“I’m Zane Lewis,” he introduced himself.
This Zane Lewis was a dangerous man. Extremely so. Sharp, intelligent, deadly. Yes, I’d gleaned all of that by the way his startling blue eyes took me in. The man didn’t bother hiding that he was scrutinizing every blink, twitch, inhale. Mr. Lewis wanted you to know he was watching.
I admired that.
I hated bullshitters.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lewis.”
Those blue eyes rolled and he corrected, “Zane or Z or boss or king of the world. Any of those work. I’ll also answer to dickhead and asshole. Pretty much anything but Mr. Lewis.”
“Zane,” Ivy snapped from beside him and I thought the petite woman was pretty damn brave when she smacked his arm before she continued. “Just once it’d be nice if you could hold your tongue and not freak out the client in the first thirty seconds.”
Zane made a tsking sound before he said, “First, she’s not a client and I should know because clients actually pay the invoices they receive. As a time-saving effort, I’d suggest you start a new expense category. Name it Pain in My Ass. My gut tells me you can assign the account to Gabe. Though my Spidey Senses are still tingling so I’m not clear on that.”
“Zane!” Ivy hissed again. “For the love of sweet baby Jesus, stop freaking her out. Please excuse my husband, he’s not housebroken.”
“Are you freaked out?”
Um. Was he talking to me? Since I was the only other “her” in the room I assumed he was but I was unclear why he was asking—as noted Zane was a watcher and there was no possible way he could miss just how freaked out I was.
However, he seemed to want verbal communication so I gave it to him.
“Uh, no. I was freaked out back in California when I had a gun to my head. I was pretty damn freaked out when I got away. I was seriously freaked when I got on the airplane to come here. Now? Now, I’m fucking beside myself with guilt because I knew better than to do what I did. But I did it anyway and now Anaya, Piper, and Kalee are all in danger. So I don’t know what you’re talking about and what your gut is telling you or about expense reports, but I am really interested in your Spidey Senses and if they can tell me if I’ll be alive when all of this is over because I’m really damn tired of almost dying.”
Zane’s eyes narrowed and those blue eyes of his that couldn’t have been described as warm and friendly but neither cold went hard.
A growl came from my right and I thought I should’ve perhaps pulled Kyle aside to explain to him in private that I’d screwed up and put his wife in danger. Not on purpose, of course; I’d never, ever do that. But my stupid, stupid need to uncover the truth had led me astray. I should’ve given up weeks ago. I should’ve left it alone for a plethora of reasons. But arguably the most important reason was my friend Kalee. She’d spent months in the jungles of Timor-Leste, held captive by rebels and forced to commit heinous acts or be murdered. Now she was home and settled with her fiancé Forest Dalton—better known as Phantom.
I couldn’t think about the horrors Kalee, Piper, and Anaya had gone through in Timor-Leste without my blood boiling and my stomach knotting. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing my friend had been held by rebels for months—left to die in the jungle. She’d been violated in the worst way and none of the men responsible had been brought to justice. My logical mind understood why Phantom had snuck into Timor-Leste and in the dead of night had rescued Kalee without exacting vengeance. There was one of him and too many rebels. His priority had been Kalee. However much trouble it got me into, I couldn’t stand knowing the men who had hurt Kalee were free to do it again. To kill more people. Rape more women. Terrorize the good people of Timor-Leste. I simply couldn’t stand for it—they had to pay.
So I started digging.
Big mistake.
Now I knew more—and the more I knew, the deadlier it got.
The commotion in the room pulled me from my vicious thoughts of inflicting pain and suffering on every man who had touched my friend, to the men shuffling around the room.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“You had a gun to your head?” Kyle snarled, now standing.
Okay, so maybe I should’ve had a quiet word with him about that, too.
“Kyle—”
“You had a gun to your head?” he roared.
It was a silly time to allow my mind to wander to Anaya, but seeing the anger flash in Kyle’s eyes and hearing the fierce tone I couldn’t help it. I loved knowing my friend had Kyle. No, I adored she’d found a man who worshiped the ground she walked on. Seeing him pissed-off was a reminder of how protective Kyle was, even of his wife’s friend.
Yeah, I absolutely shouldn’t’ve blurted out I’d had a gun to my head.
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, Evette. Did you call the police?”
Shit. This was where the story got complicated. The part that was going to turn Kyle’s ire in my direction instead of on the gunman.
“No,” I muttered.
“Come again?”
“Can we please allow her to sit?” That question came from Ivy who was still standing next to Zane, as were the other men in the room. “And possibly introduce her to everyone before the interrogation begins?”
My heart rate ticked up hearing the word interrogation. Was that what this was? It wasn’t supposed to be. I came here to warn Kyle, tell him what I’d done so he could warn the others while I fixed what I’d…shit, what had I done? I’d stupidly poked my nose in things I shouldn’t’ve and now everyone I loved was in danger.
But I could fix it.
Maybe.
A hand on my elbow and what I felt had nothing to do with the way that hand slid down to my forearm, or the way fingers curled around and gently pressed in, nothing to do with the heat on my skin. My reaction was wholly inappropriate. I didn’t have to look to know the man I’d met downstairs was the one touching me.
But I looked anyway and when I did, I wish I hadn’t. The moment I did our eyes didn’t connect, they fused. And I know Gabe felt it, too, because one moment his gaze was soft and the next he flinched.
Yes, flinched.
That didn’t feel good.
No, for some godforsaken reason it hurt.
“Take a seat, Evette.”
Gabe’s head dipped to the side indicating the chair he’d pulled away from the table. The gesture was nice, gentlemanly even, but I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to flee.
How had this become my life? One day I was sitting behind my computer in my home office researching a story my editor at the online news website I worked for had assigned me, the next I’d ditched my assignment and was knee-deep in a scandal of epic proportions.
I should’ve stopped there but I couldn’t.
Someone had to pay for what happened to Kalee, Piper, and Anaya. And I wanted to make sure they did.
Chapter 3
What in the Sam hell was going on?
Evette London was not the kind of woman who made you look twice. No—at first glance she captivated you. She caught you in her snare so you couldn’t look away. She was also a woman who didn’t understand her allure. If she had, she wouldn’t have had the unmistakably soft innocence that surrounded her.