Page 246 of Enemies

“I don’t care. We’re going.”

When we arrive, the driver stays in the car while security accompanies me through the pine forest to the secluded lookout. Tripping over roots, I second-guess this idea more than once.

“Ash!” I call through the dense brush.

I curse as I scrape my knee. Once I emerge from the trees, I find a hunched form sitting near the edge of the lookout.

I wave off security, motioning for them to stay back.

My racing pulse steadies a few beats as I approach him.

“It’s a hell of a view,” I comment.

Ash turns. “That’s why people come here. Americans. Brits. Everyone. They say they come for the party, but they come for this. To feel free.”

He’s high. Dangerously so.

I sit next to him. “Is that how you feel?”

His shoulders tighten. “Not so much, Raegan.”

The heaviness in him breaks my heart. “He left, didn’t he?”

There’s no answer for a few minutes. All I hear are the waves far below, the insects in the forest.

“His girlfriend showed up. He left with her.”

The raw anguish in his voice rips me up inside. Emotion rises up my throat, and I swallow it back down.

Ash inches closer to the edge, and I grab his arm. “Let’s stay back.”

“But you can see better the closer you are. It’s like you could fly off into heaven.”

“It’s not so bad here. People love you and need you. The rest of your team. Me. Harry.”

“He’s here?” Ash turns quickly, as if hoping for his brother’s presence.

“Not right now.”

I wish he were here. For me, for his brother.

But he’s in London. Not because of something important—because no matter what he promised me about focus on our future, his vendetta is once again taking priority.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go back to the villa.”

After I get Ash to the car, I check my phone. Still nothing from Harrison.

I send off a text.

Rae: We need you at the villa. This is not a fucking drill.

HARRISON

“My hands are tied, Mr. King.” The man across the conference table in the London boardroom taps a pen on the desk. “Ivanov offered us a better price, and the deal has been inked.”

My efforts to interrupt Mischa’s operations the past few days have been mildly entertaining, if not even wholly satisfying. The rats in his Paris club were especially vindictive. But yesterday, my efforts caught up to me when I learned my real estate team was waiting on a signature to renew a major lease and couldn’t reach me.

Because of it, I lost my lease on a fucking club.

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