I shot him a withering glance. “You have something else to say?”
As one hand death-gripped the door and the other clutched his laptop, he shook his head. “Nope. Carry on.”
I held back a snarl. “Where is her beacon?”
“It’s stopped right now.” He frowned as he peered closer. “Looks like it’s headed toward the airport.”
“If they’re headed to the airport, they must have some big plans in place.” This scheme had been well thought out, or at least sufficient enough to get by us. Damn it.
“I don’t know. But judging by the blood we found by the pool house, one of them is in nasty shape. Either that or Sparrow took a piece of someone’s ass. But if she was okay, she would have radioed in. The blood has to belong to one of them. Wherever the hell she is, we need to fucking find her soon. There was too much blood there, Kannon.”
My heart continued to hammer. The spike of adrenaline that was normally a boon in times of crisis was instead making my head feel cloudy and foggy, and I had that brassy taste of fear and worry in my mouth.
I knew that taste well. It was the same one I’d had when Phoebe was murdered.
Is that going to help right now?
No, it wasn’t going to help.
What would help was getting to her as fast as possible. And when we did, I would grovel the shit out of this. I’d fucked up. Pulling away had been the wrong move. Making her think I didn’t want her had been absolutely the wrong move. I’d hurt her, and it was a move I could have killed myself for.
I wanted a chance to fix it, but I had to find her first.
Olly was busy in the passenger seat as he alternated between making sure that London’s tracker hadn’t moved and checking weapons. At his feet were boxes of ammo and our vests. I watched as he methodically clipped in ammunition, checked magazines, and made sure our vests were fully loaded with everything we would need for a small arsenal. I didn’t know how many men we were going to face or who exactly had taken her, but I made a call to some friends of mine that had a security firm in New York. They had international agents, and I put out the SOS and asked if they had anyone close by to please send them in.
“Has the beacon moved?”
Olly’s voice was quiet. “No. They’ve stopped. Looks like they are at Le Bourget Airport for private planes.”
My hands worked the steering wheel, sliding back and forth, and back and forth. It didn’t make any fucking sense. Why the hell would someone not just kill her where she was? Why not leave Sparrow behind?
Olly was obviously running those same questions through his mind. “Doesn’t something bother you about all of this?”
I lifted my brow. “What do you mean?”
He frowned at me. “None of this shit makes any sense.”
“We’re on the same path, Olly. For starters, it’s like London fell into my lap, literally. And if I hadn’t seen someone try and kill her with my own two eyes, I’d take this whole situation with a good dose of skepticism. I know she doesn’t want us to look at her brothers, and honestly, they have nothing to gain if she dies. If this law goes into effect, her brother, the king, loses everything. But they are the only ones who knew where she was going.”
Olly nodded. “The problem is that everything I was able to find on the family, including details about the obscure law, seems to prove they didn’t know anything about it until recently as there have been zero moves on their part to stop it from happening. Including the king. He’s been the damn monarch for years. Plenty of time to make an heir, unless he can’t. Then there are the other brothers, one of whom obviously has been in the press a lot, Breck. I’m surprised he doesn’t have any children anywhere, but currently, there are none we’re aware of. If they are responsible for this, it makes no sense they’d let her leave the country in the first place.”
“That’s exactly it. There must be something we’re missing.”
Olly shrugged. “Unless they needed it to look like an accident. You said you found her in a ravine on the side of the road, right? And then, when you pulled her out, another car came by, basically attempting to finish the job?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Maybe whoever is doing this needs it to look like an accident.”
I frowned at that. “So what? Did you find anything in that law that indicated that assassinations would change the requirements?”
He frowned, then tapped several more keys. “Not in so many words. But there is something vague about limitations on royals who commit crimes. It doesn’t say what kind of crimes, but anyone convicted of committing those certain acts will lose their place in the line of succession.”
I frowned at that. “So that was probably put in place to keep people from assassinating a king’s new bride or basically, killing everyone off to move the royal line over a branch or two on the family tree. And London has got three older brothers, and it would be even harder to kill three additional people. Their parents died, but that was thirteen years ago. Anyone else who might have a claim to the throne, which would primarily be her aunt—”
Olly shook his head. “Actually, no. Her aunt is too old. No new monarch can be coronated if their age is over sixty. If you’re sixty while you’re on the throne, fair enough. You’ll stay for as long as you want or until you die. But the line will automatically go to the next eligible heir in this case because the aunt is over sixty and she’s not currently sitting on the throne. So that leaves out the aunt.”
“Christ.”
He typed on his keyboard some more. “That just leaves London’s cousin, Barkley, as next in line. From what I can tell, he’s a grade-A douche. Like the biggest, laziest kind of douchebag you can find. Drugs. Alcohol. Women. But he’ll be king if this law is followed.”
“At the very least, that’s an incentive to get London to marry, not to kill her.”
“Again, they let her run. They helped her run. That doesn’t make any sense. They would lose their only chance of keeping the throne. And this guy Barkley would make King Joffrey look like a grandmotherly saint.”
I frowned as my brain worked through it all. “Does it say anything about what happens to the monarch if he’s deemed unfit?”
Olly was silent for a moment before he spoke. “Actually, if a monarch is deemed unfit by the Council of Lords, a regent will be placed over that monarch. And get this, no age restriction applies to the regent.”
I cursed under my breath. London’s fucking aunt. The one who’d kept these laws secret until the very last moment. The one London had sworn had only ever been loving and kind to her. I couldn’t help but feel the need to throttle that woman’s neck. She’d taken a vulnerable young girl like London and lied to her, manipulated her. For that alone, the old lady had to die.
“Man, this is full of shit.”
With another sharp turn and a screech of my tires, I took a hard left toward the airport. I had to get to her before her aunt hurt her. Before her aunt broke her heart.
At the landing strip, I parked my car with another squeal of the tires, and then Olly and I bolted out of the car. He tossed me my vest and weapons, and as I palmed my Sig, I double-checked my com unit. Then we headed to the left.
“You check that building. I’ll check the plane and make sure she’s not on it.”
“Roger that.”
I rounded the side of the building. There were no cars. I saw a few people milling about inside, so I plastered myself to the side of the building using only quick short peeks to see inside before ducking under the sill and then sneaking around to the back. I jogged the hundred meters to the fence and onto the tarmac. Two people were milling around what looked like luggage carriers. I ducked behind one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olly duck behind another and check it for signs of Sparrow in case they were leaving her behind. I checked my phone and saw that London’s beacon was still on that plane.
Instead of running, I eased out from around the luggage carrier, nonchalantly walking t
oward the plane like I belonged there.
A guy with a clipboard was checking something. He looked up when he saw me. “Can I help you?”
He didn’t seem to notice my vest or concealed weapons for what they were. “I need to speak to the lady on the plane.”
He shook his head. “She’s indisposed at the moment. She said no interruptions.”
He clearly didn’t mean London. “Sorry but it’s urgent.”
I made to bypass him, and he slapped a hand on my chest. His brows furrowed. “I told you, she just said not to interrupt her.”
“And I told you it’s urgent.” I applied pressure at his pinky and right over his thumb, then twisted his hand up with mine, making sure that my knuckle hit that joint in his wrist. He immediately released me, wincing.
“What the fuck—?”
I applied more pressure and he fell to his knees. This time, he dropped the clipboard and reached for something at his lower back.
“I really wish you hadn’t done that.” Then my other hand delivered a hook shot which made him stumble back, and I launched myself at him. The easiest grasp points were his ears. As my knees hit his chest, he fell over, and I grabbed his ears, pulled forward once, and shoved back again with a hard slam on the gravel. He groaned, and his hand released whatever he was holding.
A quick glance down told me he wasn’t done.
“I told you not to do that.”
He was only injured, not dead. But if he was working for who I thought he was working for, he certainly deserved to be.
Turning him over, I used zip ties to secure his hands then grabbed one of the bandanas from my back pocket and shoved it into his mouth so he couldn’t call for help. Then, as a final precaution, I grabbed him by the back of his shirt, dragging him with me and rolling him under the plane so if someone came by, they wouldn’t see him right away. Then I palmed my weapon again and took the stairs two at a time.
Gently, I eased a foot inside and peeked in. No pilot. No guard. Just a woman in a blue-green pantsuit standing over someone slumped over one of the seats. I clicked the safety of my gun. “Back away, old lady.”
The woman whirled around. Her hair was a dark auburn cascading over her shoulders. The funny thing was she had London’s eyes, but unlike London’s, there was no kindness in them. There was no love. They were cold and flat and dead. She must have been a hell of an actor to have played the family like she did.
“Oh, you’re the commoner she hooked up with. Darling, I must say, this is very noble of you to come and try to save someone who has nothing to do with your paltry little life, but you miscalculated.”
I heard a click behind me, and my heart nearly exploded. I’d been so focused on her that I hadn’t heard the person behind me. Or maybe he was just as well-trained as I was and moved silently like the night.
“Drop the gun, asshole.”
It was the last thing on earth I wanted to do.
“I will as soon as your boss lets me see if London is alive.”
He pressed the gun to the small of my back. “You don’t have a leg to stand on. Drop it.”
He was right. I had no choice. I dropped the weapon as he requested just as London started to come to. She lifted her head. Her lids flickered, and then her eyes went wide as her gaze met mine. “Kannon?”
“Hey, princess.”
“You came for me.”
“Always.”
The one with the auburn hair, I assumed she was London’s aunt, rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, young love. Or maybe it’s just my little niece spreading her thighs and falling for the nearest beggar she could find. London, say goodbye to your boyfriend. He really has become quite the thorn in my side. If it hadn’t been for this idiot, you would have had a more peaceful death. You know, an accident along the side of the road. But he just had to come and save the day, the perfect white knight. Which now means your death will be more painful. I could torture you by holding you until I can find just the right moment and watch you die at home where your brothers will mourn you and your idiocy.”
London lifted her gaze to her aunt. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I already have.”
Outside the window, I saw Olly on one of the luggage carriers, stopping to look down at a bundle.
He’d found Sparrow.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Unfortunately, whoever had the gun in my back also noticed him.
“He brought a friend.”
London’s aunt glanced around. “Where?”
In that moment, the man behind me made the error of indicating toward the window, and that gave me my way in.
In the tight confines of the aisle, I spun into his arm with my hand and braced at my hip to catch his firing arm. I delivered an elbow to his temple and lifted his gun hand up to keep him from shooting at London. I brought my right arm down and placed it across his trachea, adjusting my grip on his wrist. I’d underestimated though.
He had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. He managed to slice down at my arm before I braced my right hand on the shoulder of his suit, then brought him down hard on my knee. Fire raced up my arm, but I didn’t let up.
I levered my arm back so it acted like a bar across his neck again, applied pressure, and he coughed. Then I brought him down with another harsh tug to my knee. He dropped the gun and the knife. He stayed down as he moaned. I used that opportunity to grab his ears and brought his face to my knee again.
London’s Aunt Rebecca dove for the gun, but I reached it first, aiming it at her. “Uh-uh, you don’t want to do that.”
Rebecca scowled at me. “Why couldn’t you just leave her in that ravine? None of us would be here now.”
“Sometimes the good guys win. Release her. Now.”
I reached for the pliers inside the tool pocket of my vest and tossed them on the floor. “Now, no funny business. I promise you that I am a perfect shot.”
For a moment, it looked like she wanted to argue with me. Then she did as she was told, first snipping the plastic zip tie at one of London’s wrists and then the other. She held her hands up. “Happy?”
“What do you think? Put down the pliers, please.”
She looked like she might want to jab London in the eye with them, but she didn’t get the opportunity. London pushed to her feet, and with an open palm, she slammed her hand straight into her aunt’s nose.
The older woman staggered back and howled. “What? How dare you?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t use a closed fist. You forgot Breck and Wilder taught me how to fight.”
London staggered on her feet, but I held her steady as Rebecca tried to gain her footing. Blood spurted out of her nose, leaving vermillion spots on the pristine turquoise jacket of her suit. “Why couldn’t you just do as you were told, London?”
London straightened her shoulders. “And why couldn’t you not be a bitch?”
I eased forward with the zip ties, rolled Rebecca over, and then tied her wrists together. Then I lifted her gently and placed her on one of the seats. It was only then that I turned my whole attention to London. She was shaking on her feet, and I held her to me. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“Oh my God, Sparrow. They hurt Sparrow. I think they brought her with us, but I don’t know where she is, and—”
“It’s okay. Olly has her.”
“How did you know where to even find me?’
“One of the shoes that Sparrow brought you, there was a tracker in it.”
She pulled back and blinked at me. “Wait, the same trick that whoever was following me used, you used that on me?”
I shrugged. “It’s effective. No one ever checks the shoes.”
She chaffed out a breath and tried to pull back from me, but I held tight. “I was so scared when I realized you were gone. I was terrified.”
“We don’t have to do this now, Kannon. I’m just—I just want to sleep.”
I eased her back and ran my hands
over her hair, tucking several wayward strands behind her ear. “I know. I just want you to know I love you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. The truth is I am scared to death. I met you only days ago, not even a week, and to already feel this way is terrifying to say the least. I should have never let you walk out. The last thing I want is to let you go.”
Sobbing, she sank into me, and I held her, vowing to myself that I would do everything in my power to keep her close.
Chapter 18
Kannon
Running away is the best chance to survive.
* * *
I would never be able to get the sight of London, hurt and looking so fucking scared, out of my mind.
Until the end of my days, the sound of her voice as she’d almost been killed would forever be entwined with that of Phoebe’s.
I had lost my wife, my unborn child, and I had almost lost London.
I hated that feeling, like I was the common denominator. I was the one who hadn’t been strong enough to protect Phoebe, to protect our child. And I’d nearly not been strong enough to protect London.
My hands fisted as I waited for Olly to finish working on my arm. It was a nasty slice, but I’d live. Sparrow had fought like the champ she was. She had a knot on the back of her head and some cuts and bruises from the scuffle by the cabanas. But the blood we’d found wasn’t all hers. She’d managed to stab one of the men who’d taken her and London, but had taken a knife to the side. Thankfully it hadn’t hit any major organs.
Olly nodded down at me. “Okay, boss, you should probably go see a doctor, but I know you want to get your girl home first.”
I looked up at Olly and narrowed my eyes. “She’s not my girl.”
“Funny how usually the first thing out of your mouth is you don’t need a damn doctor, but this time it’s about the girl.”
“You’re lucky I like you, or I’d kick your ass right now.”
“Kannon, you’re bruised, bloody, and I’m pretty sure Sparrow could kick your ass.”
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