Just as she contemplated going back anyway, risking it all to snoop around and confront Nathaniel, the phone rang. Sitting up straighter in the seat, she brought the cell to her ear after glimpsing Chey's name on the screen.
“Chey! What's going on?” Wynn tucked her chin and lowered her voice. She didn't want anyone else to overhear.
“Leander said he wants you away from the house. Do not, and I repeat, do not go anywhere near it, all right? If you're there right now, then leave.”
Wynn's dark brows pulled into a frown. “I don't understand. Why can't I be at the house? He needs to come here to get—Chey, did you stress how important this is?” In her frustration, she cut herself off and chose a more urgent path of conversation.
“I did. He knows.”
“And he's not coming?” Wynn's stomach sank to her toes. She braced her elbow on the table, and then her forehead in the prong of her fingers.
“I've told him that it's a matter of life or death. According to his father, anyway. But someone attacked us here and everyone got distracted.”
Wynn gasped, popping into a stiff-spined position. “What? Attacked? Is everyone okay? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I'm fine. We're all fine for now. Since I didn't know where the men were, I figured I'd show up at the address on Sander's message because someone would be watching it. Turns out I wasn't wrong. Anyway, the guys are assessing the situation. If Leander leaves right now, then that means the group is a man short. They're expecting another attack soon, or for the others to move Kristo somewhere else. In other words, it's coming to a head here.”
“I wish it would—not until you're safe, of course. And I hope the rest of them don't get a scratch. But Chey, Leander needs to get on a plane sooner than later.” Wynn snatched a napkin out of the holder on the table and began twisting the edges in on itself, creating a haphazard mess of angles.
“I'm working on it. Hey, I have to go. In the meantime, don't go near the house.”
“I really wish someone would tell me why.”
“I have to go. I'll text you when I know more.” Chey severed the line.
Wynn exhaled in exasperation. While she felt better that Chey was being proactive in getting Leander away from the mission and back home, she now had twice as many questions.
Chey's warning about the house lingered. She considered that perhaps Leander didn't have a glowing childhood, and that his memories of the home weren't great, therefore coloring his perception of the property. Either that or there was something about Nathaniel that Leander didn't trust. Perhaps it had to do with that odd feeling of being watched. The flickers out of the corners of her eyes that never materialized into anything solid.
And, she admitted to herself, it could be none of the above.
“More coffee, Miss?” the waitress asked.
“No thanks. Just water, please.” Wynn was coffee'd out.
“I'll be right back.” The waitress spun away from the table, snatched a water pitcher off a tray on the counter, and returned to pour Wynn a fresh glass.
“Thanks.” Wynn watched ice float and clink against the sides of the vessel, wishing she could do something other than sit and wait like a bump on a log.
If she didn't hear anything within the next two hours, she would take matters into her own hands.
. . .
“All right, but we're leaving all four guards here with you.” Leander crouched and made his way to the pack he'd abandoned to go fetch Chey. He drew on the over-shirt, then the vest, and rearmed himself with weapon belts. If he had to go outside after the attack, he wasn't going without access to a gun.
“Three. Take one with you,” Sander said. He crossed the room in a crouch, staying below window level, and stepped out into the hallway.
Leander joined him there a moment later, adjusting straps and checking magazines. The binoculars were back in the pack for easy transport. He knew by the frown on Chey's face that she was perturbed and unhappy with the circumstances. Finding Sander in the middle of a dangerous mission probably wasn't what she'd expected. “The four stay here. I can get Chey out of here by myself.”
Sander gave Leander a dark look.
“We're leaving?” Chey perked and stepped away from the wall.
“You and Leander are leaving,” Sander said. “Right now.”
“But what about you and Mattias and Ahsan?” Chey asked.
“We've got to take care of this before we can head back home. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it seems.”
Leander refused to snort or scoff or anything that might upset Chey. He knew the score. Sander and the rest were outnumbered, even with the four extra guards. By the look on Chey's face, however, she wasn't buying what Sander was trying to sell.
“I think you should all come with us,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin.
“We can't. And we're wasting time. I'm supposed to be watching out the windows for a second attack and I can't do that in the hall. We'll be fine, I promise.” Sander pulled Chey into a hug.
Hesitant at first, Chey finally wrapped her arms around her husband and hugged him tight.
Leander waited out the goodbyes, using the time to mentally prepare himself for what came next. He hoped it would be easy to usher Chey to the vehicle she'd arrived in and depart with no trouble, but that was wishful thinking. As with all other questionable conditions, he thought about scenarios and contingencies. What he would do if this or that happened.
Always prepared. That was him. Except for now, when his father threw him a curve ball out of the blue.
Breaking apart, Chey kissed Sander with clear possession and hesitation.
“We'll be fine,” Sander assured her.
“We're going to have a talk when you come home,” she said, flashing her stubborn side again.
“I have no doubt. Now go. Be careful.” Sander shot Leander a look over Chey's head. Make sure nothing happens to her.
Leander tipped Sander a short nod of understanding. Cupping Chey's elbow, he escorted her to the top of the stairs and started down. Chey glanced back twice, then focused on the stairwell.
“Nothing better happen to him,” Chey said.
“He's skilled. And he's got Mattias and Ahsan here. We'll leave the guards you came with here, too, and take the transport to the airstrip. Can you call ahead and clear a flight path?” Leander hit the bottom level with Chey one step behind. Ahsan had one of the men up against the wall, hand on his throat, whispering something that sounded threatening in the Turkish tongue.
“Yes, I can.” Chey fell in at Leander's side, as if wanting to use his body to shield her from the men being questioned.
Leander would have done the same. The fewer people who knew she and Sander were here, the better. Not everyone would recognize the pair anyway, but he thought it best not to take any more chances.
Mattias stepped over to intercept them. “You going?”
“Yes. I'm taking Chey out and we're leaving the four guards here,” Leander said.
“Sander insisted he take me with him,” Chey added.
“It's a good idea. It'll be harder to protect you when things get dicey,” Mattias said.
“I'd say things are already dicey,” Chey countered.
Mattias smiled a thin lipped smile.
Leander knew what Mattias was thinking. This was nothing compared to some of the scrapes they got into. Better not to say that to Chey, however. It was tantamount to handing her ammunition to use against Sander for their 'talk'.
“We'll call when we're about to board the plane,” Leander said, escorting Chey past Mattias toward the door.
“I thought your phones were turned off?” she asked with an arched brow, glancing back and up at Leander.
He cleared his throat. “We have separate phones that we use just between us. Turning off our usual ones is necessary. If they go off at the wrong time...well. I don't think I need to tell you what can happen.”
Chey scowled but said nothing more.
Leander knew that wouldn't be the end of it for Chey and Sander—and probably not for him and Wynn, either. The two girls shared just about everything. Except their men.
With Ahsan too busy to interrupt for goodbyes, Leander opened the back door and swept a look along the back of the businesses. He saw no one that looked suspicious, no one that brandished weapons in the open. The driver of the transport vehicle exited his seat and scanned the alley, picking up on Leander's need for an extra pair of eyes.
“We're going to walk fast, but not too fast. No running unless someone starts shooting.” Leander eased Chey outside with him while Mattias covered their exit, scanning the area for threats.
“All right.” Chey didn't argue.
Leander appreciated Chey's common sense. Now wasn't the time to discuss all the things that needed discussing and she seemed to understand that instinctually. She didn't complain as he walked her behind the row of businesses, setting a brisk pace for the same alley he'd herded her down the first time. He didn't want to get into the open, out in the front where they would be exposed, until he had to. Any moment he expected to see someone lurch around an alley corner, ready to fight.
Cutting up between buildings, Leander hurried Chey along toward the other end. He checked their back often, ever wary of someone sneaking up from behind. Here too, Chey proved to have good instincts. She picked up the pace when he did, remaining silent and alert, and slowed when they reached the other side.
Leander didn't pull a weapon into his hand because that was asking for trouble. Instead, he calmly strolled out of the alley with Chey at his elbow. Directly across the street was the SUV and four guards she'd arrived with.
Gently giving Chey a push toward the back of the vehicle, anticipating her going around the other side to climb in, Leander checked the street, then set his sights on the lead guard.
“We weren't sure what to do but wait,” the lead guard said.
“The four of you take a route behind the buildings, use an alley like we did, and go to the whitewashed place on the end. Mattias and Sander are in there. Protect them like you would during a crisis.” Leander didn't stick around for a question and answer session. He collected the keys from the guard who'd been driving, opened the SUV door, and hopped into the driver's seat after tossing his pack into the back.
Chey was already in the seat adjacent, fastening her seat belt. She withdrew her cell phone and put a call in to the pilots.
Leander swerved away from the curb and pulled into traffic, the tight tension in his shoulders and neck only easing a little when no one attacked the car or took a shot from a higher vantage.
Now all he had to do was get to the airport and get in the air.
Time was wasting.
Chapter Nine
The transfer from SUV to jet was seamless and terror-free. Leander breathed a deeper sigh of relief once Chey ducked into the interior and sat in one of several plush chairs positioned across from a curving sofa.
“I'm going to let the guys know we made it, then call Wynn. All right?” Leander asked Chey.
She turned an assessing, blue-eyed stare on Leander and dipped a single nod. “All right.”
Leaving Chey to address the onboard stewardess, Leander walked to the back bedroom for privacy, and closed the door. Running lights along the inside of the plane above the oval shaped windows provided light in lieu of darkness setting in across the landscape. The satin covered bed and highly polished mahogany furniture was familiar—he'd flown in this plane with the king and the prince many times—and comfortable despite its austere elegance. Leander swung the pack to the floor and helped himself to a tub chair positioned in a small seating area. He tipped his head back for a moment and closed his eyes.
What a long day.
A small vent pushed cooler air into the sleeping quarters and across his chair, drying the sweat on his skin. It was a luxury he could do without when he had to, but one he appreciated now, when he wanted to relax and save his energy for what came next.
Digging his phone from a vest pocket, he pulled up the screen, found Wynn's name, and pressed the button. He knew she had a special ringtone set just for him and would know before answering who was calling.
“Leander?” Anxiety made Wynn's voice tight and a little higher than usual.
“Hey, baby. Yeah, it's me.” He waited, lips curling at the edges, for the deluge about to hit.
“Where are you? What happened? Is everyone safe? Chey said you were all attacked and I've been worried sick. Are you on a plane yet?”
There it came. If he hadn't been so concerned and distracted, he might have chuckled. Sometimes, some things never changed. As it was, he had the issue of his father, Wynn and his apparent health problem to deal with.
“Everyone's fine. Chey and I are on a plane right now. We're about to take off.”
“Oh thank god. I've been scared half out of my mind, and I think the employees at the cafe where I've been waiting are starting to think I've moved in. When will you get here? And what's the deal with your dad? Why am I not allowed to go to the house? I was there earlier--”
“Wynn.” That was all he said. Her name. In a tone he knew would silence the diatribe immediately. And it did. He licked his dry lips, then said, “It's a very long story, better told in person. Just trust me and don't go near the house again, okay?”
“I know, Chey told me. What I don't understand is why. Why can't you just tell me now? Why all the secrecy?” After a moment, she added, “Are you adopted?”
Despite himself, Leander laughed. He knew what prompted the question. “No, I'm not adopted. My father and I share few traits, including looks.”
“Obviously. Is he dangerous?”
Leander didn't want to hesitate and make Wynn nervous. Yet the question always paused him when he thought about it. His father's secrets were devastating, ones Leander could not share with Wynn over the phone. Maybe could not ever share with her. Nathaniel was not the type of man to wrap his hands around a person's throat and end their life. Never that. Nathaniel was not a violent man. Leander had been involved in hundreds of tense situations were he'd been prepared to take a life to save his own, or some other innocent, which made him twice as dangerous as his father.
At least on a physical level.
“Leander?”
Drawn out of his reverie, Leander rubbed a hand down his face, then raked his fingers back through his hair, catching the band tying half of it back. He worked it free and scrubbed nails against his scalp. The actions bought him time to think.
“Yeah, I'm here. He's not dangerous, Wynn. I...I'll explain when I get there, all right? Just stay away from the house.”
“Why the long hesitation? Do you have an idea what he means about you dying in a few days? Because really, Leander, I'd like to know what you know.”
He wanted to tell her that he couldn't. That he shouldn't. Instead, he said, “I don't have any idea what he's going on about, Wynn. We'll find out when I arrive.”
“He said he was the only one who could save you. What does that mean? If he's speaking in metaphorical terms, I'm going to hurt him. Real bad.”
Leander's shoulders twitched with mirth. “You can believe that when he speaks so plainly about death, he means it just like it sounds. He's got information about a possible hit on me, or some other thing like that.”
“A hit on you? Like an assassination attempt?” Her voice pitched high with distress.
The drone of the jet, which was still on a steady incline and climbing to altitude, provided a lulling hum to fill the silence in the room. Given the right circumstances, it would put him to sleep. He said, “Yes, something like that.”
“Leander—we have got so much to talk about.”
“Us along with a few others, I'm sure,” he said in a dry voice. Chey and Sander too, and perhaps Mattias and Chayton's significant others at some point. Someone needed to keep the girls off the phone with each other.
“It's not fun
ny.”
“I know. And to be honest, Wynn, I'm not prepared to talk about it all right now. Let's get this thing over with my dad first, okay? Then we'll tackle the wedding, and--”
“And then the honeymoon, and then 'work' for Mattias. I see the excuses piling up, Mister.”
In truth, Leander wasn't sure what to say. The cat was out of the bag, at least a little bit, and he wasn't sure he and the rest of the Elite could cover their tracks now. At least with their wives or significant others. He needed a pow-wow with the guys before he tackled Wynn, so they could tell their wives the same story.
And didn't that sound terrible, he thought. Arranging to lie to his intended. Their secretive activities in the Elite, a select group of high powered men who intervened for threats to one of their own, had been kept under wraps for a reason. If the perpetrators found evidence of their involvement, retaliation would be swift and harsh. They'd already seen proof of it months ago. Never mind that the women would worry themselves sick every time one of the men left the house. He didn't think it a good idea to tell them the reality, despite what Chey had seen.
“It'll be all right. We'll be there in the morning.” Leander hoped Wynn wouldn't press him for answers now. He didn't want to lie more than he had to. A knock at the bedroom door snared his attention. Down the line, he said, “Wynn, I have to go. Talk in a few hours, okay?”
“Yes. And don't think I'm going to be satisfied with a pat on the head and some lame 'this is just a one time thing', either. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He ended the call with the press of a button. “Come in, Chey.”
“What did Wynn have to say? Is she all right?” Chey said when she stepped inside. She left the door open and crossed the room to the chair adjacent to Leander's. Leaning a hip against the tall back, she crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with a no nonsense expression.
“She's fine. She wasn't at the house when I called.” Leander stared up at Chey, sliding the phone between his fingers and the armrest, tapping and turning, tapping and turning. A restless habit when he wanted to be up and moving. He knew round two of The Inquisition was about to hit.
Royal Elite: Leander Page 8
