The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(23)

“You aren’t going to take me out here to kill me and toss my body into the marshes, are you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You have an overactive imagination.”

“Oh, please. Give me a little credit. You might have done your research on me and Kingdom Corp, but I did the same for you.” There wasn’t as much information as she would have liked. She knew Frank grew up relatively well to do until his father was arrested—and later convicted—of murder. The victim’s family had sued and taken the Evanses for every penny they owned. There wasn’t much record of Frank between the age of fifteen and nineteen, other than his mother dying, but he’d come into some money and apparently had an eye for investment. Within a year he’d turned a decent amount into something more. The rest, as they said, was history.

At least that was the official story.

The unofficial story was little more than rumors—and the reason she’d approached him in the first place. Frank Evans, who always seemed to know where to jump before the rest of the world saw the way the wind was blowing. Frank Evans, who was untouchable because key people owed him favors. Frank Evans, the dealer of information as well as property.

When he didn’t immediately respond, she straightened. “Frank?”

“I’m taking you home, Duchess.” He didn’t look at her, but there was tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. “And then we’re going to have a conversation.”

Too much in that statement to fully unpack. “Why?”

He cursed. “Because you’re scared shitless and you’re not going to be thinking straight until you feel safe again. No one knows where I live—not even Beck. Sure as fuck not your old man. You can get your feet under you again, and we’ll hit the ground running Monday.”

“Monday?” She jerked her hand out of his grasp. “I can’t stay there until Monday. That’s two days from now.” Two nights. Journey had every intention of keeping her hands off Frank, but even as shaken up as she was right now, she didn’t like her odds of being under his roof for thirty-six hours without doing something unforgivably stupid. Especially if he really followed through on his promise to make her feel safe again. Should have insisted on my original plan of leaving town alone.

Frank took another turn, driving them deeper into the trees that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere. “I’ll get you back with plenty of time to make it to the office before anyone else. I have this fascinating technology called Wi-Fi, so if you need to work remotely, you’re able to. Don’t turn down a safe space just because I’m the one giving it to you.”

He sounded so damn logical when he put it like that.

Likely because he was being logical and he did have a point.

Frank saved her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He’d agreed to help her, even though he wasn’t getting nearly as much out of the deal as she was, favor to Kingdom Corp or no. He wasn’t the enemy, and treating him like one was a shitty thing to do.

She sat back. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me. You’re shaken up and I’m here, so you’re striking out.” His lips twitched. “I can handle it, Duchess. Do your worst.”

He couldn’t handle her at her worst. She wasn’t sure anyone could. That said, she appreciated the sentiment, the careful reassurance that he’d layered on over and over again. You’re safe.

A shudder worked its way through her body, leaving her achy and cold and feeling like she’d just been dragged behind a car for half a dozen miles. “You have a shower in this place of yours?”

This time, Frank actually did smile. “I have five. You can take your pick.”

He drove around a corner to reveal the house. No, house was too tame a word for the building they approached. Journey took in the overgrown-looking trees—the overgrown trees that were carefully trimmed back to prevent them from encroaching on the driveway or the house itself. The giant pillars in the front of it gave the building an almost plantation-like feel, right down to the faded paint, but the windows were clean, and she’d bet the place would pass any building inspection. “Dramatic.”

“It keeps the door-to-door salesmen away.”

And no one would ever look at this house and assume Frank Evans, real estate mogul, lived here.

Journey relaxed against the seat. “I like it.” Better to focus on the house. Frank chose to bring her to it despite the fact that he apparently never brought anyone here. Easier by far than to deal with the shit show she’d just left.

It could have been so much worse.

Knowing that didn’t make her utter failure to act any easier to bear. When it came down to the wire, she’d crumbled instead of fought.

Worst of all, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t react the exact same way if it happened again.

*



Frank ushered Journey into his house, keeping a close eye on her all the while. She seemed steadier on her feet since they’d started talking, but no one recovered from an attack that fast. And it had been an attack. Even without bruises to show for it, every bit of evidence pointed to Elliott having harmed her. Frank clenched his fists, doing his damnedest to smother the rage churning in his gut.

He hitched her overnight bag higher on his shoulder. “This way.”