Dark Horse: The Kingmaker Saga #5

by Miller, London

  But more importantly, his every move from this moment forward would determine how this would all end for him.

  The trial was inevitable. Karina had revealed too much, and only that, if the agents with the FBI were half as confident as they appeared to be—which didn’t say much in the grand scheme of things—then they would have learned a great deal about him over the last four months.

  Of course, they couldn’t directly tie it all to him. Back when she’d worked for him, Uilleam had made sure Winter scrubbed every possible source there was of his image.

  Beyond a few murky images that might or might not have been him, they were going to have to make their case another way.

  Truthfully, Uilleam was a little curious as to how they planned to accomplish this.

  Not only was their evidence then, but they would have a tough time finding anyone willing to testify against him. His mercenaries might have been gone, but his legend was still intact.

  And so long as he still had that, no one would make a move against him.

  Yet …

  He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the day wouldn’t come when someone would attempt to betray him, but so long as it happened under his terms, he could mitigate the damage.

  But that was a problem for another day. For now, he needed to focus on the problem right in front of him.

  The van rolled to a stop, one of the men in an ill-fitting suit producing a black bag to place over Uilleam’s head.

  Though he couldn’t see his physical location, he still had his other senses about him.

  He could hear the shrill honk of ship engines and even hum of waves crashing. Wherever they were, they were near a body of water.

  A shipyard that had been converted to a black site if he had to guess considering the company he was in.

  A hand was placed on either of his arms as he was led forward, gravel turning to steel before they boarded what felt like a lift as they descended to another level.

  It wasn’t until a heavy sounding door closed behind him, the sound echoing in what had to be a cavernous space, and he was forced into a chair did someone finally deign to remove the mask he wore.

  Uilleam blinked, giving his eyes time to adjust to the change in lighting.

  The room he was in was empty save the steel table bolted to the floor in front of him as well as the other lone chair in the room.

  There were no windows that he could see, nor any indicator of where he’d been brought. He couldn’t even hear the water anymore which made him wonder just how soundproof this room was.

  The handcuffs he’d worn from the moment he was arrested at Karina’s celebration party were finally removed, revealing chafed, reddened skin. But as quickly as they had come off, they were replaced again and he was bound to the uncomfortable chair he was seated in.

  Once his restraints were firmly in place, the man who’d placed them took a step back, keeping his hands tucked behind his back and out of view.

  He had one of those no-nonsense faces. Strong jaw, hard eyes, and the attitude of a man who lived to serve the next in the chain of command.

  Uilleam didn’t fault the man his occupation—an honest living was admirable—but like with everyone, he wondered what it would take to corrupt him. How far over the line could he make the man go before he felt he’d gone too far?

  Uilleam would never argue he was a particularly patient man, but after waiting for what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, he was ready to get this interrogation moving.

  “Would someone care to tell me why we’re here?” Uilleam called, knowing there were both cameras and microphones in this room. “Any time today would be grand.”

  “My apologies,” a man answered, to his surprise, his voice loud over the invisible speakers. “I wasn’t under the impression you had anywhere else to be.”

  “I don’t doubt anyone would have something better to do than remain in a windowless hole without so much as a drink. Unless they’re egregiously boring. In which case, let them remain here to rot.”

  The man’s lips turned up at the corners as he came into view, a mixture of amusement and annoyance set in the curve of his lips.

  There was something quite familiar about him, but it took Uilleam until he was seated across from him to be able to place him—he’d been the arresting officer.

  But his casual attire had been replaced with a modest suit and loafers that he was almost sure most women would find fashionable.

  On the surface, he appeared as anyone else did, but he could tell from the few seconds he had been in his presence that whoever he was, he wasn’t merely an ordinary agent.

  If he had to guess, he’d been specifically assigned to him and was undoubtedly eager to close the case that would make her career.

  Which made him wonder—was it happenstance that had brought them together … or something—someone else entirely.

  “Apologies,” he told the man, the picture of casual indifference. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

  It was clear she wanted to make it clear who was in charge while they were in this room, but she also wanted to play to his vanity.

  Never a good combination. “I’m Special Agent Ramon.”

  He wasn’t familiar with the name, not that he’d expected to be. He rarely took the time to learn of agents that didn’t rank high enough to prove useful in any way.

  Which meant he was special in another way because someone had deemed it appropriate to place him in charge of this case.

  What was Karina’s game here?

  “You,” he continued, his gaze remaining trained in him, “are the Kingmaker.”

  Uilleam smiled, unable to help himself. And for the first time in his lengthy career, he gave an alternative answer to that assertion.

  “I hear he’s a hard man to find and a worse one to cross.” He held up his bound hands, gesturing around them. “Seems I’m neither.”

  “A clever deception.”

  “Or the truth a zealous agent is ignoring, but no matter. I’m sure this will all be resolved in the end.”

  Luna had been worried about what telling the truth would mean for him, but what she didn’t understand was that it wasn’t about telling the truth, it was a matter of not lying.

  He neither admitted to being the Kingmaker or denied being him. Merely offered another perspective.

  And judging from the expression on Agent Ramon’s face, he knew what he was doing.

  Perhaps this would be more than he initially suspected.

  * * *

  After a brief intermission—where the agent’s phone rang and he promptly stepped out of the room to take the call—the interrogation began again.

  This time, Agent Ramon seemed far more settled.

  “Do you understand why you’re here, Mr. Runehart?”

  Years of conditioning prevented him from not cringing when he heard his name. A reaction, he could see, he didn’t miss.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Runehart?”

  “Quite a few actually, but we’ll start with the biggest one—why am I here?”

  From the Manila folder on the table, he pulled a number of surveillance photos, some of which he had seen before, others he hadn’t.

  But there was one tucked just a little beneath the others that caught his attention. Unlike the rest, this one wasn’t in black and white, nor was it grainy and looked as if it had been taken at a distance.

  It was one where only his profile was in view—one which could still be argued over its legitimacy—but he knew just by looking at it that it wasn’t an image captured by any agent here.

  If only because Karina was in the picture too.

  One could only see her profile as well—the shape of her lips, the curve of her cheek, and the delicate line of her throat—but he’d know her anywhere.

  Had she been the one to send them? It seemed the most likely of scenarios considering his arrival and their timing.

  But if she had wanted him ca
ught, why had she gone through the trouble of giving him a chance to escape in the first place.

  It was one thing to ruin his name—it was something else entirely to expose him to this degree, because while the trial most certainly wouldn’t be televised, there was still enough national attention on this that it would take far more than usual contacts to make it all go away.

  If he even could.

  “You are here, Mr. Runehart, because we believe you possess knowledge about the disappearance of a former sitting United States governor.”

  Uilleam forced himself to tear his gaze away from the picture resting in front of him. “Evidence only supported by a woman I’ve never met, whose motives are shady at best.”

  “Oh?” Agent Ramon asked with an arch of her brow.

  “Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, but in most of these cases, wouldn’t the first person one look toward in the case of a missing spouse is ... well, the spouse?”

  “You seem to know quite a bit about them.”

  Uilleam smiled. “Google is free.”

  His easy expression slipped, but he was careful not to show too much contempt. Uilleam could give her that, she seemed committed to her job in that she had yet to break as most would have in her place.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “D’you know what I’m curious about? What evidence do you have to support that I’m in any way involved in the man’s disappearance. Let’s start there.”

  He looked so pleased with herself, as if that were exactly the question she’d been hoping he asked. “Trust me when I say we have everything we need to put you away for a long time.”

  Uilleam might have been concerned about his lack of an answer—and the way he was all but floating as he kept that folder tucked away from him—but while he didn’t know where this was all going, there was one thing he knew for sure.

  In this game of chess, he had no intentions of losing.

  10

  200 Million

  After one night, it became abundantly clear he hadn’t appreciated Egyptian cotton sheets enough.

  Not only was his holding cell in the black site terribly small, but he also wondered if the agents overseeing his care had made it a point to try to make his life as miserable as they possibly could during his time here.

  Even if he hadn’t suffered from insomnia, it would have been impossible to sleep with the way water whooshed through the pipes overhead and his bed was surely made out of bricks or clay.

  Even now, as he stood in the stall, lukewarm water spraying over his body as he showered, Uilleam grit his teeth and bore it,

  Small discomforts now, but I’m the end, it would all be worth it,

  He just needed to make it there.

  “Let’s go, Runehart!” the guard called, rapping his baton against the wall to get his attention as if his booming voice hadn’t been enough.

  Uilleam closed his eyes a moment, reminding himself that in the spirit of change, he couldn’t very well have the man murdered just because he was exceptionally annoying.

  The fact that he was even considering this line of thought told him he was doing better already.

  Sweet progress.

  Back in his temporary cell, he unzipped the black bag laid out on his cot, revealing the suit inside. He took his time getting dressed, grasping on to this bit of normalcy for as long as he could.

  Beyond that, he was already thinking of the day ahead and what he could expect.

  While he and his siblings had gone over the plan a multitude of times before he ever arrived here in New York, one could never fully account for human error.

  No amount of planning in the world could prepare them if everything didn’t go exactly as they planned it.

  Or rather as Elsie had planned it, and perhaps that was what troubled him the most—that he wasn’t in complete control.

  But it was too late to second guess the decision now. He could only move forward.

  * * *

  From his cell, Uilleam was taken to the same holding room where he’d been interrogated the day before.

  To no one’s surprise, Agent Ramon was waiting for him inside the room, her badge on display at his hip.

  It wasn’t until he’d been sitting at the table for quite some time that the agent finally seemed to remove his cuffs.

  “I would guess you don’t like me very much, Agent Ramon,” Uilleam told the man as he rubbed his slightly chafed wrists.

  He wouldn’t be the first to despise Uilleam for who he thought he was, but most had some sort of inclination about the horrible things he had done.

  Agent Ramon seemed to hate him on principle.

  He didn’t get an opportunity to respond before one of the guards outside gave a rap on the door before it swung open.

  “Oh, pardon me,” a woman of slight stature called as she entered the barren room, not seeming the least bit alarmed by the armed guards standing in every corner.

  Uilleam blinked at the sight of her, certain he was seeing incorrectly. Surely his sister hadn’t thought to employ an attorney who looked as if she were mere days out of law school.

  He’d been expecting someone more established—someone who was used to defending criminals and willing to do whatever it took to win their case.

  Certainly nothing like the woman standing in front of him.

  “I would like a moment alone with my client,” she said sitting her bag on the table separating them, her voice impossibly soft.

  Already, Uilleam wondered if she even possessed the confidence to defend him. He couldn’t imagine the prosecution would go easier on him simply because his attorney appeared rather mild-mannered.

  “Who are you?” Uilleam asked the moment they were alone, eyeing the woman as she opened her briefcase and began removing documents from inside.

  “Oh, of course,” she said with a light laugh. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Reyna, a friend of—“

  “Elsie’s,” he finished for her, already knowing who she was going to name. “Let me guess, you owed her a favor of some sort.”

  “More like the other way around,” the woman continued, still weirdly in high spirits despite where they were. “Jennifer Gibson.”

  Uilleam was starting to wonder if everyone her sister surrounded herself with was completely mental in some way. “How old are you?”

  “My ma always said it’s never polite to ask a lady’s age.”

  “Considering I’m on trial for a capital offense and I haven’t so much as heard your name before now, forgive me if I don’t adhere to proper etiquette.”

  For a moment, she just stared at him. “Wow, you really managed to make that sound charming.”

  Uilleam pinched the bridge of his nose, tempted to just remain at the black site and take his chances on his own, but he had promised his sister he would play by her rules.

  So despite how much he wanted to dismiss the woman outright, he took a much needed breath and reminded himself that there was a method to Elsie’s madness.

  “Has my sister informed you of what’s happening here?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve read over the evidence and the docket the US government has against you. I’m confident we can win this.”

  Yeah ... Uilleam wasn’t so sure.

  * * *

  The front of the courtroom looked far different from how he had always imagined it would. It was certainly not nearly as glamorous and brightly lit as the movies portrayed them to be.

  Instead, there was a yellow cast around the room, making the brownish-gray carpet all the more drab and lifeless. And if he had to wager a guess, the furniture hadn’t been replaced since the beginning of time.

  The media presence inside the courtroom was kept to a minimum, though a few choice selectees were allowed to remain.

  They all had the same look about them—a gleaming hunger in their eyes that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the eagerness to get their hands on an important story.
>
  Except one woman.

  She sat quietly in the last row, poised and out of place. The world might have prattled on around her, but she was unmoved.

  At first, Uilleam thought to ignore her, thinking she wasn’t important, but when he glanced back a second time, something about her stood out.

  She watched him with uncanny focus, a small but intimate smile on her face—as if the secrets she held were of interest to him.

  He was almost certain he didn’t know her—he was very good with faces—but while she seemed ... familiar, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why it felt as if he knew her.

  Curiously, when she realized she had his attention, she didn’t look away or focus her attention elsewhere, merely stared and ... smiled wider.

  Uilleam tucked the mental image of her away for later.

  The Assistant US Attorney didn’t bother hiding his contempt as he gathered his documents into designated piles.

  “All rise! The honorable Judge Faith Patinos residing.”

  By the end of the day, Uilleam would have everything he needed to know about the woman in the black robes as she moved to her position above them.

  Step one.

  “You may be seated."

  Uilleam knew the direction they were heading—the first day was always the easiest from what he understood. The charges were read, his plea was entered, and finally, it came down to bail consideration.

  Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his lawyer to argue for it considering the capital charges against him, but she surprised him when she remained standing to argue on his behalf.

  “Given the charges against the defendant,” the US Attorney said quickly, “I believe the defendant should be remanded without bail.”

  “Your honor, I believe despite the charges against my client, bail should be considered because not only is there no evidence that Governor Spader is, in fact, deceased—”

  “Objection, Your Honor!”

  Jennifer continued as if the man hadn’t spoken. “My client has ties to the community here through a multitude of businesses and is willing to hand over his passport and submit to GPS monitoring.”