Chapter Five
Malachi “Crown” Devereaux
Jayla Bennett disrupted my house within seventeen minutes.
She refused to surrender the key, rejected the bedroom Simone selected, and demanded a room with two exits because she didn’t trust anyone enough to sleep behind a single door.
I understood that.
My own bedroom had four exits.
She complained that the guest suite smelled like lavender. Simone removed the flowers before I could ask why. Jayla then discovered one of my guards standing outside her door and threatened to stab him with a decorative letter opener.
I had the guard moved to the staircase.
Not because she frightened him.
Because the letter opener belonged to my grandmother and Jayla was holding it incorrectly.
“Stop smiling,” I told Dorian.
We stood inside the security room watching camera footage from the studio.
“I’m not smiling.”
“You are.”
“I’m enjoying myself.”
“That’s worse.”
He rewound the recording.
The cameras inside Bennett Originals had stopped working before the attack, but one of my men retrieved footage from the building across the street.
Kenzie escaped through the rear alley three minutes before Bishop’s men arrived.
A motorcycle waited for her.
The driver wore a helmet, but the tattoo on his wrist was visible when the image was enlarged.
Dorian paused the video.
“Devereaux crest.”
“Old version,” I said.
The crest had been redesigned after I removed Victor. Very few people still wore the original symbol.
Julian was one of them.
He had been sixteen when his father died and too young to inherit Victor’s position. I allowed him to retain his trust, home, and seat on the Devereaux board.
That had been my mistake.
Mercy made men believe you lacked the stomach to finish what you started.
“You think Julian is Bishop?” Dorian asked.
“No. He isn’t disciplined enough.”
“He could be working with him.”
“Julian doesn’t work with anyone. He hires people and mistakes that for leadership.”
One of our men had captured an attacker alive.
He sat restrained in a room beneath the east wing.
I left the security office with Dorian behind me.
“You sure you want to question him tonight?” he asked.
“He came into Jayla’s business shooting.”
“You met the woman twenty minutes ago.”
“He destroyed useful evidence.”
“Right.”
The prisoner had been stripped of his weapons and tied to a metal chair. Blood covered one side of his shirt from a gunshot wound that had already been treated.
His name was Kyle Morgan.
Former NYPD. Currently employed by a security company owned through three shell corporations.
All three led back to Julian.
I pulled out the chair across from him.
“Who sent you?”
Kyle smiled.
“We both know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“You going to kill me afterward?”
“That depends on whether you make this boring.”
Dorian leaned against the wall.
Kyle looked between us.
“Bishop paid for the job.”
“To retrieve the key?”
“And the girl.”
My jaw tightened.
“What does he want with Jayla?”
“He said she can read the map.”
“What map?”
“I don’t know.”
I believed him.
People like Bishop divided information carefully. Nobody beneath him knew enough to become valuable.
“Did Julian arrange the vehicles?”
Kyle’s expression changed.
That was enough.
“Why is Julian working with Bishop?”
“I never met Julian.”
“Wrong answer.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then you won’t mind telling it again after Dorian removes something.”
Dorian sighed.
“Why do I always have to do the messy part?”
“You complained about being bored.”
“I didn’t.”
“You smiled.”
Kyle looked toward the door.
I stood.
“Wait.”
I sat again.
“We were told the girl’s grandmother hid the original records,” he said.
“Where?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Then why Jayla?”
“Bishop thinks Evelyn left her a way to find them.”
“Why commission the sneakers?”
“The symbols are coordinates. The girl was supposed to paint them accurately, then carry the drive through customs.”
That confirmed what we suspected.
“Where was the exchange happening?”
“Saint Lucia.”
“When?”
“Three days from now.”
“Who was collecting?”
“I don’t know.”
Dorian pushed away from the wall.
“Everybody suddenly knows nothing.”
Kyle looked at me.
“Bishop said you’d keep her alive.”
“Why?”
“Because she looks like your type.”
I went still.
Dorian stepped between us before I could move.
“He’s trying to get a reaction.”
“He found one.”
“He knows nothing about Jayla.”
Kyle grinned through his blood.
“Maybe not. But Bishop knows plenty about you.”
I left before anger disrupted my control.
Dorian followed me upstairs.
“You should sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You reorganized the weapons table twice.”
“The magazines were uneven.”
“They looked even to me.”
“That’s because something is wrong with your eyes.”
Voices came from the sitting room.
My sisters had arrived without being invited.
Asha stood near the fireplace in a gray suit. At thirty, she had become one of the most feared corporate attorneys in New York. Micah sat on the arm of a chair eating directly from a bowl that belonged in the kitchen. Noelle paced near the windows wearing hospital scrubs.
Simone had clearly called them.
“This isn’t a family meeting,” I said.
Asha folded her arms.
“A woman’s studio was attacked because of our family.”
“Not our family. Bishop.”
“Bishop is connected to Julian.”
“That hasn’t been proven.”
Micah lifted the bowl.
“The shell companies are his.”
“Stop eating in here.”
He looked down at the cereal.
“Why?”
“It belongs in the kitchen.”
“It tastes the same in every room.”
I removed the bowl from his hands and gave it to Simone.
Micah looked offended.
“You raised us to be independent thinkers.”
“I raised you to use tables.”
Noelle stopped pacing.
“Is Jayla hurt?”
“Bruised. Nothing serious.”
“Trauma isn’t always visible.”
“I know that.”
All three of them became quiet.
I had spent years acting as their brother, father, provider, and enemy whenever they needed someone to blame. The roles changed depending on what I refused to let them do.
They never seemed to remember that I had been seventeen when our parents disappeared.
Asha studied me.
“Why does Bishop believe Evelyn Bennett left the records to her granddaughter?”
“We don’t know.”
“Does Jayla know anything?”
“No.”
“And she gave you the key?”
“No.”
Micah laughed.
“You met a woman who tells you no? Keep her.”
“Be quiet.”
“No, really. This is growth.”
The sitting-room door opened.
Jayla stood there wearing a borrowed sweatshirt and loose black pants. Her curls had been tied inside a scarf, and the bruise near her mouth was darker beneath the lights.
Everyone looked at her.
She immediately stopped moving.
Simone crossed the room slowly.
“Jayla, these are Malachi’s siblings.”
“Crown,” Micah corrected.
Jayla glanced at me.
“I’m not calling a grown man Crown.”
“I like her,” Noelle said.
“I’ve been saying that,” Micah added.
Asha ignored them.
“I’m Asha Devereaux. I’m an attorney.”
“Does he need one often?”
“Yes.”
“No,” I answered.
Asha and I spoke simultaneously.
Jayla nodded.
“That tells me everything.”
She looked at the food on the table without reaching for anything.
“Are you hungry?” Simone asked.
“No.”
“She hasn’t eaten since before the attack,” I said.
Jayla glared at me.
“You don’t know when I ate.”
“The food Kenzie brought remained unopened.”
“You notice too much.”
“So do you.”
Her fingers curled around the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“Can I speak with you privately?”
My siblings exchanged looks.
“In the office,” I said.
“No.”
I paused.
“What is wrong with the office?”
“It has one door.”
Micah stopped smiling.
I pointed toward the conservatory.
Glass walls surrounded the room, and three exits were visible.
Jayla nodded.
I followed her inside but remained several feet away.
She removed the key from her pocket.
“I’ll let you examine it.”
“Let me?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
I held out my hand.
She didn’t move.
“Put it on the table,” I said.
Jayla placed the key between us.
I leaned closer without touching it.
The gold symbol resembled part of the original Devereaux crest, but one line had been reversed.
“Your grandmother ever show you this?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I am thinking.”
“You answered quickly.”
“Because I’ve seen enough rich-family symbols tonight to last me through retirement.”
I moved back.
“You’re safe here.”
“I watched you shoot a man.”
“I didn’t shoot you.”
“That is a very low standard.”
I almost smiled.
She noticed.
“Did you just laugh?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Your face tried.”
That time, I did smile.
It lasted less than a second, but Jayla stared as if she had witnessed a miracle.
Then her expression became serious.
“My brother.”
“He’s being transferred.”
“Where?”
“A protected wing.”
“Can I speak to him?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I want to speak to him tonight.”
“It’s being arranged.”
She took the key.
“You don’t get this until I hear his voice.”
“You think withholding it protects him?”
“I think it makes me useful.”
I studied her.
She was frightened, exhausted, and surrounded by strangers. Yet she understood the only power she possessed and refused to surrender it.
“Fine,” I said.
“Fine?”
“You’ll speak to him within the hour.”
“And Imani and Zo? come here.”
“That isn’t wise.”
“I didn’t ask whether it was wise.”
“This house is a target.”
“So is the hotel.”
“The hotel contains controlled risk.”
She stepped closer.
“I don’t want you using my family to see who follows them.”
“You heard that?”
“You should tell your friend the car isn’t soundproof.”
Dorian had become too comfortable.
“I didn’t place them in danger.”
“You decided what level of danger was acceptable without asking me.”
I understood the accusation because I had spent my life making those decisions for my siblings.
They still resented me for it.
“I’ll bring them here,” I said.
Jayla appeared surprised.
“You’re not going to argue?”
“I already decided.”
“That is not the same as admitting I’m right.”
“Don’t become greedy.”
She slipped the key into her pocket.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“If one of your people enters my room without permission, I will stab them.”
“With the letter opener?”
“If necessary.”
“That piece is nineteenth-century French silver.”
“Then they’ll be stabbed elegantly.”
She walked away.
Dorian appeared in the doorway.
“You’re smiling again.”
“I’m going to fire you.”
“Can’t. I don’t work here.”
I watched Jayla return to my family.
She didn’t know it yet, but Bishop had ensured she couldn’t return to her old life.
By morning, every news station in New York would know her name.
And the safest place for Jayla Bennett would be directly beside me.