Blood and Bone (Royal Blood #6)

by Amity Cross

  Fuck… Jackson had a target on his back and didn’t even know it. He didn’t have the capability to fight back if Moltke tried to take him out.

  “He’s gone home,” Mercy said to me. “His wife and kids…”

  “He left the building about fifteen minutes ago,” Folsom said, slamming the receiver back into place.

  Standing, I straightened my jacket, and Mercy did the same. “We’re on it.”

  “His family?” Mercy asked as we backed toward the door.

  “Get them to a safe location, and I’ll be in contact with your protocol,” Folsom stated. “They’ll be placed in protective custody until this is all over.”

  Ushering Mercy out the door, I had to grimace at the predicament Jackson now found himself in. Of all the ways for his family to find out he worked for the government, this had to be the worst.

  That’s if Moltke didn’t get to them first.

  Chapter 5

  Mercy

  I held on for dear life as X tore through the streets of London, his inconspicuous muscle car roaring past slow-moving buses. When I said inconspicuous, I was being sarcastic. That thing purred like a motherfucker.

  “Do you really think Moltke’s going after Jackson so soon?” I asked. “It’s rather quick off the mark.”

  “If he were watching his fireworks display, then yes,” X said as he wove in and out of traffic, blasting his horn at a lorry that almost cut us off. “We have to assume he knows we got clear and act accordingly.”

  “Did Lorelei get away without being seen?”

  “Yes. She’ll be fine at the cottage.”

  I kept forgetting she was basically the female version of X. She had the same skill set and affinity with death. She’d be perfectly fine once she got her strength back.

  “Was she okay to drive?” I asked, thinking about the long stretch through the moors to the cottage. “I mean, shit. She was out of it.”

  “She has to be okay,” X replied, taking the fork in the road that led to the North London suburbs. “It’s part of our training. Pain is nothing but a tool that can be used as either an advantage or a disadvantage.”

  “So she’ll get there in one piece?”

  “Yes.”

  I raised my eyebrow but didn’t question him further. Whatever Lorelei chose to do after this was up to her. It was no longer any of our business. Moltke was our problem since we’d unknowingly gotten into bed with a treasonous asshole. If we sought revenge on every fucker who looked at us the wrong way or did bad by us, we’d have a long list to bump off.

  “What Tube station did you say Jackson got off at?” X asked.

  “Manor House.” I tried calling Jackson’s phone again, but it went straight to voicemail. He’d still be underground and oblivious if he’d left when Folsom said he did.

  We got stuck at a set of traffic lights at the crossroads by the Tube station, and when we were able to move again, we drove by but couldn’t see a trace of him. It was possible he’d taken a bus the rest of the way, and we’d missed him while we were stuck behind the line of cars waiting for the light change. I guided X to the street where Jackson lived, rows of almost identical houses flashing past.

  “There!” I cried, pointing to where Jackson was walking down the footpath toward home.

  As the car screeched to a halt, I threw open the door and launched myself out onto the footpath. Jackson turned at the sound and did a double take when he saw me rushing toward him, my boots pounding on the pavers.

  “Jackson!” I exclaimed.

  He looked totally bewildered. “Miss Reid?”

  My gaze hit a red laser dot on Jackson’s chest, and I sprang into action.

  Sniper!

  I lunged, pushing him out of the way, and we were falling. I felt a bullet tear through my jacket, narrowly missing skin, and it slammed into the wall above us as we collided with the footpath. Brick shattered as the projectile embedded into the orange rock, a crack splitting the air.

  “What number?” X roared, pulling his gun and tracking it along the row of houses behind us, searching for Moltke.

  “34A,” Jackson blubbered and X took off, sprinting down the street.

  Moltke had missed Jackson, so the next logical place he’d go was for the wife and kids.

  “Mercy?” he asked as I helped him to his feet.

  “They’re not safe,” I replied, drawing my gun. “Neither are you.”

  “They—”

  “X won’t let anything happen to them,” I interrupted. “Get in the car, and keep your head down.”

  Helping him to his feet, I shoved him into the driver’s seat and pressed my gun into his hands.

  He stared at it in shock, his body beginning to shake. “I can’t—”

  “You can.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded. “What about you?”

  Reaching over him, I flipped open the glove box, pulled out another handgun, and winked at him. “X brings spares.”

  I checked the chamber, letting it click back into place, and sprinted down the street to Jackson’s house to give X backup.

  Gunfire split the air as X traded off shots with the shooter. The sharper sound signaled the sniper, and the heavier boom was the return fire from X’s 10mm. Hardly a fair fight, but nothing about this life was.

  Ducking behind a car, I searched the rooftops and windows for evidence of the sniper. As long as X was pinned, there was no getting out of that house alive.

  Sirens wailed in the background, the furor triggering emergency calls to the authorities. We didn’t have long before we’d be caught in another set of cross hairs. Considering it was against every law conceivable for MI6 to operate on British soil, we’d be fucked if we couldn’t get Jackson and his family out before the cops rocked up. We’d be thrown in the slammer, and the shooter, who I assumed was Moltke himself, would get away to attempt murder another day.

  This had to end now or not at all.

  Tracking the barrel of my gun along the rooftops, I spied a dark form taking cover behind a chimney stack, a sniper rifle clutched against his chest. A shot rang out as X tried to cover me, but I held steady. I had to believe I could make the shot. All I had was a handgun, and the accuracy would be little to nothing at this distance. I couldn’t count on it being a fluke. I had to make the shot.

  I signaled to X, three short hand gestures followed by one toward my mark, letting him know what I was doing so he could cover Jackson’s family. The sound of a little boy crying filtered from the house behind his position, and I took a deep breath.

  Taking aim, I waited until the figure leaned around the chimney stack and prepared to fire.

  I held steady, finding my center of gravity. Correcting my trajectory to compensate for wind and kickback, I squeezed the trigger.

  The gun went off with a boom, the force jarring up my arm. The shooter jerked to the side, the sniper rifle clattering down the tiled roof.

  Fuck! I clipped him, but I didn’t get the fucker.

  I tracked the barrel of my gun to his position again, intending to take another shot, but he slid down the tiled roof and out of view. There was a dull thud as he dropped off the edge, and a dog started barking as he legged it across the yard at the rear.

  Finally, I let go of the breath I was holding, dropping the gun to my side. I failed…

  Rising to my feet, I called out to X. “He’s dropped down into the yard behind. I’m going after him.”

  “Did the shot…”

  Knowing X’s line of sight would have been impaired from inside the house, I shook my head. “I nicked his arm.”

  “Get the wife and kids into the car, and contact Folsom,” he commanded, intending to take my place and go after the shooter.

  “X—”

  “Mercy, don’t test me on this,” he snarled. “Go!”

  I stepped around him and went into the house as he ran off in the opposite direction. Hesitating as my gaze connected with a terrified woman’s, I clicked my gun’s safet
y on and shoved it down the back of my jeans.

  Staring at the woman who cowered on the floor with her two boys, I had a sudden vision of going home to my own family all that time ago. My mum, dad, and brother all dead, their heads split open with point-blank head shots and their blood splattered everywhere. Color and beauty…

  Holding out my hand, I murmured, “It’s going to be okay. I’m here to take you someplace safe.” The littlest boy began to sob, and I held my hand out. “I’m going to take you to your daddy. He’s waiting for you outside.”

  “It’s okay, Freddy,” Jackson’s wife said, her voice wavering. “She’s a good guy.”

  “Like Black Widow?” the other boy asked, and I recognized the superhero name from The Avengers.

  “Yeah,” I said as Freddy stuck his chubby little hand in mine. “Like Black Widow.”

  “Who are you people?” Mrs. Jackson asked as I lifted Freddy into my arms and led them outside toward the car.

  “MI6,” I replied, keeping my voice low. She was going to find out soon enough.

  Her mouth fell open, and I gestured for her to hurry as the sound of wailing sirens increased.

  Jackson leaped out of the car as we approached, and taking Freddy from my arms, the family embraced.

  “Hey, guys,” he crooned to his boys. “Daddy’s here. Miss Reid and Mr. Blood chased the bad man away.”

  “Marcus, what’s going on?” his wife asked, starting to pale.

  “We need to go, ma’am,” I said, guiding them into X’s car. “We need to get you all someplace safe.”

  “But the police…”

  “Everything will be explained to you in due course,” I said, clipping my seat belt on as Jackson took care of the boys in the backseat. “I promise.”

  “Where’s Mr. Blood?” Jackson asked as I pulled the car out onto the street and roared away from the approaching cop cars.

  “Chasing,” I said simply.

  Chapter 6

  Jackson

  “Twenty years!”

  I cowered as my wife Amanda shrieked at me.

  “Calm down, sweetheart,” I pleaded. “I was ordered not to tell you. It was for yours and the boys’ safety.”

  I’d never seen her look so angry before in my life. Amanda Jackson was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, but right now, she looked like she was going to kill me herself.

  Her wavy brown hair was wild and out of place, her blouse was stained with dirt, and her jeans were torn on one knee. Well, she and the boys had just been shot at by a madman, saved by an ex-assassin and his girlfriend, and driven to an MI6 safe house in Fulham. They’d been pulled out of their safe, comfortable lives away from their friends and family and dumped here…and it was all because of me.

  “We were attacked in our own home, Marcus,” she said, tears beginning to fall. “And now you tell me you’ve worked for MI6 for almost twenty years. What am I meant to believe?”

  “This almost never happens,” I declared. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and I knew I’d stuck my foot in it again.

  “So you were already working for them when I met you?”

  “Yeah. But I only ever worked a desk job,” I offered like it was a consolation prize at a carnival sideshow. “I work with computers and tech. I never lied about that.”

  Another tear fell from her beautiful eyes and trailed its way down her red cheek. “Lied,” she whispered. “You lied.”

  “To protect you.”

  Mercy appeared at the door and knocked softly. “Mrs. Jackson?” she asked, her smile kind and sincere. “The boys are all tucked in.”

  Amanda glanced at me and sighed. “I’ll be right in.”

  “They’ll be safe here,” I said, my heart breaking. “These guys are the best.”

  “That’s the thing Marcus. I’ve got no say in it,” she said, sounding utterly defeated.

  My mouth flapped uselessly as she shuffled from the room and down the hall to the bedroom Mercy had set up for the boys. They had some toys and books, but it was a far cry from being safe in their own room at home.

  “She’ll be okay,” Mercy said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “She’s had a nasty shock today. You can’t really blame her for spinning out.”

  “She found out her entire world was a lie,” I said, staring at the empty doorway where Amanda had disappeared. “And the boys… They’re too little to understand. It’s all my fault. Mr. Moltke—”

  “Will pay,” she snarled. “None of this is your fault, Jackson. It’s his. You’re still here, so what are you going to do about it?”

  I squared my jaw and puffed out my chest. I was just a desk guy. Science, technology, and tinkering were my things, not running around the world chasing an evil mass murderer. Miss Reid had saved my life just that morning. I would be forgiven for making rash decisions under the duress of an increased level of adrenaline. What was I meant to do?

  “He came after my family,” I said softly. “He came after my Amanda, and he came after my boys. They’re just children, Miss Reid. They don’t understand what’s happening.”

  She smiled and glanced toward the door. “X is here,” she said. “He didn’t catch the shooter, but we’re going after Moltke. We’re going to need support in the field.”

  My eyes widened. “You want me to go with you?”

  “Think about it,” she threw at me, walking toward the door. “We’re going to Berlin first thing in the morning.”

  I watched her disappear down the narrow hallway to the living room where muffled voices were probably discussing the events of the day.

  Me? Go into the field with Miss Reid and Mr. Blood? I enjoyed the pressure of a high-level security hack from the comfort of my own desk, not out there where the bad guys could shoot at me while I did it. Thinking about Amanda and the boys down the hall, I wasn’t sure I should leave them…but they wouldn’t be safe until Mr. Moltke was brought to justice and tried for the crimes he’d committed. They wouldn’t be able to go home until he was behind bars.

  If only I’d died in that explosion this morning, I thought and instantly shook my head. What was wrong with me? Mr. Moltke had come after them because I was meant to be inside that building, but Mercy had saved me. They weren’t safe either, but they weren’t thinking about hiding away in a safe house until all the work had been done.

  This was my chance to make Amanda see I was a man of my word. I’d protect them. I’d make their lives safe again, and once I’d done that, I’d leave MI6, and we’d start again someplace else. No more spy work, no more secrets, just bland old day-to-day normalcy.

  Striding down the hall, I burst into the living room where Mr. Blood and Miss Reid sat talking earnestly. They glanced up at my appearance and waited.

  “I’ll do it,” I declared.

  “Will you be able to work on the fly?” Mr. Blood asked, and I nodded.

  “I was pulling apart radios and building short wave receivers at five years old,” I said proudly “I can handle it.”

  “We’ve got your back, Jackson,” Mercy said. “And Folsom will make sure your family is protected until we can get Moltke.”

  “I know. It’s just I’ve never been in the field before.” I glanced at Mr. Blood, who was playing with a mean looking knife. That guy was like James Bond on an acid trip.

  “There’s nothing to it,” Mercy declared. “We’ve got all the heavy lifting. You just need to supply tech support.”

  I moaned, sinking down onto the couch. “You make it sound easy.”

  Mr. Blood shifted, placing the knife on the table. “Have you fired a gun before?”

  “All agents, desk and field, are required to go through basic training,” I rattled off, my palms beginning to dampen.

  Mr. Blood raised an eyebrow. “I gather that means yes.”

  I shrugged. “I did a refresher course five years ago.”

  “Crash course.” He picked up the gun on the coffee table and disengaged the clip. “Bullets go here. Takes a clip of nine.�
� He slammed it back in place. “Load a bullet in the chamber when you put in a new clip.” He slid back the mechanism on the barrel and it clicked back. “Check it’s loaded correctly here.” Then he pointed to the rear of the gun. “Safety is here.” He flipped the switch at the back of the gun. “On. Off. On. Off.” Aiming toward the wall, he finished with, “Trigger. Aim, compensate for recoil, and fire.” Spinning the gun around in his hand like a magician, he curled his fingers around the barrel and held it out toward me butt first.

  “The rest is math,” Mercy said. “Stance, force, accuracy.”

  Mathematics was a language I understood better than English, so I nodded and took the gun from Mr. Blood.

  “Have you been to Germany before?” Mercy asked.

  “I’ve been to Blackpool,” I said, remembering the seaside trip I took with the family to the northern part of the UK. Mr. Blood frowned, and I wondered if he ever took holidays as an assassin. “You know, in the north? It has a sandy beach, so it was a real trip, you know. Pebble beaches suck.”

  Mercy elbowed me and shook her head. “Not exactly what I was getting at.”

  Mr. Blood narrowed his eyes. “We have a lead on where Moltke may be going next. Or at least who he’s working with. To what end, we don’t know, but it’s the only lead we have.”

  “We’re surveilling a meeting between two bad guys,” Mercy explained. “Folsom is leaving us some equipment, but we need someone to help operate it.”

  “Done,” I said. “Whatever you need, I’m your man.”

  “We won’t be coming back until the job is done,” Mr. Blood added. “We’ll be dark. No support, nothing.”

  “I understand.” Tonight would probably be the last time I’d have contact with Amanda and the boys until Mr. Moltke was brought to justice. That meant even MI6 didn’t know what we were about to do… How deep did his betrayal run?

  “Go,” Mercy said. “Be with your family. There’ll be more than enough time to explain the mission parameters en route to Berlin.”