The Fall of East Page 3

  Bridge whirled around quickly, nearly toppling himself off his stool. The rest of us turned around more slowly because we had been caught by the one absolute loose cannon on our team. Before I turned, I knew I'd find Emma Varma standing behind us in all her pissed-off glory. Her dark inky hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She had on black leather pants, a tight black turtleneck, and her hands were on her hips, looking every bit a stealthy ninja as Bridge asked, "How did you find us?"

  "Well, it was pretty easy, actually. First, I checked in on Nyla before heading over. She said you were at some work meeting, East. Then I went to the office and your assistant, the timid one, she said the three of you went out for drinks with him." She pointed at Drew.

  Drew gave her a wide grin. "I always did like you, Little Tobes."

  "My name is Emma. No more attaching my worth to my brother's name. I'm worthy all on my own. Anyway, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which bar. You all would go either close to home or close to the office. And there's really only a handful of bars that carry the specific brand of scotch that this idiot likes." She pointed at Bridge, and he snorted.

  "Are you following us because of me, Little Tobes?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the low tone Bridge used with her. We’d been mates for more than half our lives, and I didn’t think I’d ever heard him address anyone else quite that way.

  She laughed. "No, dipshit. Actually, I was scoping out a different bar when I remembered I’d put a GPS tracker on Ben."

  Ben scowled and glanced down on himself quickly. "What? Where?"

  She shrugged then took a stool between Drew and Ben. "I'm not inclined to expose my ways of tracking you boys down.”

  Little Tobes was all grown up, and she was taking no fucking prisoners. I sighed. "Well then, fantastic, you found us. What is it that you think we're doing?"

  "Don't play dumb. Just get on with it. How are you lot going to find Henry Warlow?"

  Bridge just laughed. "You are tricky, aren't you?"

  I had no choice but to give her a gaze that was all respect. She'd mentally deduced what we were up to, and she was resourceful. She made a good addition to the team whether Bridge wanted to accept it or not.

  She looked at the bartender, signaled for a beer, and Bridge's scowl only furrowed further. "You're not supposed to be drinking."

  "Relax, Dad, I've been of age for years now."

  It was his turn to wince, but she had a point. He'd been treating her like she was thirteen. And she was a good deal old enough for this.

  "So, where are we?"

  Bridge just scowled down into his scotch. "Just go away, Emma."

  "See, that's the joy in this. Just because you told me to go away doesn't mean I have to. Now, one of you can start talking, or I can start calling in the wives and fiancées and what not, and ask them why their men are having private talks without us."

  I shook my head. "You wouldn't. I’m just starting to get on Nyla's good side again. She'd eviscerate me if she found out."

  Emma grinned. And before Bridge could do anything about it, she took his drink from him and took a long sip.

  Her gaze never left his, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Watching the two of them eye-fuck was disconcerting to say the least. After all, this was Little Tobes. Emma. Toby's little sister. And it was Bridge, but every time we feared for Emma’s mental sanity, she gave as good as she got. So she could clearly take care of herself.

  "Don't make me repeat myself. Where are we?"

  Ben sighed. "Look, I'm telling Livy when we get home anyway. So you all better figure out a way to make things okay with your women, because otherwise, they're going to kill us."

  Emma shrugged. "Yeah. Next time don't have secret meetings."

  I sighed. Nyla was going to kill me. Hopefully, I could tell her before Emma did, or worse, Telly. Telly would rub it in and get Nyla even more riled.

  Ben said, "Fine. Right now, we're trying to figure out how we prove that Jameson at the very least knew Warlow. And if he has any idea of where to find him or knows what happened to him, we need a way to get him to share that information."

  Emma took another sip of Bridge’s drink. To her credit, she didn’t wince at the taste. “Do we have any new evidence?”

  We all shook our heads and I said, "No, we have nothing concrete. All we know is that Henry Warlow disappeared after that regatta in the photograph in Jameson’s office."

  "Okay, like how? Is there a record of him leaving school? Was there anything pointing at where he might have gone?"

  "That's what we're going to research. I'm looking for any unsolved disappearances, John Doe murder cases, etc. to explain where he went. And we’re hoping that it will lead us back to Jameson." I took a sip of my beer. “I’m also trying to decrypt the information I got from Jameson’s vault. Hopefully we’ll get something out of it.”

  Bridge tore his gaze away from Emma as she kept taking sips from his drink. Ben seemed to notice the two and gave me a smirk when Bridge wasn't looking. Ben had always hated Bridge’s fiancée, Mina, as much as I did, so Bridge's fascination with Emma was making him happy.

  Ben said, "One of us needs to pay a visit to Van Linsted in prison and see if we can get him to say anything about Jameson.”

  Bridge nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  "Fine. East, keep looking for any information that might be useful.”

  "If you'll excuse me gents, I need to get back to the penthouse. I think I—"

  The hairs at the back of my neck stood at attention. Suddenly my skin was too tight and my body felt as if it were being pulled by a magnet. I turned to find the source and saw Nyla, dressed in slim-fitting leggings and a sweater I had helped her put on before leaving. She’d paired it with a long woolen coat and thigh-high boots. I nearly swallowed my tongue.

  A man opened the door for her as she approached, and she stepped right in. Emma grinned and waved at her. "What, you didn't think I'd tell Nyla where you were? Please, it's not my first rodeo."

  As she approached, Nyla gave me a wry grin. "What, that's not happiness to see me, is it?"

  Chapter Three

  East

  Nyla’s tight, compact body vibrated with fury as I asked, "So, on a scale from one to I'm well and truly fucked, how mad are you?"

  I'd pulled her toward the backroom, where the private parties were usually held. We'd had Ben's birthday here not too long ago, so I knew there weren't usually customers in the back hall. She whirled on me before I could pull her into the room and said, "What, so ‘how mad are you’ is all you have to say?"

  I was worried about her arm. "Nyla, be careful."

  That only poured gasoline on her anger. "Stop it. Don't you dare tell me to be careful and act like you care about me. You kept this from me."

  She had a solid point. I had kept the meeting from her because I didn't want her to worry. She'd gotten hurt being a part of this, so I needed to keep her safe.

  You are the one who hurt her.

  "Look, I should have told you, but I've been more worried about your recovery."

  "My recovery?" She jabbed me in the pectoral. It didn't hurt, but I made it a point to wince to give her the idea that she was actually doing something. “I could kill you.”

  "I know you're mad. Take it out on me. The lads had nothing to do with it. And Emma, obviously... Well, she called you."

  "And you know why she did that. We were the unwanted additions to the team, so we formed a little bond. God, I thought I could trust you."

  "Ny, you know you can trust me."

  She whirled on me again and jabbed me in the other pec. "Don't you dare call me Ny."

  I sighed and reached for her. "I'm sorry. This wasn’t meant to hurt you; this was meant to keep you safe."

  She threw her arms up, blinking rapidly before wincing. "How many times do I have to fucking tell you I can take care of myself?"

  "Until you are no longer in the path of people who want t
o kill you."

  She shook me off. "The only one who has ever tried to kill me here is you."

  I winced. "You were never going to die."

  Her mouth dropped open. "Really, East? Are you sure that's what you're going with right now?"

  "Okay, enough Nyla. Fucking enough. Because of me, you've been pulled into this world. Yes, your job is dangerous, but these people we are dealing with are not playing by some tidy little rules. Even your friends will turn on you. I'm doing my best to keep all of us safe. You especially, because I fucking care about you. And if you can't see that, tough. But you’re stuck with me either way. So start opening your eyes and see that I'm doing this for your own good."

  "No, arsehole. You're doing this for your own good. This whole thing has to do with you and your feelings. This doesn't have anything to do with me. This is your problem, not mine."

  She tried to move past me, but I couldn't let her walk away. I grasped firmly at her good arm, but not enough to hurt her. "This is the way it's going to be Nyla. Sorry if you don't like it, but I also don't care."

  She tried to shove me off with her good arm, but I didn’t budge. In the end, she glowered up at me, and I glowered back down at her. For the last week, I'd been noticing how hard her nipples were when I helped her in and out of the tub, her look of disappointment when I didn’t touch her, and the way she watched me warily when I climbed into bed next to her and stayed resolutely on my side.

  I hadn't been torturing her, per se. I'd been torturing myself if I was being honest. It was more about wanting to be careful with her and knowing I had a lot to make up for. I fucking shot the woman I cared about, and she was right; I could have killed her. There was no reason she should trust me.

  I didn't deserve her. But the look she was giving me right now, the naked hunger etched in her gaze, the way that her tongue lingered over her bottom lip, I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop. I needed to let her go so she could storm back out into the bar.

  But instead, I watched as she swallowed hard, and then her gaze slid over my shoulders, my pecs, further down my chest and my abs, and yup... trained right on my steel-like dick. Because he was here for that program. The one where she licked her lips and looked at me like I was her last meal.

  Absolutely on board.

  "Nyla." My voice was a raspy whisper.

  "I hate you."

  "Well, I don’t hate you, so you need to stop looking at me like that, or I'm going to do something about that itch you've got."

  Her gaze stayed on my dick as if to say, I dare you.

  "Nyla, I'm warning you."

  "Is this one of those times that you tell me what's good for me?”

  "It looks like you want me to remind you."

  And then I released the reins. No more control. No more carefully crafted rules and ways to keep her safe. She wanted me to take, so I was going to take. There was no preamble, no slow slide. No delicate nibbling. My lips crashed down on hers, and I unleashed all the frustration I'd been holding in. She grabbed tightly onto me, holding on, and I knew neither one of us were going to be the same after this.

  Nyla

  East had no business tasting this good or smelling this good. Or God, why did his hands feel like perfection? It wasn't fair. I didn't want it to feel this good.

  Then what are you doing here? You could've talked to him when he came home.

  I tried to ignore my rational mind. Because the way East's tongue was sliding over mine was frying brain cells by the second. And nothing to do other than to respond. Than to kiss him back and just give in. It was too hard to fight. Oh, I was still angry. All the mads. Super mad. But I needed this like I needed to breathe. He was my oxygen after surfacing from the water, that beloved lifeblood.

  His hand slid into my hair, fisting just tight enough to let me know that he was in control, causing a sweet ache but not enough to hurt me at all.

  His lips and tongue were punishing as they slid over mine, demanding a response, and we're tangled limbs as we backed out of the hallway and into the private room. With one hand he released me and reached behind him to do something. And then I heard the click of the lock.

  We started moving again. One step, two steps, three steps, counter. Oh, shit.

  With a muffled groan he picked me up easily, his big hands releasing my hair to slide down my body to my thighs and tug them apart before stepping between them.

  His erection was revelatory, already knowing where I needed him to press. Like a pussy-seeking missile as I moaned and sought to get closer to it. This was what I’d been missing. That stinging need to feel wanted, to feel seen. I didn’t want any of his coddling bullshit. I wanted to be treated like what I was, a woman, his partner. And God, the way his dick twitched against me told me he had every intention of showing me just how much he wanted me.

  For a moment he stilled, and I snapped my head up to gaze up at him. I could see the war in his eyes, those beautiful moss-green eyes. He was fighting this. He was fighting me.

  Or was he?

  His gaze searched me as if he was trying to catalog everything about my face. My brow, my eyes, my nose, my jawline, my neck. The slow perusal made me tingle, and my nipples pinched to tight little buds.

  His gaze slid down and he noticed them. His lips tilted into that oh-so-familiar smirk, making me even angrier. I tried to shove him back, but I didn't budge him at all.

  Matter of fact, it only made him laugh.

  I could hurt him. Force him to move. But you don't really want that, do you?

  Well, there was a part of me that did want that. If he wasn't going to give me what I wanted then— His lips were back in another bruising, demanding kiss. And this time he was swiveling his hips just so, making his dick press up against my clit, and I gasped as he said, "This is mine."

  "Shut the fuck up."

  He laughed again before sliding his hands back into my hair.

  More kissing. More tongue, more lips, more teeth. A few groans and whimpers too.

  When he dragged his lips away, kissing along my jaw and down to my neck, his hands slid down to the hem of my sweater, sliding up and over my skin, his thumbs tracing each of my ribs before hitting pay dirt.

  When he palmed my breasts, he groaned into my neck. "Fuck, Nyla. You're killing me."

  I could show him killing. Very deliberately, I swiveled my hips, rotating round and round and then up and down along the length of him.

  I could feel him shaking.

  Yeah, two can play this game.

  And then it was a flurry of arms, legs, and tongues, as sure, strong hands tugged my sweater over my head.

  Then he pulled back and he put his gaze down to my breasts. "Fucking hell. Do you know how hard it's been not to attack these every day? You’re always walking around the flat with no bloody clothes on. I have been dying to suck them, touch them, fuck them.”

  "East."

  I reach for him, grabbing for his belt. I made quick work of the buckle, desperate now, so goddamn desperate for any touch of connection, any chance to return to the East and Nyla of just a couple weeks ago. When we'd been us.

  The ‘us’ you refer to is extremely tumultuous.

  I wasn't going to think about that.

  I was just going to let him make me feel good. I'd think about the rest later.

  And East Hale knew how to make me feel good. Bending down, he braced my back with one hand, making me arch and offer up my breasts to him. And then through my bra he licked and sucked and used his teeth to gently graze the nipples. When my legs started to shake, he laughed and pulled back, bringing me with him off the counter. But before I could complain, he swiftly turned me around and then tugged down my leggings.

  "You have to be quiet now, Nyla. Can't have anybody getting too curious about what we're doing in here can we?"

  Granted, not that I cared.

  And then he had my leggings down as far as my boots would allow, and my knickers quickly followed. Then he touched me with the
tip of one long finger.

  "Fucking hell, Nyla."

  I could do nothing but gasp his name as I braced my hands on the countertop.

  All I heard was a rustle of clothes, and then he was there, that hot pulsing tip of him, ready and waiting for me.

  "Wider."

  I tried to comply, but the leggings stopped me. "This is as far as I can go."

  He laughed. "Oh, I know. But God do I love to see you attempt to give me what I need."

  "Jesus Christ, you are such a—"

  I didn't get to finish that statement because he lined up with me and slid all the way home.

  He dropped his head to the back of my neck and hissed. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why do you feel so good?”

  I couldn't respond. I was too busy trying to focus on breathing. He was so big, and I felt so full. I’d missed him. I missed everything about this, everything about him, and I hated the idea that after this we'd go back to being the irritated adversaries. Because I wasn't sure that I was going to be able to forgive him.

  His hands slid up my belly, cupping my breasts again, and he retreated slowly. Oh so slowly as it caused a proper amount of ache and burn.

  I knew full well what he was doing. Claiming me, owning me all over again.

  He cupped my breasts, gently pinching the tips. I gasped, and he knew he had me. Then one hand slid down my belly, sliding between my thighs and easily finding that tight button of nerves, and he stroked. It didn't take long until I was gasping for him, whispering his name, always on the tip of my tongue. When he bit me, I shuddered, knowing I was close, so close. "Oh my God, East. Please, please, please, please, please, please. "

  But he was going too slow. Taking his time, making me want more in a way that I didn't want him to. So I squeezed him using my inner muscles, and I deliberately pulsed against him as he bit out a curse, a soft growl against my ear, making my skin prickle. "Christ, woman."

  But he picked up his pace. We were both too far gone for mor games, and all that could be heard were our grunts and groans and whispered pleas of yes, and right there and oh my God. But it was meeting his gaze in the mirror that sent me over the edge and into overdrive.