Page 38 of Everest

When I arrived at the store, it looked like a crime scene. A fire truck was parked out front, lights flashing, and the crew was still milling about. The fire marshal was also present. Smoke was curling from the open door. The sprinklers inside had done their job and extinguished the flames. Chief Richards was there speaking with Riggs. He wanted to know if the fire was just some random electrical issue or if the club had gone and pissed off the wrong person.

I fucking stood there, jaw tight and frustrated, trying to calm the storm in my chest the entire time because I couldn't shake an uneasy feeling.

Then Riggs got a call.

London was in trouble.

We didn't wait for details.

We just followed Riggs.

But I already knew where he was leading us.

I should have been there. If I were, London wouldn't have been stunned by a goddamn taser and tossed in a car like she was nothing. She wouldn't have been taken.

The only thing that saved her was the strip club's owner, Tony, who pulled some hero shit and got to her before the fucker had gone too far. London was saved. The fucker who attempted to take her was long gone by the time we got there.

And all of it is onme.

Every damn bit of it.

I'm the one who should have been there.

But I wasn't.

I sit up, the mattress dipping under my weight. My head is a mess of relief, anger, and questions. Last night was a climactic disaster of fire and fury. A collision of raw need and frustration. But it didn't solve shit. It only added fuel to the fire, trying to consume us.

It's time we stop fucking around.

No more hiding.

It's time for truths.

I stand, not bothering with clothes, and stride into the kitchen to make coffee. After it's done brewing, I grab a couple of mugs from the cabinet, fill them, add some sugar and cream to London's, and stalk back to the bedroom. I sit her cup on the nightstand and stand there, watching her. She doesn't budge.

"Time to talk, babe." My voice is low and rough.

London shifts, eyes still closed, refusing to look at me, her jaw tight. "There's nothing to talk about."

I chuckle, but it's humorless. "Bullshit." I take a sip of coffee. "You gonna tell me why you've been sneaking around? Why you're dancin' half-naked for other men?"

Her eyes snap open, fire flashing in them. "I don't owe you answers." She pauses, then asks, "Why does Tony think I belong to you?"

I give her some truth, hoping she'll do the same. "Because I've been at the club, keeping my eyes on you since the night I found out you were stripping," I admit, and watch the storm swirling in her eyes.

"How long?"

"Since the cookout at Pop's."

"Let me make it perfectly clear. I don't belong to you, Kallum," London fumes.

I sit my mug on the nightstand and hover over her. London's eyes go straight to my dick, but I ignore it. "You. Are.Mine. Babe. From the moment I claimed you in front of my brothers to the second you let me inside you last night, you aremine."

London sits up, the sheet falling to her waist, exposing her breasts. She doesn't cover herself. I don't expect her to. Her eyes bore into mine. "Don't twist this." She waves her hand between us. "Last night was nothing. It meant nothing."

"Was it nothing?" I stare her down.

Her lips press into a thin line, but her eyes, defiant as ever, flash with something deeper. Something she's terrified to admit.

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