The woman tried to get free of his grip again. The other guy wasn't letting up. "Oi, I said that's no way to treat a lady. Let her go."
Lloyd, assessing the other bloke, shrugged and shoved the woman away from him. She stumbled, almost falling over, but the drunk caught her.
"It's not fucking worth it, mate."
I followed him. Knowing exactly where I needed to apply pressure to make him rethink his ways. Leave town for bit even. I knew exactly what needed to be done. Normally I watched from afar. It was easier. I'd threatened someone's money, their bank accounts. And they would ease up, level off. It was called leverage. But this guy? No. What he cared about was his "freedom." His ability to roam and drink and gamble. So I was going to have to restrict his movements. Or let him know that those gambling debts he'd racked up… that I was going to buy the debt and the debt had come due.
I had several options, depending on what he said. But alas, tonight wasn't going to be the night. Instead I got a phone call.
Nyla’s voice was still as husky as always, but there was a noted tremble in it. Then she said the words that I never thought I'd hear Nyla Kincade say to me of all people. "I need your help."
I abandoned Jack Lloyd right then as if I’d never even thought to stop him. Oh, I’d see him later. But at the moment, Nyla was my worry.
I knew where she lived, of course, but she gave me the address anyway. When I turned up to the block of row houses in Camberwell, I glanced around. This area of Vauxhall was established, quiet. Close enough to the tube and directly across from a parking garage where I’d placed my cameras in order to surveil her townhouse.
London Lords owned the development. There was a security gate with a doorman and a pretty courtyard with a community fountain. There was also a gym on the property.
Sooner or later she'd figure out how I watched her and cut off my access to her, but for now, she was letting the wolf inside the henhouse. I could've let myself into her flat, but considering how frightened she sounded, I wasn't going to do that. I knocked when I arrived, and she opened immediately. She leaned against the door. "Is now a good time to tell you I feel dumb having called you?"
I needed to get in her flat to make sure she was okay. I didn't have my laptop. Breaking into the CCTV feed from my phone was going to be more difficult and take more time for me to confirm whether someone was in her flat or not. "Are you alone?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I sent him packing."
I frowned. If she didn't need me to physically do something, what did she need? I wasn't used to being unsure. "Are you okay?"
It was only then that I realized she carried a glass of something amber because she brought it to her lips and took a long sip. "Um, okay is not the right term. Not the one I'd use anyway."
"Let me in, Nyla."
She stepped aside. "In." Even though she said she was alone, I did a sweep. Kitchen was easy enough, and the whole dining room area was open. I checked the closet, the bathroom, and then turned down the hall toward the bedroom. My breath caught. It smelled like her. Something fresh with just a fair scent of sweetness. Like clothes drying on a line. With maybe a vanilla candle. It smelled like her. And God help me, I was hard. But I tamped that down because she'd called me for a reason. She had called me because she was... what, scared? I strolled back out into the living room. "What's the matter?"
"I don't know." She put her glass down on her coffee table and sat on the edge of her couch, pulling her knees up. "I... It was just... I don't know why I called you."
I lifted a brow. "Last I checked, Agent Nyla Kincade was a tough cookie. If you called me, it was for a real reason. Just stop beating yourself up and tell me what happened."
"I got home. Took the tube like always. Came to my flat. And Denning was here."
I frowned. What the fuck had that git been doing in her place?
"My ex. Well my boss." She started blabbering as if I had no idea who he was.
"I know who he is."
"Right, because you know things."
I shrugged. "I do know things, but why was he in your flat? Was there some pressing work thing?"
She shook her head. "No. He just let himself in like he owned the place."
"Does he still have a key?"
She frowned at me and shook her head. "No. I changed the locks, but that wouldn’t stop him."
"Is it standard protocol that your superiors have access to where you live?"
"No. But he's Interpol. We all know how to pick a lock. And we know how to disengage a deadbolt."
"But you didn't engage the deadbolt when you left, did you?"
She shook her head. "No. I have two locks. Honestly, I shouldn't have to engage a deadbolt too."
She had a point there. She had a doorman, but bypassing him was easy enough. All I did was flash my ID, and lookie there, easy access. But I wasn't going to tell her that. "Okay. What did he want?"
Nyla slid her feet back down to the floor and then ran her hands through her thick mane of dark brown hair. "Uh, he wanted to tell me to stay away from you. That you were dangerous. That I was going to get hurt if I continued down this path with you." She licked her lips in what I now recognized as a nervous gesture. “He also knows about the Elite. I swear I didn’t tell him. He already knew.”
My gut twisted. I shouldn’t trust her. But there
