Page 148 of To Catch a Sub

“That’s fucking cruel, Colette.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It was selfish of me.”

“Then get your ass back inside this club.”

She shook her head. “I was a fool to think this would work. Someone like Damien isn’t going to be arrested in a matter of days, or even weeks.”

“Yes, but we will get him.”

“Are you willing to bet my life on it?” she asked softly.

Landon stilled, not wanting to answer that, even in the privacy of his mind.

The only way she would ever truly be safe was with Damien dead. Men like him weren’t totally stripped of their connections and power when incarcerated.

He’d wait until Damien was arrested and then he’d…do what was needed. He wouldn’t tell her that. Admitting his willingness to kill for her had upset her before.

“You don’t have to trust Interpol,” he said softly. “But I’m asking you to trust me.”

Colette glanced at the balcony railing, swaying towards it.

“Please, Colette. Don’t run.” He had to clench his hands at his sides to stop from grabbing her.

“I do trust you,” she said. “But it’s not up to you, is it?”

“You trusted me with the truth about the diamond. Trust me to deal with this. To try and speed it up, and figure out a longer-term solution for keeping you safe if you don’t want to stay here. I dealt with Novak, didn’t I?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Then stay. Stay with me. Don’t run.”

Colette closed her eyes, tears first wetting her lashes before sliding down her cheeks.

“Trust me,” he said again, raw emotion leaking into his words. “Stay with me.”

With a soft hiccupping sound, Colette nodded. He wrapped his arms around her, the rope falling from her hand.

* * *

“This is a nice car,” she said, sliding into the Aston Martin Rapide.

“It’s Andrei’s. Pays a fortune to garage it.”

“Does he live in London?”

“No. He’s a specialist, so he goes wherever they need him, but because of Club Alibi he spends enough time in London that he decided he needed a car.”

“He doesn’t sleep at the club though.”

“No. He stays at a hotel. Or maybe at this point he bought a flat.” Landon navigated the narrow streets of Harringay, headed for the two-lane A10—called the Kingsland Road in Hackney—that would take them into London.

England’s Interpol NCB was officially located in Manchester, but maintained offices in London. Those offices were mostly used by agents actively working a case in London, or who needed to liaise with other national crime bureaus.

“Each of you rotates through, spending a week here as the Dom in residence?” Colette asked.

“Yes. For now. That might change, and we’re going to need more people. Rolf is working on opening the next location.”

“Another one? And it will be a kink club too?”