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, thecrowd 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.
