Chapter 13
Alec looked at the clock and shut down his computer. Sunday evenings he reserved for Emily. They’d had plans: dinner out, something she didn’t have to prepare. Then a walk on the beach or a quiet evening at home. But the Bellamy case had other ideas.
If he left now, he could still salvage some of the evening.
He was heading out, shutting off lights as he went, when he heard his name.
“Alec. Before you leave, you really need to see this.”
That was enough to make him retrace his steps. Callan’s office door was open, and he paused on the threshold. The full-day’s growth of beard on the man was impossible to miss.
“Have you gone home at all?”
“I showered and caught a few hours of sleep in the downtime room.”
Alec looked at him. “No razors, huh?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Never mind that. Three days of fighting footage that refuses to sync, and this pops up.”
Callan angled his laptop toward him. A still image filled the screen.
Grainy. Pulled from security footage. Alec stepped closer, frowning. “Is that—”
“I wasn’t sure at first,” Callan said as he started scrolling. “Until I found more.”
Julia Dykstra. In clubwear, sitting at the bar, talking to a dom at the club he and Leland had visited only days before.
Tension coiled in his chest. Plans had changed again.
He left Callan’s office, pulling out his phone. Distracted and scrolling for Dev’s contact, he collided with his wife. Petite as she was, she would have ended up on the floor if he hadn’t caught her by the arms.
“Where’s the fire?” she asked, slightly winded.
“Sorry, sweetheart. What are you doing here?”
Smiling, she raised a bag with her company’s logo on the side. “We had to cancel dinner, but you still have to eat. Hi, Callan,” she added, glancing past him.
Her smile froze and her eyes narrowed, part squint, part disbelief.
“I worried something like this would happen,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. When she looked up, anger vibrated off her in waves. “Leland Hale is a dead man walking.”
***
As Leland reached for another stack of forms, one thought kept replaying in his mind: be careful what you ask for.
When he’d requested weekend assignments, Dev had taken him at his word and cleaned out his inbox.
Background checks, case reviews, supervisory reports on the new guys—administrative work everyone hoped landed on someone else’s desk.
Now it was nearly nine o’clock on a Sunday, and Leland was still in the office working his way through a pile of paperwork half a foot deep.
Not exactly what he’d had in mind, but it was better than the alternative: dwelling on things better left alone.
He was halfway through Boone’s sixteen-page expense report, which was two months late with what looked more like hieroglyphics than numbers scratched into the columns, when Alec walked in without knocking.
They never stood on formality at the office, so that didn’t surprise him. Emily, following close behind, her mouth and shoulders set, did.
Except for his gaze, lifting to meet hers, he didn’t move. “Hey, Em. What’s up?”
She didn’t answer, just crossed the room with a purpose that didn’t invite interruption and set a photo down on the desk in front of him.
Leland’s gaze dropped to it automatically. The image was grainy, but it didn’t matter. He would know Julia anywhere. The tilt of her head, the curve of her mouth. Details he hadn’t allowed himself to revisit were now forced into focus.
His jaw tightened. So did his chest, a hard, unwelcome pull that had nothing to do with the monotonous paperwork he’d been buried in.
“Julia hasn’t been to the Pointe in weeks,” Emily said. Her tone was quiet, but there was nothing soft about it.
Leland didn’t look up from the photograph, memories of the first time he’d approached her fresh in his mind. “I was upfront with her from the start. Like I am with anyone I’m with. She knew what it was.” His eyes cut to Emily. “Why are you bringing this to me?”
She held his gaze without flinching. “Because I care about her, and if you’d stop pretending otherwise, you’d admit you do, too.”
The words landed. He didn’t react to them. Not outwardly.
Alec reached around her and set another photo beside the first.
Julia again. This time at a bar, a full bottle of water in her hand. Her posture said she didn’t feel comfortable.
A third picture followed.
She was speaking with a man, close enough not to pass for completely casual.
The room was dim, the light low and hazy, the crowd pressing in around them.
From his black leather pants, and her short dress, exposing much of her arms, shoulders, and back, the kind of dress she might have worn for a night at the Pointe, it wasn’t a mainstream club.
Leland’s gut clenched. He told himself it was irritation at the choice she made, going to a place like that, probably alone. That was all.
He pulled his gaze away from the photos long enough to look at Alec. “Since when do we get involved in other club members’ choices?”
His friend didn’t answer. Instead, Emily set one last photo down.
It was an outside shot. Rain fell hard enough to blur the image.
Julia stood with her eyes closed, face tipped up to the sky.
She was soaked through, her hair clinging to her shoulders, her clothes plastered to her skin.
She looked beautiful, but one thing jarred him to the bone.
The red glow of the DRIFTWOOD sign behind her.
The earlier irritation burned off, leaving a cold clarity in its place. She was at the very club he’d stood in a few days earlier with no structure, no oversight, and too damn many red flags.
He knew this world. Knew how quickly things went sideways without the right people in place. How easy it was for someone, even with experience, to end up in a situation they couldn’t control. Especially with a predator using it as a hunting ground.
For the first time in a long time, Leland felt it clearly. Not frustration or restraint. Fear. He pushed to his feet and strode to the door.
“Where are you going?” Alec asked.
“Where do you think?”
“I don’t like how she’s going about it,” Emily called. “But she’s trying to move on. Please don’t hurt her again.”
He stopped, turning enough to look her in the eye. “This was never about hurting her. It was always the opposite.”
“One of these days,” Alec drawled, “you’re going to have to explain to me how that works.”
“Me, too,” Emily said softly.
“Sure,” he grunted. “You’ll be the first to know. When I’ve figured it out myself.”
Leland moved swiftly down the hall and through the darkened lobby.
The unease that had been building since Emily walked through his door became more defined.
It slid under his guard and stayed there, threading through everything he’d told himself about distance and discipline and doing the right thing.
And with it came a truth he had spent years holding the line against.
Walking away hadn’t protected her. It had left her exposed.
***
The buzzer didn’t work. Leland pressed it a second time anyway watching the panel lights flicker silently and die. He stared at them a moment longer before scowling.
Unacceptable. Everything was.
The parking lot’s cracked asphalt. The barely functioning streetlights.
A fence without a gate, which made no damn sense.
The entry light above the door strobed weakly, throwing shadows.
Add in the call system in dire need of repair, let alone an upgrade, and the entire place became a criminal’s wet dream.
Leland turned, hands on his hips, and took in the layout. How many times had he told himself she was safer without him? Standing in that parking lot, he felt the weight of the truth, even if he wasn’t quite ready to accept it.
He pressed the buzzer a third time, not expecting a different result. He’d call the building manager in the morning. If that didn’t get action, he’d pay him a visit.
The door opened behind him. A woman stepped out, phone pressed to her ear, voice carrying into the night. “I told him that’s not how this works—”
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question the stranger standing inches from the threshold.
Leland put out a hand and caught the door, also unnoticed. He slipped inside, one thought in his head: easy entry, poor visibility, no deterrents. Security in Julia’s building sucked.
The elevator shuddered and creaked with every floor; its strained ascent suggested it was on its last legs. He could have walked to the fourth floor faster. By the time he reached her door, his irritation burned along with anger.
He knocked. As he waited, he checked the time: 10:20.
Late, but not unreasonable. Her car had been in the lot.
Movement sounded on the other side of the door. The light dimmed at the peephole.
“Who is it?”
“Leland.”
A long pause followed. Then the lock clicked, the chain slid free, and the door opened. Julia froze when she looked out, as if she had to see him to believe he was really there.
“What are you doing here, Leland?”
Not Master Leland, soft and eager as he remembered all too well. Just his name, flat and guarded. He’d done that to himself.
“Your landlord needs to be reported. Or sued.” His gaze dropped briefly to damp hair curling at her shoulders, a short robe belted at the waist, bare legs, and pink toenails, before lifting again.
“Your buzzer doesn’t work. The entry light’s failing.
Half your lot’s dark. And someone let me in without a second look. ”
A frown creased her forehead. “You came over this late to tell me that?”
“No.” He held her gaze. “May I come in?”
For a second, he thought she might say no, but she moved aside.