by T. S. Ryder
"There was nothing you could have done to stop the kidnappers. They were professionals—"
"So am I."
Grayson frowned. "You mean a professional nanny or—"
"No." Arabella shook her head. She sagged for a moment before striding to the door. She checked up and down the hall before she closed the door and returned to him. Her hands twisted, and tears glimmered in her eyes. "Grayson, I'm going to tell you something. And I'll understand that you'll hate me for it, but—"
"I don't hate you."
She pressed a finger to his lips, quietening him, but pulled back quickly. She chewed on her lip for a moment before straightening her shoulders and sucking in a deep breath. "Grayson . . . I've been lying to you since we met. Everything – at least, almost everything – that I've done was a lie. But I need you to know that I love Olivia and Hudson. I didn't want this to happen."
A cold ball slipped down his throat, landing heavily in his stomach. He tried to fight off his rising anxiety, but he hardly succeeded. Stiffly, he nodded at her to continue. What was she getting at?
"When I was sixteen, I was taken in by an organization. They trick us in with promises of work and a better life, and then they make us do things . . . They train young people to be spies. No, 'spies' isn't the right word." She took another deep breath. "They teach us how to kill people. How to manipulate people, steal secrets . . . anything that we're hired to do. I'm a professional kidnapper and assassin."
Grayson's mind reeled. He backed away from Arabella, shaking his head. He already knew what this meant, but couldn't believe it. No. There was no way that Arabella – sweet, loving Arabella – would have been privy to his children being kidnapped.
"They keep track of every single thing they give us, from water to clothes to a place to sleep. They charge us for everything and with each mission we complete, some of our debt is paid. They said this was my last mission. I had set everything up in meticulous detail to ensure that nobody would actually be hurt." Tears flowed freely down her face. "But then I arrived at your house, and starting caring deeply for Olivia and Hudson. I didn't want them to be kidnapped. I wanted to find another way. I wanted to fake my own kidnapping. But my partner . . . She didn't want that, and she went ahead with the mission without me. She took the children."
Rage flared through his body. His fires whipped to a frenzy. He had never hated anybody as much as he hated her in that moment. If anybody else had just told him what she had, he'd have torn them apart. But this was Arabella, and there was still a part of his mind that refused to believe that she could have anything to do with putting his children in danger.
"I will get them back. I will do whatever it takes, and I will get them back," she said. "Grayson, I promise."
She reached for him. He jerked away as though she had a gun in her hand. Smoke billowed from his nostrils.
"Grayson, I am so sorry," she sobbed. "I love them, I really do."
"What did you do?" he hissed.
Her sobs were ripping through her body, while Grayson started pacing the room. His rage went from hot to cold. He didn't know what to say or do. He didn't know the person he was looking at.
He turned to the window, screaming into the air. Arabella cried out as he let loose a blast of fire, shattering the glass outward as a ball of fire erupted from his mouth. Then his massive shoulders slumped. After everything he thought was between them . . . it was all a lie. To her credit, she didn't beg him to forgive her. She knew that what she had done was unforgivable.
"You are going to get them back," he said coldly. "No matter what it takes."
"Yes," she agreed.
"And then you're going to jail."
There was only a brief moment's pause. "Yes."
He turned back, breathing out the rest of the smoke that filled his lungs. He wasn't sure what else to say, but as he gazed at Arabella again, a pain he never thought he'd experience again filled him. How could he even look into her eyes again after this?
"I haven't received any calls," he said. "I have stepped down from all political activities, just like they wanted. But still the kids are gone. What is going on?"
Arabella's eyes dropped. "I don't understand either. But whatever the reasons, I haven't just been sitting in the hospital. I've been researching. I have a place to start looking."
"Good." He drew in a deep breath to calm himself, then nodded. "Good. I'll fly you back to my house. I want to be in on every step of the way."
"You will be, and I will get them back." She wiped away her tears and a look of fierce determination came over her face. "No matter what."
Without a word, he seized her around the waist and dragged her towards the window. He paused a moment to make sure his grip was secure, then threw them both out of the window. Arabella screamed, clinging to him. His suit ripped apart as he shifted. His wings snapped out, catching them, and he quickly lifted to a higher elevation. Arabella's arms gripped him firmly, and he cupped her in both hands to make sure she didn't fall.
He flew them home, the whistling wind doing nothing to calm his rage. Eventually, he started the descent and set them down on the landing platform at his house. She'd better give him back his kids.
Chapter Eleven – Arabella
The still-healing gunshot wound in her side pulled as she climbed out of the car, but Arabella didn't even let herself wince despite the pain. Kennedy might be watching. To show any weakness could be fatal at this stage. And she couldn't die.
Not until the twins were safe, at least.
After that, her mission would be complete and the organization would most likely want her dead, anyway. Or, worse, send her through retraining. She'd seen the people who had come out of that program. They were little more than zombies.
Part of her wanted to think that she could stay with Grayson, but that wasn't an option, either. After seeing the fury in Grayson's face when she confessed the truth, she knew there wasn't any place left for her with him. And even if there was, staying with him after going against the organization would only mean that he and the children would never be safe.
No, her only mission from now on was making sure that Olivia and Hudson were returned to their father unharmed. After that, it didn't matter what happened to her.
She pushed those thoughts from her head as she strode towards the apartment where Kennedy had been living. Arabella doubted her colleague was still there, but Kennedy was notoriously sloppy. There might be something there that would point to where the children were now.
The door's deadbolt posed no problem and Arabella slipped inside. What little had been in the apartment before was now completely stripped away. The only thing that indicated that Kennedy and the twins had even been there was a blanket lying on the floor. Pink with a satin trim. Arabella's heart clenched. It was Olivia's favorite blanket – the one she couldn’t sleep without.
Arabella picked up the blanket, her heart thudding against her ribs. It was cold. Her stomach clenched. Was Kennedy keeping them warm enough? Was she feeding them? How was she reacting to their crying, to their demands to go home? Was she hurting them?
Arabella's phone rang. It was a harsh sound in the silence and made her jump. It showed a blocked number. Dread slid down her spine as she answered.
"Arabella," a cool, feminine voice that she didn't recognize greeted her. "Our sources tell us that you're out of the hospital. How are you feeling?"
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Where are Kennedy and the Alexander twins?"
A pause answered her. "This business no longer concerns you, my dear. Come home and we will discuss your next assignment. Else, well, we will have to terminate our relationship."
The threat was expected, but hearing it aloud calmed Arabella. She supposed it was an odd reaction, but she didn't care. Death she could handle. She inhaled deeply and released the breath, all of her fears drifting away.
"I never wanted this 'relationship' with the organization," she said. "I still don’t know
why you people chose me. I never asked to be a part of it, and yet I've had to dedicate my life to pay off the debts that you thrust upon me. You kept me a prisoner, then said I had to pay you for the expenses of holding me against my will?"
"Arabella—"
"I'm not finished." She took another deep breath. "I didn't want this life, but I am good at what I do, even if you think I'm too compassionate. I have had the lowest failure rate among my department. If the Alexander twins are returned to their father unharmed, then I will spend the rest of my life working for the organization. I'll come back and never leave."
"You misunderstand," the voice said, almost amused at this point. "The mission to get Grayson to step back from politics was successful. Your debt has been expunged. We want you to return to claim your reward. But–"
Arabella clutched the phone as the pause drew out, each second marked by the beating of her heart.
"But I'm afraid dear Kennedy has gone rogue. We can't have that, can we? Stay out of this, Arabella. We will handle it."
She knew exactly what 'handling' it meant. And while she winced to think of what would happen to Kennedy, her colleague was the last thing on her mind. They wouldn't care about two small children ending up as collateral damage.
"I can take Kennedy down," she insisted.
"You're too close to the issue to do what is necessary."
"No!" Arabella cried automatically, but the woman only hung up.
Her head spun, the bullet wound stabbing pain through her body. She stumbled to the bathroom and vomited. Whether it was the injury or stress, she didn't know. A black darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, but she fought it off and lay down on the floor. Her head still spun, but her body relaxed enough for her to think clearly.
They were going to kill the twins. That's what they meant. They were going to kill Kennedy, and they were going to kill the twins with her. If they'd let the twins live, who knows what they might have heard from Kennedy, giving the police leads to the organization after they had been released. The organization wouldn't want that. Killing the twins along with Kennedy would be way easier.
Terror ran through Arabella's body, threatening to paralyze her, but she managed to push it aside. She just had to find Kennedy before the organization did. If she did that, she could get the twins back home and hide them before the organization could target them again.
A search of the apartment revealed nothing useful. So either Kennedy had been more thorough than usual or the organization already had done a cleanup on it.
She left everything how it was, though it pained her to leave the blanket behind. Bringing it back would only cause Grayson more pain, anyway.
She debated what she should tell him as she drove back to his treetop house. The pink blanket? The threatening phone call? Or just tell him that it was a dead end?
A roar greeted her when she stepped off the elevator and into the house. Huge fists grabbed her and threw her against the wall. Arabella punched into the ribs of her attacker before she realized it was Henry. Her blow made pain flash across the dragon's face, but he didn't let it slow him down. He pinned her by her throat, fire flickering between his teeth.
"Name one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now."
Grayson's voice rang out. "Henry! Let her go."
Arabella made sure that she stayed limp and contrite, staring into Henry's eyes. Grayson grabbed his friend and pried him off of her but not without difficulty. Arabella knew of a dozen ways she could make the dragon release her. He was holding her sloppily, but she didn't want to antagonize him further. Plus, she didn't feel like she had the right to. Grayson pushed him back, standing between the two of them. She coughed and rubbed her sore throat.
"Why are you defending her?" Henry snarled. "It's her fault that the children are out there all alone."
Arabella flinched, but she had to agree with him. "Yes, it is. But I am going to do everything in my power to get them back."
Henry snorted. He stepped forward again but Grayson put a hand out, stopping him.
"Right now Arabella is our best chance at getting them back. I'm not putting my children in any more jeopardy than they already are. Calm down." Grayson turned to Arabella. "I got a ransom call," he said. "But it wasn't for politics. They want me to deliver three million dollars to them. I don't get it. Why money? I thought it was all about politics?"
"Kennedy went rogue," Arabella explained. "That call means she's still alive, but the organization will be after her. We have to find her before they do."
Henry's hands clenched. "Why should we trust you? It's your fault that they were taken in the first place. You could just be covering your bases. How do we know that you're not still in on it?"
"I guess you don’t," Arabella admitted. "I only have words to prove that I'm on your side. But I love those children. I would rather die than see anything happen to them. I don't have a proper lead right now, but if you'll just give me a little time, I'll be able to get them back."
Grayson's face looked like it had aged a million years. His whole body sagged downwards. "You don't have any leads?"
She shook her head, her heart breaking at the pure pain on his face. "I'm sorry. But Kennedy is sloppy. Look at how she tried to kill me. I survived. And I will find something."
"And if you don't? Will she give me back my children if I give her the money?"
Arabella couldn’t answer that. She had no idea. Grayson turned away, looking strangely weak for such a large, strong man. He nodded once and walked away without a word. What was he going to do? Arabella stepped after him, but before she could ask, Henry had grabbed her. His hand clasped over her throat as he threw her against the wall again.
"Grayson might still be battling his feelings for you, but I see you clearly," he hissed at her. "If anything happens to those children, I will rip you to pieces and burn your bones to nothing. Understood? I'll kill you."
Chapter Twelve – Grayson
Grayson landed lightly and hurried to yank on some clothing after he shifted. He'd been at the bank with Henry to discuss getting the three million dollars when he got Arabella's call saying she might have found something. Now he rushed to the living room where Arabella sat among a plethora of weapons. He stopped dead, eyes widening.
"Whoa."
He hadn't seen so many guns all in the same place since he went to the war museum. Unlike the ones locked in the cases there, though, these ones were black and shiny. Each one gleamed with a ready-to-kill shine. A chill ran down his spine. Everything she had said before suddenly made sense. She was an assassin, ready to do whatever was necessary to get the twins back.
"You said you know where Kennedy is holding the twins?" he asked, shaking himself from the hypnotizing glitter of weaponry.
"Yes. I tracked down her phone. I hadn't even thought of trying that, because it'd be incredibly stupid of her to leave it on. But she did. We have to act quickly or the organization will get to her first."
Grayson nodded. He picked up a handgun and turned it over in his hands. He'd never been in a real life-or-death fight before. The thought of killing another person was repulsive – until he thought of that person harming his children. He'd kill to protect them. There was no doubt in his mind about that.
His gaze returned to the woman prepping the guns in the middle of his living room. She looked so sweet, so unassuming. But there was something deadly inside of her – he could see that now. Did it make the loving part of her less sweet?
He cleared his throat. "Arabella."
She looked up.
"How many people have you killed?"
Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn't break eye contact. "Directly, I've killed seven. If you take into account the suicides caused by my actions, twelve."
So she knew what she was doing. He didn't say that out loud, though. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized just how deadly the woman who had been watching his children was. Seven dead by her hand, plus five suici
des. How did she sleep at night? Was she completely emotionless? A psychopath?
"I was put mostly in situations where I was meant to manipulate the mark, gain information, leak embarrassing secrets, that sort of thing. I've got one of the lowest kill rates in the organization, but I've got the highest rank in kill efficiencies. Very little mess, very quick deaths." She looked down at the guns again and shook her head. Her voice was heavy with bitterness and regret. "As if killing them quickly makes a difference."
Grayson repressed a shudder but was relieved to hear her speak that way. She didn't want to kill; she was forced into it.
"Manipulation," he said, drawing on something else she had just said. "Is that why you slept with me? To manipulate me?"
Arabella flinched.
Grayson loaded the gun he was holding and tucked it into his waistband. He crouched near Arabella and brushed the hair from her face, so he could see her eyes clearly. His heart beat shallowly in his chest, though he didn't know why this should affect him so much. She had already proven herself a liar. And yet, he found himself needing to know.
"Well?" he demanded.
"I had to do what was necessary to complete the mission."
"That's not an answer."
She pulled away from him and shook her head. "No. Or yes. I'm not sure. It wasn't part of the plan. And after we did . . . I realized what a mistake I made."
Hearing her refer to their blissful time as a mistake made him flinch. He knew that he shouldn't feel disappointed, but he did. He already knew it was a mistake to have developed feelings for her, but there was still a part of him hoping that her feelings towards him had been real. Clearly, that was not the case. It made him furious and cold at the same time.
"And how many other men did you sleep with for your missions?" His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be.
Arabella shook her head. "I'm not talking about this anymore. I hate this life, but it's been who I am since I was sixteen. There's no changing that."