The Prince and the Pawn

by Reid, B. B.

“You’re smart to plead the fifth. I suggest you take it to your grave, or Tyra will dig you an early one.”

  “Read my lips,” I told him slowly. “I did not trap Tyra.”

  A throat clearing had both of our gazes flying toward the open door where Lou stood with pip-squeak, who was clutching River to her chest.

  My brows immediately pulled down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tyra’s cold stare shriveled my balls, but she didn’t have to know that. Risking them, I shot up from the chair and stalked across the room. “Should he be out of the NICU?”

  “I checked with his doctor. He said it was fine as long as he doesn’t leave the hospital.”

  Everything she said had gone in one ear and out the other. “Take him back upstairs.”

  Ignoring my order, she stepped around me and entered the room. “I thought River might want to meet his uncle,” she cooed as she approached Wren’s bed. He was already sitting up, a gentle look in his eyes as he accepted the baby from pip. Meanwhile, my blood was boiling as my heart raced. I wasn’t sure which one would kill me first. I kept checking for some threat or some sign that River was in distress. Tyra, however, seemed completely relaxed as she watched Wren bond with my son.

  “I need to talk to you in private,” I practically hissed in Tyra’s ear. Over her head, my gaze met Lou’s. She mouthed something, and against my will, I read her lips.

  I will cut you.

  Ignoring her meddling ass, I gripped Tyra’s elbow and led her out the room.

  “Perhaps instead of fighting about my dick last night, we should have discussed the fact that you didn’t make River by yourself,” I fussed as soon as we were alone. “You should have called me before you took him out of NICU. We need to make these decisions together.”

  “I’ve been calling and sending messages for weeks, and you haven’t answered a single one. Why would I bother now?”

  “I didn’t have my fucking phone,” I pushed through gritted teeth. “My father did.” I stood perfectly still, ignoring the fact that my dick jumped when she shoved her hand in the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my old phone before holding it up. I couldn’t deny that it was damning evidence, making me look like a goddamn liar. “He just gave it back yesterday,” I tried to explain. It sounded lame as hell.

  “How convenient.” Her lips pressed together, and I was one more smart comment away from kissing the anger from them. She never could resist melting for me.

  “Look.” I huffed before snatching my phone back. It had been twenty-four hours, and I was already pulling my hair over the back and forth. “I screwed your sister, and you didn’t tell me you were pregnant. Let’s just call it even and move on.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Because it’s that easy for you.”

  “Because we have a son to think about,” I reminded her. Pip seemed to sober at that. “This isn’t going to work unless we can find a way to be civil.” I wisely left out the part about us having no choice. I refused to let either of us screw up my son like my parents had done me.

  “And what exactly is this?” she asked, waving her hand between us. “I don’t want to be with you.”

  “I’m not that fucking wild about you, either,” I lied. For now, it felt like the truth.

  “So, what do we do?”

  I shrugged when I was feeling anything but nonchalant. “We co-parent.”

  The disappointment in her eyes seemed to match the turmoil in my gut. I wondered how long I could convince myself that it was enough. It had to be. Even if I told Tyra everything, it could never erase what we’ve done to each other.

  “Okay.”

  I should have been relieved by her whisper of agreement. The sadness in her eyes was gone, replaced by determination. I felt like I’d just had my heart torn from my chest. I forced myself to speak, to form the words that implied I was content with our new arrangement. “Okay.”

  Maybe someday I would be, but I highly fucking doubted it.

  Tyra took River back upstairs, and Lou had gone with her. Once Wren and I were alone again, I dug into my pocket—the one that didn’t hold my phone. I was relieved blabbermouth hadn’t checked that one as I removed the small box I’d stowed inside.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” I told Wren as I held out his engagement ring. “I told you I’d keep it safe.”

  Wren almost seemed reluctant as he slowly took it from me, his expression solemn. “I thought I’d be able to give this Lou, but now, I’m not so sure.” His eyes flashed, and I had the feeling he was remembering getting shot.

  “I figured you’d say that. It’s the other reason why I’m here,” I told him after taking a deep breath. “I have a plan.”

  His brows dipped as he stared at me. “A plan?”

  “This war has never been between Exiled and Thirteen. It’s between three men with no honor and too much greed.”

  Wren seemed to mull that over before shrugging. “What difference does it make? We’re caught in the middle regardless.”

  “Exactly. But we shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of our fathers, Wren. We didn’t ask for this any more than we asked to be here. Our fathers don’t seem to give a shit what their feud does to us as long as they get what they want. We’re nothing but collateral damage. Instead of standing by like prey to be picked off, like pawns in their little games, I say we show them what happens when rivals play dirty.”

  I watched as Wren sat back, his gray eyes slowly turning an electric blue. “I’m listening.”

  Two days later, when I finally returned to my father’s castle on the hill, I found him not in his office as I expected but sitting on the deck. He was soaking in the sun as if he were basking in his glory.

  “Son,” my father greeted with a surprised raise of his brows. “I’m surprised to see you’ve returned so soon.”

  I stood over him with my fists balled, not caring about the threat I posed or the men with their guns aimed at my head. My father was just lucky I wouldn’t risk leaving River without his. “You knew about my son, didn’t you?”

  “Of course, I did,” he answered without a single flinch. “I know everything that’s happening in my town.”

  I allowed myself to smile. “You didn’t know that your enemy was living right underneath your nose for over a year.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “An unfortunate mishap I attribute to my frequent absences and the mediocrity of my spies. Besides, Harlan is not my enemy. I’m told he’s no longer Exiled.”

  “Then why did you have him shot?”

  “Because his father is still my enemy.”

  “Then why not kill Ever, too?” I didn’t bother questioning whether my father knew of my best friend’s true paternity. Underestimating him is how I’d lost everything.

  My father held his hands apart as he smiled. “If I played all of my cards too soon, how will I win the hand?” I watched him take a sip of his bourbon and wondered how easy it would be to poison his supply. I definitely had access. “You should be grateful. If I wanted to kill Wren Harlan, he’d be dead.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Then why send men into his home to shoot him?”

  “Bait.”

  It was all the explanation my father offered. Fortunately, I understood, and the realization made my palms sweat. “For Crow or Fox?”

  “Both if I’m lucky. It’s why my men didn’t use your best friend for target practice instead. Ever wasn’t incentive enough for Nathaniel to crawl from whatever hole he’s hiding in. I could have popped them both, but then Crow would get suspicious and disappear again.”

  “You really think Fox will show up to finish the job himself?”

  “Right now, Harlan’s easy enough prey sitting in that hospital wounded, and I’m told that woman of his has enough evidence to put Nathaniel in prison for the rest of his life. I know he’ll show.”

  “And then what? You’ll turn Blackwood Keep into a war zone? What about your anonymity? Do you really think you’d be safe hiding out he
re after that?”

  “I’ve been living in the shadows for too long, son. When Crow and Fox are dead, there will be no one to challenge me.”

  “You mean no one to hide from.”

  My father’s gaze cut to me, and I almost smirked at the obvious nerve I hit. Franklin Rees may have been a cunning man, but he would be a sitting duck without the men he paid to protect him. A warrior he was not.

  “Careful, boy. Now that you have a son, I no longer need your little slut to keep you in line. The security at Susannah Blackwood is pitifully lax. It will take little effort for me to slip into her room during the night…again.” Hearing that my father had gone near Tyra had me dangerously close to gutting him. “I admit I enjoyed more than just watching her sleep. She has the softest skin. I can see why you thought she was worth your career.”

  I lost it then.

  Forgetting about my son, my plans, and my vow to free my friends from my father’s grip once and for all, I plowed my fist into my father’s withered face. Feeling bone crack and wanting more, I didn’t stop. My knuckles were screaming, my hand and shirt covered in blood, and my father slumped in his chair. He was unconscious by the time I was pulled away. I couldn’t see or hear anything. I couldn’t feel the rough hands holding me hostage. For a while, nothing got through the murderous rage that made me throw my life away. Even as I was forced to my knees with a gun pressed to my skull, I knew I’d do it all over again.

  My only regret was not telling Tyra I loved her without fear forcing me to take it all back.

  Closing my eyes, I pictured them both, somewhere safe and happy. I almost forgot about the bullet seconds away from ending it all.

  A moment later, it finally came.

  And then several more as the bodies around me began to drop. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on that image of Tyra and River until the shooting finally stopped. It seemed to last a lifetime. I was just glad I’d emptied my bladder before coming here. Peeking one eye open, I looked around, and when I saw everyone except my father lying bloodied on the ground, I stood and whirled around.

  Jeremy casually stepped out from the tree line with a rifle slung over his shoulder as he yawned.

  “It fucking took you long enough!” Fear had my voice sounding high-pitched to my own ears.

  “Shut the fuck up. I had urgent business,” Jeremy replied, his American accent laced with his Russian one. He sauntered the rest of the way across the expansive lawn until he stood beside me.

  “More urgent than this?”

  Shrugging, he stared down at my unconscious father. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

  I shook my head and wondered how desperate I had to be to ask Jeremy Antonov for help. The dude was a certified sociopath. Who else would have stopped to take a piss while I was on my knees seconds from biting a bullet?

  “Help me get him inside.”

  Jeremy looked like he was going to decline, but the look I gave him had him rolling his eyes. He moved to stand near my father’s shoulders, so I bent to grab his legs.

  Without warning, however, Jeremy slapped the shit out of my father.

  I was surprised when my father actually awoke—disoriented but awake. Jeremy looked at me then, and seeing my bewilderment, he snorted. “You hit like a bitch,” he said, referring to a few days ago when I knocked his tooth out. I didn’t even want to know what he’d been through to consider that a weak blow. “No way he was out cold enough.”

  “Whatever,” I mumbled as my father groaned.

  Jeremy kicked his foot and then growled, “Get up.”

  My father actually seemed startled, that cool confidence gone as he shakily rose to his feet. Antonov didn’t seem at all concerned with the consequences if we failed. I wasn’t sure what Jeremy had to lose, but I had a whole fucking lot. For some reason, the thought didn’t fill me with dread as it once did.

  “You’re making a deadly mistake,” my father warned when we entered the house.

  “Seriously?” Jeremy mocked. “The decades you spent as Thirteen’s father is about to end painfully, and the best you can come up with is a fucking cliché?” Antonov peered at the back of my father’s head. My gut told me he was thinking about putting a bullet through it.

  “We need him,” I reminded Antonov as we herded my father toward his office.

  “I don’t, but you do.”

  I silently swore because he was right. The only way I could convince Antonov to help me was to hand over the recording I took of my father confessing to killing his predecessor and his plans for Thirteen. I thanked my lucky stars that I remembered to record him that day in his office. Learning Wren had been shot had almost made me forget all about it. The recordings were all the evidence Jeremy needed to kill my father with immunity and take his place. I hadn’t wanted to hand it over this early, but Antonov had effortlessly outmaneuvered all of the precautions I’d taken to keep him from gaining the upper hand. Now I was reduced to relying on his fragile sense of mercy.

  Or so he thought.

  “Cut off the head of a snake, and another grows in its place,” I told him. “There’s no guarantee that head will be yours.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jeremy’s jaw clench. I’d finally struck a nerve. “Right now, Crow and Fox are my father’s problem, but unless we deal with them too, they’ll just become competition.”

  Antonov was silent as he shoved my father into his desk chair. We then tied him to it. My father had treated that chair like a throne only for it to become his coffin. “And what about you?” Antonov asked once we were done. My father was noticeably silent.

  “What about me?”

  “Are you competition?”

  My heart thundered in my chest, even as I forced myself to remain nonchalant. “Are you looking for an excuse to kill me?”

  “I don’t need one. Answer the question.”

  Loud and clear, I could hear the threat woven into his demand. My father seemed smug and not at all fearful of watching his son being killed right before his eyes. I bet he thought my death would get him out of this. How wrong he’d be.

  “I don’t want this,” I assured Jeremy while holding my father’s gaze. I felt my lips curl at the lack of remorse in them. My next words were directed at him. “I never did.”

  I could only assume that Jeremy was appeased since I was still breathing.

  “That’s a relief and not because I’d have to kill you, which is kind of a disappointment, but because you’d be shit at it.”

  It was debatable whether Antonov had meant it as a compliment. The doubt didn’t stop the black stain eating away at my heart from fading just a little. I felt hope that he was right—hope that I wasn’t capable of unleashing horrors on innocents flared in my stomach. I turned and started for the door, not bothering to look back.

  “That is a relief,” I quietly agreed.

  Upstairs in my bedroom, I quickly filled a large duffel bag with clothes and whatever I couldn’t bear to leave behind—which, sadly, wasn’t much. When I was done, I slowly turned in a circle, staring at the walls and the photos covering almost every inch of space. I contemplated leaving them but knew that I never could. They’d been a balm some days and the sharpest knife cutting deep on others—a gift from my father to keep me shackled. It took some time to take them all down. When I was finished, I stuffed them inside an old folder before shoving it inside my bag.

  Downstairs, I found Jeremy waiting for me in the foyer, his eyebrow raised.

  “Make sure he’s ready.”

  It was all I bothered to say to him on my way out of the door. I threw my bag in the silver Jag—one of my father’s toys—and floored it down the drive. After what my father revealed, I was eager to get back to the hospital, but I forced myself to make one more stop.

  The drive to Tigerwood Lane seemed to take forever. My palms turned sweaty as I pulled into the driveway next to Coach Bradley’s pickup. I must have sat there for five minutes before I stepped out to face the music.

 
VISITING HOURS WERE MINUTES FROM being over when the automatic door finally slid open, and Vaughn stepped through. I kept my eyes on my Kindle, reading the same sentence for the thirtieth time as I listened to him cross the room. He didn’t speak.

  It was the hardest thing feigning casual indifference. To pretend I hadn’t spent the entire day waiting for him to show. When that failed, I told myself that it had only been for River’s sake and that the little white lie was for mine.

  When I heard what sounded like a bag hitting the floor, my head shot up. My eyes widened at the bulging duffel lying near Vaughn’s feet as he reached inside River’s crib. Was he planning to stay? Where would he sleep? His only option was the recliner, which hadn’t been designed for a night of comfortable sleep. The sofa bed had room to fit us both but not much more than that. I gulped.

  I could ask him to leave, but I’d already denied Vaughn the first three months of his son’s life. Months River had been fighting alone because I’d been too selfish and weak.

  “Are you okay?” I inquired, breaking the silence first. It was impossible not to notice the fatigue written all over his face. Somehow, he was still heartachingly beautiful. It was a feat I could never pull off even if I had a thousand years.

  “Fine.” He moved over to the recliner, his stare intense and haunted as he watched River. “I went to see your father today.”

  I sat up straight at that. “What? Why?”

  Vaughn looked at me, and I pressed my hand against my belly as if it would stay the butterflies. “Why do you think? Your father might have already known since you gave River my name, but he needed to hear it from me.”

  A conversation, I imagined, that did not go well. My father had been under the impression that Vaughn and I had formed an uncomplicated friendship after our many “tutoring” sessions. The wool Vaughn had pulled over my father’s eyes had been woven thick, keeping him blind for months. I could still remember the afternoon Vaughn had daringly shown up while I was home alone and refused to leave. Of course, my father had caught us together, and his timing couldn’t have been worse. He’d shown up while I’d been busy trying to drown his quarterback with a water hose.