Chapter 1
Evette London
This was a mistake.
I never should’ve come here. I should’ve called but there was no time and besides, I’d ditched my phone.
Someone was following me. Actually, now that I was out of California I could admit someone wasn’t just following me—someone was trying to kill me.
I still should’ve called. There were still payphones, I could’ve called collect. Kyle wouldn’t have minded the charge on the bill. He would’ve been grateful I wasn’t bringing this issue into his wife’s life.
But I needed to warn Anaya.
Besides, it was too late now—I was here.
In the lobby of Z Corps, Kyle’s place of business. He was a PI or a commando or a badass—whatever he was he’d know what to do. Anaya loved me and he loved Anaya. He’d help.
God, I hoped he’d help.
I hadn’t been clear-headed when I jumped on a plane. Okay, I didn’t jump on a plane, I slowly walked on a plane deep-breathing so I didn’t have a panic attack. Apparently, the only thing I was more afraid of than flying was dying at the hands of the person who was trying to kill me.
I hadn’t rented a car. I’d hailed a taxi, the old-school kind, the yellow kind you find lined up at the airport exit. Then I’d paid the fare in cash.
I’d never given much thought to things like using cash. Like everyone else, I used my card. And when you don’t think about things like say, having enough cash on hand to narrowly escape across the country, you run out of said cash quickly. I had three dollars in my wallet. That was it.
I really hoped Kyle would help me or I was totally up shit’s creek.
“Evette?” Kyle’s voice boomed.
I turned and I felt my neck muscles constrict.
My good friend Anaya had hit the hot guy mother lode when she’d married Kyle. Once upon a time, I’d thought he was the hottest guy I’d ever met in person. Only being topped by Tom Cruise, who I had not met in person, but Tom was Tom so he was at the top of every list.
But I’d been wrong.
Even in the throes of a panic attack to rival all panic attacks the man standing next to Kyle demanded my attention.
Suddenly my life being in peril took a back seat and my hormones picked the wrong time to go into hyperdrive.
“Are you okay?” Kyle asked.
“No. Someone’s trying to kill me.”
I watched the man standing next to Kyle turn hard before his gaze went to the windows and started scanning.
“Ivy,” Kyle barked, and the pretty brown-haired receptionist looked our way. “Upstairs. Lockdown.” The woman stood and Kyle continued issuing orders. “Gabe, take the front. I’ll call Owen. He should still be in the parking garage.”
Kyle moved forward and grabbed my hand. And as wrong as it was, I sighed. Not because my friend Anaya’s husband holding my hand made me feel inappropriate things, but because I was an independent woman who didn’t need a man to take care of her. However, I had to admit Kyle’s strong, warm hand wrapped around mine made me feel safe—something I hadn’t felt in weeks—and the relief of that swept through me reminding me how stupid I’d been.
“Not here. In California,” I told him.
The man—Gabe. His name was Gabe—slowly turned his head and when his soulful gaze came to me, suddenly the death threats, car chases, and break-ins vanished. All the reasons I’d left my home in Riverton and flown across the country went up in a poof of smoke. Yes, his warm, deep, rich chocolate brown eyes were that captivating. They made me forget.
“Let’s get you upstairs and safe, yeah?” Gabe asked.
I nodded because I couldn’t speak.
I really did need to get safe.
I also needed to tell Anaya about Kalee.
But first I needed to remember why I was in Maryland and ignore my strange reaction to the man who had spoken fewer than ten words to me. Though as I stood in the lobby with my eyes locked onto Gabe’s, I’d swear I knew him. Oh, I’d never actually met him before, but if I were one of those fanciful women who believed in love at first sight and soul mates, I’d say it felt like I’d spent a hundred lifetimes with him—that this man Gabe was born with the other half of my heart in his chest.
Yep, this was a mistake. I should’ve called.
Chapter 2
I could do this.
Maybe.
The ‘maybe’ part was because I was stupefied. First Kyle had led me through a maze of corridors; each door we’d gone through required a code and a palm scan. The receptionist, Ivy, had made it to the elevator first, which didn’t accept fingerprints. Oh no, to gain access to the lift a retinal scan was in order.
What was that about?
And it got worse, or better depending on how I looked at it. The main office space looked like I’d entered a movie set. That was, if the movie was a CIA action thriller where the hero comes out on top and leaves a slew of dead bad guys in his wake. The ‘better’ part was I knew I was safe in the building—as in totally safe because no one, not even James Bond was breaking into Z Corps. The ‘worse’ part was, seeing all of that made the reality of my situation slam into my chest.
I was not in Maryland to visit my friend Anaya nor was I there to cuddle Maxine—Kyle and Anaya’s daughter who I’d yet to see in person. Which made me feel like a crappy honorary auntie.
I had fled California because the last close call was too close. I could no longer live in denial, calling every dangerous situation I’d found myself in a coincidence. They weren’t. Everything was connected.
Now I was in a huge conference room—so huge a table fitting eighteen sat in the middle of the space, and not only did it fit but there was still room for a credenza—one that was not small by any stretch—sat against the wall with a flat-screen TV hanging above it.
The space was not tastefully decorated, it was top-of-the-line luxury. Which told me I couldn’t afford an hour’s worth of their time.
Shit.
And finally, I was finding it extremely difficult to concentrate with eight huge men staring at me. Seven of whom I didn’t know, save Gabe. Though I’d only met him a few minutes down in the lobby.
It also must be noted when this was over I would be having words with Anaya. She had indeed disclosed that all of the men her husband worked with were good-looking; she’d even gone as far as joking how applicants had to submit a professional headshot along with their resumes. However, Anaya had sorely failed to convey the level of good-looking these men were. Therefore my poor eyeballs were totally unprepared when I walked into the room.
And since we’re on the topic of gorgeousness it would be criminal if I left out Ivy. I wasn’t a woman to self-harm and lament how other women were skinnier, prettier, had more in the boobs or booty department. As far as I was concerned the sisterhood needed less jealousy and bitchiness and more solidarity. However, Ivy had it going on in a way that made me regret not having a daily beauty regime, and seeing the woman’s flawless skin had me vowing right then and there to purchase the best face wash, exfoliating cream, and moisturizer I could afford.
“Evette London?”
A man’s voice boomed my name. Unfortunately, that meant my gaze went to the man who’d asked. I say unfortunately because once our eyes connected the man’s gaze became shrewd in a way I’d never seen and I’d met some smart, observant men and women in my line of work. But no one had ever looked at me and five seconds later had hacked into my thoughts.