Ridley Scott, one of your aliens is free.
But then I had a clear picture of who I was dealing with.
The face revealed was like a punch to the balls. My dick, instead of deflating, the motherfucker went full steel. The woman from the park was none other than Nyla Kincade. The woman hell bent on being a thorn in the side of the London Lords.
We had too many secrets to keep. Ten years ago our brothers in the Elite had caused the death of our friend.
The four of us were hell-bent on revenge. And no one was going to keep us from that.
We’d already taken down Bram Van Linsted. We had two dominos left to topple. Garreth Jameson and James Middleton. And we had no intention of stopping until they were gone, dead, and buried.
But it seemed that intrepid little Interpol agent was coming for us. I should be concerned. Instead, every cell in my body wanted to scream, 'Game on.'
A text drew my attention when it beeped.
Unknown: I know what you want. And I can help you get it. But first the London Lords will help me.
East: Who the hell is this?
Unknown: Francois Theroux. I’m the man who will help you get revenge.
East
After a sleepless night, I was still unsettled by that little mishap with Agent Kincade.
Mishap? Is that what we’re calling it? She kicked your arse.
What the fuck was that shit even? Why had I followed her? To what, confront her? But instead, I’d been the one who ended up on my ass.
I scrubbed my hand down my face. Nyla Kincade was a threat, not just to me, but to my family and our carefully constructed plan. I needed to get my shit together.
I’d spent half the morning in a zombie haze. I’d nearly missed two standing meetings. Spilled coffee on myself. Zoned out in a planning meeting on the design for a new boutique hotel in Australia.
By lunch time, my assistant, Belinda, paused in my doorway, looking concerned. “Uh, Mr. Hale, I just wanted to remind you that it’s Friday and I’ll be leaving early for Tommy’s recital at school.”
Recital? What was she on about? Why was she reminding me of the day? I knew what bloody day it was.
Do you? You had the date wrong in your earlier meeting.
Right. “Yeah. Of course. Thank you for the reminder. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me East?”
“Habit, sir,” she said with a small smile as she quickly reminded me of my other meetings and told me she’d set alerts for them. She tugged at her sleeves nervously, but it was no use. I could see the hints of bruises.
She whirled around but not before reminding me, “You have a meeting in three minutes.”
“Yep, got it. And Belinda?”
She lifted her brows. “Yes?”
“You’re doing great.”
“Thank you, Mr, erm, East.”
She swung the door closed, but before it could click shut, Drew burst in. “What’s the matter with you? You look like shit.”
“Cheers to you too, mate.”
He shrugged. “Calling it like I see it. You look like me when wee Alice was born.”
I winced. “No one can look that bad.”
“Twat,” he muttered.
I shook my head as if that small movement was going to exorcise Nyla from my brain.
Good luck with that.
Ben and Bridge came strolling into my office right behind Drew, and I figured I should just rip the bandage off. “Last night, the woman I chased out of the restaurant was none other than Agent Nyla Kincade.”
Bridge whipped around, Drew cursed, and Ben just stared at me before saying, “Come again?”
“I know none of you are deaf. I tracked her movements after our little fight in the park.” I pulled up a map on one of my monitors and showed them her route. “She went this way, removed her disguise, and was picked up by a MINI Cooper right here.” I showed them the point on the map.
“Fucking hell.” Ben ran his hands through his too-long blond hair. “Why can’t this woman leave well enough alone?”
“Not sure, but she’s a hell of a fighter. I took her SD card off of her, and I’m decrypting everything now.”
Bridge stalked over. “What the fuck does this mean? We gave her a plum case. That should have made her back off.”
I shrugged. “I think our best course of action is for me to approach the section chief and implore her to back off.”
Ben rubbed his jaw. “You want to take on Agent Kincade?”
Fuck yes. We had a score to settle. But no way was Ben going to give me the all clear if I said that. “It just makes sense. She’s already come after you and Liv, Ben. Bridge and Drew have families, so there’s no need to put them in the crosshairs. Let me deal with her.”
He crossed his arms and studied me closely. “Fair enough. Don’t approach her directly. It only makes her fight harder. She’s tenacious. See how far you get with the section chief.”
“Yeah, will do." I sighed and pulled out my phone. “There is something else.”
Bridge scrubbed a hand down his face. “Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead.”
“Sorry, mate.” I handed the phone to Ben.
He read the messages and frowned. “Who the fuck is Francois Theroux?”
“I’ve done some preliminary digging. Theroux, he’s no light-fingered bugger. He’s a world-class thief. Stolen millions. And he’s at the very top of several international top-ten capture lists."
Bridge whistled low.
Ben sighed. "So this is real? What does he want from us?"
“No idea, and that’s the problem. I don't know how seriously we take it. Anyone who knows of his crimes could easily be jerking us about, pretending to be him." I glanced around at the lads. "What do you want to do?"
Drew rubbed his jaw. "What’s our exposure? Do we have to do anything?"
I frowned. "Well, my inclination is to seek and destroy anything that could hurt us. But we need to do some research first. We need someone who would know Theroux and his methodology."
Ben sighed. "Lucas."
I shrugged. "Our erstwhile prince.” Lucas Winston might be a prince of the Winston Isles, but he was also a thief. Former thief. And he had helped us bring down Bram Van Linsted and his father, Marcus.
When we’d learned that Bram had a hand in our mate Toby’s death ten years ago, it was a blow, but not a surprise. Lucas had helped with the plan for revenge, and I knew he’d be in to help us again. “If anything, he can tell us the intangibles. Like reputation, temperament. At least what the rumors are. They’ll help us predict how this Theroux character will act.”
Drew stroked his chin. “There’s got to be more we can do. Can we trace the text? This is too much to be a coincidence.”
“Not that easy. I already tried a trace. The encryption is next level. It can be done, but it will take time.” He was right about this feeling too coincidental. “The text makes me nervous too. Could also be from someone looking to make us spin our wheels since we took Van Linsted off the board.”
Ten years ago, Bram Van Linsted, whose father had been the Director Prime and headed the Elite for well over thirty years, had played an integral part in the death of our friend Toby. A couple months ago when we learned what they’d done, we’d made a vow for payback. One that now extended to Garreth Jameson and Francis Middleton since we’d exacted our revenge on the Van Linsteds.