Marcello & Grace (Royals of Valleria #2)

by Knightly, Marianne

  His earpiece murmured occasionally with news from the others nearby. There were ten on this expedition, all of them behind him.

  Danica, intelligence head for Estoria, followed with one of her own security. Similarly, Joseph, intelligence head for Byelorus, trudged behind with one of his own men. Gregory, intelligence head of Litva, had agreed to Marcello’s terms and sent a man in his place who looked just as shifty and untrustworthy as Gregory did.

  Along with them were four of Marcello’s own men and women, selected by him personally for this mission. Two near the rear, one in the middle, and one just beside Marcello.

  After a long flight, they had landed on a small airstrip in the middle of nowhere. No other buildings, not even a control tower, had been nearby. From there, a two-hour car trip had taken them to the outskirts of the wilderness.

  They had spent three hours so far trudging through the dark with little or no light. Though many of them wore night-vision goggles, Marcello, who could never use them for long stretches of time, was currently using his own eyes. Though Valleria’s military technology contained night-vision contact lenses, he was not about to reveal that technology here, where others could not be trusted. He did, however, have some tucked away on his person, in case he needed to make a run for it.

  The hike to the inconsequential stone gray building was a quiet one but for the occasional comment. No one trusted anyone, yet they were forced to count on everyone to get through this mission alive.

  After another hour of focused hiking, a stream of lights filtered through the thick trees. They were getting closer now.

  Adrenaline, which had already been keeping Marcello primed and alert, surged as the tension and anticipation grew. Within thirty minutes, they finally reached the outer fences of the property.

  Vlad’s soldiers, dressed in black boots and camouflage clothes, nodded their heads as the group approached. Marcello noticed they held their guns tighter, but didn’t point them at the group. Marcello knew that could change at any time.

  The fenced gate slowly opened and the group wound their way inside. Marcello had studied satellite photos of the building and the surrounding areas; if he had to, he already knew which way was the best for escape.

  What Marcello had not been able to easily ascertain, was the inside layout of the building. He would soon find out if the rumours he’d heard were true, and worth the price he had paid for them.

  The group was escorted towards the building by several guards. Lights and security cameras surrounded the windowless building, barbed wire that sat atop the fence kept others out and, perhaps, kept others from escaping. Marcello had already anticipated this, and was prepared.

  The guards swept them and their backpacks for weapons before allowing them to go inside. They had been told to come unarmed, and that was what Marcello and his agents appeared to be. Marcello and his soldiers were under no illusions, however; if they could sneak weapons into this mission, so could the others.

  When they entered the building, they found only one large room inside. A small area to the right had a sink and counter, while a mysterious set of stairs leading underground were situated in the back. Marcello had already guessed that Vlad used this place for torture when it suited him; he assumed the stairs led to an underground torture chamber.

  Vlad himself could only be described as square. His square head sat atop a fit but square-shaped torso and legs that were just a little too short for his frame. His eyes, naturally narrow, took each of them in as they entered. He sat at the only table in the room, sipping coffee casually from a fine porcelain cup with more armed soldiers standing behind him.

  Vlad’s hair was a light blond, which fleetingly reminded Marcello of another blond now ever-present on his mind. However, Marcello pushed thoughts of Grace away; if he didn’t stay focused, he may never see her again, and that was unacceptable.

  Vlad gestured that they each take a seat, and so Marcello, Danica, Joseph, and Gregory’s stand-in sat down; their protection remained standing.

  “Well, I hope the journey was not a difficult one,” Vlad said in a thick accent easily recognizable of his country and language.

  Marcello knew all too well that pleasantries were a necessary part of any political or diplomatic game. His instincts, however, were telling him to move the meeting along, so he spoke first.

  “President Vlad, allow me to speak for everyone when I offer our thanks to you for agreeing to meet with us. We are pleased to see that you respect national boundaries and diplomacy in this modern age.”

  Vlad raised an eyebrow and calmly put down his cup onto its saucer, causing a light tinkling sound. The bright nature of the sound belied the heavy tension in the room.

  “That is a very backhanded compliment, Prince Marcello.”

  Marcello had intended it to be. “I apologize for causing any offense.”

  “I don’t believe you are sincere in your apology,” Vlad said.

  “President Vlad,” Danica said, interrupting before the meeting was declared over barely after it had begun. “We do thank you for meeting with us.”

  “I don’t deal with women,” Vlad said with a dismissive hand. “They are weak creatures meant to keep my home and my bed.”

  Danica’s eyes flashed but she held her tongue, as did the female agent Marcello had brought along.

  “Then allow me to speak,” Gregory’s stand-in said. “You will not invade our countries. That’s the end of it.”

  A collective intake of breath wound around the room. Clearly, Gregory’s stand-in was just as clueless and useless as Gregory, though perhaps that had been his point all along.

  “How dare you?” Vlad asked, his eyes wide with contempt. “You dare speak to me that way?”

  Joseph interrupted. “You are amassing your army near our borders. Do you think we’re so stupid that we don’t realize it?” Joseph said, apparently deciding to side with Litva. Interesting, Marcello thought. If Byelorus and Litva were in league together to ruin this meeting, then Marcello would have to alter his plans slightly.

  Marcello, whose hand been resting casually, yet purposefully, on the table, began to strum his fingers in a code, which would let his team know which backup plan would now be in play.

  “You are stupid,” Marcello said to Joseph just as Vlad was about to respond to Joseph’s comments. “You’re stupid if you think Vlad or Gardar Rus care anything about respect. He certainly hasn’t done anything to earn the world’s respect, have you, Vlad?”

  “That is President Vlad to you. You will show me some respect!” he said as he slammed his thick-fingered fist on the table, sending his cup clattering.

  Marcello continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “You don’t even have respect for your own citizens, do you? How many times have you violated human rights? How many times have international aid workers tried to help the massive amount of impoverished people in your country, only to have you either kill them or chase them out?”

  “Stop this! I will not tolerate this talk about my homeland. This is treason. Treason!”

  “I’m not from Gardar Rus so it’s not treason, it’s truth.”

  “Enough! This meeting is over. There will be do agreement, there will no diplomacy. I will invade any country which I choose, and there is nothing you will do about it. Nothing! I will have all of your countries by month’s end and more! I will kill as many of your citizens as I choose and there is nothing you can do about it.” His eyes were wild, and his face was gleeful.

  Marcello was able to hold back the smile on his lips, though not the one in his eyes. A full confession from Vlad had not been expected but fit well into Marcello’s plan. Marcello had known diplomacy would never work with Vlad. What Vlad did not know, however, was that a small recording device embedded in Marcello’s shirt had recorded his full confession, and would soon be released to the international media.

  “Well, then,” Marcello said as he stood, tapping his fingers in what would appear to the others as
an absentminded motion. “We’re done here. Valleria will halt all trade with Gardar Rus and we will ask our allies to do the same.”

  “You cannot do that!” Vlad said as he stood. The soldiers behind him held their guns in a firmer grip.

  “It’s already done. We actually took care of that by Royal Order before I even left to come here.”

  “So you never intended to pursue a diplomatic course of action?” Joseph asked Marcello, his hand fisted beside him as he also stood.

  “Of course. ‘Diplomacy’ is not in Vlad’s vocabulary.”

  “Well, it is unfortunate that you chose to hide your true plan from us,” Joseph said. “Damn it, we’re supposed to be in this together.”

  Marcello, who had slipped his backpack on again, crossed his hands over his chest; the movement brought his hands closer to the weapons hidden in the backpack’s straps. “It’s interesting that you say that, Joseph. It looks to me like you and Gregory formed a side-alliance, or am I wrong?” At the look of shock and recognition in Joseph’s eyes, Marcello said, “I thought not.”

  “I knew it,” Danica said as she backed away from the other men and towards Marcello. “I knew you were both in on something together.”

  “Of course we were,” Gregory’s stand-in spurted out. “Did you think that Byelorus really wanted to align with either of your countries? Of course not. Byelorus and Litva, along with a very interested third-party, decided we should kill you on our journey back, and we intend to do it.”

  Marcello’s team stood tense and ready behind him; they had trained for just such a scenario. “Who’s the third-party?”

  Joseph smiled deviously. “Don’t you know? Even if we don’t succeed here, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  Marcello put those words aside for now; there would be time to discover who the mysterious party was later. “I suppose Vlad was in on the whole thing, too?”

  Vlad smiled, and it was clear his face was not used to the movement. The smile came out twisted and only drew his face into a more ominous light. “It was in my best interests.”

  Marcello shook his head and faced Joseph again. “You’re really going to let him invade your country? Kill your people? Enslave them as he’s done his own?”

  “He agreed to spare my people if I gave him Valleria and Estoria. It is in the best interests of Byelorus.”

  “If you believe a word Vlad says, you’re dumber than I thought.” Marcello circled his head on his neck and rolled back his shoulders; more signs to his team. With his peripheral vision, he saw them began to slightly adjust their stance.

  “Enough,” Vlad said with another slam of his fist, and table and teacup rattled again. “This meeting is over. Guards, escort everyone downstairs. I’m going to have some fun with them before I kill them.”

  “What?” Joseph said, shocked. “You gave me your word.”

  “And I want your country,” Vlad said. After a dismissive wave of Vlad’s hand, the guards took hold of Joseph and Gregory’s stand-in, as well as their personal security.

  When the guards began to advance, he, Danica, and their teams all braced for the fight of their lives.

  Chapter 16

  Tens of thousands of miles away, Grace ran as Lord Picford advanced towards her. She searched for anything nearby that could help her, anything she could use in defense. Memories featuring Daniel came flooding back.

  She’d run and run and run from Daniel, but it had never helped. In her heart, she knew it may not help this time either but she would not go down without the fight of her life.

  As she ran into the Temple, she ducked around the couch, forcing him to circle it with her.

  “Get over here, you little bitch.”

  “No,” she said and felt stronger because of it. Such a simple word with so much power.

  He growled. “You ruined my life, and now I’m going to end yours.”

  “You can try,” she said more bravely than she felt.

  “If Daniel had killed you like he should have, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “He probably would have, one day,” she said, refusing to let the admission weaken her resolve.

  “Then I’ll just have to do it for him,” he said and then lunged at her, screaming.

  She easily out-maneuvered him, his girth giving him a disadvantage. Her success was short-lived as he got up and lunged after her again.

  Her slim figure darted through the room and towards the front door. Her adrenaline was pumping, her heart was racing, and her palms were sweaty from fear and remembrance.

  As she reached the doorway, she heard a loud grunt and felt a tug as his thick fingers grasped the tail of her trench coat. He tugged harder and her feet slipped.

  She braced her hands in front of her as she fell. When she hit the stone floor, she cried out as flesh scraped and tore. Another memory flashed in her mind; another floor, another time, another man.

  This time would have a different outcome.

  Unable to scramble away from him, she twisted to face him while trying to slip off the coat. Her feet, clad only in useless flats and not damaging heels, flailed at him.

  “Stay still, you fucking bitch!” he said as he tried to grab her legs. In a lucky move for him, he managed to punch her face. As blackness and stars swam in her eyes, she pushed back more of her memories to focus on staying awake. God only knew what he would do to her if she lost consciousness now.

  She continued to flail and, in a lucky move for her, she managed to kick him in the head. In the split second he was dazed by the move, she managed to remove the coat.

  When he came towards her again, she quickly pulled the coat out from under her and threw it over his face. The mere seconds it took him to remove it was her salvation.

  She skidded backward on hurt hands, then quickly stood and turned at the same time. She ran out the door and down the path, and heard his heavy footsteps falling in step not far behind her.

  More memories. Another set of heavy footsteps, another angry voice causing her to cringe. The metallic taste of fear and dread coated her mouth.

  She swallowed and pushed back the haunting memories as she reached the stone bridge. She thought of how she and Marcello had crossed that bridge together only days ago, hand-in-hand.

  Marcello, she thought. His name gave her strength. His faith in her gave her strength. His love for her gave her strength. But it was her love for him that was the strongest of all.

  She had to live, had to survive. She wanted a life with him, not a past never forgotten. It ends now. The past ends now.

  She ran faster even while her assailant shouted at her from behind. Despite his size, he was able to keep up fairly well with her. She just had to get to the house and the guards.

  Instead of approaching the house from the back, she approached the front, where she knew guards were to be stationed at all times. As she got closer, she began screaming for help, for anyone.

  But no one came.

  No one, except Catharine.

  “Go back inside,” Grace yelled as Cat ran towards her.

  “The guards are coming,” Cat yelled back. “I won’t leave you alone.”

  “Go back, go back,” Grace pleaded, even while she wanted Cat there.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Cat said as she finally caught up to Grace and began to run beside her.

  Grace, finally willing to accept help, nodded and began moving towards the front door. Just as they reached it, it swung open and two guards went barreling past them towards their attacker.

  Relieved that help was here, Grace slowed her run to a stop on the gravel driveway, Cat doing the same beside her.

  But they stopped too soon.

  Lord Picford caught up to them and lunged at them from behind. The guards were still several feet away when he began to thump their heads against the gravel below. The women turned and threw him off, causing him to land spread eagle on the ground.

  The guards approached with their weapons drawn a
nd Lord Picford screamed in frustration. “I’m not going back,” he yelled and started to get up.

  Grace, unwilling to let him get away again, kicked him in the balls, causing him to cry in agony. She wished again that she’d been wearing heels.

  “Shut up, you useless pig,” Grace said, her breathing heavy and head hot with anger. It ends today. No more. No more.

  “You bitch!” he groaned.

  “Use any name you want, but you’re going to jail and for a long time, too.”

  “I’ll be out soon enough,” he spat at them, his hands still cupping his balls until the guards drew them behind his back to cuff him.