London Bridge Read online

  London Bridge

  Nana Malone

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Emma

  Chapter 2

  Emma

  Chapter 3

  Bridge

  Chapter 4

  Bridge

  Chapter 5

  Emma

  Chapter 6

  Emma

  Chapter 7

  Bridge

  Chapter 8

  Emma

  Chapter 9

  Emma

  Chapter 10

  Emma

  Chapter 11

  Emma

  Chapter 12

  Bridge

  Chapter 13

  Emma

  Chapter 14

  Bridge

  Chapter 15

  Bridge

  Chapter 16

  Emma

  Chapter 17

  Emma

  Chapter 18

  Emma

  Chapter 19

  Bridge

  Chapter 20

  Bridge

  Chapter 21

  Emma

  Chapter 22

  Emma

  Chapter 23

  Bridge

  Chapter 24

  Emma

  Also from Nana Malone

  Nana Malone Reading List

  Chapter One

  Emma

  It had taken me six weeks to get back to bloody London.

  I was in New York with my mother when I got the note. The reminder that my work wasn’t done.

  Francis Middleton is the worst of them. You cannot let him walk.

  A year ago, this journey had started with a note just like this. Printed on heavy ivory card stock. That message had pointed me to the Elite, the secret society my brother would have been part of. The same secret society that had been responsible for his death. I’d gone to the only people I could for help. Ben Covington, East Hale, Drew Wilcox, and Bridge Edgerton. My brother’s closest friends.

  They’d promised me retribution.

  But now at the finish line, things had stalled. And instead of telling me something, anything, they’d gone silent and shuffled me away from London… presumably for my own safety.

  But one, I didn’t need saving. And two, this note had found me in New York, so how safe had I been really?

  East, Ben, and Bridge hadn't been kidding when they said they’d take care of everything. Bridge and the boys had bought my mother’s house, regardless of what it was actually worth, just like that and put it wholly in her name. As if it was nothing. And then they forced me back to the States with my mother. Which, God, I loved my mother, and it was good to see her. But it wasn’t for them to decide who I was or what I wanted to do. I wasn't a child anymore.

  Hell, they’d even gotten me a dream job. But the whole time I was there, not a single word came about my brother, his killers, or what they were doing about the final one.

  Which meant I had to take matters into my own hands. Which meant returning under cover of night so to speak…if I didn’t want the four assholes of the apocalypse to send me right back to my mother like a recalcitrant child.

  I’d need to fly under the radar. And not tip them off that I was back. While I was still doing marketing work for my old company remotely, I'd also need a job here in London. I’d been careful though. My passport had been stamped in France, and then I'd taken the train. Immigration would mark that they'd seen me come through, but Bridge wouldn't have access to that. East’s fiancé, Nyla Kincade might with her Interpol connections, but I didn't think she'd rat me out like that.

  The point was, they didn’t own me. I was the one who'd gotten them started on this vengeance thing to begin with, and now they wanted to kick me out of it?

  Toby was my brother. I deserved vengeance just as much as they did. I deserved to be part of the takedown, but they’d tried to keep me out of it.

  Well, not anymore.

  I’d been watching Bridge for the last two weeks, and what I’d heard was true. He and Mina had broken up, so he'd been rambling around that house by himself. Sometimes, when he'd work late, he'd stay at his suite at the hotel. I'd been watching the house all day, and he still hadn't returned, so it meant he was very likely going to stay at his suite.

  I parked my car and walked the block up to the house in Belgravia. I smiled to the security guard, who I recognized from the last couple of times I'd been there, and he said, "Oh, Miss Varma."

  I flashed him a winning smile that said I belonged there. "Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Edgerton. Is he here?"

  He shook his head. "No. Not according to the logs. He won't be returning this evening."

  Even better. I would grab his laptop, have a quick look, and I'd be in and out before he even knew anything. Sure, he'd see me on the security cameras eventually, and the guard would tell him I’d been there, but I'd be long gone by then. And I’d stay hidden.

  "Would I be able to go in? The last time I was here I left something behind, and I sort of need it now. I have the code."

  The furrows of his brow eased before they even started to form. "Oh, you know the code. Please type it in here, and you may enter."

  That was the thing about being forgotten. While we'd been meeting, we all had our own personal codes so as not to deal with security every single time we came. Even though Mina's had been changed, there was no reason to change any of ours. Bridge had simply forgotten that I had access to his house. Amateur.

  I typed in my code and then said a little prayer to every god I could think of. I’d been raised Catholic, but I hadn't darkened the door of the church in at least fifteen years. But now, it seemed like as good a time as any to find my faith. When the screen lit green, he nodded and pressed his own code to open the gate. "Just use the same code for the front door and you're good to go."

  "Oh, excellent. I won't be but a minute."

  I went in swiftly, as if I owned the joint. Bridge thought he was so slick in keeping me away from all of this, but what he didn't understand was that I would not sit back like a little woman. Toby would have expected me to be a hundred percent myself. And this was me being myself. Bridge Edgerton could kiss my ass. He'd been telling me what to do for years, but I was done with being controlled.

  When I let myself in the house, a giddy sense of excitement tripped over my skin as his scent hit me. No longer was there a hint of femininity in the house. No bowls of potpourri, but the scent of sandalwood lingered in the expanse. It made a part of me deep inside clench. I loved that smell. Why did he have to smell so good? Honestly, he was a pure asshole, but he smelled like a fucking delight.

  I thought back to that one kiss we'd shared when we were kids. Possibly the hottest kiss I'd ever had in my life. But he'd walked away, vowing to never touch me again, which was fine, because I had zero interest in being controlled for the rest of my life.

  Liar.

  A quick search of the house told me his laptop wasn't there. And that's what I fucking needed. There was a prick at the back of my eyes as I resisted the urge to cry. No. All this meant was that I was going to have to go to his suite in the hotel. And that would take a little more ingenuity, but I wasn't giving up. Bridge Edgerton had another think coming if he thought I was just going to sit back and do as I was told.

  Bridge

  I hadn't been staying at the house lately. Suddenly, it seemed I had turned into Ben before Livy came along. I had a big fancy house and refused to stay in it. I’d only opted to stay in the house tonight because I had a meeting on this side of town in the morning. But I’d avoided my own staff by slipping in through the back during a shift change.

  I wasn’t going to subject any of them to my mood.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  What's wrong is that the woman you thought you loved was hired by your fucking father.

  It was like the old man would never cease to be a thorn in my side.

  He wanted nothing to do with me publicly, but he still wanted to control me.

  I grabbed the pillow and rolled over in the bed again. I was hot. Tight. Itchy. I just wanted out of my own fucking skin. Sleep was so far off in the horizon, I felt like giving up. I was in the process of rolling over again when I heard something in the other room.

  What the fuck was that? It sounded like a light scraping noise.

  I sat still, calmed my breathing, and waited. That was definitely a muttered curse coming from the living room of the suite.

  Fucking Christ, that was the last thing I needed. There had been a time when I'd been a different person, rough around the edges, the one that was likely to end up in jail. Angry all of the time, and I was angry for reasons I couldn't control. I’d smoothed those rough edges and made something of my life, but now, it seemed like the old me needed to come to the forefront or something very bad was going to happen.

  Under my bedside table, I reached for the one thing vested in my former life that I kept handy. The switch blade was just as I remembered it. Cold. Delicate. Deadly.

  Just like Mina.

  I shoved the thoughts of my ex out of my head. I didn't want to think about her and all her lies.

  I sprung up out of bed. As usual, I slept commando, so I padded over to the closet and eased the bottom drawer open on the far left. I took a pair of boxers from it and tugged them on. If I was about to have a fight, there was no need to have the lads flying about uncovered.

  Luckily, I slept with my door slightly ajar, so easing into the living room didn’t cause any unwanted sound. Then I saw it. The shadow i
n the study, going through my things.

  What the fuck? How had anyone gotten in here?

  My feet moved of their own volition. My rational brain was chirping up with things like, ’Call security. You are closer to the door than to the study, so just leave.’ Or the oh so helpful, ‘At least put a fucking shirt on.’

  No, I wasn't going to do any of those things. I was going to find out who the fuck was in my suite.

  The study door was open, and I saw someone dressed in all black. One of my fucking employees? I could play this scenario one of two ways. I could approach, turn on the lights, and ask them what the fuck they thought they were doing, or I could jump them. I was irritated enough that option two seemed excellent to me.

  With a step-over-step motion, I slid against the window to the living room. And then, it was easy.

  One arm in a choke hold, the other pressing the knife against the jugular, leaning close. The person was small, delicate. A light floral scent hit my nostrils and I inhaled deep. A woman? The slight stature, the curves, definitely a woman. Not Mina though. She was shorter and not as strong. The woman in my arms delivered a half decent elbow to my ribs. Enough to make me grind my teeth.

  And why did she smell so fucking familiar?

  My fucking dick didn't seem to know any better. This wasn't some game with a girl who liked it rough. This was deadly serious. But God, why did she smell... and then I knew why. I whipped my intruder around so fast that she squeaked, and with my hand on her throat, I backed her up against the wall and placed the knife to her jugular again.

  "What the fuck are you doing here, Emma?"

  Chapter Two

  Emma

  Maybe this was not exactly how I wanted things to turn out. After all, it looked bad. Me caught, first of all. Second, Bridge with his hand around my throat was not ideal. Unless you were into that sort of thing. And third, a knife at my jugular. Again, none of this was a good look. I licked my lips. "Bridge, I didn't know you were home."

  "Clearly. What the fuck do you want, Miss Varma?"

  Just the way he said Miss Varma sent a shiver into my spine. But then again, Bridge Edgerton was always doing that. Making me want things. Making me need things that he had zero intention of ever delivering on.

  We'd kissed once when we were kids. Okay fine. I was a kid. My brother had sent him to look after me because I was fifteen and unruly. God, I really was a terror. My poor brother, Toby, hadn't been able to come home for break, and he'd promised me a concert so he’d sent Bridge in his stead. But God, Bridge acted more like a father than a cool mate of my brother’s. He wasn't as much fun as he was now. If this could be classified as fun. He'd been barely eighteen, but he acted like he knew more than I did. Like he was better, smarter. He wasn't.

  And as much as my little crush on him had developed, it hadn’t changed over the years. He was still that person. From a distance of thirty paces, he could still make me tingle with just a look or an arched brow. But he also made me want to hit things. Which, let's face it, was a volatile combination. "This looks bad, but I can explain."

  "Start talking, Emma."

  "Well, first of all, let's do away with the knife, shall we? We both know that your leanings are toward protecting me, not actually killing me. So, put it down."

  His furious gaze bored into mine, and we stood there locked in our little dance as if we had all the time in the world to make our decisions. And I could see it, the constant war inside him. The war between what he should do and what he wanted to do.

  Somehow, what he wanted to do always seemed like he was on the verge of kissing me. But he never gave in, not voluntarily anyway. The last time he kissed me had been under duress. Well, fine. He could pretend he didn't want me all he wanted if he thought he could keep it up. I knew he did, but he would never take that step. All because of the promise he'd made to my brother. Which was such bullshit.

  Toby was gone. Long gone. And aside from vengeance, I didn’t owe him anything. He would have wanted me to be happy. And he had loved the lads. If I had ended up with any one of them, he might have been a bit miffed in the beginning. Mugged off, actually. But if one of his mates had shown he had the stones to date his sister, he would have been happy. Because what’s better than to have your mates actually be in your family.

  Toby had been closest to Bridge if I had to guess. Because Mr. Edgerton took the whole look out for my sister thing a little too literally. Because of that, he wouldn't touch me. "Now, now, Bridge, let's not be hasty." I shifted my hips ever so slightly and watched as his eyes flared. "Is that whiskey on your breath?"

  "I had one fucking drink."

  "’Course you did.” I rolled my eyes. He was so predictable. “Never out of control, are you? I'm just shocked you even had one drink. Imagine what that would do for your personality. It might loosen you up."

  "I'm still waiting for you to tell me what you’re doing here. You know me. I'm patient."

  Yes, he was, wasn't he? He would wait until I gave him a goddamn nod. The problem was, I was stubborn too. And so God only knew how long we could stay locked in this little dance of ours just to see who would crack first. But neither one would. There was no give and take with me and Bridge.

  It was either find our corners or go all out rumble status. Though that was rare. Because hell, in a rumble, there stood the chance of him putting his hands on me. Anywhere would do. Just something to alleviate the ever-present pull low in my belly when he was around.

  Three years or so ago, I'd resolved to stop overthinking this whole pull to him, and I had almost shagged Logan Mann instead. It was an exercise in futility when it came down to it. I hadn’t wanted Logan as much as I’d wanted Bridge.

  Bridge had been my first kiss. That kind of crush I couldn’t forget, despite his complete ambivalence toward me.

  As I stared at him and licked my bottom lip, his gaze narrowed and focused on it. And my inner diva stood up and cheered. He tucked the knife away and backed off, then he tossed it on to the table nearby. He didn't remove his hand on my throat though. "Emma, I'd hate to leave a mark. Talk."

  The way he was staring at my lips with his body so close to mine, his scent wrapping around me, all musky and intoxicating like spices, I took a chance that he was as distracted as I was. There was no way I was telling him what I was really doing there because I knew he'd send me away.

  "Okay, fine. I have been following you."

  That surprised him. "What? How?"

  "You should know by now not to ask how I know things. You haven't been home in a while."

  "Not really your business."

  His grip loosened, but he didn't entirely remove his hand.

  I shifted my hips, and he frowned at me. "Stop it, Emma."

  "Stop what?" I asked innocently.

  "I know what you're doing."

  I lowered my lashes, bit my bottom lip, and rolled my hips again.

  He released my throat then. "Stop."

  "Touchy-touchy, Bridge. Don't you just want to give in? Do what you've always wanted to do?"

  There were mere inches between us. If I wanted to, I could reach up and press my lips to his. Would he respond? Would he act like he didn't care? Would he give in?

  Fuck if I knew. I was desperate to find out, but how many times did you have to be rejected by someone before you got the message? I tried to play nice. "I wanted to talk to you." More like make him read me into the plans the lads had for their payback on Francis Middleton.

  "Bullshit. What are you fucking doing here?"

  Okay fine, so he could read me well. "There's no need for that kind of language, sir. We had a deal. The five of us. I gave you the information necessary to stop the men who were responsible for Toby’s death. You got two of them. Congratulations. But the third and final one? What the fuck are you doing? You lot are sitting on your bloody hands."