“Fine. Whatever.” Michelle cleared her throat and dropped onto the sofa, shoulders slumping. She was nothing, if not a convincing actress if it meant she’d get her way.
They all waited, the sound of ringing barely audible.
Freya’s sister was part of this, not a victim.
Did she know what Yuri wanted her to do?
Freya wouldn’t wish Charles on her worst enemy, and she was here because of her sister. It was too much to wrap her head around in these few moments.
“Jaxon?” Michelle’s voice broke. “I hope you get this in time. They said they’re taking me somewhere. I don’t know where. Jaxon? Please, call me back. I’m scared.”
Freya’s blood went cold listening to the sob job her sister was laying down. She called Jaxon Jax most of the time, but would he notice the difference?
“There.” Michelle tossed the phone down on the coffee table with a bang.
“What’s going on?” That cool, calm voice made what wasn’t already cold turn to ice.
All gazes went to the door.
Charles stood in the opening. All pretenses of being friendly were gone. Instead, she could see the cold, hard killer staring out. The man he was, under all of what he tried to hide.
“Charles. You’re early.” Yuri set his glass on the bar. “I’m protecting your investment.”
“What the hell is this?” Charles gestured at Michelle, then Freya.
“Well, you wanted to marry and kill Freya, I thought this was a good half-way point solution.” Yuri spread his hands. “The price goes up.”
“I don’t want to murder my wife,” Charles said.
“What? You married him already?” Michelle’s jaw dropped and she glanced from Charles to Freya and back.
“Honestly, Charles, I don’t have time for this right now.” Yuri pressed his fingers to his temples.
Freya stared at Charles, her mind whirling. Was this her way out?
“I want to know what the hell is going on here, Yuri. This isn’t what I paid for. Are you trying to switch them out on me?” Charles planted his hands on his hips.
“You know what? Get out.” Yuri waved toward the door. “Thomas?”
Thomas shoved Freya aside. She stumbled into the wall, bracing herself against it with a hand.
Charles didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
Thomas reached toward Charles.
Charles...
It was a blur. He moved so fast.
Freya saw the glint of light off metal, heard a grunt. Michelle screamed and clawed her way across the sofa, away from Charles and Thomas.
Yuri yelled.
Thomas fell to the carpet, hands at his throat.
Oh, god...
A man tackled Charles to the ground.
Freya was going to be sick.
She stared at the slowly growing crimson stain on the pale carpet. The noise of the other two men from outside wrestling Charles to the ground was so distant. As though she were in a tunnel and it was all far away.
There was no way Yuri’s carpet people could get that out. That was a lot of blood.
“Come on.” Yuri grabbed her under the arm, hauling her the few steps through the Queen’s Nest door. “Don’t kill him. Catch and release. He’s too good of a customer.”
She stumbled after him, not making any sense of Yuri’s words.
Charles had just killed Yuri’s assistant, and he didn’t want to lose a customer?
What kind of reality did these people live in?
Yuri hauled her into a tiny elevator.
“If you’re going to be sick, do it downstairs,” he said.
She leaned against the cool metal, her skin hot and clammy.
“What—what are you going to do with me? Michelle? What’s happening?”
“You’re worth more to me alive than dead.”
Freya didn’t know if that was a good thing, or very bad.
14.
Jaxon peered at the dark colored SUV that routinely carted Yuri around.
They’d followed it from the Queen’s Nest almost half an hour ago.
“What the hell is the driver doin’?” Ian twisted to glance around.
They’d stopped several car lengths back when the SUV pulled to the curb outside of a convenience store.
“I don’t like this,” Jaxon said.
“Me neither.”
“Let’s go.” Jaxon killed the engine.
Instead of pushing back, Ian got out the other side of the car. They strode forward together, eyes on the SUV.
Something wasn’t right.
SWAT should have hit the Palace ages ago, but they hadn’t. Then Freya’s call. Freya’s terrified voice was burned into his memory forever.
Why hadn’t he just made her leave last night? This morning?
He should have, even if she hated him, but he’d wanted to do the right thing.
Jaxon had a bad feeling about this.
“No movement,” Ian said.
Jaxon edged up the side of the truck. It was still idling, and there was no sign of the driver.
He reached forward and yanked open the driver’s side back door at the same moment as Ian.
Jaxon stared across the empty seat at Ian.
“This was a set up,” Jaxon said.
“Run.”
They bolted back toward the BMW.
Jaxon made it maybe a car length before a wall of heat knocked him forward. He hit his knees, then his stomach, bringing his arms up to cover his head.
“Jax? Jax, you okay?” Ian grasped Jaxon by the arm.
“I’m fine.” He pushed to his knees and glanced behind him at the smoking SUV. His ears rang from the concussion blast. He wasn’t hearing the words, so much as filling in the blanks.
“We’ve got to go.”
Jaxon staggered a few feet getting his bearings. People were on the sidewalk now, staring at the SUV. He dropped behind the wheel of the BMW, jammed the key in the ignition, and cranked it. His ears rang, but otherwise he seemed to be okay. For now. Once the adrenaline wore off, who knew?
“Go,” Ian snapped.
Jaxon whipped the car out and around a rubbernecking car, and turned at the first opportunity, putting as much space between them and the explosion as possible.
“What just happened?” Jaxon asked.
“Low-level charge under the truck, more boom than anythin’ else. Probably a little accelerant in the vehicle. Damn that rings.”
Jaxon shook his head and jabbed at the display.
“Call Owen,” he said.
“Yeah, I was wonderin’ myself what the fuck is goin’ on here.”
“Hey—”
“Owen, we need to know about the status of a 9-1-1 call at the Swan Palace,” Jaxon said.
“What the—okay. I’m on it. Hold on.” Jaxon pointed the car back toward the Swan Palace, though it might already be too late. They’d taken the bait.
“There was a one o’ clock call...it was labeled a hoax,” Owen said.
“Goddamn it.” Jaxon thumped his knuckles on the dash.
“We need to bring everyone in,” Ian said.
“Everyone?”
“You, too, pretty boy.”
“See you at the pub in an hour?”
“Less, if possible.” Ian pulled out his phone. “Freya’s phone is still at the club. Maybe they just wanted to lure us away?”
“Maybe?” Jaxon shook his head. “One way or another, I’m going to see for myself if she’s there or not.”
“Not by yourself you aren’t.”
Jaxon didn’t look at Ian—his neck actually hurt a bit now—but he appreciated the other man’s support.
Charles had proof.
Yuri was trying to screw him over. And he still wanted to make a dime off Charles.
Well, Yuri Gabor wasn’t getting anything else out of him.
Charles would rescue Freya, he’d win her over, and then they’d start their lives together. He’d be different. She
would make him that way.
But first, he needed to know where Yuri was going. What resources he still had available.
For that, he needed to talk to someone who’d been around a minute.
Donny had proven useful, not just in what information he’d shared with Charles, but what was on his phone and in his wallet. Namely, the number to one Keith Lundy.
It was amazing what a person could do with a phone number these days.
Charles took the stairs one at a time. Yuri’s instructions had been to leave him alive, not untouched. The thugs had left their mark, which was fine. Charles would get the last laugh. He always did.
He strolled down the breezeway to the motel room on the end.
The pizza box nearly burned his fingers—the better to remind him he was still alive.
Charles tapped on the door with his knuckles.
“Pizza delivery,” he said.
He pivoted so that his back was to the window.
Keith had seen Charles enough times that he didn’t want to give the guy a chance to bolt the door.
The lock scraped free and the door cracked open.
“Pizza?” Keith asked. Probably because he hadn’t ordered a pizza, but that never stopped people from accepting wrong deliveries.
Charles turned and kicked the door, forcing his way in.
Keith backpedaled, eyes wide, hands up.
“I didn’t do anything,” he yelled.
Charles tossed the pizza down onto the table and drew his gun. He didn’t like guns on principle. Too noisy, impersonal, cold. He killed to feel alive, but this was simple necessity.
“Don’t fucking move.” Charles pointed the gun at Keith. “I want Donny’s insurance policy and I want to know what other properties Gabor has here in Seattle. Now.”
“Nothing. He doesn’t own anything else in Seattle. Just a few condos. He’s been moving things north and east. I swear!”
Charles pulled the slide back on the gun, loading a shot.
“He has a jet. Just a jet!”
“Where?”
Yuri didn’t know that Charles also knew about the trust fund. Given that Yuri’s concerns were about keeping customers and earning money, it stood to reason that Yuri would go after the cash, and to do that he’d need a jet. Charles wasn’t about to let Yuri steal from his future with Freya. That money would provide them the means for a better life, and he intended to live it.
There was a wrongness in the air. Jaxon had felt something similar the same night he’d stepped into the octagon only to be broken like a twig. Tonight, like then, he couldn’t turn back.
Freya was counting on him.
They’d seen the lights in the Queen’s Nest flip off an hour ago. Freya’s phone’s signal was still showing as in the apartment, but that didn’t mean anything. Yuri could have taken Freya anywhere in the time they’d wasted following his driver. Besides, they still hadn’t found the basement entrance. Yuri had a private escape hatch, and they didn’t know where it was.
“Seems like it’s a light night.” Ian dropped the binoculars to his lap.
“Yeah, this isn’t normal.” Jaxon grimaced.
“Hey, you guys see anything?” Ian asked into the radio.
“No sign of the targets,” Shelby replied after a moment.
They had three vehicles positioned around the Swan Palace so that all exits were covered and at least one vehicle had line of sight on another. Besides Ian, Kade and Shelby, Vito and Ryan had joined them. Owen would have, had Ian not talked some sense into him. Besides, they needed a uniform on call if things went bad. It was clear Gabor had someone on the inside, if he was able to get a threat ruled a hoax without anyone investigating it.
“Front of house is locked up.” Ryan’s signal was full of static, his voice hardly recognizable.
“The customer garage is almost empty. I only count a few cars left,” Shelby said.
“We need to go now,” Jaxon said.
“We stick to the plan and wait,” Ian replied.
“No, it might be too late then.” Jaxon’s gut said go now.
“Jax, man, trust me—”
“I’m going in.” Jaxon pushed the driver’s side door open.
“Fuck,” Ian muttered, the rest of his words cut off by the closing of the car door.
Jaxon pulled the hood on his hoodie up. Ian had outfitted him with one of the Kevlar vests, which fit him like a glove.
“Wait up, man.” Ian jogged down the sidewalk to catch up with Jaxon.
They’d had to park along the curb across the street in Ian’s Jeep after the earlier incident. It gave them a perfect view of the employee lot and the Queen’s Nest, but not a lot else.
“I’m going in.” Jaxon clenched his fists in his hoodie pouch.
“Just—wait for the others to get into position, will ‘ya?” Ian sighed. “This could go bad, you know?”
“The guys left on site are all new hires. I’m not even sure they’re carrying. I haven’t seen them with anything resembling a weapon. All of Yuri’s guys, the real muscle, they’re gone, man.” Jaxon didn’t slow down. He kept his gaze on the back door of the Swan Palace.
“Are you sure about this?” Ian asked.
“Positive.”
“Only fools are positive.”
“Yeah, well, not the first time someone’s called me a fool.”
“Hold up, let the others get into position.” Ian slapped his hand against Jaxon’s chest.
Jaxon stopped but stared at the back of the palace. Ian edged into his line of sight.
“Hey. We’re goin’ to get her back,” he said.
Jaxon nodded. He hoped Ian was right, but there was no certainty about it.
“There’s four cars left. Who do they belong to?” Ian asked.
“One belongs to Thomas, two to security guys, the fourth to the head of the kitchen. He doesn’t normally stay this late.” Jaxon peered at the car. “Not sure why Yuri would leave Thomas behind.”
“Is there a chance Thomas is with him and his car is just here?”
“Maybe?”
“We’re ready.” Shelby’s voice was a whisper in the darkness through the radio.
“Let’s do this.” Ian slapped Jaxon on the shoulder.
They jogged across the street at the intersection.
While Jaxon and Ian entered through the back door first, drawing attention, the others would come through the kitchen to flank whoever came for Jaxon and Ian. Sort of like luring an opponent to shoot for a weak spot, then driving them to the mat.
They skirted the employee lot, staying close to the wall in the shadows.
“Let me go first,” Ian said.
Jaxon ignored his friend and pulled out his key card. It was worth a shot.
He swiped it and the green light flickered.
Well, that was stupid.
He pulled the door open and stepped aside.
The dark hall lit up with muzzle fire, but the answering blast was muted. The shot ricocheted off the door swinging shut and hit the ground.
Okay, not so stupid.
Voices from inside rose. Feet stomped on tile.
“Move,” Ian said at the same moment the door opened.
Jaxon ducked, grabbed the outstretched firing arm and twisted, taking the man with him. He flipped the person over, driving him face first into the concrete. He rammed his knee into the man’s forearm, and the gun clattered to the ground. Jaxon punched the guy in the temple and his whole body went slack. He picked up the gun, removing the round in the chamber and the clip.
“Clear,” Shelby called out from the depths of the building.
“I’ve got these guys.” Ian jerked his head toward the door. “Go.”
Jaxon didn’t need to be told twice.
This still wasn’t right.
Where was Thomas? Why were so few people working?
Jaxon took the stairs two at a time, Ryan and Vito at his back. Vito took up a position on the second floor, while Ry
an proceeded up to the third with Jaxon.
“Check the office,” Jaxon said.
He rounded the security desk and jabbed at the buttons controlling the Queen’s Nest.
The door whisked open, and the scent of something metallic wafted out.
Freya...
Jaxon rushed into the Queen’s Nest, bile rising in his throat.
A new rug lay in front of the door where before there hadn’t been one. He crouched and grasped the corner of the rug, pulling it up.
The carpet was stained a dark color, hard to make out in the dim light of the nest. He didn’t need to see it to know it would be rust brown by now. The smell was enough to tell Jaxon it wasn’t fresh, but someone had bled out here.
“Freya?” He straightened, clenching his hands in his gloves and took a few steps toward the open door.
Was he too late? Had Charles—? Jaxon couldn’t think it.
His heart ached. A world without Freya? Without her light? Her smile? Her touch?
Jaxon couldn’t take it. That wasn’t possible.
He staggered to the door and stared at the bed. The comforter was rumpled and gathered around a form burrowed under the blankets.
He swallowed and took another couple of steps.
“Freya? Freya, you there?” He reached the bed and placed his hand on what should be her shoulder. “Freya?”
“Hm?” She groaned in her sleep and turned toward him.
“Oh—God.” Jaxon went to his knees and pulled her across the mattress. “I thought—fuck. You’re alive. God I thought... For a second... You’re alive. Why haven’t you answered the damn phone?”
“Jaxon?” Her voice wavered.
“It’s me.” He sat on the bed and pulled her into his lap, burying his face in her hair and taking this single moment to reassure himself she was alive. “Don’t scare me like that again? I thought... I can’t go through that again. I love you too much for that.”
Jaxon’s throat closed up.
Had he really just said that?
Her hand settled on his shoulder. She didn’t pull him toward her, her posture was stiff, different.
That smell... It wasn’t right.
Jaxon stood, staring down at the woman’s upturned face.
Michelle.
“Where is Freya?”
“Can we just get out of here?” Michelle slid out of the bed and stood.
Bad Boy Prince: A Modern Fairy Tale (Twisted Royals Book 3) Page 18
