13. Harrison
13
HARRISON
I ’ve never watched a movie over again in my life, but I’m watching Rae’s interview for the third time.
The moment the flowers come in and she reads the card, I see it.
Her lips curve the tiniest bit.
Fuck me .
I’m a fucking teenager sending his date a corsage.
A smile.
The texts yesterday out of the blue, which mean she’s thinking of me.
It’s like the tiniest interaction with her, the slightest tease of emotion, is my oasis in the desert.
I’m taking a break from entertaining guests at Debajo, which is still packed a year after Raegan took on the challenge of reinventing it. The DJ tonight isn’t her, but he has the near-capacity crowd captivated nonetheless.
Spending eight months on opposite sides of the globe was one thing. But now she’s here, and I can as easily ignore her as I can ignore my own need for oxygen.
She asked me to back down. I won’t force myself on her, but I won’t stop protecting her. I won’t stop loving her.
Earlier in the week, she called me when she found that woman after her set. I’m glad she did. Even if I can’t shake the feeling of seeing that crumpled form, even if it brought up memories of my parents’ deaths. I got to hold her in the back of the car, see her eyes damp with the tears she never lets fall.
It made me realize something…
Raegan’s strength is my damn weakness.
My phone rings.
“King,” I shout over the music as I rise from the leather bench.
The voice on the other line belongs to my investigator in London. “Figured you’d want to hear about the sting police tried to run on Mischa’s venue here last night.”
I excuse myself from the VIPs in my booth—a handful of investors, plus twin celebrity actresses.
“What happened?” I demand, pressing my other hand to my ear to listen over the music as I cross the catwalk and head for the stairs.
Security holds the door, and the next second, I’m in the quiet hallway leading to the VIP room.
The man on the phone sighs. “A source suggested there was a big deal going down. What they found was a poor cousin of that. And the guy involved… some small-time dealer with no links to Ivanov.”
Either the police fucked up, or Mischa knew they were coming.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “A tourist ODed here the other night and nearly died. Not uncommon, but the drugs were cut with something. Doctors wouldn’t disclose, but it was something bad.”
He hesitates.
“Our surveillance of Ivanov saw a woman arrive at La Mer earlier today shortly after Mischa did.”
I shake my head, impatient. “And?”
“It was Miss Madani.”
My hand has a death grip on the phone.
“We couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were meeting about, so we can only speculate?—“
“I fucking know what they were meeting about.”
I hang up and drop into an armchair in the VIP room. It’s quiet tonight, just the bartender who left the moment I waved him away.
How the hell could she visit Mischa?
I want to storm her hotel suite again. I’ll lock her up in my villa until this is all over. But something tells me she won’t be nearly as welcoming as she was last time, and that landed me with a bruised cheek for two days.
Since my brother and I went through our parents’ belongings, I’ve been wondering how much damage I did unnecessarily to people I love.
Maybe if I can destroy Mischa, I’ll have another shot with Rae too.
I replay the video of her getting the flowers and watch her try not to smile once more.
“Huh. I knew you were getting old, but napping? For real?”
I straighten and open my eyes to see a welcome sight. My right-hand woman stands in the doorway with her hands on her waist.
“Leni. Christ.”
“Evening, boss.”
I rise and cross to my friend, clasping her in a hard embrace.
“If I’d known you were this strung-out, I would’ve come sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Told you. Vacation. My cabana boy licked the sand out of my toes and?—“
“I’m sorry I asked.” I hold up a hand, and she grins.
I cross to the door, shutting it to ensure we have extra privacy. “We need to take Mischa down.”
“His goons are selling outside. Pulled a knife on me, but I chased them off.”
Alarm works through me. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. I knew one of ‘em from last summer and told him what I’d do with his balls if he tried selling here again. New manager pissed himself when he saw the blade.”
I think of the guy Leni put in place once the club was made profitable last year and she accompanied me to LA. I vow to replace him immediately.
“It’s not only about Kings, Leni. His reach has broadened. He’s in America. In London. He’s running drugs through other owners’ clubs here, forcing them to turn a blind eye, then blackmailing them after. Interpol has been working to link him to narcotics activities, but they’ve cocked it up.”
She leans in. “So, what do we do?”
“We need to strike him close to home. Everywhere his parents built up, he’s well protected. Hundreds of employees without contracts who get fed only the bare minimum info. Whom he can deny having any knowledge of if it comes up. It’s the perfect business. But he’s not as smart as his parents, which means there’s an opening. We need options, and we need to move fast.”
“You want to play cop, Harrison? Never figured you for the polyester-and-a-badge sort.”
I narrow my gaze. “Raegan came to Ibiza to book La Mer.”
Leni’s eyes round. “Oh shit.”
Her expression says she knows exactly what that means—that the woman I love is working with the most dangerous man I know.
“She’s met with Mischa. Twice,” I bite out.
“Have you told her not to?”
“Of course.”
She grimaces. “Bad idea.”
“What?” I demand.
“Let’s see. You guys broke up last year?—“
“Separated.“
“Whatever—because you were an unreasonable prick after Mischa went all pyro on your new project.”
“So, a Russian madman responsible for my parents’ deaths burns down a ten-million-dollar project and I’m unreasonable?”
“With her, yes. She’s more likely to do something if you tell her not to.”
I drop my head in my hands and tug on my hair hard enough my scalp aches. “What is it with women?”
“Brains, empathy, and pussies,” she fires back. “It’s worth taking the time to figure them out. Don’t go anywhere.” She claps me on the shoulder as she rises and crosses to the bar, where she grabs the good whisky and pours a single glass on ice.
“None for you?” I demand as she brings it back to me.
“I’ll come back for mine. First, I’m going to go talk your manager down from the ledge.”