The Wrath of the King (Royals Book 5)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Worrying her lip with her teeth, she pivoted to start a new circuit of the small, confining space. She wanted out of there, out of the entire camp. Paavo might find out any moment that she did have something to do with the fire...and what then? Would he really put a bullet through her heart?

  Seething at the stupidity of her attraction to him, she realized all this time later that Paavo had been playing her from the start. He'd used her, hoping, probably, for information regarding Chey. Information he might not have been privy to with the hospital staff. It distressed her, how badly she'd judged the situation and her own ability to control her emotions.

  The sound of material ripping yanked her attention to the back of the tent. A silver blade rent the taut outer lining and a hand reached in to peel it open far enough to admit a body. Several droplets of water pattered against the tent floor, falling from a uniformed soldier with gloves on his hands and a flat topped hat on his head.

  Acting on instinct, sure that one of the men thought to sneak in here and assault her, she snatched up a heavy, battery powered lamp and cocked her arm back to hurl it across the room.

  “Don't,” a rough voice, thick with an American accent, said. Leander pinned her with a warning look, half in and half out of the slit he'd made.

  Wynn gasped in surprise. He blended in so well she hadn't recognized him. What was he doing here? “Leander?”

  “Don't talk. And put the light down.” He eased inside, closing the knife before sliding it into one of many pockets on his pants. From inside his buttoned up coat, he withdrew a folded uniform. “Put this on.”

  She set the light down and rushed across the tent. Ignoring the uniform for the moment, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, relieved beyond reason to see him here. Dampness seeped from his clothes to her own. “I'm sorry I doubted you.”

  “Apologize later and put this on before someone discovers us.” Regardless of his gruff order, he pulled her against him with one arm.

  Wynn squeezed and released him. Snatching the uniform from his hands, she began pulling it on over her regular clothes, forced to roll the pants leg as well as the sleeves.

  Leander paced a small circle while she dressed, listening intently to the passage of men out front. He held a gun in one hand, the muzzle pointed down along the outside of his thigh.

  “How are we going to get--”

  “Shhh,” he whispered, cutting her off. He put a gloved finger to his lips to silence her. Finding a spare pair of boots lined up along the floor, he brought those to her during one of his circuits.

  Wynn finished buttoning the jacket and asked him with her eyes if she was presentable. The way he raked a look over her sent shivers down her spine. Picking up the boots, which were two sizes too large, she stuffed her feet into them after removing her own shoes.

  “Just add this,” he whispered, walking a hat across to plop on her head. It was flat on the top, like his, with the same markings.

  Wynn adjusted the thing to sit tighter on her head after tucking her hair up underneath. Following him to the jagged tear in the canvas, she eased out into the rainy evening at his direction once he'd given her the OK.

  He bent close, putting his mouth next to her ear. “Walk like you've got a right to be here. Avoid eye contact if you can but be as brusque as you're able and don't talk. Don't even whisper, I don't care if it's raining or thundering or what. Follow my lead.”

  “All right.” Nervous, Wynn met Leander's gaze under the brim of the hat he wore, then fell into step when he stalked along the back row of the tents. She did her best to walk like he walked, imagining a manly stride and stern set to her jaw. Mud made sucking noises around the soles of the boots until they passed from dirt to grass.

  Starting in surprise when another man appeared ahead of them, patrolling the avenue between tents, Wynn concentrated on acting like she was just one of the men. Nothing to see here.

  Leander greeted the guard with a curt Hello in the Latvala tongue, not pausing even a moment to converse with the man. He led Wynn on, angling between tents, taking them ever closer to a row of military vehicles lined up at the end.

  They bumped into two more guards along the way, none of whom seemed to pay Wynn any attention beyond a short nod of greeting. She always returned it just the same, glad that the rain probably helped obscure some of her more delicate features.

  At the row of cars, Leander walked around to the driver's side of one, leaving Wynn to understand she needed to climb into the passenger's seat. She did so, licking away a bead of sweat from her upper lip. Her nerves were raw. Any second, she thought sirens would go off and spotlights would shine a halo down on their heads.

  Leander started the rugged vehicle with keys that had been left in the ignition. He didn't turn the lights on until they were angling toward the main road. Overhead, thunder roared through the dark sky.

  “All right. Up here, they'll do a more through check. Let me do the talking. I 'outrank' most of them, so it shouldn't be a problem,” Leander said.

  “All right.” Wynn held onto the armrest until they hit the paved part of the road. The mandatory check-point ahead consisted of a wooden horse blocking the road along with a temporary hut for the guards to take shelter in during inclement weather.

  One guard stepped out as they approached, a gun leveled across his body. Like the rest of the guards, his features were difficult to make out through the rain.

  Leander brought the vehicle to a stop and immediately engaged the guard in whip-fast conversation.

  Wynn picked out enough to know that Leander was giving both their 'credentials' and the reason for departing the camp. Something about bringing in new recruits from a few surrounding townships. The guard bowed his head in respect of the higher rank and moved the wooden horse out of the way.

  Leander waited, then drove through onto the main road, picking up speed. Heavy tread on the tires kicked up wetness on the pavement.

  Wynn exhaled and reached up to remove the hat. Leander set a hand out, halting the action.

  “Not yet. There could be another check-point ahead.”

  “Oh. All right. How did you know where to find me? I can't believe you're here,” Wynn said. She recalled Paavo's mention of an attack on the castle, and wondered if Leander had something to do with it.

  “It was a matter of asking the right people. We came to get Chey out, but she was already gone when we got there. I didn't find her anywhere in the castle, at least the places I could search. What do you know about the fire?” Leander asked with a glance across the truck.

  “Chey wasn't in her room when I went to get her, either. I don't know where she is. I'm worried she...she...I'm worried he hurt her.” Wynn propped an elbow on the door, fingers rubbing her forehead. “Paavo hinted that Chey escaped, but I don't know. I don't trust him. He might have been leading me on, trying to get information. I think he suspects I had something to do with the fire.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes. I set it. I was desperate to distract the guards, because I saw no other way to get to Chey's room. They were guarding it too heavily.”

  “You did what you had to. So you don't have any idea where Chey is, then?” he asked.

  “None. All of that for nothing. And Paavo said he would shoot me through the heart if he found out I had anything to do with the fire or Chey's disappearance. He used that word, not escape. If he finds me--”

  “He won't,” Leander said, using a tone that brooked no doubt or argument. “I won't let him find you. And don't say it was all for nothing until we know exactly what happened, hm?”

  “I've done such stupid things,” Wynn said, lamenting her recent decisions.

  “Like what?” Leander took them onto another road after checking ahead and behind for any sign of troops or check points.

  “Coming down here to begin with. I should have made a better excuse at the family seat. I should have--”

  “Don't beat yourself up about it. Things worked out
this way for a reason,” he said.

  “Yeah. And what if I inadvertently put Chey in harm's way?” She looked across the vehicle, eaten alive by guilt. It wasn't just Chey, it was the entire Paavo fiasco. How she could have allowed herself to feel even a glimmer of anything for him was beyond her. And yet, yet, she still experienced a warm flush when she thought about their dinner, a few of their conversations.

  Leander met her gaze for a heartbeat, no more. “Then you did, but it wasn't because you meant to. We can all only do what we can do. What other people do, such as Paavo and his Generals and all the troops, are things we can't control.”

  Wynn opened her mouth to admit what she'd done. Or what she'd felt. She wanted to confess to someone, as if that might ease the burden dragging her down. In the end she hummed a note of agreement and looked out the window, wondering how close dawn was to arriving. The weather made it impossible for her to judge the lateness of the hour.

  “What?” Leander asked.

  “Nothing. It's nothing,” Wynn said.

  “It was, or you wouldn't have started to tell me.”

  “I changed my mind. It's...personal.”

  “Then get it off your chest. What, do you think I'll judge you for it?” he asked.

  “Yes. Even I'm appalled at myself. I don't know what the hell I was thinking.”

  “Did you fall for him?” Leander asked, as if he could read her mind.

  Wynn blanched. “No, no I--” Had she? Had she gone as far as falling in love? To be true to herself, she considered every meeting, every emotion since she'd first met Paavo. “You know, I can honestly say it didn't get that far. But still. Even being attracted to someone who has done all this...”

  “You can't really control who you're attracted to. It's a natural reaction, an animal instinct as old as time. What you can control is your choice to pursue it when you have all the facts you do. Or, to give the attraction time to grow or fizzle out. Just because you see someone and feel something doesn't mean you've broken some secret code of conduct. It is what it is. Do you still want to be with him?” Leander sought her eyes, then looked back at the road.

  Wynn didn't hide her turmoil. She met his gaze and didn't look away when he diverted his attention to driving. “Not at all. I'm not sure I wanted to be 'with him' before. It was just...what you said. An attraction. And it stings to know he used me the whole time.”

  “Because you're friends with Chey.”

  “Yes. Maybe even to have me close in case he needed instant leverage.”

  “That, too. You'd be a good bargaining tool in his battle to overthrow Dare.”

  “I usually only hear siblings call Sander Dare. Are you related or something?” Wynn allowed her curiosity to divert her away from talk of Paavo.

  “No. We're connected another way.”

  “Which way is that?”

  “I can't talk too much about it. Suffice to say that I'm one of Mattias's best friends and have known Dare a very long time.”

  “It's just strange that I haven't ever seen you around before now, or even heard of you.” Wynn had scoured her memory and come up blank where Leander was concerned.

  “Because you weren't meant to. I come and go when I'm needed here.” He pressed the gas, picking up more speed. The vehicle sped through the night, taking them further and further from Paavo's castle.

  “So it's a bit of a mystery, then,” Wynn said. She wasn't up to solving the puzzle that was Leander. Not tonight.

  He shot a smile her way, but didn't confirm or deny it.

  For Wynn, that was all the proof she needed.

  Maybe someday, if Chey and Sander were all right and they got control of the country back, Wynn would devote a little time to unearthing the complexities of Leander.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Surly after two farmhouses turned up no Chey, Sander parked the Hummer alongside the road a quarter mile from the third location on their list. He let the engine idle while he considered the GPS one more time. The last two farms housed people loyal to Sander instead of Paavo, tenants who were shocked to see their King at their door in the middle of the night. He'd been lucky, but his luck might not hold out much longer.

  “It's the best shot from what's left in this area,” Gunnar said, shifting his gun across his lap. The rain fell harder, tinging off the roof like bullets.

  “I agree. I don't see anything else in the general vicinity that looks remotely viable that we haven't already checked. You ready?” Sander asked, flipping the GPS off. He glanced out the windshield, unable to see much through the trees. He knew the house was there, but this one lacked visibility from the road itself.

  “Let's go,” Gunnar said.

  Sander put the Hummer in gear and bore down on the residence, taking the driveway at a high rate of speed. By the time he stomped the gas, sending the back end sliding through a puddle of mud, the front door had opened and a man stepped onto the porch. Even from that vantage, Sander could see a gun in the farmer's hands.

  “Watch the weapon,” Sander said, disembarking with the engine still running. He flashed his empty hands and called out with the intent of stopping the tenant from blowing one of their heads off. “Sir! We're here on official business. I'm King Sander Ah--” He got no further. The farmer set his gun down and made frantic gestures.

  “Your Majesty! Come in, come in out of the rain!”

  Sander, flanked by an armed Gunnar, approached and took the steps to the porch at a jog. He reached out to clasp the farmer's hand in a shake, taking a personable stance now that he suspected the man was loyal to him rather than Paavo. Before he could speak, the farmer burst out with a torrent of information.

  “I had to send her away. My wife has been listening to the news, to--”

  “Send who away?” Sander said, cutting the farmer off. He stared at the man's face, anxious to know if Chey had been here.

  “Your wife, your Majesty. She was here not a half hour ago. I'm sorry we didn't keep her sheltered,” he said with an irate glance toward the door of the homestead.

  Sander took a step closer, regaining the man's attention. “Tell me where she went and how she left your house.”

  The farmer twisted his hands nervously together. “I gave her the keys to my truck, your Majesty. Told her to head West, then North, because I hadn't seen troops along that route for days.”

  “And she left a half hour ago?”

  “Give or take, your Majesty.”

  “Thank you. If anyone shows up and asks, you didn't see us this evening,” Sander said. He backtracked to the stairs, loping down to the ground.

  “Yes, your Majesty!” the farmer called out.

  Sander swung into the Hummer, waiting for Gunnar to do the same. The second his brother's door was closed, Sander put the vehicle in gear and tore down the drive.

  “A half hour. West, then North. Get on the GPS and see how far you think she's gone in this weather and how many turn offs there are between us,” Sander said to Gunnar.

  “I'm on it.” He had the device in his hands, his weapon angled across his lap.

  The screen cast a soft glow inside the cabin as roads began to show up, snaking toward and away from their location. Sander glanced across once, then concentrated on the roads as Gunnar began mapping out possibilities.

  Sander hoped for the best. He drove like a man possessed, taking corners too tight and straightaways too fast. All he could think about was reaching her. He hadn't taken the time to inquire after her health, or if she'd suffered any kind of injury. He figured the farmer would have told him if Chey had been bloodied or wounded.

  “Sander, don't get us killed. We're close. We'll catch up with her soon,” Gunnar said when the Hummer roared around a corner.

  “There's no time to waste, Gunnar. She could run across a road block anywhere. Just because the farmer hasn't seen one in a few days doesn't mean they didn't erect a check-point between now and then.” A muscle flexed in Sander's jaw. His vision swam in and out of focus,
made worse by the flash of windshield wipers and relentless rain.

  He didn't care. He would drive until he passed out if he had to. They were too close now, so close he could almost smell the sweet scent of her skin. It tickled his senses, a remnant of memory he latched onto with fierce determination.

  Three turns later, the wash of red tail lights a half mile ahead spurred him to greater speed.

  . . .

  Just how far North was she supposed to go? At some point, she figured she might run into a roadblock or a mass of troops. Chey turned the wipers up another notch as the rain came down harder, working the problem of direction and distance out loud.

  “So I've gone probably fifteen or twenty miles. Where does that put me?” She guessed the range she'd come so far in the rain. It wasn't very far. In her mind, she tried to map out the terrain opposed to Paavo's castle and what troops she'd seen from the air. It was confusing, especially since she needed most of her concentration for driving. Thunder boomed through the night, startling her to a slower speed.

  “I guess I'll wait until the next big intersection and head toward the shore from there. I'm sure there will be a lot more troops that way, though, because they'll be guarding roads to the bigger cities.” Which left Chey the option of finding a smaller town and someone with a phone.

  In the rearview mirror, headlights flashed bright. She glanced up, momentarily blinded. Squinting against the glare, she gripped the steering wheel and took the upcoming bend at a mediocre twenty miles an hour. The sound of a horn made Chey twitch in surprise, but she couldn't glance in the mirror until she was on the straightaway after the bend. The last thing she needed to do was end up in a ditch.

  It wasn't until she'd finished taking the corner that alarm sent a buzz through her system. What if that was Paavo in the vehicle behind her? Had he figured out where she'd gone and gotten directions from the farmer's wife? That thought urged her to speed up and glance in the rear view more often.

  The vehicle was closing in fast. Too fast.

  Panicking, Chey floored it. The old truck surged with a grind of the engine, the sound of someone laying on a horn making Chey's scalp tingle. It was so urgent, persistent. Warning her they were coming, or hoping she would stop out of curiosity.