The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1

by Leona Bushman

  Bill came up behind her, then her father followed. “Well, Victoria!” the Earl commanded.

  “Father, please,” she said and held her hand to her forehead. “I have a headache. It has been a rough day for all of us. He just told me to be careful. Apt words after being shot at, don’t you think? I’m going to lie down. Can you please have a plate of dinner brought into me? I’m not up for public dining tonight. Thanks.” Finished, she turned and left. Victoria ignored the calls after her, and since her voicelet lay in ruins, he couldn’t bother her with it.

  When Bill offered to replace her voicelet with one on his account, she had said yes without knowing why. Her father had said he would get hers replaced with the insurance, and she withheld the information regarding the other one on the way. Why didn’t I tell him I was already getting a voicelet on my own? Probably because she did not want her father to get excited about her sharing televocal lines with Bill.

  For now, it didn’t matter. Lily’s calls would be the only thing she’d miss until her father’s replacement voicelet arrived. She put her regular laptop onto the bed tray and leaned back against the headboard. She went online and cancelled her credit cards, reported the theft of her mini laptop to her insurance, and did one other small task—sent out a virus targeted at her own software.

  Back when her sister attempted to drag her into all kinds of trouble, she began to suspect that her father kept too close an eye on her through her voicelets, and later, her mini laptop. She had taken precautions and asked a hacker friend to make her a specialized virus. One she could use if her mini laptop ever disappeared, or she thought she was being spied on. What could her father say when he could no longer spy on her through the device?

  Victoria pressed enter and sat back. With her voicelet from Bill, she would be able to do more. What if Bill tells my father he’s replacing the device? She jumped up and raced to her door, walking until she found Bill. Once she reached him, she stuttered. Her original thought to ask him to come to her room for a private chat had more to do with secrecy than anything else. However, when in his presence, it occurred to her how it would sound to others, which only made it harder for her to ask without a squeak in her voice. “Hi, uh, can you help me with something?”

  He nodded, excused himself from the people he was speaking with in the public dining area, and then followed her back through the cars until they gained some seclusion.

  “What is it?” he asked gently.

  “Not here,” she whispered. You never knew who could be listening. When had she become so paranoid? Her sister’s troubles? Or her own? It didn’t matter. They needed to find a way to talk without risk of her father overhearing. “In my private car.”

  He nodded and followed her closely until they reached her sleeping car.

  “I need to know,” she began. “Have you told my father you’re giving me a voicelet?”

  “No. It’s none of his concern, and after the weird day we had, I’m not sure who to trust.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. Don’t tell him. He’s been spying on me and my sister all our lives. However, he’s unaware that I know. I’m letting him replace the voicelet on his account, but still want one with you, if you’re willing.”

  “Sure. But can I ask a personal question?” he replied.

  Victoria laughed. A weak laugh, but genuine. “Of course. I’ve been more personal with you than many of my acquaintances.” And wasn’t that just a fine kettle of tea.

  “Why not get one on your own? You’re credit has to be good enough to get a voicelet.”

  “Yes, good question. I did once, as soon as I turned eighteen. You know what happened? It never worked right. I couldn’t do anything on it. I replaced it four times before giving up. When I’d call and ask the company for help, they were always chipper and accommodating. They’d pull up my screen and all of sudden it became, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. My supervisor will have to help you.’ I finally gave up and went back on father’s plan. At least I could call out for pizza on it.”

  He stood, one arm across his chest, the other elbow resting on the arm, and his hand stroking his chin. She smiled. He reminded her of old movies with his formal clothes and manners. She waited for him to declare her paranoid and delusional.

  “I see your point. No, I won’t tell the Earl I’m getting you a voicelet. I’ll have someone bring it to me at the next station. In the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Yes, what is it?” she inquired.

  “Don’t leave this train without me. I also have a secret to tell you. You must not give in that you know it. But there are things, like the Inspector pulling me aside separately, that are going to happen, and you need to trust me since you can’t trust anyone else.”

  Victoria blinked rapidly at him. His words, so close to the Inspector’s, caused her heart to beat faster, and her breath came out in little gasps. “That’s essentially what the Inspector said. He told me not to trust anyone, but then added I needed to listen to my instincts.”

  “What do your instincts tell you about me?” he asked.

  “I’m asking you for help, aren’t I?” she said a tad waspishly as the day’s events weighed upon her. Then she relented as she realized how shrewish she must sound. “I trust you.”

  “Then you’ll make sure I’m with you whenever you leave the train?” he insisted.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, for my secret, I’m actually a Duke. I’m working under cover for the King of America. He’s a cousin of mine, and some of his men discerned some odd happenings which were seemingly unrelated.”

  “You’re a spy,” she stated hiding her excitement in case she’d misunderstood. Since her own titles would be in play in a few months, and she’d played with the king as a child, his title was less impressive to her.

  “I’m a spy.”

  A brilliant smile broke out on her face where only tension and fear had been, giving her a heady sense of lightness. “That’s fantastic. No wonder you’re so cool under fire.”

  “Not so cool when they shot at you,” he muttered.

  “That’s to be expected. You were nowhere near to help.”

  He groaned. “That’s not exactly it, but never mind about that. We just need to be careful with you.”

  “I’ll be careful. I’ve already taken steps to disable the miniature laptop in the stolen messenger bag.”

  Bill lifted an eyebrow at her, then sat on the bed, pulling her down with him. “Oh? That sounds intriguing. What did you do?”

  “I sent it a virus. Soon, nothing will be on it. Even a professional hacker will find it difficult and time consuming to gather any information from it.” Her mind tried to concentrate on the conversation, but part of her focused on the warmth of his body next to hers and how it made her feel.

  “Is there any information to get?” Bill asked.

  “Not really, but my passwords to my personal accounts may be key-stroked, and I don’t want anyone having them. As for any information, nothing’s on it.”

  “Good. I don’t know why someone stole your bag and tried to kill you. Maybe it will prove to be nothing personal, and the Inspector will call and tell us they’ve caught the people responsible,” Bill said.

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then it’s going to be a long train ride, my lady.”

  For now, she was safe. Only a few more months and she would be out of her father’s shadow and on her own. She could hardly wait. In the meantime, she gave Bill a good once over. Dare she risk it? If her father caught her, he could force her marriage. Then she mentally weighed her father’s titles and power up against Bill’s title and his position with the King of America, one of the lower kings, but still. Her smile stretched like it would crack her face. She’d like to see her father try and make Bill do anything.

  “Victoria,” Bill said, eyeing her with a combination of wariness and mischievousness. “What are you thinking?”

  Chapter Seven

  Whatever put
that grin on her face, Bill wanted a part of it. It made him want to kiss her and laugh at the same time, a new experience for him when it came to a woman. She hadn’t tripped over herself falling at his feet when she learned of his title. Then again, even if she knew nothing about being a princess, she possessed her own titles and money with more coming to her when she turned twenty-five.

  “So many things,” she replied. “Usually, I don’t like the men my father throws at me. You are the exception, as I think we’ve already ascertained.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he replied.

  “Well,” she said, drawing it out.

  Sitting on the bed, their heads were close to each other, and her lips were enticingly close. Slowly, oh–so-slowly to test his own self-control as well as give her a chance to back away, he moved in. The thought of what the king might do if he seduced her crossed his mind, but he flipped it out of the way. He had permission to court her.

  With that last blockade broken down, he took her in his arms and kissed her sweetly. Her return kiss played across his lips, unhurried, and then she put her hand around his neck and opened her mouth to his invasion. Their tongues dueled, and he ran his hands over her breasts. The silken suede felt nearly like skin, and he began to gently knead.

  Her moan encouraged him to move to the next step, and he undid the top few buttons of her blouse and parted it to run his hand down. She wore a tightly tailored corset. The top fit loose enough to allow his fingers in, and he flicked one across her nipple.

  Victoria moved one hand down to his cock, and through his breeches, it felt as if she’d encompassed it in warmth. Then she started stroking him. The groan that sprang from him worked as the loosening of a lightning bolt to the ground, the precursor to the storm. He pushed her on her back to get her out of her many layers. Damn women’s haute fashion anyway. She placed her hands at his waistband while he started on her three belts. Three!

  He’d just undone the first belt when the beeper chimed denoting someone asked to be let in. “Ignore it,” he whispered.

  She seemed in agreement for she started kissing him again. The beep chimed again.

  “Damn it,” he whispered and sat up. He fixed his breeches and started helping her.

  “Who is it?” Victoria called.

  “It’s your father. Why is the door locked?” the earl demanded.

  She continued fixing her apparel as she spoke. “Really, father? We are connected to a public passenger train, and I’m twenty-four years old.” The coldness she directed at her father could have chilled ice.

  The silence on the other end lasted so long, Bill wondered if the earl left. “You’re right of course. Can you come to our private dining area, please? I’m sure you’re still in some sort of shock over being shot at. However, there are things we need to discuss.”

  “I’ll be there soon, father,” she said stonily.

  Well, now he knew how she’d look when angry, he thought, bemused. As far as he could tell, this appeared to be the first time she didn’t also appear hurt by her father’s words or actions.

  Bill took her into his arms and kissed her hard. “Later,” he promised when they finally broke apart, “I will finish what we started here.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise,” she whispered. “Come on then, let’s go see what my father wants of me now.”

  Bill followed her out the sleeping compartment and into the main walkway. What could possibly have come up that was so important that the earl would track her down rather then send his man to do it?

  ***

  Now that the lust had abated somewhat, Victoria couldn’t believe she’d spoken so harshly to her father. But honestly, did he really think she went around not locking her compartment? Then again, she usually did leave her rooms unlocked during the day since they stayed in their private car, and she kept nothing of a personal nature where someone could find it with a casual search. A thought made her blanch. What if her father had already searched her rooms?

  She stopped abruptly, and Bill grabbed her up before he stumbled into her. “That was close,” he teased.

  “Sorry, it’s just that...” She worried her lip as she thought what to say. “I have my personal journal and other items hidden in a secret compartment. It’s not findable if someone just looks in but...” Did she sound a crazy paranoid conspiracy theorist or what?

  “You want to go check?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy.”

  “Not at all. With your drawing pad and laptop being taken on top of being shot at, I’d imagine you’re feeling extremely vulnerable. I also get the sense you’re not used to feeling that way.”

  “Very astute. The only ones I ever feel vulnerable around are my father and sister. It makes holidays unpleasant. But the house is big enough, I don’t need to see him much, and my sister is almost never around.”

  It was a relief beyond measure, not having her sister asking for handouts to buy drugs. How she’d felt like a fool the first time she found out what her sister did with the money. But her sister always looked so sickly that Victoria couldn’t find the heart to say no, until the time her sister did more than ask politely.

  “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

  “In my heart. My sister makes me both angry and sad. Since we are nearly at my family’s railcar, please, don’t say anything in front of my father.”

  “I won’t. I want to get back to our previous activities.”

  His grin sent shivers of happiness through her as well as lust, replacing some of the cold in her heart. Every minute around him broke down the wall of reserve she’d put up. The best part was, she didn’t mind. For the first time in years, someone attracted her in both mind and body. She looked up and caught him staring. The heat flared between them, hot and strong.

  “I would enjoy that,” she replied huskily as they arrived at their destination.

  Chapter Eight

  “Victoria, sit here,” the Earl commanded. “This is Chancellor Troy, and he has been helping me with a few discreet matters.”

  Bill hoped his knee-jerk surprise didn’t show on his face. Chancellor Troy had an impeccable reputation. For him to be the Earl’s solicitor came as a surprise as Bill was sure that there existed dirty laundry somewhere in the Earl’s life. Then again, the Earl had been careful to surround himself with legitimate business partners. Now that the king had informed him of the Earl’s extracurricular activities, he wondered how the Earl kept it hidden. Not a whisper, not a word, nothing to indicate he entertained anything but the utmost respect for the crown.

  He made a mental note to have his private investigator check out the Earl’s travel plans, those of his other daughter, whom Bill still needed a full name for, and any solicitors associated with the family.

  “Bill, I see you accompanied my daughter,” the Earl continued, giving Bill a hard look.

  “I have made it my personal duty to protect your daughter on and off this train,” he replied with ice in his tone. Even from you.

  For a second, the Earl looked nonplussed then replied jovially, “Good, good,” and turned to Victoria. “The Chancellor wants to hear what happened at the station directly from the horse’s mouth.”

  Bill sat down and clenched his fists under the table. Passive aggressive assholes always produced this reaction in him. Under the guise of a euphemism, he’d implied his daughter to be homely and long in the tooth, another expression used for old maids.

  He’d come to know her well enough to see the hurt flash in her eyes before the cool façade fell in place. “We were discussing security measures with the station master and were looking at the monitors when we saw the shooter move into the security office. Mr. Thompson and I then went to investigate, with Bill staying behind in the office. Someone shot at me. Bill came out, and I saw you, Father.”

  The Chancellor never took his eyes off her except to make a quick note. Then the Chancellor turned to him and asked, “Does that fit with your re
collection, sir.”

  Bill nearly cringed at being called sir. The tone came across way too deferential for a business manager, and the way the lawyer looked at him made him feel like squirming as if his schoolteacher had caught him passing notes.

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice curt. The last time an assignment became so complicated, he’d been deep undercover in the midst of a violent rebel group. Here, he felt as if he were being trapped in a maze.

  “Did you feel, from anything you saw on the monitors, that the target encompassed primarily Victoria?”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t say.” Bill pulled out a cigar and lit it. The rich tobacco soothed his nerves at the sharp scrutiny from Chancellor Troy. The cigars were straight off his family’s plantation. They were expensive, but well within the budget of his current job.

  “Don’t talk of this to anyone outside of DI Whimsey, myself, and each other. Although, you need to use caution even when speaking amongst yourselves so as not to be overheard. It should not be an issue while on your private traincoach.”

  “Why would we say anything to anyone?” Victoria spoke up.

  “The press is having a heyday out there. Speculation is running rampant at who might want to kill the continent’s most eligible bachelorette.”

  Victoria’s face paled. Bill stood up. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I believe Victoria needs to go back to her private quarters and rest. Rest assured, we have no intentions of blabbing about all this. Mum’s the word,” he said flippantly and pulled Victoria to her feet. “Come, my dear. You look famished and must get some rest.”

  “Such a flatterer, sir,” she said.

  He bit back a smile. “Of course. Now, off we go. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  As if they’d spoken beforehand, neither said a word until they were ensconced in her private chambers. They said each others’ names at the same time then shared a quiet laugh.

  “You go first,” he said.

  “What in the name of the King was that?”