Page 23 of Everest

I watch her move and own the stage with raw sensuality, and fuck if it doesn’t do something to me.

The fact that this is her secret doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t know her reasons, but I’m damn sure going to find out.

London finishes her set and disappears backstage. I don’t stick around. Instead, slipping out the way I came, stepping out into the warm night air, my pulse still thrumming from what I just watched.

I don’t leave.

I wait, hidden in the shadows across the road, watching until London finally emerges a couple of hours later, with her long dark hair pulled back, and gets in her car. I wait for her to pull out of the parking lot, letting her ease down the road beforetailing her back to her apartment in the city. I keep my distance, watching as she slips inside the safety of her home.

I should ride off and head back to my place, but I don’t. Instead, I sit on my bike, the engine running, staring at the building like I’ve got unfinished business. And I do.

Because the woman I’ve been keeping at arm’s length, fighting every damn instinct not to make her mine, is moonlighting as Raven, drenched in red lights, grinding on a stripper pole for other men, and hiding from everyone. That alone is enough for me to keep my eyes on her.

My jaw tightens as I light another smoke and tell myself the secrecy is eating at me. I tell myself I need to keep London safe, but the truth is much deeper and much harder to admit.

I want to see Raven again.

I want to be the only one watching her move like that.

And that makes me a selfish bastard.

But I don’t give a fuck.

Whether she knows it yet or not, London ismine.

I flick the ash off my cigarette.

Until she’s ready to tell me why she’s doing this, I’ll bide my time and keep her little secret.

8

LONDON

“Your eleven o’clock had to be canceled, and she wants to know if she can come in at two.” Zara’s soft voice draws my attention away from my laptop. I offer her a kind smile as she timidly knocks on my office door. A few months ago, Promise brought up the idea of hiring Zara as an assistant at the firm. A couple of years ago, Zara and her son, Julian, fled Mexico with the help of Vayda, her team, and the Kings. She was the wife of the now-deceased cartel boss. Over the past couple of years, the Kings have put her under their protection. She and her son have thrived in their new life in New Orleans. Before working here, she worked as a cashier at Rusty’s Buy & Bag. Unfortunately, Rusty’s closed down four months ago, leaving Zara unemployed. The dilemma worked out well for her and us because Zara has been a godsend. She is dependable, efficient, and speaks Spanish, which has broadened our client base.

“Yeah, tell her two o’clock is fine. Thanks, Zara.”

Since my schedule has changed, I break for lunch early. I skipped breakfast this morning and know if I don’t eat soon, my head will kill me later. Pushing away from the desk, I power my computer off and grab my purse. Across the hall, I see Promiseis still not back from court, so I decide to ask Zara if she’d like to go to Maggie’s with me. Walking down the hall, I pass the break room and find Zara heating food in the microwave. “What do you say you ditch the leftovers and come with me to Maggie’s? My treat.”

Zara looks down at her bowl of what looks like rice and chicken while biting her bottom lip. Over the past several months, Promise and I have worked diligently to get Zara to open up and trust us. Considering her history, I don’t blame her for being wary of people. Finally, she gives me a small smile and tosses her container back into the refrigerator. “Okay.”

“So, how’s your little guy doing? Promise mentioned last week, he started a new daycare. Is he adjusting well?” I ask Zara on our drive into town.

Zara beams at the mention of her son, Julian. “Yes, he’s settling in. Everyone there has been so nice and understanding. I’m grateful to Mr. and Mrs. LeBlanc for getting him in at Fun Friends & Frontiers.”

Apparently, Julian’s last daycare kicked him out due to behavioral issues. Zara had been beside herself. She and her son had both had their fair share of challenges since leaving Mexico, but she had been handling them head-on and with grace. Julian’s daycare's unwillingness to work with Zara had been a tipping point, though. But in true Kings fashion, the club used some connections and helped. They got Julian into a new daycare, and he now sees a child therapist three times a week.

As I pull into an empty parking spot in front of Creole Café, I recognize the white Honda Accord parked two cars over. I see Ruby sitting at a table on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant through the windshield. A smile spread across her face, and she waves when I exit my car. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I had a client reschedule, so Zara and I decided to take an early lunch.”

Ruby brightens up. “Perfect. You two can eat with me.”

I look at Zara. “You cool with that? You remember my good friend, Ruby, don’t you?”

Zara tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course. It’s nice to see you again, Ruby.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Zara. How’s Julian?” Zara replies as the two of us take a seat across from Ruby.

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