The Duke and the Assassin
Heather Slade
The Royal Agents of MI6 Book One
The Duke and the Assassin
Copyright © 2021 by Heather Slade
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-953626-29-5
Contents
1. Shiver
2. Losha
3. Shiver
4. Losha
5. Shiver
6. Losha
7. Shiver
8. Losha
9. Shiver
10. Losha
11. Shiver
12. Losha
13. Shiver
14. Losha
15. Shiver
16. Losha
17. Shiver
18. Losha
19. Shiver
20. Losha
21. Shiver
22. Losha
23. Shiver
24. Losha
25. Shiver
26. Losha
27. Shiver
28. Losha
29. Shiver
30. Losha
31. Shiver
32. Losha
33. Shiver
34. Losha
35. Shiver
36. Losha
37. Shiver
38. Losha
39. Shiver
40. Losha
41. Shiver
Epilogue
Want more?
The Lord and the Spy
About the Author
Also by Heather Slade
1
Shiver
“Thornton, are you listening?”
I turned away from the window where I’d been looking out at the dormant gardens of Whittaker Abbey. The land had been handed down, heir to heir, since 1547 when the former Cistern abbey was taken over by Henry VIII. Shortly afterward, the estate was given to John Whittaker as a gift from the king for his service.
As a boy, I’d explored every acre of the forested estate and its gardens, knowing that one day, the care and maintenance of the land would be my responsibility. It had seemed a long way off then—not until I was an old man, when my father, the fourteenth Duke, passed away.
Until then, I would remain the Marquess of Wells and, more importantly to me, a high-ranking agent in the United Kingdom’s Secret Intelligence Service, also known as Military Intelligence Section 6, or MI6.
“I beg your pardon, Duchess,” I answered, looking lovingly at my mother, the woman who had been the guiding force of our family in the months since my father had suffered a debilitating stroke.
“What news of Sutton?”
Like me, my younger brother by two years, known to most as Wilder, was employed by Her Majesty’s Secret Service. However, he was on the national security side—MI5.
I sneaked a look at my phone. “He’s expected this afternoon.”
“Very good. You and he will get the trees.”
My first thought was to ask why the groundskeepers couldn’t handle it on their own, as they’d had even before my father’s illness, but I understood my mother was grasping for any semblance of what she considered normalcy. Choosing the trees that would be brought into the abbey and decorated for the holidays was something my father, brother, and I had done together until I’d turned eighteen and left for university.
“We will do,” I muttered, wondering how many trees my mother planned to decorate this year. Was more than one really necessary? It wasn’t as though she would entertain this holiday season.
Duchess Victoria was the eldest daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland and still practiced what some believed to be archaic traditions of the English nobility.
“Come, sit with me,” she said, holding her hand out to me. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
I sat, but had no intention of confiding in her. I also had no intention of lying, so chose not to say anything.
“Have you seen your father this morning?” she asked.
“I read the news to him.”
My mother patted my hand. “You know how much he likes to catch up over his morning tea.”
I doubted my father had heard a word I read, and he’d certainly not had any tea, but as the doctors had told us, the important thing was that the family spent time with him and conversed whether the duke was able to respond or not.
“There’s more,” she murmured.
“What’s that?”
“Something is on your mind, Thornton, and whatever it is, its weight is heavy.”
Even if I wanted to discuss it with my mother, I wouldn’t know where to begin.
“It’s a woman.”
I leaned closer. “It’s nothing,” I said softly. “Let it be, Duchess.”
“For now,” she said, standing and leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll check on your father.”
I nodded and stood too, walking back over to the window.
It had been over a month since United Russia lifted the ten-million-dollar bounty they had on Orina “Losha” Kuznetsov’s head, and yet I had no idea where she was and why she insisted on staying so far underground that no one could find her.
I’d called in every favor—and there had been many—but so far, I didn’t have a single lead as to where the bloody woman was hiding.
* * *
“You best be driving in the gate,” I said when I answered my brother’s call a couple of hours later.
Wilder laughed. “At least an hour out, but before you blast me, I’ve spent the last thirty minutes listening to Sir Ranald tell me how he intends to fire you.”
I laughed too. “My Christmas wish come true.”
“What the bloody hell did you do?”
The memory of it made me cringe.
I pounded my fist on the desk of the office I’d been holed up in, cursing the impotence I felt as much as the walls surrounding me.
Ten minutes ago, my boss had summoned me, but I wasn’t any closer to giving him the answer he sought than I had been two weeks ago when Rivet had first asked for my decision.
Sir Ranald “Rivet” Caird was a career British Intelligence officer for MI6 who, nine years prior, had been named chief. At the time, he’d been candid about his refusal to serve beyond a ten-year term.
The first in line to succeed him had been Merrigan Shaw, who was now Merrigan Shaw-Butler, happily married to Kade “Doc” Butler, the founding partner of the private security and intelligence firm made up primarily of former CIA operatives—K19 Security Solutions. Merrigan had taken over as managing partner of the firm and had made it perfectly clear that she wouldn’t return to MI6 regardless of the position offered.
As much as that had infuriated our boss, Rivet had seen her departure coming in the same way I had, and couldn’t begrudge her the happiness she and Doc had in their lives.
With Merrigan out of the picture, I’d moved to the top spot to succeed Sir Ranald. My lack of enthusiasm, along with my refusal to give the man an answer, incensed my boss.
“He’s pacing,” said Patsy, sticking her head in my office. “Would you mind?”
“In a minute,” I snapped, immediately regretting my tone. Patsy was Rivet’s assistant and didn’t deserve my or anyone else’s wrath.
“I take it you haven’t heard anything.”
Patsy was well aware of my search for Losha Kuznetsov, and had done everything she could to help. While her level of security clearance was high or higher than mine, she couldn’t do too much digging without getting in troub
le with Rivet herself.
“Sorry, Pats. Not your fault or your problem.”
“Go talk to him. Get it over with so we can all start enjoying the holiday.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I muttered, cursing myself again for my thoughtlessness.
Patsy motioned with her head toward Rivet’s office, and I stood.
* * *
“You’re not a duke yet,” Rivet barked when I walked in. “Until you are, I outrank you, and I expect you to respond appropriately.”
“Yes, sir. My apologies.”
“The resources of the Secret Intelligence Service are not yours to make use of for personal matters.”
“Understood.” Now wasn’t the time to argue with Rivet, but other than making contact with several of our operatives, I hadn’t used SIS “resources” to search for Kuznetsov.
“That being said, I am authorizing a fact-finding mission.”
“Don’t.”
Rivet raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not ready to give you an answer.”
“You’re under the assumption that I’m authorizing the mission in exchange for your acceptance of the position?”
“To a certain extent.”
“Get the hell out of my office! In fact, get the hell out of the building.”
“Rivet, I meant no—”
“Out!”
At the end of my recount, my brother laughed. “Did you wish him a happy Christmas on your way out?”
I ran my hand through my hair. “He’s frustrated that I won’t give him an answer.”
“No, Shiver, he’s pissed off that you thought so little of him,” he said, referring to me by the code name used by most outside my family.
When my brother didn’t say anything else, I thought perhaps our call had dropped, but then I heard him take a deep breath.
“We’ll find her, but in the meantime, you have to find a way to compartmentalize.”
If my brother were standing in front of me, I’d likely belt him, after which I’d feel equally as guilty as I did about my conversation with Rivet. However, I had no restraint despite knowing I’d experience regret.
“Where the hell is she?” I said in a way I wouldn’t to anyone but my brother.
“I wish I had the answer, Shiv.”
2
Losha
I looked into the most beautiful deep gray eyes that had ever graced the universe. Kazmir wasn’t just the heavens’ most beloved angel given to me as a precious gift; he was my world, and I would do anything to protect him.
“What shall we do today?” I whispered, kissing the baby’s brow.
Kazmir cooed and gave me one of the sweet smiles I craved.
I’d been in hiding since I first discovered I was pregnant, fearful that United Russia, the modern-day iteration of the KGB and the current ruling party of the country, would force me to terminate it.
Shortly after I disappeared, my UR handler discovered the affair I’d been having with MI6 agent Thornton “Shiver” Whittaker and openly accused me of being a double agent. Thus, a bounty had been placed on my head and my assets had been frozen.
I’d been prepared for it, though. I’d been planning my defection—because, in essence, that’s what it was—for over two years, knowing the accusation was inevitable.
The burner cell I kept near the bedside table vibrated, and I ran to grab it.
“Ovsyanaya kasha,” a woman’s voice said. My oldest and dearest friend, Zaryana Ivashov, and I had agreed on the code phrase years ago to identify ourselves to one another.
While Zary was the only person who had the phone’s number, I wasn’t foolish enough to think it would stay that way. United Russia’s reach was global, and eventually, regardless of what fail-safes I put in place, they’d find me.
“Hello, Zary,” I responded. “How are you?”
“I’m worried about you, Losha.”
The code name Zary called me by was one my friend had given me years ago. She’d told me at the time that my long dark hair looked as beautiful as a horse’s mane.
We’d met when the then-KGB took us and several other teenage girls from the orphanages we were living in, and trained us to be spies.
“Orina, please tell me where you are,” Zary pleaded. “You don’t need to hide anymore. The bounty has been lifted.”
I could hear the desperation in my friend’s voice and understood I would’ve felt the same way if the situations were reversed.
If it were just my life at risk, maybe I would’ve believed the words of the only person worthy of my trust when she assured me again and again that I no longer had to stay in hiding. As it was, I couldn’t be too careful.
“It is difficult for me to believe that United Russia would give up so easily.”
“It wasn’t easily, Losha. Shiver—”
From the other room, Kazmir began to cry as though he’d heard Zary’s words and understood the pain they brought me.
While I immediately ended the call, I knew it hadn’t been quickly enough. Zary had to have heard the baby’s cry.
* * *
I was about to park in front of my rented flat after running some errands when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Danger was close; I felt it on every nerve ending.
That the day would come, was inevitable; my only question was, who? Had United Russia found me, or had Shiver?
I looked in the rearview mirror at the beautiful baby sleeping peacefully in the backseat. As hard as it would be to leave the sweet flat we’d called home since shortly after Kazmir was born, we had no choice. Someone had found us, signaling it was time for us to move on.
My only regret was not being able to spend the upcoming holiday in Lapland. After being almost entirely destroyed during World War II, the region had rebuilt, proclaiming itself the official home of Father Christmas. Spending the holiday here was more for me than my son; Kazmir wouldn’t remember anything of our temporary home.
I turned the car around and was about to drive away, when I recognized a man getting out of another SUV.
Axel “Pinch” Fulton. His presence meant three things. Shiver Whittaker was either with him or not far behind; SIS was likely involved in my manhunt; and any hesitation I might have felt over leaving was long gone, like I soon would be.
* * *
“I’m in the States, and…I need help,” I said when I called Zary three days later.
“Where in the States are you?”
“DC.”
“Tell me what you need, Losha.”
“A place to stay. At least temporarily.” My eyes filled with tears looking at my sleeping baby. We’d spent the last two nights in different motels, and the change in surroundings was affecting Kazmir’s sleep. I needed to find a place we could stay for several nights in a row.
“Let me see what I can do.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“I have to tell Gunner.” Zary sighed.
“Why?”
“I can’t help you on my own anymore, Losha. I don’t have the resources.”
“Never mind, then.”
“Wait. Don’t hang up.”
I sighed like Zary had. “What?”
“I trust him. If I ask him not to tell anyone where you are, he won’t.”
I didn’t know what to say. Could I dare trust a man I’d never met based solely on Zary’s opinion? Gunner was a former CIA operative, and along with being Zary’s fiancé, he was a partner in a private intelligence and security firm that Shiver had connections to.
Again, I faced the same dilemma. If it were only me, I could afford to take the risk, but Kazmir’s life was at stake too.
“I heard the baby’s cry,” said Zary. “Let me help you.”
“I’ll call you back.” I abruptly ended the call.
* * *
I looked around the dank and dark motel room. Not knowing when or how I’d be able to generate an income again, I was hesitant to spend any more money than
necessary. I’d stockpiled as much cash as I could without drawing attention to it. If UR had noticed, they would’ve been onto my plan before I’d had time to put everything in place.
Zary had admitted she heard the baby crying; maybe she’d already told Gunner.
A few minutes later, I called her back. “I need help. If you must tell Gunner, I’ll have to accept that. If there is any way you can help me without doing so, I’d consider it a personal favor.”
“A personal favor? Losha, you saved my life. Countless times, in fact. Don’t you realize I would do anything for you?”
The emotion in my one and only friend’s voice brought me to tears. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“I asked you before to give me a couple of hours. Are you able to, or do you need to move immediately?”
“I’ll be okay for a few days.”
“It won’t take that long. Is there anything else you need me to do right now?”
“Just that…”
“What is it?”
“The baby…”
“No one will know except Gunner and me.”
“Thank you,” I whispered a second time.
3
Shiver
“Three trees? Is this really necessary?” complained Wilder.
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