol sniffing around, it was a big risk.

I didn't have any moral problems with what we'd done to Bram Van Linsted. After all the shit their family had pulled, the cheating, the lying, the abusing, and trafficking of women, we had zero qualms about them getting exactly what they deserved. Even if what they deserved was not the result of their direct crimes, we still put them in jail for a very long time. What I did have qualms about was, getting caught before we finished getting vengeance for Toby. There were more people in the Elite that deserved punishment. And if we got busted, they wouldn't get what they deserved. If we got caught, they would go free. So I had to care that a random woman was photographing us.

She could be a reporter.

That was true. But there was something familiar about her. Why did I know her? Dark auburn hair, perky nose that was slightly too big for her face, full lips that looked like they were permanently curved into a smile.

Her cheekbones had been all wrong though. It was like she had these great features, but the arrangement was all wrong. Why was that?

I turned into my Penthouse, full of piss and vinegar, ready to hit something.

As I marched to my bank of computers, I forced myself to take deep, even breaths. Wasn't that what the long ago therapist had said to me when I felt the anger coming for me? For the rage threatening to take hold, take deep breaths to suppress it. Remind myself that I was not in control of everything, and I couldn't control it all. Usually, it helped. Usually, I could stave myself enough to think, but right now, I wanted to know what she wanted, why she was watching us, and I was in a search and destroy mode.

With a vicious tug, I almost ripped my Oswald Boateng suit jacket when I yanked it off.

I jerked my tie loose, so I no longer felt like I had a noose around my neck. And then I flopped onto my couch, broken and exhausted.

The rush of calm was instant, followed by a little tingle of anticipation.

The hacking had started as a result of a little too much alone time. As a teenager, life at home had been a complete shit. When I wasn't shipped off to boarding school, my parents were absent, and if they were present, they were angry and was either cold and distant, or angry—chatting most of the time. Granted, most of it was directed at AJ.

And like most teens, I'd taken to whatever I could to block it out. I'd avoided going home. And when I was at home, I was tapping away on my computers. Of course, I've gone poking around in probably a whole hell of a lot of places I shouldn't. But side note, it gave me an excellent skill set that I love. That gave me that high, that buzz. The thing that alcohol couldn't, and drugs never had given me.

The only thing that rivaled that sweet numbness was sex. But that wasn't the kind of relief I needed tonight. I needed to know who the hell that woman was and what she wanted.

I wasn't so far gone I didn't check on my pet project first. The security system I'd put in place and anna Lloyd's place were holding. And she seemed safe. She hadn't hit any panic calls. And I'd put facial recognition into each camera. If her abusive ex showed up, the police would be notified. All was good here. There was nothing to do.

With a few quick keystrokes and taps, I was plugged into CCTV for the South bank area. I pulled up the camera feeds right around the restaurant. And then I sat back as I watched.

"Where are you, little miss?"

The camera caught her running out the side door, and then the hulking shadow falling behind her. That was me. And she took off running. She moved like an athlete. No flailing arms, good form. With a slight lean forward, she pushed off of her legs, like she spent a lot of time running, but not as a weekender but as someone who had been trained properly. Her arms were the driver. They weren't sloppy. She knew what she was doing and she darted and moved like she knew exactly where to go. Like she had plotted her escape route. And then I lost her.

I switched over to where I knew we ended up in the park, then I leaned forward, watching her movements, the way she ducked hits and blows. I watched myself fight knowing full well I'd held back, because well, she was a woman and I hadn't wanted to hurt her.

Because it didn't matter what the hell was going on with you, you didn't put your hands on women.

But this one had been hitting me like she meant to, and she landed a couple of good hits. Absently, I rubbed my ribs thinking about it. And she had knocked me flat on my ass. So, that was going to the books and I was pretty sure Bridge was not going to let me live that now, but whatever.

One of the cameras from the nearby bar place caught a view of her face. There was something on her cheek. It looked like a cut on the skin?

I tried zooming in, but there was only so much CCTV cameras could do. I growled. I watched the fight over the camera, my easy slip where I took her SD chip. Then I watched her knock me on my ass with that taser. Excellent. To my chagrin, I was half hard. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck was wrong with me?

I was no masochist. Getting my ass in whips and chains like what Rihanna and Britney said did not excite me. But somehow, I'm getting my ass handed to me by this woman. But that would be another conversation for another therapist another day. She took off, running east out of the park. So, where was she?

Another few quick taps took me into the likely exit points. I picked one, searched all the cams, and there was no sign of her. Finally, it was when I looked south that I saw her. She'd double—backed around. God, she was smart. She'd come prepared.

With a determined frown, I leaned forward until I finally caught her. She was in the alley behind some bars. She was panting. Holding her ribs. Fuck me. Had I hurt her? The wash of shame was quick. The nausea seemed to follow too. I didn't care how badly she seemed to want to hurt me, or the London Lords. It didn't sit well that I'd hurt her.

And then she did the most unexpected thing. That piece of skin that I'd noticed on her cheek, where I worried that I'd hurt her, she dug fingers into it and pulled. I sucked in a sharp inhaled breath as I watched her peel away the cheeks that seemed too full for her face frame, and the nose that seemed a little bit off. And then I had a clear picture of who I was dealing with.

The face revealed was like a ball punch. And again, oddly, my dick, instead of deflating, the motherfucker went full steel. The woman from the park, was none other than, Nyla Kincade. The woman hell bent on being a thorn on the London Lords side.

It seemed that intrepid little Interpol agent was coming for us.

Every cell in my body wanted to scream, 'Game on.'

A text drew my attention when it beeped.

Unknown: I can give you what you want. But first the London Lords will help me.

East: Who the hell is this?

Unknown: Francois Theroux. I'm the man who will help you get revenge.

***

East

After a sleepless night, I was unsettled by that little mishap with Agent Kincaid.

Mishap? Is that what we're calling it? She kicked your ass.

What the fuck was that shit even? She'd run and I'd been ticked off enough to follow her. To what? Confront her? Somehow I'd ended up on my ass.

I scrubbed my hand down my face. I needed to get shit under control. Nyla Kincaid was a threat, not just to me, but to my family and our carefully constructed plan. I needed to get my shit together.

I'd spent half he morning in a zombie haze. I'd nearly missed two standing meetings. Spilled coffee on myself. Zoned out in a planning meeting on the design for a new boutique hotel in Australia.

By lunch time, my assistant, Anna, paused in my door looking concerned. "Uh, Mr. Hale, I just wanted to remind you that it's Friday and I'll be leaving early for Tommy's recital at school."

Recital? What was she on about? Why was she reminding me of the day. I knew what bloody day it was.

Do you? You had the date wrong in your earlier meeting.

Right. "Yeah. Of course. Thank you for the reminder. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me East?"

"Habit sir." She said with a small smile as she quickly reminded me of my other meetings and told me she'd set reminders. She tugged at her sleeves nervously. It was no use, I could see the hits of bruises.

She whirled around, but not before reminding me, "You have a meeting in three minutes."

"Yep, got it. And Anna?"

She lifted her brows. "Yes?"

"You're doing great."

"Thank you, Mr, erm, East."

She swung the door closed, but before it could click shut, Drew burst in. "What's the matter with you? You look like shit."

"Cheers mate."

He shrugged. "Calling it like I see it. You look like me when wee Alice was born."

"No one can look that bad."

"Twat," he muttered.

I shook my head as if that small movement was going to exorcise her from my brain.

Good luck with that.

I forced my attention back to the lads. I wasn't going to tell them what I'd done. Or how much I'd liked it, because I'd never hear the end of it and they didn't need to think I couldn't handle one Interpol agent.

Ben, strolled in. "So what do we have? What's the emergency?"

Drew, after helping himself with a finger—full of scotch, trained his gaze on me too. "You said it was urgent pretty boy. Where's the fire? Your pretty assistant?"

I narrowed my gaze at him. "Leave her alone."

Bridge said nothing. Just stood my window looking out. He'd been preoccupied lately. "Last night, the woman I chased out was none other than Agent Nyla Kincaid."

Bridge whipped around. Drew cursed and Ben just stared at me. "Come again?"

"I tracked her movements after our little fight in the park." I pulled up a map on one of my monitors and showed her the route. "She went this way, rmoved hr disguise and was picked up my a Mini Cooper right here." I showed them them point on the map.

"Fucking hell." Ben ran his hands through his too long blond hair. "Why can't this woman leave well enough alone?"

"Not sure but sh's a hell of a fightr. I took her SD card off of her and I'm decrypting everything now."

Bridge stalked over. "What the fuck dos this mean. WE gave her a plumb case. Why can't' she leave well enough alone?"

I shrugged. "I think best course of action is to approach the section chief and implore her to back off."

Bn rubbed his jaw. "You want to take on Agent Kincaid?"

Fuck yes. We had a score to settle. But no way Ben was going to give me the all clear if I said that. "Makes sense. She's already come after you and Liv Ben. Bridge and Drew have families so no need to put them in the crosshairs. Let me deal with her."

He crossed his arms and studied me closely. "Fair enough. Don't approach her directly. It only makes her fight harder. She's tenacious. See how far you get with the section chief."

"Yeah will do." I sighed and pulled out my phone. "There is something else."

Bridge scrubbed a hand down his face. "Maybe we quit while we're ahead."

"Sorry mate." I handed the phone to Ben.

H read the messags and frowned. "Who the fuck is Francois Theroux."

"I've done some preliminary digging. Theroux, he's no joke. He's a world class thief. Stolen millions. And at the tip top of several international top ten capture lists."

Bridge whistled low.

Ben sighed. "So this is real? What does he want from us?"

"No idea and that's the problem. I don't know how seriously we take it. Anyone who knows of his crimes could easily be jerking us around pretending to be Theroux." I glanced around at the lads. "What do you want to do?"

Drew raised a brow. "For once, you have no suggestions? No thoughts of what we should do here?"

I frowned at that. "Well, my inclination is to seek and destroy anything that could hurt us. But we need research. We need someone who would know Theroux and his methodology."

Ben sighed. "Lucas."

I shrugged. "Yep, our erstwhile prince." Lucas might be a crowned prince of the Winston Isles but he was also a thief. And he had helped us bring down Bram Van Linsted. "If anything, he can tell us the intangibles. Like reputation, temperament. At least what the rumors are. They'll help us predict how he'll act."

Drew rolled his eyes. "Always careful, our boy East."

What the fuck had crawled up his arse? "Do we have a problem Drew?"

His gaze narrowed imperceptibly. "Nope. I just don't' think now is the time for careful and plodding. We took Van Linsted off the board."

A couple of months ago, Bram Van Linsted, whose father had been the Director Prime and headed the Elite for well over thirty years, had played an integral part in the death of our friend. We'd made a vow for payback. One that now extended to Garreth Jameson, and Francis Middleton.

This new threat, this was something different, something Lucas might have an understanding of. "We did. And it took careful planning. I get that now you've decided you're with us, you're eager to prove you're with us, but taking shots at me isn't the way to do it. We have heat and it's hubris to pretend we don't."

Ben cleared his throat and narrowed his gaze at the two of us. "That's enough you two. East keep digging. I'll call Lucas. And Drew since you seem extra eager to be helpful. You're going to speak to the five. Theroux knew exactly how to find us. Knew who we were. Find out if he's one of us. The five would know."

Drew looked like he wanted to argue but all he did was nod. "Yeah okay fine."

Bridge nodded. "I'll work some old contacts, see if I can dig anything up."

It was Drew who asked the obvious question. "How exposed are we?"

That was the crux of the question. No one else seemed concerned that he had our number and he knew exactly what we were looking for or why we were looking for it. "Who else would know who we are and that we're the Elite? That we will be going for this." I shook my head. "I don't like it."

"I don't like it either." Ben said. "For now we wait and we watch. And we get Agent Kincaid off our backs."

Bridge rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. "We're on a tight rope lads. We need to tread carefully."

Ben nodded. "We do. And we will. Starting with getting Nyla Kincade off our scent."

"I'm on it. She won't be a problem." And she wouldn't be. I knew just how to deal with her.