Rachel’s apartment.
Her gaze darted to Rachel, whose skin had turned a greenish tint.
“What . . .?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“These photographs were taken a few minutes ago,” James said. “We received a security breach for your apartment. The security system was disabled, so as yet we don’t have any intelligence except for these photographs, which were taken by my crew.”
“Who is that?” Rachel’s asked, her voice breaking.
Abi’s gaze returned to the photographs and she couldn’t look away from the woman’s platinum-blond hair splayed over the wooden floor boards, the ends dyed red from blood spilled from the woman’s slit throat.
“We don’t know yet,” James finally said.
“I thought you had security on our apartments,” Abi said, trying to organize her scrambled thoughts. The words came out sounding more like an accusation than she’d intended.
“We did until last night,” James said with a grimace. “I pulled every available man for your meeting with Lamberi and then they went to the bombing sites last night.”
“When was she killed?” Abi asked.
“We don’t know the exact time, but given the state of her corpse and the forensic evidence, we think she was killed at the apartment around midnight,” James aid.
“Why?” Rachel blurted out. “Why my apartment? I don’t even know who she is.”
“We don’t know why they chose your apartment. Are you sure you’ve never seen her before?” Reed asked as the image on the screen changed, displaying a less gruesome image of who was surely the same woman.
Abi looked to Rachel. “No, but . . .”
“She looks like me,” Abi said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
James nodded. “I think it’s a message. We’re going to report this to the police and provide palace security footage to confirm Rachel has been here with us. That will exclude her from suspicion of murder,” he said, looking at Rachel. “From there, I would like to send someone to pack up your apartment because I assume you don’t want to go back there . . .” He trailed off questioningly, sounding unsure.
“No,” Rachel said resolutely.
James nodded. “I’ll find you a more secure apartment,” he said, sounding distracted as he looked at his phone. “Excuse me for a moment,” he went on before moving toward the door. All eyes followed him, then looked to Reed.
“Okay,” Reed said, immediately taking control and looking at Rachel. “Samuel will continue to gather information on this woman.”
Rachel nodded, still looking ashen.
“Have you found Troy?” Abi asked. “He’s never had to hide before, so I don’t expect him to be good at it. Surely he’ll make a mistake soon.”
“We found him,” Reed said, and Abi’s eyes snapped to Asher’s. He didn’t seem surprised by the news. “We have full observation teams on site, but until we can be sure of Alistair’s son’s location, we’re not going to make a move unless forced to do so. If Troy is the person behind these attacks, he’s capable of murdering the child without a second thought. We need to play our cards very carefully.”
Abi agreed, but that left one major question. “What if he slips away?”
“He won’t,” Reed said. “We have every door and window under observation.”
“Can he go underground?” Abi asked, thinking of the tunnels beneath the palace and the restaurant.
“No. Samuel was able to find the building submissions for the property that he’s inside. They had issues laying the foundation because of the granite in the soil, so there won’t be any tunnels underneath. He’s trapped,” Reed said with a menacing smile, “and he doesn’t even know it.”
Asher
Silence filled the apartment, and it had never sounded so sweet. He closed the door behind them, followed Abi into the bedroom, then closed the bedroom door too—another barrier between them and the outside world.
Drawing Abi into his arms, he sighed softly. Last night felt like years ago.
She tightened her arms around him, and he placed his lips on the crown of her head.
“How are you?” she asked, tilting her chin up, watching him—perhaps to see if he was going to lie. But he wasn’t—his guard was down with Abi. It always had been.
“Tired,” he said with a groan.
She gave a small smile. “Santina loved your speech tonight. I loved it.”
“It’ll hopefully keep the wolves at bay for a few days,” Asher said, feeling no satisfaction from his speech. He was angry that Santina was furious with him given how much he’d potentially sacrificed—how much Abi had potentially sacrificed. He knew no one except those involved in the mission would ever understand and he couldn’t expect them to—yet he wanted them to. He was trying to do his best in his new role, and he wondered if his best would ever be good enough.
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
Abi raised onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. The tension melted from his body. He groaned softly as she slid his suit jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt. He watched her eagerly, anticipating how far she would take this. His shirt fell to the floor and she kissed his chest. He closed his eyes, reveling in her touch. Her hands moved to his belt and he found it harder to breathe. Last night had been amazing, and yet if felt like a distant memory. So much had happened in the last few hours. Santina had been attacked, he’d discovered the identity of his traitor, and he felt like he finally understood his brother for the first time in years—something he prayed he wasn’t mistaken about.
Abi led him to the bed. He slipped off his shoes and laid down, his eyes closing before he could stop them.
“Good to see the effect I have on you,” she said with a laugh.
Asher grinned, bolting upright and grabbing her. He fell back onto the bed, pulling her into his arms. She laughed as they bounced on the mattress. “Give me an hour of sleep and I’ll fuck you until sunrise.”
Abi barked a laugh. “Wow. Asher the romantic,” she said, giggling.
Asher laughed, tilting her chin to his. “Honestly, if you didn’t mean so much to me, I’d rip your clothes off right now. But I don’t want to give you only half of me. The other half is absent, reeling, and can hardly think straight.”
She propped herself on her elbow and threaded her fingers through his. “I’ll wait. You’re worth every minute of waiting for.”
He ran his thumb over her cheek, locking his gaze on hers. She held his heart captive. “I love you,” he whispered. He’d told her as much last night, but that had been in the heat of the moment before she was about to leave and face Lamberi. He’d meant it, meant it as much then as he did now, but he needed her to know it wasn’t something he’d said casually.
She searched his eyes. “I love you too. I think you’re the strongest man I’ve ever known, Asher,” Abi whispered. “I was scared for you today but I had no reason to worry.”
She gave a sad smile. “How did you feel standing on the balcony?”
He sighed. “When the crowd was heckling me?”
Abi nodded.
“Like a failure. I’d never seen that response toward my father. Never. And it took me all of a week to raise it from Santina.”
“It was an unfair judgment and very short-lived,” Abi reminded him.
“Yeah,” he said, looking past her, his mind distracted. “Maybe next time it won’t be.”
“If you stay true to who you are, you’ll always win the people. You proved that today,” she said, squeezing his hand.
Now it was his turn to search her eyes. “Do you have any regrets about us? It’s been a lot to take in this week.”
She answered without hesitation. “No. None,” she said, never breaking eye contact. “I’m proud to stand beside you.”
He paused. The words were in his throat, and the moment felt so right.
“Stand beside me forever. Marry me, Abi,” he said, his weary voice growing stronger.
&
nbsp; Her eyes widened. “Are you proposing right now?”
He grinned at her response. “Well, I plan on proposing again, properly. But, yes. I know we haven’t been together long but I don’t need another minute to know this is a good decision—the best decision I’ll ever make. I want you. Forever.”
Her eyes glistened. “Yes,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Asher cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers, unable to wipe the smile off his face. She parted her lips and his tongue swept over hers, needy and hungry.
He pulled her on top of him as he deepened the kiss. She moaned into his mouth and energy shot through his veins.
She would be his queen.
The Queen of Santina.
They would rule together, and their enemies would fear them.
Reed
“In position. Target visible,” Reed whispered beneath his breath. The blazing Santinian sun had melted into the horizon and now he tugged his jacket around his waist to keep warm.
“Hold,” James said via his earpiece, followed by a grunt. Reed’s gaze swept up to the palm trees but he couldn’t make out James’s silhouette.
Reed returned his attention to the front window as a shadow darted across. He followed the shadow to the next window and then the corner window. The curtain opened ever so slightly, but Reed didn’t miss it.
“Figure at my three o’clock, looking through the window,” Reed confirmed. “Should I wave at him?” he asked wryly.
“Are you sure it’s a he?” Cami asked, entering the conversation.
Reed smirked. “No, Cami, I’m not. Trust me, I wish there were more females like you in this world.”
Cami laughed. “You need someone to calm you down, not encourage you. And someone like me would definitely encourage your bad behavior.”
“You’re distracting him now, Cami,” James said.
Reed grinned when he heard Cami laugh. “Yes, boss,” she said.
“In position,” James said. “Reed, move to position two. I’ll cover you.”
Reed crouched and ran toward the hedge surrounding the front property. From a security point of view, hedges were a terrible idea—especially for a safe house. So, either Troy and his entourage weren’t as good as they should be or the information was wrong and tonight would be a bust.
The streetlight beamed over the front garden, but Reed stayed out of its reach, crouching low in the darkness. He paused, listening for any movement.
“Position three,” James commanded, and Reed ran for the stairs leading up onto the veranda. He tested the first step and when it didn’t creak, he stepped onto the next. None of the stairs creaked—another mistake.
Reed paused at that thought. Troy might be a rookie, but he’d successfully assassinated two people under heavy security protection.
A chill ran down his spine. Something wasn’t right about this.
“James, none of the stairs creak. Something doesn’t feel right,” Reed whispered under his breath.
James paused for a minute. “Put the robots down. Be careful.”
Reed grabbed six robots from his front pocket and placed them on the decking. Samuel would drive them into position until the front door opened and they could get them inside.
As he placed the last one on the ground, he heard raised voices inside.
He strained to listen, but the voices were muffled.
“It’s your fault! Asher should be dead!”
“You said I could trust him. You should be taking the blame!”
Reed held his breath, not daring to move an inch.
He heard the person respond, but couldn’t make out what was said. Reed took a step forward, and then another, inching toward the window. He crouched below it, hoping to hear the voices more clearly. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Something was off; he just didn’t know what.
But he didn’t get the chance to think about it further, because the front door swung open and a man in uniform stormed out. Reed didn’t waste the opportunity. He raised his weapon and caught the door with his foot, sliding inside and into the shadows of the unlit dining room.
He stilled, listening, ready to react.
“I captured a screenshot of his face. Running it through facial recognition now. The team will follow him,” Samuel said.
“Reed, confirm position,” James said.
“Inside, dining room,” Reed whispered so quietly he could barely hear himself.
James swore under his breath, indicating he’d heard, but he didn’t order Reed to leave.
And Reed didn’t want to leave. He knew for sure there was at least one more person in this house.
Reed took note of the house. He heard a television blaring from one of the back rooms. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, sweeping it for cameras.
James must’ve had the same thoughts. “Reed, you’re going to have a few minutes at most. Make them count!”
Reed moved into the hallway. He scoped the first two rooms but nothing looked out of place.
He moved into the bedroom. The light was off and the room quiet, but an adjoining door was closed and light seeped underneath the door. Reed assumed it was a bathroom, but he couldn’t be sure. He paused, listening for a moment, but he didn’t hear any movement inside the room. He didn’t know if he should scope the rest of the house and come back, or go straight into the bathroom.
“James, light coming from the bathroom adjoining the bedroom closest to the front door. Going in,” Reed said. He inched forward carefully, his weapon high, his finger on the trigger, his heart drumming in his chest.
“Be careful,” James said, sounding distracted.
“Copy,” Reed whispered, his attention focused on the door.
He moved toward the adjoining wall, using it for protection and then pressed his ear to the door.
He could’ve heard a pin drop.
Silently, carefully, Reed placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it. His body was riled and whoever he met tonight had better be ready for a fight.
He stilled when the door opened to reveal a basin full of empty hair-dye packets and hair clippings.
“James, whoever left out the front door is in disguise!” Reed said quickly, spinning around when he heard footsteps behind him. He ducked as a bullet shattered the mirror behind him.
Reed dove for the shooter’s legs, knocking him to the floor.
A boot slammed into the side of his face, startling him for a second. Before he knew it, he was pinned on the ground. But that gave him one advantage: he had a clear view of the man’s face.
“Captain Lewis Spencer,” Reed said, knowing the team would hear him.
The man smiled widely, but Reed quickly wiped that off his face.
Reed brought his knee up, grabbed his knife and slammed it into the captain’s shoulder. He roared, loosening his grip on Reed, and that was all he needed. Reed rolled out of the man’s grip before he had a chance to correct his mistake, then lunged at the captain, grabbing his jaw and snapping his head back. He held his knife at the man’s jugular and grinned.
Checkmate.
“Where’s Troy?”
The captain blinked, seemingly surprised. “I . . . don’t . . . know,” he hissed.
Reed pushed the tip of the knife against his skin, careful not to break through. He didn’t actually want to kill him—not yet at least.
“We don’t know. He disappeared last night . . . called us today . . .” the captain went on.
“Where’s your phone?” Reed asked.
“Back . . . pocket.”
Reed grabbed a syringe from his own back pocket and jammed it into the man’s neck. The captain exhaled, resigned, and went limp. Reed dropped him on the floor.
Reed searched his back pocket and found the phone. It was locked, but Reed knew the captain would open it for them when he awoke—Reed would make sure of it.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and moved back into the hallway. He d
oubted anyone else was inside. If they were, they would’ve come running at the sound of the gunshot.
Nonetheless, he was careful, scoping the house like he would any other. He paused at a locked door. Picking the lock, he carefully opened it only to find that he needn’t have worried.
She was slumped against the wall, her eyes rolled back, her mouth foaming. He ran toward her and placed two fingers on her wrist. No pulse.
She was cold, and it didn’t take him long to determine the cause of death.
“James, I found Alistair’s . . . fling. No pulse. Suspected opioid overdose,” he said as his eyes landed on a syringe on the ground not far from her hand.
“Damn!” James swore under his breath. “I wanted her alive.”
Asher
Asher stood in front of the glass, his eyes never leaving Captain Spencer. James sat opposite him, and Reed lingered behind the captain.
The captain was just waking up, and he’d woken up in hell. Asher prayed he never woke up with men like Reed and James looking at him like he was dinner.
James slapped the captain, who jolted, pressing back against the chair. Reed laid his hands on the man’s shoulders, and it was only then that Captain Lewis Spencer really understood how much danger he was in.
“What do you want?” he asked quickly, his voice thick and groggy.
“I want you to tell me everything you know. It’s going to be a long story, and I have all night,” James said, his voice impossibly cold. It almost didn’t sound human. Asher wondered if he’d practiced that voice in front of the mirror . . . or if it had developed purely through repetition. Asher shuddered at the thought.
“Who was at the house with you?” Reed asked, running a blade over the captain’s neck as if he were shaving him.
The captain’s teeth ground together, but he was smart enough to realize he had no choice but to talk.
“My brother,” he said, more quickly than Asher expected. Samuel had already confirmed it was his brother, but it was interesting how easily the captain gave him up. If his loyalty to his brother was so shallow, how far did his loyalty to Troy extend?
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