He released a low, guttural moan that sounded more like a groan. Abi’s breath hitched in response, and that only seemed to encourage him further. He pressed his palms into the wall and pushed harder, slamming into her, unleashing everything he’d been holding in.
Then he broke the hold on her gaze and his mouth came crashing down, consuming her as his body shuddered and he slowed.
Abi kissed his shoulder, letting her lips linger.
“Fuck me,” Asher swore as he nuzzled into the crook between her neck and shoulder. He nipped and sucked the delicate skin softly and Abi opened her neck to him.
Slowly, his breathing settled and he pushed against the wall once more. He stood straight, peering into her eyes. He wore an arrogant smirk, seemingly pleased with his performance.
Abi grinned. “Yes, you just blew my mind,” she said, her own throat husky.
Asher chuckled. “I don’t know where that just came from.”
She cupped his face. “Well, I want more of that,” she said, earning herself another chuckle.
He sighed and then straightened. “How long have I been in here?”
Abi raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift. “I don’t know. I could hear the water running when I came into the apartment. I waited about an hour before I came in. I was worried . . .”
He paused, kissing her forehead. “I need to get dressed. They might have an update on Alistair’s son. I only meant to have a quick shower . . . but I got lost in my thoughts.” He shook his head, then pulled back, using the running water to clean himself and then her.
He turned off the shower and reached around the glass, grabbing two towels. He dried himself quickly and then threw the towel over Abi’s head and began drying her hair like her mother had done for her when she was a child. The unexpected tenderness made her giggle.
He pushed the towel back and it fell around her shoulders. He reeled her in, taking a moment to kiss her softly. There was no heat nor neediness in this kiss. Nothing but love.
“Come sit in the office with me,” he said—more of a command than a question, but Abi was happy to oblige.
She nodded and followed him out of the shower.
She found a fresh set of clothes and when she turned around to pull her hair up into a bun she was surprised to see Asher in jeans and a T-shirt. He was almost always dressed in a suit, but she had to admit, she liked that T-shirt. It exposed his sculpted arms and she fought the urge to drag him back into the shower.
He turned away, fastened his watch around his wrist and pulled on a pair of runners. This was definitely an Asher she wasn’t accustomed to seeing, but one she really liked. And she felt lucky—privileged even—to be the one who saw the king in a light few others did.
She shook her head, snapping back into gear. She pinned a loose strand of hair up, put on a thin coat of lip gloss and grabbed a sweater from the closet.
Asher held out his hand and, threading his fingers between hers, led them out of the bedroom, security encircling them as they walked to his office.
Asher
Asher entered his office and his eyes landed on a count-down graphic in the corner of the screen. He blew out a long breath.
Samuel looked up from his computer for the briefest of moments, peering into the screen. He mumbled a hello and returned his attention to his computer, typing impossibly fast. Asher noted the large cup of coffee beside his computer and wondered how many shots of espresso were in it.
Deacon appeared on the screen. “Hi, Asher.”
“Hey,” Asher said, taking a seat at his desk. “Where are we?”
“We were hoping we would get lucky backtracking Troy’s movements from the station.” He gave a small shake of his head. “But we can’t see him, which likely means he was dropped off in the underground parking garage and used the emergency stairwell to enter. Given that Troy told us we have less than twenty-four hours, we need to look at everyone involved in this, but of significant importance is the mother of the child—Isabella. Her phone wasn’t on her when Reed found her, and I’ve been trying to trace it since but I wasn’t able to find it . . . until an hour ago.”
Samuel sounded excited but he didn’t look up.
“Isabella’s phone is a traceable device, indicating that either she wasn’t involved in the revolt, or she had two phones.”
Deacon looked to him. Samuel held up one finger and then nodded. “Got it,” he said with a wide smile.
“Her phone is at a supermarket three blocks from here,” Samuel said, then pressed his earlobe. “James, I’m sending you the address now. I’m trying to access the market’s security system to see who’s carrying it and estimate how long they’ll still be there.”
Samuel nodded, but Asher couldn’t hear James’s response.
“Copy,” Deacon said and then looked to Asher. “James and Reed are in the garage with teams ready to go. They’re leaving now.”
“Okay,” Asher said, his eyes dropping to the countdown clock again. He couldn’t decide if seeing it was unsettling, or if it was good to know how much time they had. It was one less unknown in the sea of unknowns that surrounded them.
Abi took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Does Alistair know?” she asked in a hushed whisper.
“No, I haven’t told him. I thought it best to wait and see . . .” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking: he didn’t want to tell Alistair until they found the boy alive and well and were able to bring him home.
Abi nodded, understanding. She gave his hand another squeeze.
Asher’s attention snapped back to the screen. He could no longer see Samuel but he could see inside a supermarket. Asher searched the aisles for any familiar faces, and his jaw fell open when he found himself looking at the woman he’d seen in the photos on Noah’s computer.
The same woman they’d found dead the night they took captive Captain Lewis Spencer.
The angles adjusted—at Samuel’s doing, Asher assumed. He must’ve seen her before Asher, because the footage changed and suddenly Asher was looking directly at her. She lifted her gaze as if she could feel them watching her, and Asher froze, suddenly feeling like she was watching him.
“Yes!” Samuel said as he began typing furiously.
Deacon looked to Asher. “Samuel was moving the camera, hoping it would create some sound—some cameras make a whirling kind of noise—and she would look straight up at the camera.”
“Reed, she’s holding a small basket. You might only have a few minutes,” Samuel said.
Asher leaned forward, massaging his aching jaw. He made a conscious effort to relax it. How was this happening?
His eyes dropped to the clock again. The minutes seemed to be passing like seconds.
Samuel didn’t look up from his computer, and Asher didn’t want to bother him.
They sat in silence but the tension was palpable. This was the ultimate deadline and with every second that passed, Asher’s chest grew a little tighter.
“She’s leaving!” Samuel said suddenly.
Deacon leaned forward like he was looking at something. His eyes narrowed, confirming Asher’s suspicions. “It’s not her,” he said to Asher, then added, “they look very similar, but the features don’t match on facial recognition. For a second I wondered if she had a twin.”
Asher’s mind was spinning. A woman who looked so much like Isabella, and who had her phone?
“Talk to her, Reed,” Deacon commanded.
Deacon turned to Asher. “This is interesting—it could be a good lead.”
The woman exited the store, meeting Reed in the doorway. Reed didn’t look like a local but Asher wasn’t sure that’s what gave him away. The woman took one look at him and tried to run but Reed reached out, subduing her and dragging her out of view. Asher wondered what that looked like on the street, or if any civilians were going to try and stop him, but no one said anything indicating as much.
Deacon returned his
attention to Asher. “They’ll drive somewhere secure and talk to her. Give them a few minutes.”
How many minutes did they have?
Asher nodded and looked over his desk, needing something to distract himself for a few minutes. He picked up a folder of reports then put it down as quickly. His heel bounced on the floor. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the timer.
“What is your name?” Reed’s voice sounded through his office.
“Lisa,” she said quickly. “Lisa!”
“Lisa who?” Reed asked.
“Lisa Ramsey,” she said, her voice a notch higher.
“Why do you have Isabella George’s phone?” Reed asked.
“What?” she asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“This phone. Where did you get it?”
“It’s my boyfriend’s. He has two phones—one is for work—and I accidentally dropped my phone when I left the house this morning. I grabbed this phone from the charger quickly in case I needed to call anyone.”
“Who is your boyfriend?” Reed asked.
“Jason King,” she said.
“Was the phone off?”
A moment passed. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Why? And who is Isabella George?” she asked, sounding less than pleased.
“A woman who was murdered a few nights ago,” Reed said, seemingly to test her. Lisa’s face blanched.
“What?” she asked with a hoarse voice.
“We’re still looking for her murderer and, as part of the investigation, we’ve been looking for her phone—until now,” Reed said. “When did you see your boyfriend last?
“This morning,” she said quickly. “His house.”
“What is his address?”
She paused. “I don’t know you.”
Reed pulled out a badge. “Santina police,” he said and Asher wondered when and how he’d gotten that badge.
She sighed, seeming to weigh her options, but then she gave them the address for an apartment downtown.
“Lisa, do you have a family member you can stay with for a few days?”
She looked hesitant.
“Stay with them. Don’t go back to your apartment for a while. In addition to your boyfriend having a dead woman’s phone, there’s something else you should be aware of: she looks exactly like you.”
Her jaw fell open and she sat back. “What?”
Reed nodded. “You need to be very careful right now. Stay with family and I’ll be in contact and let you know when it’s safe to go home.”
“I want to go,” she said quickly, looking as though she might vomit.
Reed nodded again and opened the door, letting her walk away.
Asher looked between Samuel and Deacon, trying to read their thoughts. He didn’t know what to make of that conversation.
“Let’s see who you are, Jason King,” Samuel said with a quiet determination.
“This is good,” Deacon said, looking at Asher. “Having an alias is a good starting point. We can find out who he is, look at CCTV and apartment security and see if we can get a match. And then we’ll track assets, including property. It’s a good lead,” he said again.
It might be a good starting point, but Asher felt like they were losing the race.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” Deacon asked. “This might take a few hours.”
Asher looked to the timer. They had less than eight hours.
Asher checked his phone for the millionth time but there was no update, no contact from the team. What were they doing?
He willed his eyes to close, but they remained open. He stared at the ceiling as Abi’s breath settled beside him, then his eyes darted to the neon green numbers of his bedside clock.
Four hours.
Asher sighed as he sat up. He couldn’t sleep and it was harder not knowing what was going on.
“Asher?” Abi asked groggily.
“Yeah, I’m going to go back to my office. I can’t sleep,” he said.
She sat upright. “I’ll come with you,” she said.
He was going to tell her to stay there and get some rest, but he preferred her company and it could be a long night.
She picked up her clothes from the floor, put them on, and slipped on her shoes.
They’d taken a step outside the bedroom when Samuel called.
“Asher, Jason King was an alias for Troy. We’ve found a property Jason King bought a few months ago which Troy happened to visit yesterday. Reed’s going in now.”
Reed
Reed crept along the fence of the neighboring property. He stopped at the sight of footprints and paused. They were pointed at the fence and then disappeared. Whoever they belonged to had recently scaled this fence. Why?
He peered over the fence quickly at the fresh footprints on the other side.
Reed looked at the print again. It was smaller than his, but he couldn’t tell if it belonged to a male or female. He took a picture for Samuel—he might be able to match it to a particular brand of shoes if it was later deemed important.
He couldn’t be sure if it was important to this mission or not, but it was certainly odd, and Reed had learned to pay close attention to anything that didn’t seem right.
“Prints continue from the fence. I can’t see for sure, but it looks like they lead to the back-left window of the house,” he said quietly.
The alarm system of the neighbor’s house, whose backyard Reed was currently in, was activated, telling them no one was home, so Reed didn’t have to worry about being seen in the yard—by the home owners, at least.
His eyes dropped to the footprints again. Whoever made them hadn’t retreated from the window, which meant they’d either been captured and carried inside or they’d gone through the window.
Reed pulled a pair of binoculars from his kit and looked at the window in question, then swore under his breath—the window had been jammed.
“Someone paid a visit before we got here,” Reed whispered.
“Then we need to move fast,” James responded. “Confirm positions.”
“Team A in position. Team B in position . . .” The confirmations kept coming. They had six teams on site because they knew the consequences of their failure would be fatal. The pressure of such a mission could asphyxiate someone not trained to handle it; any case involving children was always more difficult.
“Moving in,” Reed said as he lowered into a crouch. He was the only one not technically part of a team on this mission. Reed was at his best when he moved on his own. He’d always been like that—a bit of a loner. His childhood had set him up for it, and now he used it to his advantage.
Reed sprinted for the window, following the footprints. He focused on his breathing and kept his heart rate steady as he moved, and stilled the instant he reached the wall.
He pressed his back against it, straining to listen.
There were no sounds other than a passing car at the front of the property. He paused, waiting for the team to tell him if that car was going to be a problem—but when no one spoke, he returned his attention to the jammed window.
Definitely a break-in. And a bad one.
“Amateur break-in,” Reed said. Using the amateur’s work to his advantage, he carefully slid his scalpel in and along the bottom of the frame until he felt the clasp. He jimmied the window and pried it open with his fingers.
He paused again, but the only sound he could hear was his own heart drumming in his chest.
“Clear,” Reed whispered as he pulled two robots from his kit and dropped them on the other side of the window.
“Give me a few minutes,” Samuel said quickly.
Reed looked up, his eyes scanning the eaves for surveillance cameras.
“Every door in the hallway is shut,” Samuel said. “I can’t get underneath them. You’ll have to go in.”
This was becoming a problem for Samuel’s robots—a problem they hadn’t anticipated. They needed to design a smaller robot—one that c
ould get underneath Santina’s doors.
“Copy,” Reed said as he inched the window wider. He could use the door, but he wasn’t sure if it would activate an alarm. If the window had triggered an alarm, they would know by now.
“Going in,” Reed said as he placed his gloved hands on the window sill, leaned forward and pushed up, holding his weight while he slid one leg over and then the other. He rushed toward the wall behind the door and took a second to assess the house.
White walls, a white sofa, and wooden floorboards. Everything was in place and looked like it should belong in such a house.
Reed darted across the doorway, getting a view of the hallway.
No motion. No sound.
The house was deadly quiet.
“House appears empty,” Reed said in a hushed whisper.
“Keep moving. Let’s find out,” James said. “Team A, follow Reed in.”
Reed stepped into the hallway. The floorboards creaked with every step he took. If someone was inside and they were relatively alert, they should realize someone was in the house. He stayed close to the wall, where the boards were less likely to creak.
Pausing at the first door, he waited, listening. He held his breath, not wanting to miss the sound of the slightest movement. He took an extra second and then opened the door.
The room was completely empty, but the impressions on the carpet told Reed that furniture had been there before being recently removed.
“Someone has been clearing out this apartment,” Reed said under his breath.
“If he’s gone, let’s find a clue they left behind. We need something to work from,” James said.
“Copy,” Reed said. He went to move forward, but his foot paused mid-air as he caught the glisten of the wire. Reed sucked in a breath, grabbing the doorframe to stop himself from hitting it.
He breathed hard, his eyes following the wire.
“James, the house is rigged,” Reed said, a rushed whisper. “The footprints leading to the window, it’s a setup. The first room wasn’t rigged, a ploy to give us false security. Get everyone out!”
VALIANT REIGN (The Royals Book 3) Page 6