Page 64 of Arrogant Bastard

Twenty minutes later, we’re escorted into another room and introduced to the sickest depravity of them all. “So, what’s your poison?” Raj asks.

Killian drapes his arm around my shoulder and lets loose a conceited smile. “A good host carefully investigates their guests’ likes and dislikes before inviting them to a thing. You got close, my friend. Really close, but you fell at the final hurdle. I’m worth nine billion dollars. That’s a heck of a chunk of change to jeopardize for the sake of getting caught on camera indulging my…interests. And yes, I know there are cameras in this room.”

Moses’s face drops, and he shakes his head. “You’re paranoid—”

“No, I’m not. On this occasion, I’m going to choose not to be offended. You go ahead and enjoy yourself. We’re leaving.”

He steers me toward the door but not before I catch a glimpse of a middle-aged man dragging a half-naked girl into his lap. I clench my stomach against the need to vomit and fight a greater urge to stalk over and rip her out of his arms. Killian eyeballs the guard blocking the doors, and I close my eyes when I hear Paul Galveston shout Killian’s name.

“No,” I mutter fiercely under my breath.

“It’s fine, baby. Trust me.” His supporting arm stays around my shoulders, and he turns us around.

For the first time since we met him, Galveston looks less than the cocky bastard he projects. “Look, Knight, believe it or not, this wasn’t about you. Some of the guests here like to take back digital souvenirs.” He shrugs. “We didn’t want to disappoint them.”

“Fine. So don’t disappoint them,” Killian replies evenly.

Paul rubs his middle finger across his brow. “Stay the night anyway. Mo mentioned some other business ventures we want to discuss, right? We’re really interested in bringing you on board the real estate project.”

Killian offers him a bored look without answering.

Galveston’s lips twitches in a mean little sneer before he catches himself. “Let’s offer you a sweetener to make you stay.”

Killian looks around the room. “Sorry, I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Fuck, you’re a tough customer, aren’t you?”

A shrug.

“Will you give me…us until tomorrow to make it up to you?”

Killian takes a few moments to think about it. Then he looks down at me. Nothing in his face gives away his true emotions, but I feel turbulence whipping through him.

“Fine.”

Paul cracks a triumphant smile. “Good man.” He whistles for one of the guards. “He’ll walk you back to the residence. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I can barely hold it together long enough to walk back to our rooms.

The moment we shut the doors, I whirl on Killian. “How did you know?”

He raises his finger to his mouth like he’s caressing his lower lip, but I get the hold on signal. He quickly searches the room, peeking behind paintings and underneath lamps, before he walks over to me, his jaw clenched in fury. “Because shit bags like Galveston thrive on that sort of crap. He’d like nothing more than to have me in his pocket for life,” he growls.

I can’t stop shaking. “Why don’t we just call the local authorities? God, Killian, those kids.”

He cups my shoulders. “It’s too late. If we act now, we’ll blow our cover. I promise, the moment we leave here in the morning, I’ll make the call. There are ten kids in that room, but there are hundreds more out there. We can’t just scrub the op because we still don’t know where the shipment’s coming in. And we can’t monitor all the ports at once even with a date in mind. The port of Alexandria alone will take a huge amount of manpower to stake out. Tomorrow may be our only window to try and get a further advantage.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Hang in there, okay?”

I give a wretched nod. I excuse myself to go the bathroom, where I throw up the contents of my stomach. I suspect Killian thinks I’m vomiting because I’m disgusted by what we witnessed. While that’s partly true, I let him believe that’s all of it.

And during the night, when I get up for the third time to throw up, I accept that maybe I’m not cut out for this spy shit. At all.

Maybe turns into a definite yes a handful of hours later when I get up to vomit for the fourth time, and the smallest sound ends up blowing my life apart.

* * *

Killian

I feel the center of my gravity shift in my sleep. It’s not a spy thing warning me of danger. It’s an emotional klaxon shrieking at me that something’s not right.

---