The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(8)

“I’m not saying you’re right.” She took a shuddering breath. “But I’m not saying you’re wrong, either.”

He didn’t release her, couldn’t force himself to let go quite yet. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“What?”

Even though he knew better, words spilled out. “You have a problem, Journey. Don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me. We both know something drove you here tonight, and we both know that orgasm barely took the edge off of your fear.” He released her neck and smoothed a hand over her hair before he could stop himself.

She reacted like he’d hooked her up to a live wire. Journey shot back until she hit the wall, her eyes too wide. “No.”

He froze. Why not? Frank didn’t let the question escape. He’d told her at the beginning of this that all she had to say was no to end things. She’d just called his fucking bluff. He let his hand drop and sat back on his heels. “I’ll call you a cab,” he repeated.

“That’s for the best.” She snatched her dress and pulled it on while he watched. Through it all, she didn’t make direct eye contact again. Journey reached for the door and paused. “Frank…” She seemed to brace herself. “I appreciate the offer—I appreciate tonight, too—but…” She shook her head. “Good night, Frank.”

He waited for the door to close to call down and ensure that Jacob had a cab waiting for her, and then he pulled his shirt back on. Frank stared at the door a long time, considering what Journey had—and hadn’t—said. Given what he knew of Kingdom Corp and her family, the threat came either from her father’s side or from within the company. Lydia King might be ruthlessly ambitious, but her one redeeming quality was that she seemed to love her children. She’d never do something to put that haunted look in her older daughter’s eyes.

He should leave it alone.

He had enough bullshit to deal with without borrowing trouble.

If Journey couldn’t handle whatever issues arose, then her older brother was more than capable. It was none of Frank’s damn business, and they wouldn’t welcome any assistance he offered.

Journey was not a fucking stray he could scoop up and incorporate into his business because she had nowhere else to go. She was a King. Bad for business and potentially bad for his friendship with one of the few people he cared about in this life—Beckett. If there was a woman in Houston completely off-limits to Frank, it was Journey goddamn King.

None of that stopped him from calling his second-in-command, Mateo. The man had barely picked up the phone when Frank said, “I need everything you can find out about changes that have happened at Kingdom Corp in the last twenty-four hours, and I need it by tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He hung up and sat back. It was just information. It didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. Entirely possible that the issue was some internal conflict with employees of Kingdom Corp and that Journey had simply needed to blow off some steam. Simple. Nothing to concern himself with.

But every instinct he’d spent years honing shouted that Journey was in trouble—in danger—and he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until he had an answer. Once he did…

Well, he’d decide his next move then.





Chapter Three



Since avoiding Kingdom Corp wasn’t an option, Journey put her sleepless night to work and went in before the sun had fully risen. Anything to keep herself occupied and not focus too hard on the thoughts chasing themselves round and round in her head.

I hooked up with Frank Evans.

She leaned back in her office chair and crossed her legs, her breath catching in her throat at the dull throbbing in her thighs from his bites. Journey closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have kissed him. Or let him kiss her. Or whatever had happened that resulted in her mouth on his.

It didn’t matter if he’d expressed interest a few months ago, or that she’d been drowning—was still drowning—and he’d represented a life preserver, if only for a little while. He obviously hadn’t signed up for fucking her problems away. She shouldn’t have even asked.

Shouldn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t ask.

Journey opened her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Frank had allowed her a breath of fresh air last night, but it was over now. Time to slink back into the muck and figure out a way through their current mess. She grabbed her cell and dialed her older brother. Anderson would know what to do. He always did.

He answered on the first ring. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I tried, but…” The brief new memories Frank had given her weren’t enough to stand against the cascade of poison hovering at the edge of her mind on the best days. The last twenty-four hours hardly qualified as a best day.

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Jo.” He sighed, sounding just as tired and beat down as she felt. Here, on the phone, they didn’t have to try to be strong or worry about the mask cracking and the wrong person seeing the truth. Journey and Anderson didn’t play pretend for each other—they never had.

“I can handle it.” It wasn’t quite a lie. “It won’t be forever, right? Elliott has never taken an interest in anything resembling work. Why should this time be any different?” She just had to hold on to what was left of her sanity until he left again. Is this what my life is going to look like? Acting normal and well-adjusted in between tailspins every time he comes back to town?