Christmas Conspiracy

by Robin Perini

  Logan sat across from Kat and reached for her hand. He couldn’t believe the strength she showed in the past few hours. The grace under pressure. She might not want to be ruler of Bellevaux, but she certainly had the courage of a monarch.

  The satellite phone sitting on the table between them rang. Kat stared at it, her face pinched and strained. Their gazes met, and, in her eyes, he saw mirrored the hope and fear that consumed them both.

  He lifted the receiver.

  She stopped him. “Don’t hide anything from me.”

  He nodded. “No more secrets. No more lies.”

  Not between them. He pressed the speakerphone. “Carmichael.”

  “Falcon here. We didn’t get to the airport in time.” Noah Bradford’s voice growled through the phone. “Everyone’s dead, and Hayden’s gone.”

  Kat cried out in distress and launched herself at Logan. He held her close.

  “What happened?”

  “A massacre. Sergei. The pilots. The royal guard. All dead. Some were killed in the plane. Others were gunned down on the tarmac.”

  “Oh, my God. Where’s my baby?” Kat moaned. “We have to find him.”

  “We may have lucked out in that. We have an informant, one of the underground loyalists fighting to keep the monarchy. He went undercover at a prison where he heard rumors of torture and killings of political prisoners happening under the duke’s command. The place is more like a dungeon. The man’s been told to prepare for special guests.”

  “Hayden?” Aghast, Kat leaned toward the phone. “We have to save him. Is this man sure?”

  “Is he reliable?” Logan added.

  “I’d say yes to both counts. The man isn’t young, but brave and determined to take down the duke. Pierre was caught confirming Daniel’s existence in the prison and beaten badly.”

  Logan let out a sigh of relief. He hugged Kat closer.

  “Daniel’s alive?”

  “Barely…but he knows we’re coming,” added Noah. “He’s been tortured for months. Severely. He’s so broken, he may not be able to walk again.”

  Logan forced himself to remain calm as dangerous emotions clawed to the surface. “Why is the duke doing this?”

  “Evidently he can trace his lineage back to some thug in the middle ages who ruled Bellevaux. A Marquis de Sade type who was eventually beheaded by his loyal subjects. Sarbonne feels that he should rightly be king.”

  “Sarbonne doesn’t have that kind of power. How can he think this will succeed?”

  “According to Sierra, the duke came into a lot of money recently. We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars. It was well hidden, but my sister tracked it down. She’s still searching for the original source of the money.”

  Logan sat back in his chair. “Could the duke have been Stefan’s leak? Could he have set up the bombing at the royal court?”

  “The timing of some of the deposits coincide. I’d say the duke plans to try to bring back his glory days—with a little help from the black market and Victor Karofsky.The same one whose gun-running empire you disrupted while with the CIA.”

  A warning beacon sounded over the speakerphone. The pilot’s voice squawked through the intercom.

  “Mr. Carmichael. We’re being ordered to land by the Bellevaux Air Force. They’re directing us to a private airport.”

  Logan pressed the intercom. “Give me the coordinates and ETA, then do as they say.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You heard?” Logan asked Noah.

  “Be very careful. We don’t know the duke’s plans, but the man’s insane.”

  “Arrange a rescue operation for the prison,” Logan ordered, looking over at Kat. “I have a feeling when the duke talked about special guests, he was also talking about us.”

  * * *

  THE PLANE LANDED and started its final taxi. A phalanx of cars sat at the end of the runway, their presence ominous.

  Kat shuddered, fear for her son and Logan paralyzed her. “The duke could kill you. Hayden, too.” The words choked out as a sob.

  Logan held her hands in his. “He can try.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Stay alive. Whatever it takes. Lying. Kowtowing to the egotistical bastard. Make him believe that he’s succeeding until Noah and Hunter can get to us.”

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered, seeing the determined warrior in Logan’s expression.

  “You’re right to be afraid, but try not to let it show. You’re a princess, Kat. From the intel, the duke seems to see you as a future ruler alongside him. Act the part. Do whatever you must to survive. Our children need you to live.”

  Was Logan saying that he didn’t expect to?

  He squeezed her hands and held her gaze captive. “No matter what happens, Kat. Promise me you will not antagonize Sarbonne. You must live to protect our son.”

  The words answered everything, and she knew Logan was saying goodbye, just in case.

  She couldn’t lose him. She’d been such a fool not to trust him for so long. He’d shown in every way how he would fight for her and the children. How he would use his strength—and his wealth—to ensure the safety of others. She’d been unable to see past her fear that he was a man of integrity, of courage. He was a hero, something she’d never believed in before.

  The plane rolled to a stop, and they rose from their seats.

  With a cry, Kat wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight. She rested her head against his strong chest, taking comfort in the heat of his body and the solid rhythm of the strong beat of his heart. “There’s so much we haven’t talked about…what I said last night—”

  “Kat, you don’t have to explain.”

  Reluctantly, she pulled away and pressed her fingers to his lips. “Yes, I do. Growing up, I was taught that I shouldn’t believe in anything or anyone. That I could only count on myself, but from the moment we met, I believed in you. You were my knight in shining armor from the beginning, and that scared me. I’m sorry I wasted so much time. You’ve made my dreams come true,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have asked for a better man to be the father of my children.”

  “And I couldn’t have asked for a braver mother. Say whatever you have to. Do whatever you have to. But don’t give up.”

  The airlock hissed and the outer hatch opened. Armed men boarded the plane.

  They grabbed Logan and pushed him toward the door. He looked back at Kat. “Stay alive.”

  Her eyes glistened. Another guard gripped her arm and shoved her forward.

  Kat followed Logan down the steps. He stood close to her side. A limousine flying Bellevaux’s flag pulled up to them.

  A striking man exited the vehicle, tall, dark-haired, his uniform decorated with too many medals to count. Kat’s gaze dropped to the whip in his hand.

  “Princess. Mr. Carmichael.”

  “Your Grace,” Logan said, his voice tight, but Kat remained silent.

  The duke frowned at her. “No pleasantries? Well, I suppose this isn’t the most pleasant of circumstances, is it?” He turned to Logan. “Especially for you, Carmichael.”

  Kat glanced back and forth between the two men. A palpable hatred resonated. How well did Logan know the man who held her son?

  He stepped in front of Katherine. “I am the Duke of Sarbonne, Princess Katherine.” He bowed with a flourish, then kissed her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  She tried to shake off his hand, but he held tight. Painfully so.

  “You are coming with me,” he said softly, then gestured to Logan. “He remains here.”

  “No.” Logan shoved the duke aside, breaking his hold on Kat.

  Two guards grabbed Logan’s arms and shoved them behind his back. He didn’t flinch.

  “Do you wish to die here and now?” Sarbonne roared, brushing at the spot on his jacket where Logan had pushed him. “No one touches a member of the royal family and lives.”

  “You’re not a member of the royal family. You’re a ps
ycho,” Logan taunted. “Always have been. You’re the descendant of a by-blow pretender and a bully who killed his own brother to take the throne.”

  “And you are my sacrificial lamb. You and Stefan wreaked havoc on my partner’s businesses and he wants revenge. My financial benefactor will be squarely in my corner when I deliver you to him.”

  Kat cried out in protest.

  “Shut up, woman. I have the blood of kings in my veins,” the duke said. “With you by my side and the treasury overflowing, nothing will stop Bellevaux from becoming great again. You will do as I say or die, as well.” Sarbonne turned to his guards. “Take him. I want Logan Carmichael to understand the power I have over him.”

  The guards shoved Logan to the ground, kicking him and punching him, until he couldn’t stop a groan from escaping. In triumph, the duke watched as blood spattered on the asphalt.

  Kat ran to Logan. “Stop. You’re killing him.”

  Logan met her gaze, willing her to be silent, then curled up defensively as the largest guard grabbed him by the hair and the other repeatedly slugged his face and body.

  Kat threw herself between Logan and the guards, and one man accidentally belted her across the jaw.

  Her head popped back and she let out a cry, falling to the tarmac.

  “That’s my future wife, you imbecile,” the duke yelled. He beat the guard across the face, leaving raw strips of flesh bleeding from the lash.

  The guard sank to his knees, and the duke yanked Kat to her feet.

  “You live only as long as you remain a true and faithful wife, Princess. Remember that.”

  She clenched her fists and bit her tongue.

  “Kat,” Logan said, his gaze intent with meaning. “Think of our son.”

  The duke’s turned red and faced Logan. “Your son? You’re the bastard who sullied my future queen?”

  With a shout, the duke grabbed the automatic weapon from the adjacent guard’s hand, fired, holding the trigger back. Bullets strafed Logan and everyone near him, cutting them down in a bloody mess.

  No!” Kat dove toward the duke, grappling for the gun.

  He smashed it off her head, and she collapsed at his feet.

  He bent down and gripped her hair hard, yanking her face near his. “Look at your hero now.” He forced her head in the direction of the pile of bodies. Blood splattered the corpses. “I mean what I say, Princess. You will have no one but me, or everyone you love will die. Starting with your precious son.”

  * * *

  SITUATED ABOVE THE AIRPORT, Deke couldn’t believe what he’d seen.

  Logan Carmichael. Dead.

  The man Deke knew only as the Falcon stood beside him. No emotion showed on the man’s face. He was cold, deadly looking, and Deke feared him almost as much as Karofsky.

  Deke’s mind whirled. What did this massacre mean for him? “Will you still help me now that Carmichael is dead?”

  The Falcon turned to him and glared, then slipped his phone to his ear. “Plans have changed,” he said in a low, deadly tone. “Carmichael just took six bullets to the chest. We move without him.”

  He clicked off and stared at Deke—the man’s dark, dead eyes the most frightening Deke had ever seen.

  “Betray me. Even think about it,” the Falcon warned, “and you’ll share a similar fate to them.”

  Deke looked down at the pile of dead bodies and shuddered, then followed in the Falcon’s wake.

  * * *

  KAT COULDN’T BREATHE. Fear and horror filled her. Logan was dead.

  She struggled against the remaining guards, wanting to run to Logan and touch him one last time. Grief crippled her.

  The duke turned on his heel and stalked to the limousine. “Bring the princess. She has some papers to sign before we wed.”

  Hysteria threatened, but Kat closed her eyes, willing herself not to scream at the agony in her heart. Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t care if the monster waiting saw them, but Logan had warned her not to antagonize the duke. Logan wanted her to save their son, and she would, if she had to kill Sarbonne herself.

  Kat remembered Logan’s words. Do anything. Say anything. She took a deep breath and walked toward the maniac in his limousine, wiping her face as she went.

  Just before she reached him, the duke closed the car door, then rolled down the window. “I don’t think so. You have a lesson to learn first.”

  He signaled the guards. “Handcuff her and bring her to the prison. Let her have a taste of what she’ll face if she doesn’t learn to obey.”

  A guard slapped the metal restraints on her and pushed her into a filthy, white-panel van with no rear windows. The back section had been stripped down to bare metal, and the inside reeked of vomit, sweat, blood, urine…and death.

  Kat gagged, but somehow maintained control. Logan’s face and words gave her strength. He hadn’t backed down in the face of the duke’s insanity. Neither would she.

  Every part of her ached, and her heart had shattered. How would she live without Logan?

  “Where are you taking me?” Kat asked, praying the guard who sat across from where she lay bound would answer.

  “Somewhere you won’t come out of alive, unless you cooperate.”

  Kat stared at the guard’s ravaged face. Maybe the lashing he’d just taken at Sarbonne’s hands would make the man willing to defy the duke. “Will you help me escape?” she whispered.

  The guard shook his head. “No. To cross the duke means punishment or even death. He has threatened my family.” He leaned closer. “Give him what he wants. There’s no other way to survive his gaol. Even if you do, you won’t come out of his prison as pretty as you are going in. The duke revels in inflicting pain.”

  “Shut up, Antoine,” the driver hissed. “He’s probably listening.”

  Kat shivered. The duke wanted her as his queen. She would have to find a way to use the fact to her advantage.

  “Is the king part of this?” she asked. “Does he know the duke is killing people?”

  “Leopold has grown soft, and won’t be king much longer. He has named no legal heir and the country is in turmoil. You’d better learn quickly who has the power,” Antoine said. “With you under the duke’s control, no one can help our country now.”

  Kat stared at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Antoine put a hand against the whip marks on his cheek. “Because you were our country’s last hope.”

  Kat froze. Was he saying that he wanted her to be queen? That he actually hoped she would come to Bellevaux and become the king’s heir?

  Antoine glanced toward the front, then whispered one last time, “The duke intends to kill you after you’re married. If you can get away, run—and don’t ever come back.”

  * * *

  THE VEHICLE EASED through a large gate with a half-dozen guards standing by with machine guns. Once security waved them through, Kat’s heart plummeted at the distance from the fence to their destination. How could she possibly get Hayden away without being caught?

  The car came to a stop outside an old stone building that looked like something from a medieval horror movie. The duke’s prison. Her heart raced when Antoine helped her out of the back. Her manacled wrists made it difficult to exit on her own.

  He used more gentle hands. “I’ll pray for you, Princess. I’m sorry.”

  A group of guards forced Kat down stone steps toward a large iron door. It took two guards to open it. The door clanged shut behind their entourage, sounding much like a death knell. The stone-lined corridor closed in on her. They passed a series of rooms, the furniture within old and tattered. The farther underground they walked, the more Kat’s hope dimmed. Finally they reached a locked iron door.

  The gate eased open. An older man struggled, wincing as he pressed the hefty iron weight back. The slashes across his face and neck looked remarkably familiar. Whip marks. Another of the duke’s victims. She wanted to beg for help, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

  “End
of the hall,” a guard said, pushing her roughly. “Don’t talk to anyone.”

  Kat walked down the stone hallway, her gaze shifting right, then left. They’d entered the prison now, and the dungeon chilled her. Not because of the cool temperature, but the horror she witnessed. Blood marked the floors and even the walls of several cells. Sharp metal objects rested on surgical tables. Sharp…and stained dark from use.

  This was not just a prison. It was the duke’s torture chamber.

  Kat wanted to escape, but her son could be at the end of this hall. Part of her wanted him to be there, so she could see he was okay. Another part of her wanted him never to have seen anything like this horror in his lifetime. She would kill the duke for doing this to her son.

  Halfway down the corridor, a groan penetrated her numbed mind. A man—or what was left of one—lay on the floor of one of the prison cells on her right. He gazed at her from a bruised and battered face, raising his chin proudly.

  She paused, staring into his eyes. He seemed to will her his strength. Did he know who she was? Could this be Daniel? The man that Logan had talked about being imprisoned and tortured? His face, although badly beaten, reminded her of Logan’s—the warrior’s expression, the obvious determination to survive, to fight.

  Kat nodded to him, and turned away. She would survive this, too. No matter what the duke did. She would summon her courage to withstand the torture. She would lie, cheat and steal to save herself and the life of her son. Then she would wait for the time she could have her revenge.

  The guard pushed her forward and opened a locked door at the end of a hallway.

  Kat walked into the filthy stone room. A soiled mat lay on the floor and Hayden sat in a chair next to the duke, her son’s dirty face streaked with tears.

  “Mommy!” He ran to her and Kat looped her handcuffed hands around him and held him close. A protective anger, stronger than any emotion she’d ever felt in her life, besides grief, swept through her.

  “I don’t like it here, Mommy.” His words were slightly slurred. “I want to go back to Daddy’s house.”

  “Shhh, baby,” she whispered. “I’m here.” They’d drugged him. A little boy.

  She scanned the room, refusing to let the revulsion and fear show on her face. The wooden table before her was stained with blood. Cuffs, whips and more metal instruments lay ready for use.