East End: The Hear No Evil Trilogy, Book 1 Read online

  My father cleared his throat. "Denning, that’s enough."

  Denning shook his head. "No. It's not enough. We're all going to sit here and pretend that two weeks ago Nyla didn't ask your permission to get taps on them?"

  All I could do was shrink into my seat. But East took my hand and held it on top of the table for everyone to see. "Two weeks ago she didn't know me. Now that we've been getting to know each other, things are different."

  My father didn't seem to like that very much, but he said nothing.

  Denning stood. "No. I’m not accepting this."

  Hazel stood. "What has gotten into you?"

  I sighed and forced myself to sit up straight. "Is this a good time to mention that Denning broke into my flat a couple nights ago to tell me to stay away from East?"

  I turned to my father. "I was going to file a report, but I didn't out of respect for you. If you want to deal with him yourself, feel free."

  Denning sputtered. "What? That's a lie."

  "Oh, really?" East challenged.

  I sighed. "East, just let it go."

  East shook his head. "If it's a lie, then if we check security cameras, we wouldn't see you in her hallway that night breaking in, right?"

  Denning's face went red. "You'd have to get a warrant for that."

  East grinned then, and there was a slightly evil edge to it. Part smirk, part maniacal smile. "I should probably mention that I own the building Nyla lives in."

  I whipped my head around to him. "Seriously?"

  He shrugged. "Well, you never asked."

  My father went ashen. "Denning?"

  Denning sputtered. "She's making a mistake."

  Hazel started to cry then.

  There wasn't much more to be said. "I think we'll be leaving now."

  Amelia's eyes ping-ponged like a tennis match between all of us. East squeezed my hand and mouthed, Are you okay? I shook my head. No, I was not okay.

  "Dad, I'll see you at work. We can talk about this tomorrow."

  East still said his goodbyes. Unfailingly polite. Charming. He even managed to get Hazel to stop crying. Amelia leaned into me. "Um, I am so all about this new situation. Because he is sexy. And you deserve someone taking care of you."

  "Yeah. Or did I just implode my life?"

  "No. Denning's that asshole, remember?"

  "Yeah. I remember."

  I said goodbye to my coworkers, who were now gawking at me, and to my father. I apologized to Hazel for ruining her evening. She was gracious though and pointed out that it was Denning who was being the ass. East and I headed to the door, leaving before we'd even gotten to our dessert course.

  Once outside the house, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh my God. I never want to do that again."

  "You don't have to. I'm sorry."

  I shook my head. "No, don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. Denning did. I don't know what the hell's wrong with him. Or why he even cares, honestly."

  "You're serious?"

  I frowned. "What?"

  "Love, he's jealous."

  "Well, of you."

  "Yes, but he doesn't like that someone else is playing with his toys."

  "Um, he has like a nineteen-year-old girlfriend."

  "Hazel's not nineteen. She just looks young. And, he's doing that to get your attention. He's annoyed that you don't seem to care."

  "Why is he annoyed? He dumped me. Took my job."

  He shrugged. "It doesn't make sense. But the moment someone else is touching something he thinks is his, he doesn't like it."

  "I'm not his."

  "Yes, well, I know that because you're mine. I mean, you're your own person, and also you're mine."

  I turned to smile at him. "Are you sure about that?"

  "Yep. Absolutely sure. Now come on. Let's get you home."

  "Oh. Someone's eager."

  He pulled me into his body, and I felt warm and safe again. Happy. I also felt the outline of his erection as I pressed my body into his. "I'm always eager for you, but you just had a long night, so I'm going to let you get some rest. The next time we're together, I don't want anyone else to be on your mind. You understand?"

  I swallowed hard. "Yeah. I understand."

  He kissed me on the forehead. "Good, now let me take you home." And just like that, I fell right over the edge of that precipice I’d been clinging to. Because he knew what I needed and was willing to give it to me, no strings attached. When was the last time someone had done that for me?

  19

  East

  That was not how I’d planned the evening to end. Denning Sinclair was a problem. One I could deal with easily. A couple of quick taps on the computer and he’d no longer be a problem for Nyla.

  But she won’t thank you for it.

  No. She wouldn’t. She’d want a legitimate way to be rid of him. One that was completely aboveboard. But the urge was almost too strong to resist. I could burn him. In the Elite you were allowed one burn. One complete annihilation of someone’s life where no member could step in to rescue them.

  Ben would let me. I could use my burn on him. Hell, if I was inventive, I could do my own version of a burn. But he might have powerful friends to bail him out. And once I buried him in a deep dark hole, I didn’t want him able to crawl out again.

  And, Nyla won’t like it.

  Fuck. Things were a hell of a lot easier when they didn’t require caring about someone.

  I took the left bank of elevators that led to the door nearest to the bedroom suite in the penthouse. As I rode up to the top floor, I pulled my phone from my pocket and frowned down at the thing. It was unlike me to let my battery run so low. But I’d been distracted by Nyla’s taste and scent and the press of her body against mine. That constant hum of electricity that ran over my skin and reached my dick. She was all the way under my skin, and I knew there would be no excavating her now.

  Not that you want to.

  I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep her. But the question was, would she stay?

  When the elevator doors opened, the hairs at the back of my neck stood at attention, and I frowned. There was a whiff of something—was that cologne?—in the air. And it wasn't familiar. It didn't smell like Ben, or Bridge, or Drew. It was something that smelled cheap. Heavy. Thick. I wrinkled my nose and instead of letting myself into my bedroom space, I walked the length of the wing over to the main door. Following the scent. It was thicker by the door. I frowned. I had no fucking weapons on me. How was I supposed to know I was going to need weapons?

  Using the keypad, I typed in my code. And to my chagrin, I didn't hear the deadbolt disengaging. It was unlocked. Motherfucker. My brain did a quick mental calculation of whether my housekeeper had come today. It was Thursday. She didn't come on Thursdays. She came Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Was it possible I'd gotten the schedule wrong this week?

  No, dumbass. Someone has been here. Someone other than you.

  Sometimes Ben or Bridge would stop by when they were just downstairs. But either of them would have texted me.

  Your phone is dead.

  Okay then. So it might not be cause for alarm. Still though, I eased the door open, and treading lightly, I stepped into the darkened kitchen, grateful that the evening shades hadn't been pulled down and the streetlights of Soho gave me some light and created shadows where I might hide at the same time.

  A quick glance through kitchen told me nothing was amiss. But there was that scent again.

  I could see most of the living space from the kitchen because of the expansive open floor plan. I could see the full living room and dining area, and both appeared wide and open and untouched.

  But still, every instinct I had said something was not right here. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  I inched forward farther into the hallway and checked the guest room, double bath, and the closets quickly and efficiently. At the guest room, on the carpet, I removed my shoes and my socks. It would make me quieter. And also gave me more gri
p. With my shoes on, I'd slide all over the place and that wasn't going to work if I had to fight.

  I felt ridiculous. This was insane. There was probably no one here. And if I could have just checked my goddamn phone, I would know that. When I stepped into my bedroom, it was just as dark as the living room. I flicked the lights on and sighed with relief before I felt it.

  There was just the briefest shift of movement behind me, and I whirled. Before I could fully turn my body, I had a hand up protecting my face somewhat, but that left my side exposed and I took a hit to the rib.

  "Son of a bitch."

  I quickly did a mental catalog of the intruder. Close to my height. Decently muscled. Maybe beefier than I was, which meant I was likely quicker.

  I blocked the next blow with both my arms and threw an elbow. Then I wrapped my left arm up and around, trapping his arm as he swung and tugging him closer to me. With my right arm, I gripped between his shoulder and his neck, digging my fingers in deep as I was pulling him close and delivered two knee strikes, making him grunt and double over. On the third one, I shifted my stance back just a little, and gripped his hair instead before delivering my knee to his face. The sickening crunch sent a sizzle of satisfaction through my body.

  But I made a mistake. A fucking rookie mistake as he collapsed in front me, groaning. Instead of delivering a final knockout punch, I quickly continued to survey the room and leaned down, getting a glimpse of his face. "Who the fuck sent you? Was it Jameson?"

  But the piece of shit's eyes just rolled back in his head. He didn't answer. I shook him. "I said, who the fuck–" The swift movement in the room behind me was a surprise. Then a hit to my kidney sent a spasm of pain racking through my entire body. It hurt so bad all I wanted to do was curl into the fetal position and lay there bleeding and pleading for my life. Another shot to my kidney. I was able to tuck and roll, deflecting some of the impact, but God, it hurt.

  I rolled onto my back. Another assailant. This one heavier. Beefier. Bigger.

  I kicked out, making a direct hit to his knee.

  "Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out."

  When he winced and groaned, I managed to roll myself over into a semi-seated position and slid my right leg under my raised left knee, planted both hands on the floor next to my right knee and pushed up. Once I was on my feet, I staggered and swayed. Jesus Christ, kidney shots hurt. I'd forgotten how much.

  And then it was basic hand-to-hand, and all I could do for several moments was block his shots.

  But he was whip fast, like a pit fighter. As big as he was, he should not have moved so quickly.

  You have the advantage. This is your flat. You know where things are.

  I groaned, blocking another side kick.

  With both hands up in L-formations, covering my face, I bent my body slightly to block the kick, and then I delivered an elbow. I got him on the throat, which staggered him back. Then I made the dive. At the foot of my bed, taped under the frame, was a gun.

  I reached for it quickly, raised it, and shot.

  It dinged him, but he was moving quickly, dragging his friend, who had started to get up, behind him. And they were running.

  I squeezed off another round. I didn't know if I hit anything besides drywall, but once again, I pushed to my feet, gun in hand, running after them.

  I'd been taught from the beginning, if you can get up, stay up. If you can neutralize your target, do so. Only kill them if you must.

  I ran. But they weren't there. The door was wide open, and I heaved and breathed a deep sigh.

  I slammed the door shut and quickly went about clearing the east wing of the flat. Bedroom. Bathroom, inside closets. When I was done, I wheezed and went back to my security alarm to check. Sure enough, there had been several silent pings.

  But they'd only been here a few minutes before I arrived. The cameras had caught them. But they’d had my goddamn code. How did they get my code?

  I winced and wheezed, just wanting to crumple into a pit of pain. For some reason my goddamn face hurt too. Had one of the assholes gotten me in the face?

  Jesus Christ. Before collapsing on my couch, I plugged my cell phone into the charger and sent a text to the lads. "We have problems." And then I sent them the link to the security feed.

  Bridge: On my way.

  Ben: Motherfucker. Stay put.

  Before I could collapse back into the cushions, the phone on the side table rang. I answered with a groan. "Hale."

  "Uh, sorry to disturb you at this hour, Mr. Hale, but there is a Miss Kincade down here to see you, and she said that you'd want to see her."

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  If Nyla saw me like this, it would only serve as fuel to the fire that we were up to something. But she was already here and there would be no stopping her, because she would hang out in that lobby until she saw something she didn’t needed to see, which would be Ben and Bridge coming for me.

  "Send her up."

  My worlds were about to collide. But it was already happening, and I was too goddamned tired to stop it.

  Nyla

  Honestly, I'd come to get lucky. Don't judge me.

  My pussy replied. I’m totally judging you. But also, I need him…

  I’d tried to get some rest after East had brought be home. He’d been the perfect gentleman. He hadn’t followed me in, even though I’d wanted him to. I’d wanted him to chase the shadows away. But he’d given me the sweetest goodnight kiss and left.

  I’d done the whole bedtime routine. Brushed my teeth, braided up my hair. Slathered on much too expensive cream on my face. But I’d been restless. Unsettled. I’d spent a good thirty minutes trying to sleep before I gave up and got dressed. I knew what I wanted. I wanted East.

  I arrived at the hotel and they allowed me up after confirming it was okay with East. When I arrived at his penthouse, I stopped short when I saw a smudge of blood on the door, and East swung it open before I could knock.

  "Come on in."

  I could see the traces of blood and broken glass everywhere. What the hell?

  I reached into my purse and palmed my baton, because honestly, it was the only weapon I had. I’d left my damn knife at home. But I was ready.

  I pushed in, ready to do battle with someone. But East just flopped onto the couch, bleeding and seemingly unable to move. "Oh my God. What the hell happened?"

  "Somebody broke in here. That happened."

  "How could the penthouse in this hotel have someone break-in?"

  "You know what? That is an excellent question for later. For now, if you don't mind, I’m just going to go back to dying. What are you doing here?"

  I held up the bottle of rosé and shrugged. "I came to ply you with alcohol so you might shag me."

  His brows lifted as he met my gaze. One slightly bruised eye looked me up and down, making heat lick over my skin. "Oh, Agent Kincade, I might just let you steal my virtue. But newsflash, you don’t need the alcohol. If you’d been in any kind of mind space earlier, I would have shagged you against your door in full view of your neighbors. But now, do you mind terribly if I just lie here and you can, you know, hop on? I can definitely get it up. I just can't move the rest of my body."

  My jaw dropped, but no words emerged.

  "I can still make it good for you, but maybe if just this time you'd rip my trousers down and, you know, we'll figure it out."

  I thought he was kidding. I honest to God thought he was joking by making a lewd suggestion like that, but then my gaze traveled down to... Well, there was the thick length of him pressing insistently against his trousers. "East Hale, you look like death. Like someone literally tried to beat all your breath out of you, and you think you're getting lucky now?"

  "Well, a beautiful woman just walked into my flat and told me she had big plans for shagging. Trust me, I can make it work."

  "You're an idiot." I placed the rosé on the table. "Where are your washcloths?”

  He feebly pointed in the direction of the hallw
ay. "In the closet, it's the second set of doors on the right. You'll find towels and washcloths and the like. And the ice, obviously, is in the freezer."

  "First aid kit?"

  "In the linen closet with the towels. You can't miss it."

  I slipped off my shoes, not wanting to possibly dent the gorgeous acacia hardwood. Then I quickly shuffled off to get the supplies. I found the first aid kit and washcloths where he said they were. In the kitchen, I dragged open some drawers until I found a plastic bag and hit the crush setting on the ice dispenser and filled the bag. And then I found a bigger bowl and filled it with warm water. It was a major balancing act, but I managed to carry everything to the living room.

  Was it possible he looked even worse than he had three minutes earlier? "Jesus Christ, who did this to you?"

  First, I cleaned up his eye, removing the blood as he hissed when I pressed a bit on his bruise. In the first aid kit, I found bandages and butterfly sutures, those tiny ones that can be used in place of stitches. Something told me East was not going to the hospital.

  "You don't have to do this. I can take care of myself."

  "Yeah, right. Someone broke into your flat. Have you called the police?"

  "Nope. Besides, you're here."

  "You know that's not how it works. I'm Interpol. I work on large task forces. This isn't my purview. We need to report this."

  "Nope. Please don't."

  "Why not?" I sat on the coffee table across from him and stared. "What are you into that you're so afraid someone would find out?"

  His moss green eyes met mine. There was so much turmoil and emotion swirling in them. But I couldn't read them clearly. Was there deception in their depths? I wasn’t sure. Was there fear? No.

  "There's nothing you need to worry about, I swear," he said.

  I sighed and then leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him. Our lips were ever so close, and he sniffed me. "God, you smell amazing."

  "Yeah, I know. I put perfume on for you. I was taking no chances with my orgasms."

  He coughed a laugh. "You're just as cocky as I am."

  "Yeah, well, just so you know, my pussy is also magic."