Royal Blood
Copyright © 2016, Victoria Renteria
First Edition: 2016
All rights reserved.
Editing by Edee M. Fallon, Mad Spark Editing
Cover art by Rachel Rivera at Parajunkee Design
Photography by Mandy Hollis
Model: Randi Sue
Interior book design and formatting by Champagne Formats
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may use short excerpts in a review
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely co-incidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademarked owners of various products and events referred in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission of trademark companies. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Glossary
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books In The Series
This book is dedicated to every parent who has ever experienced the loss of a child. May you find comfort in knowing your angel is only a dream away.
My Little Angel
Have you ever touched an angel’s wings
Or played with an angel’s toes
Maybe you’ve touched an angel’s face
Or kissed an angel’s nose
Perhaps you’ve brushed the hair off an angel’s forehead
Or maybe you’ve looked into an angel’s big brown eyes
Perhaps you’ve heard an angel’s cry
Then to be comforted by her father standing close by
Or have you felt an angel’s fingers upon your gracious hand
Have you seen an angel smile to be compared to none in the land
I have seen an angel
An angel so beautiful she can only be seen in the deepest of your dreams
And she is my precious little angel, Victoria.
©Carrie Renteria, 2001
Glossary
Ttal – means daughter in Korean
Agassi – is the term for young lady in Korean
Mamasan – is a Korean term that refers to the ‘boss’ or ‘owner’
Kkangpae – is the South Korean Mafia or Street Gang
Gongjunim – means princess in Korean
Jang rae sik jang – building where Korean funerals are held
Tenpro or Tenpro House – Korean term for high end escort or companion service
THERE COMES A POINT WHEN everything someone has ever desired flashes before their eyes: small glimpses of the future that could have been, images of a life filled with love, a home filled with children, a beautiful husband or wife staring into their eyes with so much love and passion that it hurts just to breathe—delusions of grandeur meant to trick the mind into believing we are capable of attaining such splendor. Because in reality, the moment you have it within your grasp, it slips through your fingers. That attainable dream melts away like snow in the first days of spring.
Like a mindless drone, I stand staring at the door.
Kylee.
Her name flits through my mind like a warm summer breeze. I swear to God, every time I have her in my grasp, she slips right through my fucking fingers. It’s as if fate is playing some cruel joke, dangling my wildest dreams in front of my very eyes just to rip them away at the last moment.
Blinking rapidly, I take in my surroundings, noticing I’m alone in my apartment. My heart gives a painful lurch and memories overwhelm me as I realize what transpired just moments before. At least, I think it was moments ago. I was so caught up in what could have been that I let her slip right through my hands.
Ah, hell, not again.
Ripped from the daze, my body jolts into action.
“Kylee!” Her name is torn from my lips on a scream, but she’s gone, vanished from my sight. Running to the door, I toss it open and march across the hall. My fists fly, a rapid succession of furious beats as I bang on her door. Terror and fear threaten to take over when she doesn’t answer. Ten minutes pass as I stand there, pounding on her door. Hesitantly, I step back across the hall and into my apartment, closing the door behind me.
My pulse thrashes loudly in my ears as I slide down the back of the door, hitting the floor with a thud. Tension builds in my muscles, screaming for some kind of release. The vise around my heart threatens to squeeze me to death as panic tightens its cold, hard grip.
What am I going to do? It isn’t supposed to be like this.
When I proposed to her, I envisioned things going so much differently—a house, kids, time with the grandparents. Now, I’m faced with the stark reality that she’s walking out the door and right back into that hellhole. To the place that inflicted so much pain and hurt—to the woman who stole everything from us.
How could she do that? Why?
I understand the need to protect others, the drive to make this world a better place. It’s one of the reasons why I chose the job I have. But, she isn’t just walking out on Mom and Dad. Fuck, she’s walking out on me. The little voice inside my head screams, banging around inside of its cage.
She had given me a choice—an impossible choice, one that can’t be made lightly. I’d be a traitor, just like Back Door Black . . . and that’s definitely something I am not.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I stare into the distance. I need to clear my head. Normally, my goddess is my clarity. Since I can’t get to her, there is only one person I can call. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I punch in the number that’s become so familiar to me.
As I listen to the ring on the other end of the line, my thoughts continue to buzz around my head. What if I can’t be what she needs? Could I really abandon my unit? My country? A loud beep forces me to pull the phone away from my ear. Scowling at the screen, I notice the call has ended.
“Fuck,” I mutter, redialing the number, making myself pay attention to the call this time. The line rings several times before it goes to voicemail. Looking up at the ceiling, I release a breath and say, “Call me as soon as you get this. It’s about Kylee.”
Disconnecting the call, my chest constricts, growing tighter by the second. It’s as if each breath I take is closer to being my last. Rubbing the spot just above my heart, I close my eyes, willing the emptiness away. How do I fix this mess? I feel like I’m losing my mind. The need to talk to one of my brothers is a driving force, pushing me closer to the madness I feel clawing at my insides.
Standing, I grab my keys and head for the door as I dial Sam’s number. When his voicemail picks up, I hesitate a moment before leaving a message. It’s unus
ual for my calls to go unanswered by my best friend. We scarcely go a few hours without talking to one another. A feeling of discontent washes over me as I make my way out of the building.
Quickly scrolling through my contact list, I call Brighton. His phone doesn’t even ring; it goes right to voicemail, which worries me more than Sam. Not only was he still reeling over Sasha but now the death of Noah. The knot in my gut tenses further as I leave a message for Brighton. Mentally, I make a note to keep trying to reach him. The last thing we need is a repeat of what happened after the Sasha incident.
Shaking off the nervous feeling weighing heavily on me, I find Cooper’s number in my contact list and press send. Blood rushes through my veins, pulsing loudly in my ears as I wait for him to answer. It rings twice then goes right to voicemail. With a grimace, I leave a message for the fourth time and make my way to the base. For the first time ever, my team is unreachable, and I’m unsure exactly how I should feel about that. Technically, we’re all on leave due to Noah’s death.
Each and every one of us is due some R&R. But never once in our history as a unit have anyone of us been unreachable. That unsettling feeling in my gut sloshes around like ink in a well. The sensation that something isn’t quite right keeps prickling at my subconscious, regardless of how many times I try to shake off the feeling. Yet, as unseemly as it is, everything appeared fine when we last checked in.
Was it? Or was I just so wrapped up in my own world that I failed to pay attention?
The blaring of a horn behind me has me shifting my gaze. The vehicles have all cleared out, and it’s my turn to move up to the gate. Pulling forward, I flash my ID to the MP on duty. He stares intently at my identification for several seconds before raising his gaze to inspect my face.
After a moment of scrutinizing both my ID and myself, he gives a curt nod and waves me through with a “Have a good afternoon, Captain.”
With a nod in his direction, I put the SUV in drive and continue to my destination. My thoughts quickly turn back to that of my team. Memories of Noah and his crazy antics have my body tensing as a wave of guilt rushes through me. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as his laughter echoes through my mind. Unease and doubt slowly begin to caress their way into every thought, echoing sentiments of: Was I vigilant enough? Could I have saved him? Am I good enough to lead this team?
Gritting my teeth, I pull into the empty parking space in front of the Officers Club. Leaning forward, I begin banging my head on the steering wheel repeatedly, desperately trying to dispel my wayward thoughts. “No,” I grunt.
My forehead connects with the steering wheel again. “No”—another hit—“No.” A final, forceful blow to the steering wheel and I lean my head back against the headrest. I can’t fall apart now.
What ifs won’t change anything. It’s not what Noah would want. I can’t disrespect my friend’s memory by allowing doubt to cloud my judgment. It’s not fair to Noah or my unit. Releasing a haggard sigh, I open my eyes and resign myself to what I came here for. I need to find him. He needs to know she’s going back.
Blowing out a breath, I exit the vehicle and make my way into the Officers Club. Ignoring the hostess, I stride through the club looking for the Colonel. Hues of dimly colored orange light bounce off the pale walls as I glance around the room. Taking in the patrons, my brow furrows when I don’t find him. Picking up my cell, I dial his number again. It goes right to voicemail. With a frustrated sigh, I end the call.
“Can I getcha anything, shuga?” the waitress drawls.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” I say without looking her way.
“You sure? It seems to me like you’re back in that same funk again.”
“Excuse me?” I say, not disguising the annoyance in my voice.
Turning to face her, I realize it’s the same waitress that was flirting with Kylee’s dad the last time we were here. She quirks an eyebrow at me as if daring me to argue her assessment. Ignoring her challenge, I ask, “Have you seen him by any chance?”
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, honey. I see lots of hims.” She waves a hand around the room, pointing out the men in attendance.
“Shit,” I mutter. She chuckles, amusement clear in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I mean have you seen the guy I was here with last time?”
“Craft beer guy? Older, cute gentleman? Really knows how to flirt and make a lady feel good . . . ?” Her eyes twinkle as she stares up at me, still amused.
“Uh, yeah, that guy.”
“No. Sorry, I haven’t seen him. But if you see him you can tell him Trish’s offer still stands.”
“O-Okay. Thanks for your help.” Rushing to get the words out, I turn quickly and bolt for the door as if my pants are on fire. Her laughter echoes behind me as I hastily exit the building. “Nope, not going there,” I chant over and over again.
Approaching the SUV, I unlock the door and wearily sink down into the seat. This isn’t exactly how I’d planned my day. Thoughts crowd my head, making it impossible for me to concentrate. I need to gather my thoughts and clear my head. If I can’t be with Kylee to do that, I will go to the one place we found clarity together: Mt. Umyeonsan.
Feeling powerless, I put the SUV in reverse and head toward the mountain. A desperate need fills me as I drive, willing me to rid myself of the gaping void Kylee left behind when she walked out the door. Anger and frustration threaten to boil over as my mind races with uncertainty. All around me, people go about their day none the wiser. Yet, as the bustling city streets of Seoul pass by in a blur, I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness for everything that I’ve lost.
Absorbed in my own musings, I’m caught off guard as I pull into the parking lot for Mt. Umyeonsan, taken back for a moment as I glance around, finding the place completely empty. It’s as if some higher power knew I needed to get away to somewhere quiet, to regain my bearings once again. Exiting the vehicle, I turn to walk away, almost forgetting my backpack. Opening the back door, I grab my gear from the backseat, noticing its weight is a bit heavier than usual. Shrugging it off as extra water, I toss it over my shoulders and begin the hike to the observatory hoping to clear my head along the way.
The winding trails and effervescent beauty immediately remind me of Kylee, each landmark dredging up another image of her as I pass. My concentration falters, wavering with every step I take. Stopping mid-stride, I turn, drinking in the tranquil silence of the lake. My eyes soak up the beauty even as misery begins to pierce my heart with a desperate wish for Kylee to be by my side. A shiver of longing races along my skin.
How I yearn to kiss her under the lush green trees that overhang the path. To see how the little slivers of light shining through the canopy dance along her skin. How her eyes light up with elation when she takes in the beauty of the lily pads scattered across the lake. Each decorated with a different colored water lily. Brilliant hues of lilac with a bright yellow center, or the palest shade of pink dotted with golden, or even the cerulean lilies with the soft yellow interior decorating the lake like a multifaceted rainbow.
Heaving a remorseful sigh, I leave the lake and hike toward the observatory, indecision weighing heavily on my shoulders. The one place that I thought would help to bring me clarity seems to have turned up the dial on my inner turmoil, my thoughts constantly bombarding me one after the other, making my uncertainty and indecision a million times worse. A desperate need to find a solution tugs at my insides.
The observatory comes into view, and I quicken my pace. Opening the door, I march inside and head straight for the bench where Kylee and I shared our first kiss. Sinking down onto the bench, I release a tormented breath. What am I going to do? It’s not as if I can just up and leave my unit. That’s what makes this whole thing a huge mess.
But I can’t just walk away from her either. Groaning, I reach for the backpack I shrugged off to grab a bottle of water. Blindly reaching into the bag, I’m taken aback when my hand grasps a glass bottle.<
br />
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself. Glancing down, a grin plays along the edges of my lips.
“Sam, I could kiss you,” I say, pulling out a bottle of his favorite beer. I don’t know at what point or even why he put it in here. And quite honestly, I don’t even care. Right about now I’m just hoping it helps to take the edge off my rather shitty day. Draining the beer in two gulps, I reach into the bag and grab another.
Sipping slowly, I stare off into the distance, getting lost in my thoughts of Kylee and her last words to me. “You need time to think, Alex. To decide what is best for you.” Doesn’t she know that she is what’s best for me? What in the hell gives her the right to make this decision on her own? Did she even think about the consequences? How it would affect me? My career? What about us? Yeah, she said she would always be waiting when I choose, but how in the hell is that fair? Why should I have to choose? Anger surges through me, flooding my body with heat.
What in the hell was she thinking? Tipping the bottle back, I drink deeply, letting the crisp lager wash away some of the anger.
“Mind if I join you?” a deep voice asks from beside me. Shaking my head, I tip my beer bottle toward the empty section of the bench.
“Nope. I’m curious as to how you found me, though. You didn’t answer when I called you earlier.”
Colonel Parker chuckles. “A little birdie told me.”
“And who might this little birdie be?”
“Now you know I can’t tell you all my secrets, son.” The corner of the Colonel’s mouth quirks up in an amused grin.
“I assume you know why I called you, then?” The Colonels grin quickly fades into a look of half irritation and half exasperation.
“Yes.”
“Have you spoken to her?” I wince at the longing and desperation in my tone.
“No, but I know what happened, although, I’d like to hear it from you. And by the way you’re downing the Grolsch Lager, I’d say you need to get it off your chest.”
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