“Why would they come into this room?” Reed asked, as much to himself as to James and Samuel. “They put themselves in a dead end when they could’ve run out of the apartment.”
“They were protecting something,” James said quickly. “Find it.”
Reed ran to the bookcase and pulled out the books, looking for anything unusual—a book that was lighter than it should’ve been, or a book that was concealing a secret cavity of some kind. He cleared the shelves but didn’t find anything. Reed ran to the desk and rummaged through the drawers.
“Reed, you have company. Seven men are coming up the stairs,” Samuel warned.
“How long do I have?” he asked without pausing. He opened the next drawer and searched it.
“A few minutes at best,” Samuel said.
Reed looked over the room. He didn’t have enough time. Not even close.
He felt defeated . . . and then his eyes landed on something.
Reed moved toward the slouched man and grabbed his wrist, taking a better look at the watch.
It could be a coincidence, but he knew not to trust that anything was.
“Reed, you need to move!” James urged.
Reed quickly undid the watch and turned it over, looking at the inscription.
“He’s wearing the colonel’s watch,” Reed whispered.
“What?” James asked.
“The watch on this guy’s wrist. These guys are linked to the colonel—and the only ones alive and able to talk are those coming up the stairs, along with the guy I met on the balcony,” Reed said.
“There’s nine of them,” James warned.
“And if they shoot like these pansies I won’t have any trouble,” Reed responded.
He waited for a moment, but James didn’t command him to leave. Reed reloaded his weapons in the few seconds he had left.
He tucked the watch into his pocket and hid behind the door. He heard voices as they entered the apartment, but Reed had no plans to let them find him.
He peered into the hallway and one by one they entered. He waited until he had a clear shot at three of them and then fired. They fell to the floor and, as expected, the others charged in. Reed hit two more before he had to retreat.
He pulled a flashbang from his backpack and threw it into the hallway. The second he heard it go off he charged forward, firing blindly. Three more fell.
But where was the last man?
Reed paused, his heartbeat the only sound in the room. His heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to bruise his ribs.
“Samuel, where’s the other man?” Reed asked as he heard the faint sound of sirens.
“Last room on the right. I followed him, but I can’t get the robot underneath the door,” Samuel said quickly.
“Copy,” Reed said, creeping forward cautiously. His weapon was up and he was poised to shoot—or fight hand to hand.
He was at the door when he heard, “It’s done.”
A sick feeling swelled in his stomach as he kicked open the door.
The man inside held his arms up in surrender. He wore an arrogant smirk. “You’re too late,” he said, his eyes darting to the left.
Reed followed his gaze and his stomach sank, churning violently when he saw Colonel Stevens bound to his chair, his throat recently slit.
Asher
Asher clicked through the files on Noah’s computer, and each time he opened a document he felt like he was betraying Noah by doubting him. Thomas Security had searched the computer, but they wanted Asher to look again—he might see something they might’ve overlooked.
He opened file after file, but nothing seemed out of place. Asher opened the photos application and his heart was bombarded with memories he’d forgotten. Asher’s childhood flashed before him one click after another. All of Noah’s and Asher’s birthdays, photos from family trips and random miscellaneous photos. Asher clicked through them, laughing despite his breaking heart when he saw one of Noah dressed as a chicken for Halloween. How his mother had ever thought that a good costume, he wasn’t sure. Hot tears pricked his eyes—it was a bittersweet memory. He made a mental note to ask Samuel to transfer all of these photographs to his computer.
As Asher continued looking through them, he noticed how few there were of Alistair. Noah and Alistair had never been good friends, but Asher didn’t think there had been malice between them. However, looking at the photos, it was like Alistair had never existed.
Asher paused on that for a minute, but continued on. Part of him wanted to linger on the photos of innocent, happier times, and the other part of him wanted to lock them away in a part of his memory he couldn’t access—somewhere they couldn’t break his heart over and over again.
Asher closed a folder and opened a new one. He frowned. They were of a young woman and a baby boy; he couldn’t have been more than a year old. Asher stared at him. There was something familiar about him, but Asher didn’t know why he’d think that—Noah didn’t have any children, and this kid didn’t look like Noah. But there was something about him . . .
He called Samuel, who answered on the first ring.
“Samuel, I’m looking at Noah’s computer and there are some photographs of a woman and young boy. I don’t know who they are.”
“Just a second . . . I see,” Samuel said, and Asher assumed Samuel was logged into Noah’s computer now. His assumptions were confirmed when the images started changing, flicking from one to the next until they’d looked through the entire file. “I’ll run her face through our facial recognition software and see if we can find out who she is. It might take a few hours or so to get a match—there’s a huge amount of data for the program to search through.”
“Sure,” Asher said. “Can you copy everything from Noah’s computer to mine? I want to keep a copy of his photographs.”
“Of course,” Samuel said without a pause. Asher thought it would probably take him no more than a minute to do.
“What’s your gut feeling on Noah?” Asher asked.
He didn’t know what he’d do if Noah had been involved in this mess. Noah had always been his closest friend—the person he trusted most in the world. If that turned out to be a lie, Asher didn’t know how he’d ever trust anyone again.
“I wanted to show you another image, actually,” Samuel said and Asher didn’t miss that he’d deflected the question.
An image flashed up on Noah’s computer. It looked similar to the ones Asher had been shown before, but there was one major difference.
“The colonel . . . He seems to be looking past Noah,” Asher said.
“I agree,” Samuel said. “From the angle we showed you previously, it looked like he was looking directly at him, but now I’m not so sure,” he said thoughtfully. “Now that we can see his eyes are going to the left, maybe he wasn’t looking at Noah at all.”
Asher frowned. “Show me the images of the crowd again,” Asher said and they flashed up on his screen. He looked over the faces, looking for anyone he recognized—especially those in line with the colonel’s gaze—but the angle wasn’t good, and a lot of the faces were turned in the other direction.
“I can’t get an image showing their faces,” Samuel said, voicing Asher’s own frustrations.
Asher leaned forward, scrutinizing the crowd. He took his time, silently naming people he recognized. He stopped on a woman with long dark hair. He couldn’t see her face, but her hair matched. “Samuel, is that her? The picture of the woman with the little boy. Her hair matches,” Asher said, but his confidence faded as he spoke the words. A lot of women in Santina had long dark hair. His mind was frayed, his nerves were frayed, and he was suspicious of everyone.
Samuel paused. “Impossible to say. But if I can obtain an identification match for her, I might be able to track her to the town hall and then follow her through the crowd. Let me work on this.”
“Thank you,” Asher said, his eyes lingering on the woman. It was just a photograph, but Asher felt uneasy looking at her.
His wariness wasn’t helped by the fact that she was standing next to Noah.
“The interrogation of the men captured at IFRT is about to start,” Samuel said, pulling Asher from his thoughts. “Would you still like to watch?”
“Please,” Asher said, and the screen changed again. Footage of the cell flashed up on his screen and two men sat opposite each other.
One was bound, one held a knife.
Asher leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Who sent you?” the man holding the knife asked.
The other man rolled his eyes.
Asher cringed as the knife slammed into the other man’s thigh. He howled, cursing a string of profanities.
“I can do this all day. You cannot. Tell me who sent you.”
His voice was menacing and it gave Asher the chills. He could only imagine what it would be like to sit in front of that man, bound to a chair. James had informed Asher the agent who would conduct the interrogation was one of their best, and he’d be able to get answers. Watching the footage, Asher wasn’t doubting that.
The bound man’s lips snarled up. Asher didn’t think he was ready to give in.
“I’d rather die,” the man said.
“Okay,” the agent said before he slammed the knife into the man’s arm. Asher sat back like he’d been jolted with an electric pole. His eyes narrowed at the knife, wondering how many anatomy classes this agent had taken. The knife was buried deep in the forearm, indicating he hadn’t hit bone, and it didn’t look like he’d hit an artery. At least blood wasn’t gushing out when the knife was withdrawn.
The man was alive, but he was screeching so violently Asher turned down the audio on the computer for a second. When the man looked calmer—almost like he was going to faint—Asher turned up the volume again.
“Who sent you?” the agent repeated.
“You’ll never find him,” the man said breathlessly.
“On the contrary. I am going to, and you’re going to help me do so,” the agent said, pulling something out of his back pocket. Asher squinted to see what he was holding. Pliers, Asher realized.
“I don’t know! I don’t know who he is!” the bound man said quickly. He’d obviously come to the same conclusion as Asher about how those pliers were going to be used.
“How do you communicate with him?” the agent asked.
“Telephone,” the man said in a rush. “Only telephone.”
“So you take telephone orders from a man you’ve never met? That’s not very smart.”
“The others vouch for him.”
“Who are the others?” the agent asked, sounding like he was losing patience.
“104Raiders. They all said he’s the next leader of Santina. They vouch for him and threaten anyone who doesn’t support him,” the man said, as his fear of the man in front of him outweighed that of these 104Raiders.
“Who is the next leader?” the agent asked.
The man hesitated and the agent grabbed his bound wrists from his lap and pulled one finger toward him.
“Martin! Martin Snider!” the man said, hysterically.
Asher stilled—Martin Snider was the man who had helped Alistair broker the deal.
“I’m working on it, Asher,” Samuel’s voice came through the computer speaker.
Asher’s mind was reeling. “Find out about the group he named,” Asher instructed.
He wondered if they were a radical group, a group from Adani, or a Santinian military unit, because he knew their units named themselves.
“Working on it,” Samuel repeated. “I’ll update you when I find something.”
“Thank you,” Asher said, feeling more unsettled than ever.
Santina is bleeding from the artery.
Asher had a horrible feeling that a poison was spreading through his kingdom.
Was it too late to stop it?
Or had the damage already been done?
Abi
Abi stared at the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. She smoothed out her dress, hoping it wouldn’t crease as she sat. She stretched out her arms, checking the sleeve length, but the tailor had hemmed the sleeves perfectly. She turned on the side, noting the way the simple black dress hung perfectly.
After today, there would be no more hiding in the shadows for Abi. Her methods of distancing herself from her family were over. After the funeral, she would be Abigail Bennett, girlfriend of King Asher.
She suppressed a shiver. She didn’t like media attention; she had loved living quietly, doing her own thing with IFRT, but that life had ended when she’d been kidnapped. She could never successfully run IFRT now. One of the reasons IFRT had worked so well was that Abi had kept the balance right. They attracted just enough attention to be considered important enough for people, like the men they bribed, to work with them—but not so important that they garnered a lot of attention.
The moment she was kidnapped and her family name was released, all of that had been jeopardized—and when she was identified as Prince Asher’s girlfriend, every last ember of hope was smothered.
IFRT had to find a way to exist without Abi as its leader.
And she had to find a way to live without it.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Asher was right: she would be able to help more people than she ever could have if she carried the title of queen.
She straightened her shoulders and fixed a loose lock of hair that had escaped the bun at the base of her neck.
A knock at the door startled her, but when she saw Asher enter, she immediately relaxed. He looked striking in a crisp black suit, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, seeming to study her.
“Weird, to be honest. I’ve always escaped the media, and now I’m about to walk into the brightest spotlight I’ve ever seen,” she said. Her voice was a little shaky and Asher didn’t miss it. He gave an understanding nod as he took her hands.
“We’ll do this together. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t love the spotlight either, but you do get used to it in a sense. Speaking of, I have something for you,” he said, holding out a small box.
She hadn’t noticed him holding it, and now she couldn’t look away.
“What is it?” she asked.
He gave a small smile. “It’s a gift from my mother—a loan for today. You need to return it after the service, but she would like you to wear it.”
“Okay,” she said, but there was no conviction in her words. Asher didn’t miss it and he tilted her chin up so she was looking directly at him.
He brought his lips to hers and kissed her gently, taking her breath away for the second time in minutes.
“I will always take care of you, Abi. And today doesn’t change anything—if you decide, at any time, that you want to walk away from this life, from us—you can,” Asher said with a low voice.
Abi exhaled, melting into his arms. “I want to be by your side, I was just . . . freaking out for a moment,” she said with a forced smile. She was still freaking out a little.
Asher pulled back, giving her an odd grin. “Then you’re really going to freak out now,” he said as he picked up the box again and opened the lid.
Abi sucked in a breath. She knew the custom, but she didn’t expect to be included in it, not today of all days.
Even in the dim bedroom lighting, the emeralds and diamonds sparkled bright. “It’s beautiful,” Abi managed, her voice a throaty whisper.
“My father gave it to my mother for the first official event she attended. She would like you to wear it today, but it’s your decision.”
It was tradition for members of the royal family to wear a tiara or headpiece to all official events. Despite not caring a whole lot about fashion, Abi had always admired Queen Emilia’s sense of style, and this tiara was no exception.
Asher looked at her expectantly. She realized she hadn’t responded.
She nodded hastily, needing to pu
ll herself together. It was like someone had kidnapped her mind this morning. Where had brave Abi gone?
Asher placed the tiara on her head and turned her to face the mirror. He stood behind her, a full head taller despite the fact that she was tall herself. Carefully, no doubt wary of her back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, threading his fingers through hers. She took that moment to take it all in, and Asher seemed to be doing the same.
He closed his eyes, kissing the crown of her head, letting his lips linger. “I’m scared too,” he said, barely audible. “But things are going to get better.”
Asher’s eyes were still closed, but the conviction in his words was unmistakable. Her nerves faded, and with them her hesitation. Abi had always done everything alone—she’d had team members at IFRT, of course, but she’d carried the weight and responsibility of their decisions.
But she didn’t have to carry the burden alone anymore.
They would carry Santina’s burdens together.
She felt the tension melt from her shoulders, and maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe Asher felt it too, because he lifted his eyes, meeting hers in the mirror. She gave a small nod and he smiled.
“You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear before planting a sweet kiss on her neck.
Abi heard voices outside the bedroom door and knew it was time.
With her hand in Asher’s, he led her out of the bedroom and toward the garage. She recognized Emilia immediately, her dancer-like posture impossible to miss. What surprised her, though, was that her parents were standing beside her.
Abi looked to Asher, but he didn’t seem surprised.
“You and I will walk together, and your parents will walk with my mother,” Asher said.
Abi paused. “Where is Alistair?”
“Alistair won’t be attending,” Asher said without missing a beat, but his voice made her stop. She looked at him and he shook his head. “Later,” he said as Abi’s mother turned, seeing them.
SERPENTI (The Royals Book 2) Page 12
