SINS of the Rex Book 2

by Emma Slate

  I closed my eyes. “This is what I didn’t want.”

  “What were you hoping to do?” Ash demanded. “Carry out Flynn and Duncan’s plan—tell the media that the Buchanans are dead? That your husband is dead too so that the SINS are without a leader? News flash, Barrett, that plan is shot to shit. I didn’t like it, anyway.”

  Of course we needed a new plan. Arlington was still out there, along with the faceless pretender that had tried to stage a coup. But we still didn’t know enough. I needed to stop thinking about how Flynn or Duncan would’ve handled this because that hadn’t gotten us far. I had to think like me.

  I looked at Brad. “I need a whiteboard and markers. While I’m waiting on Archer to get me the information, I want to put up some stuff on the board.”

  Brad nodded. “I’ll call down and have one of my guys send it up.”

  Lacey came out of the bedroom without Hawk. She fixed Ash and me with a glare. “Hawk is asleep. You two done yelling at each other?”

  I looked at Ash and she looked at me. “For now,” we both said.

  “Does anyone have anywhere they have to be?” I asked. “No? Good, get comfortable. We’re going to be here a while.”

  Chapter 47

  Darkness surrounded me. Outside the safety of the penthouse, the city was cold and snowy. Everyone had left hours ago. We’d spent the night brainstorming, planning, talking. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel one step closer to discovering anything.

  I listened for a moment, wondering what had awoken me. It wasn’t Hawk; he hadn’t cried. I listened again, hearing the faintest sound of a spoon clinking in glass.

  I got up out of bed and went into the living room. Ash sat on the couch, bundled up in her robe, cradling a mug of tea in her hands. She’d been staying at her brother’s apartment while he’d been out of town, but when we’d gotten the news about Flynn and Duncan, she moved into the penthouse. I’d had a bed put into Flynn’s study—Ash shared her room with books and a desk, but at least she had a door to close.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” she asked with a glance at me.

  “It’s okay.” I took a seat next to her.

  She shook her head. “I’m so used to having my own wing. Weird, right?”

  “Very.”

  I stared at the whiteboard that was covered in different color markers. It looked like a jumbled mess. The clutter bugged me. I got up and flipped the whiteboard over to its clean side. I picked up a blue marker and at the top, I wrote ‘Arlington’, ‘Winters’, and ‘Pretender’.

  “You can think at 2 AM?” Ash asked. “Impressive.”

  “Something has been nagging at me, like itching at the back of my brain. I’m close to figuring something out, I just know it. Will you be a sounding board?”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. Okay. So here’s what I know. Winters wanted back in the FBI, right? Flynn and the Buchanans were in his way because they brought guns into the States. That’s why Winters tried to get me to make a deal and bring down Flynn and Malcolm.”

  “Right,” Ash said nodding.

  I wrote ‘guns’ under Winters’s name and then gestured the pen to ‘Pretender’. “The Pretender wants the SINS, which means he has no qualms about taking out Flynn and the Buchanans.”

  “But didn’t Lord Elliot tell you Arlington and Winters hired The White Company?”

  “Yes. Hired Italian mercenaries that couldn’t be traced back to the English or Americans. Arlington is English. Winters is American.”

  I wrote ‘The White Company’ in the middle of the board.

  “Okay,” Ash said. “So I understand why Winters wanted a new SINS leader—someone who would promise not to bring in guns into the States. Winters would’ve made a deal with The Pretender. No guns in the country and then Winters would keep the FBI off the SINS’s backs.”

  “Winters would’ve returned a celebrated hero instead of a rogue ex-agent. Yeah. Okay.”

  “But that still leaves Arlington. What’s his role in all of this?” Ash asked. “Why would a member of the House of Lords make a deal with a Scottish rebel group that wants a free Scotland?”

  “Duh. I’m so stupid!” I said, smacking my head. “Arlington is financing The Pretender.”

  Ash frowned. “Connect the dots for me.”

  “If Scotland gained its independence, it’s a huge financial loss for England. Arlington, along with the House of Lords, would still make laws, but they’d lose their grip on Scotland’s economy.”

  Ash frowned. “So this is about control?”

  “Yes—and money.”

  “But I still don’t understand. Wouldn’t Arlington do anything possible to ensure that Scotland doesn’t gain its independence?”

  “Unless Arlington stands to make a lot of money if Scotland wins. Think about it. He puts The Pretender in charge of the SINS, the largest rebel faction in Scotland, and Arlington is the financial backer which means—”

  “He controls the SINS,” Ash finished. “Bloody brilliant.”

  “Arlington and Winters united for a common goal but for different reasons,” I said.

  Ash frowned as she nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. But if Scotland wins their independence, the need for the SINS is over. Right?”

  “I guess, technically,” I admitted. “Still, the SINS wouldn’t just disperse.”

  “Wouldn’t they?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Not unless there’s another enemy to fight.”

  “You think Arlington and The Pretender have another enemy lined up?”

  “I think they want Scotland for themselves and they’ll take out anyone in their way.”

  “Holy shit,” Ash breathed. “What if your theory is correct?”

  My gaze was bleak. “Then we have a big fucking problem.”

  The next morning, I fed Hawk a bottle while I waited for the printer to finish its epic job. Don Archer had been as good as his word and sent me an email to a private account that couldn’t be accessed by anyone except the two of us.

  Ash looked at the pile of papers in the paper tray and groaned. “Fuck. This is going to suck.”

  We were going to pin up every scrap of paper with a face, cover the walls, and figure out this shit and I was going to use any means necessary to find out the name of the man I called The Pretender.

  My cell phone rang but my hands were full. “Will you see who that is?”

  Ash got up from her seat and went to the kitchen counter where my phone was charging. She picked it up and said, “It’s Ramsey.”

  “Answer it.”

  She nodded. “Hey, it’s Ash. Barrett’s got her hands full of baby.” She listened for a moment, nodding at whatever Ramsey was saying. “Okay. I’ll let her know.”

  “What’s up?” I asked when she hung up my phone.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Probably not. Tell me anyway,” I said with a sigh.

  “Ramsey and Jane are in London and they’re on a mission to find Duncan and Flynn.”

  I blinked. “That’s a bad idea all around. The media knows Ramsey’s face now that he’s been in the newspaper. And Jane was kidnapped from her party months ago. What happens when she all of a sudden resurfaces? And for that matter, did we successfully recruit her?”

  Hawk finished his bottle, and I put him to my shoulder to burp him while I waited for Ash to explain.

  “Okay, first of all, this was all Ramsey’s idea. Right now, he’s fearless and angry, and he still thinks dangling himself as bait is a way to bring Arlington and The Pretender out of their holes.”

  “Fearless? Or foolish?” I demanded.

  “Take it up with him,” Ash snapped. She was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, but I want Duncan back. Ramsey is a Buchanan, and he isn’t as foolhardy and young as he’s led us to believe. He’s paid attention over the years and picked up some of Duncan’s tricks, but Ramsey has never had to step up. He wants—needs—to step up now.”


  “Okay, I’ll agree to that. But Jane?”

  “Ramsey told her about what her father was involved in. She wants Arlington dead as much as we do. She blames him for her father’s death.”

  “She doesn’t believe we’re responsible? We did kidnap and torture him with the full intent to kill him.”

  “Ramsey told her that Flynn found Elliot’s throat slit and it wasn’t done by us.”

  “A woman with a vendetta.” I nodded. “Revenge on her mind. Got it. How is she going to help Ramsey in London?”

  “She’s the daughter of a Lord, isn’t she? She knows the right people, knows the right clubs.”

  “Can’t really argue with that logic. I just hate the idea that they’re going to run around London and play spies.”

  “You suck at delegating, you know that?” Ash stated. “That’s your problem.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I know your husband was acting leader of the SINS while Duncan was healing, so you took on a lot of the roles that go along with being a queen, or whatever. But you can’t do everything yourself.” She pointed to Hawk. “You have a son. You’re also pregnant. You want to tell me you’d feel better running around London trying to piece together where and how Duncan and Flynn were ambushed?”

  “Valid point, yet again.”

  “Duncan and Flynn are alive. I know it,” Ash said.

  “I agree. If they were dead, The Pretender would’ve made a play for the SINS, but he hasn’t yet.”

  Ash smirked in wry humor. “Plus, our men are really hard to kill.”

  I let out a laugh. “Thank God for that.”

  Chapter 48

  I ran a washcloth underneath cool water and then put it to my head. The woozy feeling was leaving, but the back of my neck and palms were clammy. I’d already thrown up.

  Morning sickness. I’d survived it once. I’d do it again.

  I looked down at my stomach. “You better be really cute.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Barrett?”

  “Be right out,” I said to Ash.

  With one last glance in the mirror, I made sure I didn’t have anything gross on my face and headed back into the living room. Ash was writing something on one of the printed faces that had been taped to the wall. The walls were covered with papers of faces, most of whom I didn’t recognize.

  “I’m almost finished,” Ash said. “With the first tier members, anyway.”

  By first tier, Ash meant men who weren’t just considered soldiers, but leaders in their own right. The Buchanans and Flynn were at the top and oversaw the entire SINS operation. They were kept informed by other SINS leaders who led smaller pockets of rebels all over Scotland.

  “I’ve made X’s across the members that are deceased and I’ve written down what I deem are important facts about each member.”

  It was overwhelming to look at and there was still a stack of papers to go through when we managed to field our way through the pictures on the walls. There were at least five hundred pages in total.

  “You know,” I said. “Our plan is genius except for one major flaw.”

  Ash didn’t look at me when she answered. “What’s that?”

  “We didn’t grow up with the SINS. We married into it. We have no insider knowledge.”

  Ash stopped writing mid-scrawl and looked over her shoulder at me. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Ramsey’s in London so we can’t use him,” Ash went on. “Damn it! Who else is there? Who can we trust?”

  I was in the middle of shaking my head when an idea came to me. I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to figure it out. My smile was slow.

  “What?” Ash demanded. “Why are you smiling like the Joker?”

  “Because I’ve figured out the solution to our problem.”

  “It will never work,” Brad said.

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because they aren’t warriors,” Sasha said, like it was obvious.

  “Save me from bullheaded men,” I muttered.

  Ash let out a laugh. She was finally looking relaxed. Even though our husbands were MIA, we at least had a solid plan that we believed in. Or maybe it was the glass of scotch in the early afternoon that had lulled her into good humor.

  “Barrett,” Brad began.

  I held up a hand. “Let me lay it out for you. Right now, everything is in a tailspin. Flynn and Duncan aren’t around to call the shots, so for right now, you might as well call us—” I gestured to Ash— “the Prince Regents. Okay?”

  Brad shook his head. “I don’t like this. What’s Flynn going to do—”

  “When he finds out that we used women to help save his antiquated, patriarchal rebel faction?” I snapped. “He’ll be glad. If he were here right now, well, we wouldn’t be in this bloody mess, would we?”

  I pointed to the walls of the penthouse. “Do you know who these men are?”

  Brad sighed. “No.”

  I looked at Sasha. “Do you?”

  Sasha shook his head.

  “And neither do we,” I said.

  None of us wanted to discuss what would happen to the SINS if Duncan and Flynn were found dead. Until then, I was operating on the assumption that they were alive, in hiding, and coming back. Hopefully Ramsey would check in soon with some information.

  “Besides, it’s too late,” Ash interjected. She threw back the rest of her glass of scotch and stood. “Barrett already called Katherine. She and her friends will be here tomorrow night.”

  “You called Katherine!” Sasha fumed. “She can’t be trusted!”

  “This isn’t your call,” I stated calmly. “You’re not one of us.”

  “You’re not one of them!” Sasha yelled, color rising to flame his high cheekbones. “When will you learn?”

  “Lower your voice. Hawk’s asleep.”

  Sasha shook his head and dropped his gaze. “You’re asking for trouble.”

  I shrugged. “No more than usual.”

  “So you basically called this meeting to lay down a new law?” Brad asked.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “And to ask you to have three rooms readied.”

  Brad rose from his seat and moved towards the elevator doors. “I’ll see to it.” He looked at Sasha. “You want a beer?”

  “More than anything,” Sasha grumbled.

  The men left and Ash and I were alone.

  “Why is it that men claim to love strong, fierce women, but when put into practice, it’s not the case?” Ash wondered.

  “Our men love us the way we are,” I said. “Brad and Sasha aren’t our men. They’ve no obligation to love us.”

  “Except that Sasha does love you. Will you finally tell me what happened between you two?” Ash asked, getting up and heading to the bar.

  “When and what time,” I quipped. “We’re always fighting.”

  Ash poured herself three fingers of scotch. “I’m talking about the day you came back to the penthouse suite and told Lacey you didn’t have the energy for her to take photos of you and Hawk.”

  “What makes you think something happened?”

  “Ah, you’re avoiding, so I know something happened. Come on. Aren’t you and I past all the secrets?”

  Could I really tell Ash what had occurred between Sasha and I? I had finally told her about Dolinsky and my mishmash of feelings. This wasn’t any worse.

  “See, okay,” I began. “It’s you and me. And Flynn and me. And you and Duncan. Now, if you and I have a secret, I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep a secret from your husband.”

  “Secrets from your husband? Now I have to know.”

  Just as I was about to blurt it all out, my phone buzzed. It was Ramsey.

  “Hey,” I said, my heart thumping. “Do you have news?”

  “Turn on your TV,” he said.

  I could barely hear him. In the background, I heard the wailing of sirens and yelling.

  “What�
��s going on?” I demanded even as I went to find the remote.

  “Turn it to BBC.”

  Ash looked at me in curiosity. I flipped on the television and clicked over to the news station. On screen was a building engulfed in flames, an attractive reporter at the scene.

  “Behind me is the Palace of Westminster where the House of Lords were congregating to discuss the Scottish Referendum. A bomb exploded not too long ago. We already have a well known Scottish rebel group known as the Sons of Independent Nationalists for Scotland taking credit for the explosion,” the reporter said to the camera.

  “What the hell!” Ash yelled at the TV.

  “Ramsey,” I breathed into the phone.

  “Aye, Barrett,” he said and I could hear the smile in his tone. “Flynn and Duncan didn’t do this. They couldn’t have. This was The Pretender making a play for leader. He’s trying to drive them out of hiding.”

  “Which can only mean one thing…”

  “They’re alive, lass. My brothers are alive.”

  Ash and I tromped through the snow of Central Park. Late last night, a winter storm had hit, dumping at least six inches of snow on the ground. The park was full of people; parents with their children building snowmen, exuberant teens having snow ball fights.

  “Want to go sledding on Pilgrim Hill?” Ash asked, her cheeks pink with cold. She pulled down her black wool hat with a pompom over her ears, the action awkward because she wore mittens.

  Pilgrim Hill was at the 72nd Street and 5th Avenue entrance of the park and unfortunately we didn’t have time for that. Katherine and her friends would be arriving soon.

  “Hawk’s a little young, don’t you think?” The three-month-old in question rested warmly and comfortably against me. My coat and arms insulated him from the cold. He hadn’t made a peep since we’d left the hotel forty-five minutes ago.

  “I wasn’t asking about him, I was asking for you and me.” She said with a rueful shake of her head.

  “I wish.”

  “Another time then.”

  Nathan and Daniel, our faithful bodyguards, trailed behind us, giving us the illusion of privacy. They were far enough away that they couldn’t overhear our conversation but close enough should we need them.