Page 35

Leo parked his new rental on the far side of the street and then crossed the pulse of London’s morning traffic to Holborn police station. The air tasted of wet stone and diesel exhaust.

He was here alone. Kat had gone to see Jane, to find out if she would take their discovery about the Royal London public.

He squared his shoulders, tugged his jacket straight. The sleeves pulled tight across his biceps as he rolled his neck, trying to shake the tension. It clung stubbornly—not operational edge, but the residue of the woman who’d slept in his arms last night.

Get a grip, Bychkov.

Last night’s sleep had been torture. Kat curled against him, her scent filling his lungs, her warmth seeping through the sheets. Every shift of her body had sent desire storming through him, but what he wanted wasn’t what she’d needed.

So he’d lain beside her, aching and motionless, containing the heat in his blood.

He’d held her through the night, watching shadows crawl across the ceiling until her breathing slowed and worry for her brother smoothed from her face.

Now, approaching the police station, her absence was like a physical ache. He hadn’t wanted to separate, but dividing their forces made strategic sense. Still, his entire body itched to be where she was, to shield her from whatever was coming.

He pulled open the heavy glass door and stepped into the station’s fluorescent glare. The front desk officer barely looked up.

“I’m here for Gage Landon.” He placed his identification on the counter. “Bail’s been processed electronically.”

The officer scrutinized his documents. “Wait here.”

Leo scanned the room. Two uniformed officers hunched over paperwork. A woman dabbing at her eyes as she filed a report. A teenager with green hair slumped in a plastic chair, looking both bored and terrified. Nothing that raised alarms.

From somewhere beyond the security doors came a voice—cocky and all too familiar.

“Careful with the shoulder, mate. That’s my throwing arm. Never know when you’ll need to lob a grenade, right?”

Leo ground his molars.

Gage Landon was making a scene.

Of course he was.

The security door buzzed open. Gage sauntered through, flanked by two stone-faced officers. His left eye was still purply black.

His stride faltered when he spotted Leo, surprise flashing across his face before his lip curled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Gage turned to the nearest officer, a woman, as she unlocked the handcuffs. “I’ll wait for my actual ride, thanks.”

The female officer’s expression remained impassive. “Mr. Landon, your bail’s been posted by Mr. Bychkov. You’re free to go. Unless you’d prefer to stay in the holding cell?”

“Tempting.” Gage’s lips thinned, the corner of his lips twitching.

Leo looked away. He kept his eyes on the gouged wood of the counter, hoping if he stared hard enough, it might open up and swallow him.

Safer than saying something he’d regret.

The desk sergeant finished stamping forms and shoved a plastic evidence bag across the counter.

“Property receipt. Wallet. Watch. Two mobiles…” He paused, holding up a small leather roll. “And a set of lock picks.”

Gage took them with a lazy grin. “Strictly recreational.”

The sergeant deadpanned. “Sure they are.”

Once the handover was done, Leo didn’t look back. He pushed through the doors and walked straight to the obsidian Jaguar F-PACE parked at the curb.

“Well, well.” Gage’s voice drawled from behind him. “Breaking out the fancy wheels for little old me? I’m touched.”

Leo unlocked the car. “Get in.”

“No, how was your night, Gage? Or sorry about the shiner? ” He circled the Jag, giving it a theatrical once-over. “Stolen?”

“Rental.” Leo slid into the driver’s seat. The leather was cool. His skin was not.

Gage sprawled into the passenger seat, immediately shoving it all the way back. “Twenty hours in a holding cell for allegedly hacking Transport for London.” His tone was breezy, but his eyes were sharp. “They could’ve at least made the charge interesting.”

Leo checked his mirror. Said nothing.

Gage studied him for a beat, then looked away. “Must’ve been worth it if they’re getting this desperate.”

Leo grunted.

“Bit ostentatious.” Gage ran a finger along the polished dash. “Might as well slap on a bumper sticker that says Notice me, security services.”

Leo started the engine. “In London, SUVs are like Toyota Camrys. They blend.”

“Oh, he speaks.” Gage drummed fingers against the door. “And knows a thing or two about urban camouflage. Impressive.”

Leo pulled away from the curb, focusing on the traffic instead ofcalculating exactly how much force it would take to eject Gage through the windshield.

“So...” Gage ran his hand over the leather upholstery. “Nice ride. Guardsmen Security must be doing well. Just FYI—my sister doesn’t give a shit about your bank account.”

Leo gripped the steering wheel, half-convinced he would crack it.

“Silent treatment?” Gage nodded. “Classic. Quite effective on low-level criminals and first-dates. Less so on me.”

“I’m driving.” Leo kept his voice even. “Would you prefer I hit something while talking?”

“He makes jokes!” Gage clapped his hands. “There’s hope for you yet, Viking.”

Leo switched lanes, taking a turn that would get them back to his apartment faster. “I’m Russian.”

“Could’ve fooled me with that build. What do they feed you up there? You know all that muscle just makes you an easier target for drones?”

For Kat. I’m doing this for Kat.

“Look.” Gage’s tone shifted, growing serious. “I don’t know what your game is with my sister, but?—”

The car’s dash lit up. A call. Kat.

Leo pressed the answer button. “Kat?”

Her breathing was uneven. “Leonid—” Her voice fractured.

Leo’s pulse accelerated. “What’s happened?”

“It’s—” A broken sound, half-sob, half-gasp. “I’m at Jane’s. She’s?—”

“Kat? What’s wrong?” Gage leaned forward, all snark gone.

“It’s Jane—she’s dead.” A choked, animal sound came from her throat. “Leonid, I need you. I need you now.”

“I’m on my way.” Leo swerved across lanes, horns blaring. “Don’t move. I’m coming.”

The call cut.

Leo hit the accelerator. The Jag surged forward, slicing through traffic as his mind raced. Kat Landon never fell apart.

Ever.

He glanced at Gage. The smirk was gone, his face sharpened into something cold and focused. For the first time since the cuffs came off, Gage looked like a man with something to lose.

“Drive faster,” Gage said quietly.

Leo floored it.

For once, they were in perfect agreement.