The Prince and the Pawn

by Reid, B. B.

  Mission accomplished, asshole.

  I didn’t reveal my true thoughts when I spoke. “The price has already been paid.”

  Her whiskey gaze roved over me before she snorted and looked away. “You still have all of your limbs. I’d say not well enough.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she screeched. “You’re the one on trial!”

  “So which limb would you have me lose?” I asked, my tone lower and deeper now. “My throwing arm? My leg?” Settling between her legs, I pressed my hips against hers. “Or the one you couldn’t stop thinking about even while wishing I was dead?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “I’d say you are. You wore this skirt for him, knowing you only get wet for me. I can’t compete with that.”

  Growling, she tried to buck me off as if I didn’t have a hundred pounds on her. When that failed, she began wriggling up the couch, uncaring or unaware of the fact that her short skirt was riding up her thighs. In no time, I could see the crotch of her panties and the arousal wetting them. Still, she kept going. I had no intention of fucking her if she wasn’t willing, but seeing her like this didn’t stop my dick from getting hard. Tyra was nearly free when her skirt cleared her hips, bunching around her waist and displaying the waistband of her panties.

  My focus, however, was fixed on the scar right above it.

  Five inches long and red.

  It couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

  The questions racing through my mind kept me from noticing much else, such as the fact that Tyra had gotten free and was now lunging for the centerpiece decorating the coffee table. I didn’t get the chance to react or demand to know who’d hurt her before she brought the vase full of her favorite flowers crashing down on my head.

  I regained consciousness sometime later and found Jeremy Antonov standing over me with his eyebrow perked and amusement shining in his dark gaze. “You won’t survive two seconds in this business if a little thing like her can take you out that easily.”

  Ignoring him, as well as the ringing in my head and ears, I sat up from where I’d been slumped on the couch and looked around the room. My vision hadn’t quite cleared, but it didn’t matter. I knew she was gone.

  “So, you let her go?” I snapped.

  He shrugged, his expression and tone matching his disinterest in my love life. “She wasn’t my fucking problem.”

  It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t offer me a hand as I slowly rose to my feet, not that I would have taken it. We didn’t agree on much, but our mutual dislike was the one thing we had in common, that and our deep-seated hatred for my father.

  “Boss wants to see you,” he announced once I was on my feet.

  I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins, but I didn’t bother arguing. Nothing short of killing my father would change anything. It would only end with me being buried next to him—together for all of eternity. I would have snorted if I were still capable of feeling humor.

  Following Jeremy to his car, I couldn’t help replaying what had gone down between Tyra and me. I never dreamt of being reunited with her, but if I had, I sure as shit wouldn’t have imagined it going down like that. I wasn’t surprised by her anger, but I expected cold detachment rather than murderous rage. Had I been naïve, or was I missing something?

  Remembering what I’d seen before she knocked me out cold, I stopped in my tracks, drawing Jeremy’s attention. I could feel him watching me over the hood of his car as my mind raced.

  “She had a scar.”

  “Really? What kind?” The sick fuck actually sounded interested in something for once.

  I forced myself to answer. “I don’t know.” Yanking open the car door, I slid into the passenger seat. Jeremy followed me inside and started the engine. He wasted no time pulling off. “It’s healed, but it looked like it was pretty serious. Like someone had cut her open.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Her lower stomach. I thought maybe someone had hurt her, but it was clean. A little too neat to be an accident or done in the heat of the moment.”

  Jeremy seemed to think about that before pulling out his phone and typing while he drove with one hand. A few seconds later, he was showing me his screen. “Did it look something like that?”

  I stared at the screen, my mouth suddenly dry. “Exactly like that. What the hell is that?” I sounded hoarse to my own ears. Without a word, he tapped the picture, zooming back out and showing me the medical article it was attached to. “A cesarean section?” I read out loud.

  “More commonly known as a C-section,” he calmly informed me.

  Meeting his gaze, I swallowed at the knowing look in his eye. A moment later, Antonov’s lips quirked as he refocused on the road again. My world had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds, and he was smirking? Before I could rethink it, my fist connected with his jaw, and I watched his head turn as his blood splattered the driver window. It was a sucker punch, but I didn’t give a damn. I was pretty sure I loosened a tooth. The only reaction Antonov gave was to meet my gaze with the promise of retribution in them. He’d been barreling all the way home, which meant that whatever my father wanted must have been too important to stop and deal with me.

  I sat back and closed my eyes, hoping that Jeremy killed me.

  But then…if what he said was true, I couldn’t die. Not yet. Not until I figured out how to reach the bottom of this endless well. This cycle of secrets, lies, and betrayal.

  Tyra wouldn’t dare have my baby and not tell me. Not because of the danger they’d both unwittingly be in, but because she knew I would never forgive her. It was the perfect way to exact vengeance for my betrayal.

  Antonov didn’t speak when we finally reached the house, and I didn’t offer apologies. I wasn’t sorry about a damn thing. I found my father in his study and faltered at the good-natured smile he wore. I immediately crossed over to the sideboard and poured myself a drink. I was still underage, but my father didn’t give a shit, and I wouldn’t care even if he did.

  “You wanted to see me?” With my back still facing him, I fiddled with my phone before slipping it back inside my pocket. My father didn’t speak for several moments.

  “Did I ever tell you about my ascension?”

  God, help me. Not another history lesson.

  “No. I don’t recall asking.”

  Or caring.

  “Sit down,” he ordered me.

  Swallowing down the liquor in one gulp, I poured myself another glass before obeying. Before my ass even touched the seat, my father began.

  “Did you know I’ve ruled over Thirteen the longest?” Ignoring my unimpressed shrug, he continued. “Keeping the identity of Father a secret began with my predecessor after too much leadership turnover.” At my blank look, he added, “They kept getting assassinated.” Leaning back in his chair, he drummed his fingers on the desk as he studied me. “Not even the men who rise and fall in my name every day have a clue who I am. Of course, I can’t remain completely anonymous. Nothing would ever get done.” I nodded since it seemed to be expected. “It’s important to delegate,” he continued. “To find men willing to execute your will.”

  “Your round table.”

  “Precisely.” Removing a cigar from the cherry wood case, he clipped the end and lit up. “Thirteen is mine now, and my dynasty begins with you, so know this now. Surrounding yourself with people you can trust is vital…and nonnegotiable. My predecessor kept thirteen men at his table to honor our founders. Until you, I’ve only kept four.”

  “Why so paranoid? Is inspiring loyalty not one of your strengths?”

  He took the time to blow a cloud of smoke into the air before responding. “I subscribe to the belief that anyone can be bought, son. The most important lesson my predecessor taught me was to take what I wanted and never apologize for it. I made sure to thank him for his wisdom before I had him killed.”

  If my father expected a
reaction out of me, he didn’t get one. I’d made my feelings clear that I didn’t care about Thirteen—its past or its future. My presence was contingent on Tyra continuing to breathe.

  “Naturally,” my father went on, “no one knows about this important moment in Thirteen’s history except myself…and the man I ordered to slit his throat.”

  “Which would be?” I forced myself to ask when my father paused expectantly.

  “Nathaniel Fox. To maintain my innocence, I was forced to let him take all the credit for such a power move. Even if in the eyes of Thirteen, he failed by getting caught.”

  I stiffened at the name. Fox had been the cause of so much pain, and he was still out there—a threat to my friends and my father, and now I knew why.

  “Of course, if I’d known what a thorn he’d be in my side, I would have killed him when I had the chance. Nathaniel was only a foot soldier at the time, but he showed promise—enough that he believed me when I offered him a seat at my table once I ascended. All he had to do was kill my predecessor and let an innocent man take the fall—the man who would be sitting in this seat right now instead of me. He has reasons to kill me more than anyone. Even you.”

  “Why should I care?”

  “Because up until a few months ago, I thought that man was dead.”

  My heart thundered in my chest, and it was all I could do not to let it show. Franklin Rees was a bloodhound for weakness. “Who is the man you’re talking about?”

  My father’s answering smile was razor-sharp. “Son, I think you know.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to deny it before he stood and walked over to his safe. I watched as he punched in the code and opened the door before reaching inside. A moment later, he held my old phone in his grip as he returned to the desk. He didn’t know about the one in my pocket—the phone I’d procured without his knowledge. I’d been careful not to use the same number or any of my old email and social media accounts, knowing he was monitoring every single call or message that came in or out. I said nothing, keeping my expression impassive even though my chest ached from my heart pounding as he powered it on.

  Had Tyra tried to contact me? What would he do if she had?

  I almost swore as I gripped the arms of the chair. My father didn’t need much reason to be a monster. I held my breath as he slid it over the wooden surface, and together, we watched as notification after notification filled the screen until the last one, a text message sent from Ever, made my heart stop.

  Ever: Get to the hospital! Wren’s been shot!

  The fact that Ever had texted my old number instead of my new one told me the state he was in right now. Slowly, my gaze rose to meet my father’s. I knew well before the bastard winked that he was responsible. He didn’t stop me when I shot to my feet, snatching my phone from the desk before I rushed for the door. My father was smart enough to know he’d have to kill me if he wanted to keep me from getting to that hospital.

  I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

  IT HAD BEEN TWO HOURS since I left Vaughn slumped on the couch, and I still couldn’t get the image of him collapsing out of my head. Stupidly, I was actually concerned about any permanent damage I might have caused. Replaying his words to me, his many threats, and the look in his eyes as he uttered them, I realized he was already damaged beyond repair. He’d been marred so severely beneath the surface that I hardly recognized him. It didn’t matter that his brown hair was just as lush as I remembered or that his vitreous gaze still reminded me of jade. Even his body, though not as muscled as before, was still worthy of a statue in his honor. I hadn’t fallen for any of that. I’d tumbled head over heels for him—the boy he allowed himself to be for no one else but me.

  Despite being eager to get back to my son, worry and guilt had driven me back to that diner only to find Oliver already gone. The wary waitress informed me that he’d been picked up and taken home. I tried calling him to apologize profusely and forever if need be, but he hadn’t answered. River still being my top priority, I rushed back to the hospital, where I found him wide awake. I knew it was just a reflex and maybe my guilty conscious talking, but the smile River wore seemed suspiciously mischievous—as if he knew exactly where I’d been and who with.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the heart to tell him that his father didn’t want him. Vaughn hadn’t answered any of my phone calls or messages or even the letter I’d grown desperate enough to write him a few weeks ago. In it, I’d poured my heart out, telling him all about River.

  He hadn’t even asked about his son.

  Vaughn had only been concerned with my body and who I dared to share it with. If nothing else, he definitely deserved the headache he’d have whenever he woke up.

  River was greedily sucking at his bottle when a voice over the loudspeaker announced a code gray—whatever that meant—and called for a lockdown of the ER.

  “Oh, my,” one of the day nurses said, excited, and then she wrote on the whiteboard next to River’s crib. “It’s been a while since we had one of those. I guess I better watch the news tonight.”

  “What’s a code gray?” I asked as I set River’s bottle aside and lifted him onto my shoulder to burp him.

  “Gunshot victim.” Grimly, she added, “It’s going to be a long day for a lot of people.”

  My eyebrows rose at that. At least it wasn’t a bomb threat like I initially feared. “Does the hospital really shut down the entire emergency room for one person?”

  “If the victim is still alive, it’s safer that way, sweetie. Whoever did this might want to finish the job, and then we’ll all be in danger.” She flounced out the room, and my lips pursed, realizing she was probably headed for all the action.

  If I were honest, I’d admit to being curious too though it was likely a huge waste of time. How much would I really get to see if the emergency room was shut down? The victim was probably already in surgery if the doctors deemed it necessary. I said a quick prayer for the poor soul as I waited for River to burp. Of course, he took longer than usual. When he was finally done, I rocked him until his eyes drifted shut and then put him down for his nap.

  I wasn’t sure how long I watched him sleep, studying his nose, his lips, his golden skin, and the wisps of brown hair peeking from underneath his cap. He was still so small, even though he was twice the size he’d been when he was born. Feeling that familiar ache of guilt and shame, I stepped away. Grabbing the baby monitor that I’d shamelessly purchased, even though River was surrounded by the world’s most qualified babysitters, I drifted from his private room. On the way down, I tried calling Oliver again but to no avail. Even though I was disappointed, I didn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with me ever again. Vaughn had made it clear, though untrue, that there was unfinished business between us.

  As I expected, the first floor was in chaos when I stepped off the elevator. There were nurses in scrubs and doctors in lab coats rushing back and forth, some of them in and out of the double doors leading into the emergency room. Some of them covered in blood. My gaze traveled the area, looking for any sign of distraught loved ones waiting nearby. Seeing nothing but curiosity and weariness, I turned back to the emergency room just as the doors burst open.

  I sucked in a breath at the sight of a girl who stood at average height with skin paler than usual and waist-long hair as dark as night. I didn’t see much else before the doors swung closed, but I didn’t need to. I recognized my friend staring blankly through the window of the trauma room, her pretty blue dress darkened with blood. Not caring that I wasn’t allowed in, I pushed through the doors, heading straight for Lou. Thankfully, no one stopped me. They were all too busy fighting to save Wren’s life to notice me.

  “Lou?”

  Slowly, her head turned. Her lips were parted, her blue eyes glistening. “It’s my fault,” she whispered as soon as her unseeing gaze connected with mine. I almost expected her wrath. Grief kept her from remembering she hadn’t seen nor heard from me in six months. Lou turned back to
the trauma room where Wren was lying deathly still as the doctors and nurses worked on him. “I didn’t lock the door.”

  Speechless and out of my depth, there was nothing I could do but stand next to her and wait. It was the second-longest hour of my life. Nearly losing River had been the first.

  Wren would live, but I wasn’t sure how much of Lou would survive after almost losing him. I knew just how fractured she was feeling right now. Wren was still unconscious and probably would be for a while, so I steered Lou to the waiting room while they prepped him for visitors.

  “I have to check on something,” I told her even though I really didn’t want to leave her alone. “Are you going to be okay for a few minutes?”

  At her weak nod, I exhaled and stood from my crouch in front of her. If she noticed the baby monitor in my hand, she didn’t speak a word. I turned and didn’t make it further than a step before I came face-to-face with Four and Ever. The grip they had on each other’s hands loosened as soon as our gazes met.

  “Tyra?” Four said, taking a hopeful step toward me. “Wh—ho—” She didn’t get a chance to choose which question to ask me first before she enveloped me. She hugged me so tight I wondered if she’d ever let me go. Considering these past months, I wouldn’t be surprised though I’d wonder why she bothered. I’ve been a shit friend. “I don’t care why or how,” she whispered to me, making me feel like pig shit baked in the sun for too long. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood motionless before I pieced some semblance of myself back together. Just enough to hug my best friend. Any other time it would have been super weird, but I didn’t care as I inhaled the vanilla and jasmine wafting from Four’s hair. She had her very own scent that Ever’s possessive and obsessed ass purchased from the soap maker in Cherry, Four’s hometown.

  “I missed you, too,” I finally told her because it was the truth. I felt a gentle tug on my hair, a silent greeting from Ever as he walked around us. Four and I pulled away from each other to watch as Ever lifted a silent Lou from her chair and wrapped her in his arms, and then Lou was holding on tight as if she might crumble any moment. At some point in the year and a half since they’d met, Ever and Lou had bonded like brother and sister despite them fighting constantly. Then again, everyone fought with Lou constantly. Seeing them share their grief like this tugged at heartstrings that I thought destroyed by Vaughn long ago.