by Elise Noble
Nicotine addict or not, the woman was in better condition than the rust bucket of an RV. A pair of denim cut-offs showed off shapely legs, though they weren’t as good as Beth’s. The girl blew her companion a kiss as he walked to the gas pump. Definitely not father and daughter, then.
“When our targets leave, Evan will take over as lead car,” the controller ordered. “Ana, slot in behind Isaiah. Nick, you’ll have five minutes if you need to get gas or take a comfort break.”
Time seemed to slow as Alaric waited. The blonde pranced into the kiosk to pay and came out with an armful of candy. When the RV departed, the Pontiac was exactly where the goons had abandoned it, sitting in semi-darkness since one of the lights in the overhead canopy was out.
“They’re leaving,” Nick said. “Everyone ready?”
Murmurs of affirmation came over the radio. The others would have had a chance to stretch their legs out of sight while they waited, to relieve themselves in the undergrowth and take on water for the next part of the journey. Surveillance sucked.
It was midnight when they reached the Devane estate in Fairfax County. Ten-foot-high walls surrounded a two-storey house set in twelve acres of manicured grounds. They couldn’t see the building in the dark, but Mack had emailed satellite photos of the property plus pictures of the interior she’d found on Kyla’s Instagram account and in the society pages back when Kyla’s parents used to host parties there.
Nick parked the Tahoe under the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, out of sight of vehicles passing on the road. The other Blackwood drivers were all in the vicinity, no doubt doing the same thing. Now what? Was Ridley inside already? If so, Emmy was in ever-increasing danger. With eight two-person teams, they had enough manpower to go in and get her out. Why were they waiting?
“Xav will enter the property to take a look,” the controller said. “Everyone else, hold the perimeter.”
Alaric’s phone buzzed again. He didn’t need the distraction, but what if it was Beth? He’d never forgive himself if she had a problem and he ignored it.
She’d sent him a message.
Beth: Have you seen this?
Two links to breaking news stories followed. He clicked on the first.
Has Kyla Devane’s past come back to haunt her?
In a stunning revelation, local sources in Woodford County have reported that the body of senatorial candidate Kyla Devane’s teenage rival has been found in a submerged car just miles from her home. Homecoming Queen Piper Simms disappeared two days before her big day, handing the crown to Devane.
This reporter has been told by a representative of Blackwood Security, the company central to the search and recovery operation, that a dent in the back of Piper’s car suggests she was run off the road. Could this be linked to rumours that Devane was seen driving erratically on the afternoon Piper vanished?
Oh, hell. If Kyla and Ridley realised her secret was out, that could send them over the edge. Alaric almost didn’t want to click on the second link.
An unnamed military source has today informed us that Eric Ridley, a former Navy lieutenant who rose to prominence this week thanks to his role on senatorial candidate Kyla Devane’s security team, is wanted for questioning by the Naval Criminal Investigative Service regarding an incident that took place in Syria eight years ago. Ridley was previously cleared of wrongdoing in the shooting of nineteen Syrian citizens found in a boat off the coast of Latakia, but we understand that new evidence has now come to light.
“Nick, have you seen this?”
“Seen what?”
Nick leaned closer to look at Alaric’s phone. He read both articles in silence, then straightened.
“Shit. This could be a problem. Our profile of Ridley says he’s volatile when provoked. Who knows what he’ll do if he thinks Blackwood’s out to get him?”
Xavier’s voice came over the airwaves. “There’s a second car parked around the back. Hood’s still warm.”
For the first time, Nick’s voice held a hint of stress. “We need to get Emmy. If Ridley’s in there…”
“Stand fast.”
Was that Black? It sounded like him, but where was he?
Alaric couldn’t hold his tongue. “Your wife’s inside a building with a lunatic.”
“She’s—”
A gunshot cut him off. A large-calibre weapon by the sound of it, coming from the house. What the hell? A moment passed in complete silence, everyone frozen. Then a blood-curdling scream came from the same direction, quickly followed by two more gunshots.
“I’m going in,” Alaric said, his own gun already in his hand.
“I said, stand fast.”
This time, Black’s voice came from close by, not over the radio. A second later, he materialised from the darkness with Nate at his side and a phone held to his ear. Who the hell had fired the shots? Not Black or Nate—they hadn’t had time to cover the distance from the house.
“H-h-hello? Police? I wanna report a murder.” He’d injected more than a hint of fear into his voice. It was the most emotion Alaric had ever heard from the man. “Yes, a murder. My boss just went crazy and shot two of my colleagues and our client.” Wait. Kyla was dead? “His name? It’s Eric Ridley. Be careful, okay? He’s got a gun. … Yeah, he’s at the Devane estate on Willow Tree Road. Hurry.”
Black hung up as the Hawaiian shirt guy from the gas station dumped a limp body onto the ground in front of them. A man in jeans and a dark-coloured bomber jacket. Black tucked the phone into the unconscious stranger’s pants pocket, then straightened.
“Sweet dreams, motherfucker.” He peeled off his gloves. “Xav, get back in the car. Everyone move out.”
“Where the hell is Emmy?” Alaric asked.
“I’m here.”
Her voice was weak, and Ana was half carrying her, but she was alive. “How’d it go? I slept through the whole thing.”
“The wicked witch is dead.” Black ignored Ana’s glare as he picked Emmy up and cradled her in his arms. “Time to go home.”
This wasn’t just the fucking twilight zone, it was the full-fledged dark side.
“What the hell happened?” Alaric asked.
Black smiled, and honestly, that was scarier than his usual cold expression.
“Assassination’s so much cleaner when you avoid pulling the trigger yourself, don’t you think?”
“What do I think? I think you’re crazy. You played Russian roulette with Emmy’s life.”
“No, I took a calculated gamble. Ridley’s predictable. A small man with a big ego who shoots first and considers the consequences later.” His tone hardened. “Now, move out.”
CHAPTER 28 - ALARIC
THE FIRST SIRENS sounded as Black’s team drove away from the Devane estate, each vehicle taking a different route out of the area. Alaric spotted the RV turning south towards Tennessee. Who was that guy? He voiced the question, but the Blackwood employee behind the wheel shrugged, and if Dan knew the answer, she was keeping her mouth shut.
“Did you know what Black was planning?” Alaric asked her.
“With Kyla? He said he was going to pick her up as an insurance policy, but I didn’t know he was planning the switch. The original plan was to get Emmy out, then tip off the NCIS as to where Ridley was.”
“What if he left the property in the meantime?”
“Yeah, no, that wasn’t gonna happen.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you were supposed to be back in Kentucky. Nick only brought you because he understands what it’s like to have little pieces of Emmy embedded in your soul.”
Alaric had never thought of it that way, but it was true. Once you’d spent any time with Emmy, there was no escaping the effect she had on you. The memories stuck with you forever, good and bad.
In the front seat, Dan took a call, listened for a moment, and then hung up.
“They caught Ridley.”
“Did he get far?” Alaric asked. “Was anyone hurt?
”
“No, he was still at the house. Cradling Devane’s body, apparently. Seems her death hit him hard.”
It occurred to Alaric that perhaps he should feel sorry for the man. After all, he knew what it was like to lose a woman he loved, albeit under very different circumstances. But Ridley had shot Kyla thinking she was Emmy, no hesitation, no mercy, which left Alaric struggling to muster up any sympathy. If Ridley hadn’t been a murderous thug, maybe he’d still have his girlfriend.
“I’ll send flowers to the funeral. Any word on Emmy? How’s she feeling?”
She might have been alive, but she’d spent several hours unconscious and who knew what they’d drugged her with?
“Seems okay. She sounds properly awake now, anyway. The doctor’ll check her out when we get back to Riverley.”
Turned out they’d gotten a new doctor during Alaric’s time away. Before, Black used to bribe some guy from the emergency room at Richmond General whenever Blackwood needed a hand with discreet medical care. His replacement was a thirty-something brunette, and judging by the looks Evan gave her, he wanted to volunteer for a check-up instead of Emmy.
“What happened to Dr. Beech?” Alaric asked Dan.
“Oh, he’s still around. He heads up the ER now. We use him if anything big comes up, but we brought Kira on board to help lighten the load.”
When Emmy turned to walk into the living room—or rather, one of the living rooms—Alaric saw the telltale burns from a stun gun. Two small dots on the back of her neck. She’d have heard Ridley’s men approaching, and yet she’d acted oblivious and allowed them to incapacitate her. Alaric couldn’t decide whether she’d been incredibly brave or monumentally stupid in following Black’s plan, and it was Black’s plan. There was no doubt in Alaric’s mind whose idea today’s adventure had been. That stun gun could have been a silenced .22. A double-tap to the head, that’s all it would have taken, and Black’s next job would have been picking out a casket.
Which was precisely what Alaric said when he found himself alone in the kitchen with Black a half hour later. Nobody else would stand up to the man, and he needed to be told a few home truths.
“Could you pass me a glass?” Black asked. “A tumbler’s fine.”
“Emmy could have died today, you asshole.”
“Is that a no?”
Alaric’s hands balled into fists at his sides. If he’d have opened the kitchen cabinet, Black would have got his damn glass squarely in the temple.
“If you want to risk someone’s life, make it your own.”
“Emmy’s life wasn’t at risk.”
“You couldn’t be sure about that.”
“Not with absolute certainty, but close to it.” Black reached past Alaric and opened the cabinet. “I’d drink out of the carton, but Emmy would kill me.”
Alaric marched to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. “Here, go right ahead.”
Black just barked out a laugh, took the juice, and poured himself a glassful.
“I spent a year serving under Ridley. A year working out what made the sadistic bastard tick, what made him mad, and what I could get away with. The main things I discovered? He let his ego get the better of him. Palm his ID card, and he’d search the whole barracks because he was too proud to admit he’d screwed up and lost it. And he was as vindictive as he was predictable. Play a prank, and he’d make everyone pay. We did so many damn push-ups it was a miracle the ship sailed anywhere.” Black flexed the biceps of one arm. Was that meant to intimidate? “Guess I should thank him now.”
“You played the pranks?”
“We took it in turns. The enlisteds thought of it as a sport.”
“I didn’t think you had a sense of humour. And your past doesn’t excuse what you did today.”
Black put down the juice and ticked off the points on his fingers.
“I was certain he’d snatch Emmy. It was the obvious move, and we deliberately left her wide open. And I knew he wouldn’t kill her, not right away in cold blood. He needed her as leverage. As a distraction. Remember, he knew me too, and he was well aware that if he harmed her, I’d hunt him down and gut him like a pig.”
“But he did try to kill her.”
“Only with provocation.” Black shook his head and tutted. “Ridley never could control his temper. And I’ll admit, that reaction was the part I was fifty-fifty on. I thought maybe he’d take the hood off before he pulled the trigger. But the rest…perfectly foreseeable.”
“How? You didn’t know he’d even put a hood on Emmy. Or that his men would stop for gas.”
“Beg to differ. When we had to transport POWs in the Navy, Ridley insisted on hooding them every single time because he was a sadistic motherfucker who’d never pass up a chance to breach the Geneva Conventions. He said war shouldn’t have rules. And that’s what he considered Kyla’s campaign—a battle. So it stood to reason that he’d hood Emmy. Don’t look at me like that—you know damn well she trains for these eventualities.”
Yes, Alaric did know. He’d accidentally witnessed a session of theirs once, the torture of the woman Black claimed to love.
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“Merely necessary. And of course they were going to stop for gas—Ridley doesn’t have strong links to Kentucky, and the safest place to stash Emmy was out of state. Plus he wanted to get us all well away from the election circus. After we retrieved Emmy, it was just a case of pushing the right buttons. Ridley’s vain, and he values his reputation, even if he does his utmost to trash it. Once he saw the negative news coverage, he was always going to snap. I was the obvious culprit for the leak, and therefore he’d want to punish me by hurting the thing I hold dearest.”
“Emmy’s not a thing.”
“It was a turn of phrase. Anyhow, the job’s done now. You should stop living in the past.”
Oh, Alaric should, should he? Perhaps if the past hadn’t had such an impact on his life, he’d be able to move on. Speaking of which…
“Funny you should bring up the past, because you know what today’s escapade reminded me of? The stop I made at the gas station with Emerald. Strange how the cash and diamonds disappeared right around that time, wasn’t it?”
Black squared up to Alaric, arms folded. His tone remained mild, but his eyes were two glittering chips of granite.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
“I’m just saying the similarities were rather striking.”
“That’s because I used your screw-up as inspiration. Perhaps if you’d been focusing on your job instead of fucking my wife, you wouldn’t have lost track of the cash.”
“Well, she had to get what she needed from somewhere, and you weren’t giving it to her.”
“Deflecting, are we?”
Alaric drew himself up to full height, which was unfortunately six or seven inches shorter than Charles Black.
“I’m saying your priorities are messed up.”
“That’s rich coming from the man who left Emmy without a word eight years ago.”
“Enough!”
Emmy’s voice was soft, but there was no mistaking her annoyance. Alaric and Black both stepped towards her at the same moment, then glared at each other.
She held up a hand. “Can we all agree I feel like shit tonight? Good. Then stop bloody arguing.”
“Sorry,” both men said in unison.
How much of the disagreement had she heard?
“Alaric, I took a calculated risk today, and that was my choice. But I trust Black’s judgement, and I trust him to have my back. We’ve been at this together for almost two decades now. All the training, all the challenges I face, that’s my choice too. Sure, I could retire, but even though I might keep breathing, I’d be dead inside.” She touched Alaric gently on the shoulder, almost a caress. “But I appreciate you caring.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“And I am. You deserve happiness too, Prince. Black’s right—forget the past and lo
ok to the future.”
“I’m not giving up on Emerald.”
“You know what I think? I think Emerald will be found when she wants to be found. In the meantime, don’t sacrifice tomorrow for a ghost.” She linked her arm through Black’s. “Get some sleep. I know I need to.”
Alaric hated to admit it, but what Emmy said made sense. Hadn’t he wasted enough of his life chasing after a shadow? With that thought, he took out his phone to message Beth. He’d updated her during the ride to Riverley, but a quick “goodnight” message wouldn’t go amiss. He was feeling weirdly positive about Sirius, about the time to come, about his feelings for a certain English lady who definitely wasn’t Emmy. At least, he was until he glanced at the screen and saw seven missed calls.
CHAPTER 29 - BETHANY
“JUST LEAVE HER alone!” I snapped, sounding disturbingly like my mother. “Have you got no compassion?”
In England, if one of your nearest and dearest had a medical emergency, the hospital staff whisked them away for treatment and then a doctor came out to speak to you. Here in Kentucky, they sent an accountant instead. The cold-hearted dragon didn’t seem too concerned about Irvine Carnes’s survival, more by his ability to pay.
“It’s hospital policy. We have to obtain financial information from all patients. Does he have insurance? What about Medicare?”
I snatched the bloody clipboard. “Leave it with me. I’ll get your sodding forms filled in.”
Perhaps I could ask Stéphane at an appropriate moment? Harriet was in no fit state to answer a hundred questions. I had no idea what Medicare was, but surely the senator must have some sort of health coverage?
The woman gave me a dirty look, then turned on her heel and stomped off to find her next victim. I let out a long breath. This evening had been a horror show, and considering the number of parties I’d been to where I’d had to haul a plastered Piers out to the car while apologising profusely to Surrey’s finest, that was saying something.
