CHAPTER THREE

SHAW

Cutting through a mass of people, I make my way through customs at Heathrow and keep my head forward. I'm not bringing anything in that I shouldn't, but I don't need the hassle of interviews about why I'm here. What would I even say? Visiting friends? On vacation on my own? Stealing a woman and bringing her home? A snort comes out of me as I'm passing a female cop. She looks at me. I wink. She smirks and looks elsewhere, and then I'm through the doors and making my way out.

I grab a cab when I get outside and give him the address of the hotel Abel's booked for me. Sounds high-end, which suits me down to the ground. Flying business class with a bunch of sweaty assholes for the last fuck knows how long means I need a shower. The sun's already up in the sky here. I look around at the passing roads and traffic as we head into London, taking it in. First time in London for me. Black cabs. Iconic buildings. It all means shit to me. I like home comforts and my kind of dark.

The hotel's good enough for our standards, but it's not as good as we'd normally stay in if we have to. I sneer at the entrance to the place and head for the desk to get checked in. A redhead looks up at me and smiles. It gets wider the longer she looks at me.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Checking in. Shaw Cortez. And you must be the prettiest little thing I've ever seen."

She blushes and swallows. "Thank you." She fiddles and fucks around with her keyboard, constantly looking up at me and smiling, and eventually offers me a card. "I've upgraded you to the Knightly Suite. We had a cancellation." Cute.

"You wanna come join me in it, sweetheart? I need to get rid of some tension."

"Erm." I wink. "I …" She looks around.

I lean on the desk, getting closer. "We can make it real quick if you need it that way."

She laughs and walks around the desk, waving at a porter. "Something makes me think there's nothing quick about you." She's right. There isn't. I laugh and turn, as a guy arrives to take my bag from me. "But I'll be running the bar tonight until two."

"This way, sir," the porter says.

I follow, keeping my stare aimed back at the redhead. She looks down and flusters back to her desk, so I eventually concentrate on where we're going. The suite is large and as luxurious as this place gets, no doubt. I go straight for the mini bar and grab some booze out of it, heading to the shower to beat off this tension if she's not coming to do it for me. The cum seeps out of me like it usually does, with little sentiment involved. Baseless in reality.

Letting my head drop under the spray of water, I clean off, wondering if that ever comes. Must do, I guess. Dante loves Wren. Left us for her. Abel loves Lexi, I suppose. Protects her, anyway. Doubt Knox will ever find anything to get him that invested. It's still all money for him, despite what he's just been through, and he's never shown me one bar of heart for anyone. I must be more like him than I thought, ‘cause I'm not sure I've ever had any of that where fucking's involved, either. It's always good, but needing to do it again for some kinda closeness? Not felt it. Maybe once or twice with Natasha when I lost my virginity. She was a whore, though.

Getting out and towelling down, I close the blinds in the room, sink another double from the minibar, text Abel to let him know I'm here, and get this tired ass into bed. Sleep comes at me fast.

~

I wake and check the time. Two pm.

Showered and dressed, I head down for some food. The restaurant looks full of pretentious dicks, though, so I go out and walk around until I find a street vendor. The sign says hotdogs. Tastes nothing like a hotdog, but I eat it and start tracking my way to the closest of the addresses Abel gave me.

The sun's high in the sky. I drop my sunglasses and keep moving along the densely packed streets. It's like there's not enough room for everyone. I've never seen traffic like it, either. It's tailgate to tailgate the whole way, big-ass red buses in between. People barge and crash into each other on tiny fucking sidewalks, with some suits doing their best to seem polite if the woman looks good enough for them to bother. By the time I get to a fairly clear area, I'm about ready to kill someone if they try touching me again.

Taking a breath, I head along rows of tall, old, white buildings. Seems to me like they're still living in the sixteenth century over here. Worn down steps up to doorways, iron railings running some kind of terrace area around the front of the houses. Some girls walk out from one of them, taking my same path. I watch their asses, focusing on something worth looking at, until they turn off. My GPS takes me the other way into a park.

The buildings start dropping back from the road once I'm through the small area of greenery and leaves. They're fucking huge. Mansions. I stare at each one as I pass, checking the names on the gates. It's the ninth one along that finally gives me a name I need – Earlwood. No cars in the driveway. I cross the road and wait under some trees, wondering how I'm supposed to get the location of the girl if I'm not allowed to threaten whoever the fuck Landon Broderick is. I searched him up on the flight. He's just a dick that runs something called Broderick Media. Rich, obviously. I look back at the house for a while longer, considering breaking in. No point, though. Not unless the girl's there, anyway.

An hour later and still no one is home.

I start walking back again, cutting through different roads and trying not to get my ass handed to me by manic delivery drivers. A bike tries getting past me, near fucking cutting my leg off. Asshole gets pushed sideways before he's managed either. Both he and his bike go crashing into the rails. He's all mouth when he gets up from the ground and tries getting in my face about it. I'm not used to that. People don't get in my face about anything back home. They yield, give up, or walk the fuck away when they see these genes scowling.

He's gone before I've processed the thought, and I'm left almost laughing about my own anonymity here. No one knows me at all. No one cares who Cortez is or what we do. I'm just another good-looking guy walking through London, maybe getting lost, maybe on a mission. In fact, the more I think about that as I wander back into the heart of the hustle, the more it's noticeable. No one acknowledges each other. No one's talking that much. Even eye contact is minimal here. Everyone's head down or eyes forward, unfriendly.

I eventually find one of the other addresses I was given. It"s a huge building, all modern and sculpted, with balconies and decks for the ones higher up. I stare at the door, watching some guy come out. The door closes behind him straight away. Another woman walks in – damn thing needs a card pass by the looks of it. I keep watching to get the lay of the land. Concierge of some kind inside, door security guard on the outside. This is high-end living in London. I'm not getting in without battering or charming my way in there.

Half an hour later, I'm wondering if I need to get under someone's skirt to make this happen or leave it until the dead of night when I can threaten my way in. One thing's for sure, I'm not getting in by asking. Even deliveries are picked up by the concierge and taken in rather than them being allowed to step inside. What time did that redhead say she was working till? I could go back there, fuck, and then come back out later.

The door opens again as I start to turn away. I have to look twice, but, goddamn, it's her. I pull the picture out of my pocket and stare, flicking between it and her. Older, and a damn sight more grown, but that's her. Fine, too. Tight ass, running gear on, and her hair all pulled up high.

I smirk and lean my back on the streetlamp again, as she digs around in her bag for something, but she's moving quick after that. I follow a ways back, keeping her in my sights through the crowds. The subway she eventually gets to is a fucking revelation in dirt and grime. First, there's getting a ticket for the damn thing and turnstiles, which means me asking someone ‘cause I don't know shit about the system. I almost lose her because of that but manage to find her again. Then the seats seem sticky as fuck, but I sit and watch from the back of the car until, eventually, she gets out and walks again, at pace. Shame of it is, the more I look at her ass as she moves, the more invested I get in the idea of fucking it.

She's cute. Collar-length dark hair. Fine cheekbones and wide lips. What would it matter? I've got two weeks to find her. The fact that I already have doesn't mean shit to anyone back home. And fuck Abel, anyway. Sending me here to get her when I could be in New York dealing with real shit? Knox should be doing this kinda crap. It's his vibe, not mine. I don't even know why we're bothering at all. Looks like she's doing just fine in whatever life she's managing after being caught by us. Reed's dead, and we still have his woman. As far as I'm concerned, Elias's death is avenged. It's over.

She turns into a building. I look at the sign. Gym. Fuck. Now what? Stand out here for however long and wait?I look around and find a bar on the other side of the road with a free table out front, so I head for it. The moment I'm sitting, I catch the eye of a waitress cleaning tables.

"Hey," she says. I pull out my wallet and offer her a fifty.

"I'll have a double whiskey on the rocks. You keep the change." She smiles wide and takes the money and an empty glass from my table. "You keep them coming and there's more where that came from."

"You're American."

I look over to the restaurant. "Sure am."

"Where from?"

"San Diego." First place that came to mind. No one needs to know where I'm really from.

"Is that anywhere near New York?"

"No, sweetheart. That's, like, three thousand miles away."

"Oh." She giggles and wipes her head with the dishcloth she's been cleaning tables with.

"You wanna get me that drink?" Cause she's nowhere near cute enough for me to fuck.

"Yeah. Sorry, I'll get it now."

I nod as she goes and stay focused on the gym because that one over there is much closer to what I like to fuck. Screw Abel's orders. He doesn't know if she's a virgin or not. It's not gonna matter if she isn't when we get back, even if she was, is it? And why shouldn't I get something out of this? I deserve it.