“How did they find us so quickly in this fog? The Alaskan wilderness is huge. What are the odds that they’d pick us out of nowhere?”
“There’s nothing out here but Deadhorse and the road to the coast. They can find those with their instruments, same as you can with your watch,” Thad explained, but he still didn’t like it. Everything about the tiny jet, from its close sweep above their heads to its uncanny skill at spotting them in the wide wilderness, raised his suspicions. He didn’t trust Octavian. At all. “How much do you know about Octavian?”
She checked her watch and began trudging southward again. “Just that he’s dead set on finding you. And he’s apparently very, very wealthy. I gather he’s the reason you abandoned me six years ago? It would be helpful if you could explain more about him.” A look of challenge glinted in her brown eyes.
Thad felt it hit that tender spot in his heart. She was obviously angry with him, and resentful that he hadn’t explained everything long before. He figured she had every right to feel that way, but at the same time, he doubted there was much he could do about it. The situation was far too complicated.
And the appearance of the plane out of the thick fog only made things more complicated. “If Octavian is watching us this closely, it might be difficult for me to slip away and reach Peter before Octavian makes a move.”
Fear rose to Monica’s eyes. “You can’t let that madman get his hands on Peter.”
“I don’t know how I can stop him. We’re too far away. There’s too much ground to cover between here and Seattle, and Octavian has far more resources at his disposal.”
“You’ll have to go along with whatever Octavian says, then. It’s the only way to keep Peter safe.”
“I can’t.” Thad wished there was some way to make her understand. “If I let Octavian have his way, then what? All it proves is that he can bully people, that he can threaten the innocent to get what he wants. It makes him more of a monster, not less. Do you really think Octavian will just let us walk away when this is over?” He gripped her shoulders and answered his own question for her. “It’s never going to be over.”
“Octavian told me that coming to find you was the only way to keep my family safe.” Monica pulled her shoulders free of his hands and broke into a jog, as though the mere thought of their son being in danger was enough to prod her onward again.
It was certainly enough to spur him into a run beside her. “Do you have any idea how long Octavian has known about you? Anyone suspicious lurking around? Any incidents?”
“No, nothing. Yesterday morning, out of the blue a car pulled up and two men swiped me and put me on a plane to Deadhorse. Prior to that, there was nothing to make me think I might be in danger.” She looked up into the dense fog above them. “They came out of the blue. And yet, I wonder if they knew about me all along, and were just biding their time....”
Thad’s heart rebelled against the idea that Monica or their son might have been in danger prior to the recent events in Lydia. “No one knew about you. If they’d known about you or Peter, they’d have gone after you long before this.” He’d given up everything to keep them safe. And yet, he couldn’t deny the possibility that his efforts hadn’t been enough. He’d been proven wrong every time he’d underestimated his adversary’s reach.
“I want to call my parents as soon as we reach Deadhorse.”
Thad’s initial impulse was to talk her out of it. “We don’t want to draw any attention—”
“What do you think that plane was?” Monica protested. “Octavian isn’t taking any chances. If he’s watching us this closely, I’m sure he’s watching Peter. We’ve got to warn my parents.”
Reluctant as he was to admit it, Thad had been thinking the same thing. They couldn’t trust Octavian to stay away from Peter. Though Monica’s parents didn’t have any training to prepare them to protect their grandson, by leaving them in the dark about the danger, they only made it easier for Octavian to get to Peter. Would Octavian make a move on the boy? It was riskier to ignore that likelihood than to act on it.
Thad pulled his satellite phone from the zippered pocket where he’d stashed it. “Here.”
Monica slowed her pace. She looked at the phone and came to a stop, reaching for it hesitantly. “Do you think...”
“I think you’re right. I don’t like it, I don’t know what good it’s going to do, but we need to let your parents know to be on their guard—to hide Peter subtly, if they can.” He handed over the phone. “Call them.”
Monica felt the jolt of awareness that stung her hand as Thad pressed the phone into her palm, but she chose to ignore it. She had more important things to think about. And the anger she felt toward him was far stronger than any lingering sense of attraction.
Dialing her parents’ home number, she felt her heartbeat thumping furiously, in spite of the fact that she’d slowed her run to barely a walk. Peter had to be kept safe. She clutched the phone and waited for an answer.
“Miller residence,” her mother answered with the familiar words she’d been using for all of Monica’s life.
“Mom?”
“Monica? Are you okay? You said you wouldn’t be able to contact—”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Monica cut to the reason for her call. “How’s Peter?”
“He’s great. He’s been swinging on the swing in the backyard all evening.”
“Are you in the backyard with him?”
“I was watching out the window while I did the dinner dishes, until just this moment when I answered the—oh. That’s odd.”
“What?”
“The swing.”
“What? Mom, is Peter okay?”
“The swing is still swinging, but... just a minute.”
Monica wasn’t about to wait a minute, or even another second for an answer. “Mom? Where’s Peter? Can you see him?”
“He’s not on the swing.” Sheila Miller sounded breathless, and Monica guessed her mother had run outside. To find Peter—she had to find Peter.
“Where is he? Is he okay?” She met Thad’s eyes as she waited for an answer that would assure her that her son was fine. Thad looked alarmed—he’d clearly picked up from her side of the conversation that Peter wasn’t accounted for.
Finally, Sheila Miller answered breathlessly, “The back gate is open. There’s a car in the alley. They’re driving— No, no!”
“Mom, what is it?” Monica pleaded for answers, though she was nearly certain she already knew what her mother was about to say. Thad pressed his head close to hers, gripping her shoulder with one hand while he leaned close to hear what was happening.
A frantic sob broke through the phone, and Monica could hear the breathless panic in her mother’s voice as she ran down the alley after the retreating vehicle. “They’ve got Peter in that car. They’re driving away with my grandson!”
THREE
“Get the license plate number.” Thad clutched Monica’s shoulders as she relayed his instructions to her mother. “Have her call the local police. Get a make, model, color—anything they can use to track them down. Maybe the authorities can catch them before they leave town.” Thad felt the futility of his words even as he spoke them. The police wouldn’t know who they were dealing with. They’d been outmaneuvered all along. Octavian had probably kept his men watching Peter and waiting for orders to take him.
As Monica repeated his instructions in a choking voice, he pulled her against his shoulder, as though by holding her tight, he coul
d somehow keep his son from slipping away. She clung to him for just a moment before ducking from his hold and pushing him away. She handed his phone back a moment later.
“My mom is calling the police.” She glared at him, her eyes red-rimmed, before turning and running toward Deadhorse again, this time in a furious sprint.
Thad hurried after her. “He’ll be okay. They won’t harm him.”
“How do you know that?” She spun to face him, half stumbling over her own feet in the process. “Octavian said he wouldn’t touch Peter as long as I did what he asked. I did what he asked. I found you. So why did he take my son?” Monica’s voice squeaked with panic.
It was all Thad could do to keep up with her. He wished he could think of words that would reassure her, but he had none. Octavian didn’t play fair—he didn’t even follow his own rules. The evil man had used Peter’s safety to convince Monica to find Thad. No doubt he’d gone in for Peter as soon as he was certain he’d flushed Thad out.
Octavian was hedging his bets. He had both heirs to the throne in his hands now.
The madman couldn’t lose.
“Peter has to be okay.” Monica stumbled over the uneven ground. “Can you promise me he’ll be okay?”
Thad caught her before she fell completely. “I promise, he’ll—”
But she didn’t let him finish. “What good is your promise, anyway? You’ll say whatever you have to.” She tore her arm from his steadying grasp and darted off again, her accusation lingering in the air behind her.
Thad wavered for a moment as though he’d been struck. He wanted to shake off the guilt her words heaped on him, but he found the charges stuck all too well. Catching up to her again, he attempted to defend himself. “Peter will be okay.”
She didn’t look at him, but sniffled as she ran forward. “He’s probably terrified.” She panted as she strained to greater speed. “I’ve got to get to him.”
Thad was surprised by the effort he had to expend to keep up with his wife. “Slow down,” he urged her finally. “It’s a long journey. You’re not going to be any use to him if you wear yourself out now.”
With stuttering steps Monica slowed, and finally came to a stop bent double, grasping her knees.
He thought for a moment she was simply catching her breath.
Then she gasped a tear-filled, wrenching sob and sagged toward the permafrost.
Thad caught her by the shoulders. “He’ll be okay.”
Wrestling away from him, Monica pushed him back, pounding him in the shoulder, her small fists hardly making a dent past the thick down lining of his jacket. “This is your fault. My son is gone because of you. I shouldn’t have come. I should have tried harder to get away from Octavian. I should have told him no. It’s your kingdom, it’s your problem.” She groaned and shoved him in the chest with both hands. “I should have never taken a second look at you.”
Thad realized she’d gone from blaming him for their son’s abduction to regretting ever befriending him in the first place, at the start of their friendship that had led to their whirlwind romance and marriage.
He hung his head. Having reached the same conclusion when he’d left her after their elopement, he’d tried to pretend they’d never been in love. But the pain that stung his heart told him he’d never forgotten. And this new pain—the pain for the son he’d never met, and might never meet, now that Octavian had him.
“If we’d never met, you wouldn’t have Peter.” His words stilled her fighting for just a moment.
“I don’t have him now,” she spat back, twisting away with enough force to tear herself from his arms.
He let her go, and watched as she staggered back down the path, running through the bleak fog.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. As he pulled it out, he called to her, “Monica, come back—my phone is ringing. It might be an update from your mother.”
The identity of the caller was blocked, but Thad didn’t hesitate to answer, relieved when he saw Monica emerge from the fog on her way back toward him, cautious hope welling in her eyes.
But it wasn’t Sheila Miller’s voice that responded to his hello.
The voice came from his worst nightmares, and echoed with evil.
It was the same voice that had banished him from his kingdom.
“Thaddeus of Lydia?”
He hadn’t answered to that name in six years. “Yes?”
“I have your son.”
Thad met Monica’s eyes for an instant before he had to look away. He couldn’t let her read the awful news from his face. Instead he turned his back to her.
Before he could muster up a response, the voice continued. “My plane will pick you up in Deadhorse and bring you to my island. You and your wife must come alone. Don’t try to tell anyone where you’re going. I’ll be watching you closely. Besides, your destination lies beyond the jurisdiction of anyone who can help you.” The voice chuckled with far too much pleasure. “If you want to see your son alive, don’t miss your flight.”
The call ended, and Thad reluctantly pocketed his phone and turned back around to face Monica.
The furious red that had colored her cheeks moments before had drained to stark white. “What? Thad, tell me. Is Peter...”
“Octavian has him.” Thad swallowed, the images of the power-hungry multibillionaire resurfacing from the meetings that had sent Thad running into self-imposed exile in the first place.
“Is he okay? Did you talk to Peter? What’s he going to do with him?”
Monica’s simple questions echoed through his mind, but he had no easy answers. Was Peter really okay? Thad couldn’t say. He couldn’t predict what Octavian would do next. How could he try to think like a man so powerful, so relentless, so evil?
“I didn’t talk to Peter.” Thad answered the only question he could. “Octavian wants us to meet his plane in Deadhorse.” He shook his head. There was no sense trying to avoid the connection now. Even if he managed to sneak away, it wouldn’t accomplish anything—not if Octavian had Peter. There was no other option for them now but to follow Octavian’s demands.
“And then what? What’s he going to do with us?” Monica asked.
“You’ve met him. Did he tell you what he wants?” They weren’t going to get Peter back unless they started moving. Octavian had warned him not to miss the flight. He took a few steps before realizing he’d lost track of the road as they’d run from the plane. He didn’t know where they were. He didn’t know what to do, or how he’d get his son back. Reeling in Monica’s direction, he lifted her wrist and peered at the face of the watch that was supposed to guide them back to Deadhorse.
“I didn’t actually meet him. We spoke over the phone while I was on the jet to Deadhorse.” Monica jerked her hand from his grasp. “This way.” She set off at a brisk walk, not bothering to run this time.
He suspected she was exhausted. More than that, he doubted there was any point in running anymore. And it seemed she wanted to talk.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about this Octavian person who has my son.”
Thad struggled to think where to begin.
“I’m serious. We need to outsmart this guy, and he already has every advantage.” There was that commanding tone in her voice again, that unfamiliar note that demanded compliance.
“Octavian is the reason I went into hiding. He’s a chess virtuoso turned billionaire mogul turned...” Thad struggled to think of how to describe s
omeone so calculating, so determined...so invincible.
“Who is he?”
“He’s gone by many names. He was born Demitri Hasangjekaj in 1951. By the age of eight, he’d risen to international fame as a chess master, but during that time his parents divorced, and he bounced back and forth between his parents and grandparents, eventually taking his mother’s new last name, Korkizoglou.”
“Sounds unsettling.”
“It was. He was eventually barred from competitive chess because of his violent temper. He couldn’t stand losing.” Thad had pondered the man’s history during his years of isolation, and drawn a few conclusions about the domineering figure. “He still can’t.”
After a moment’s silence, Monica prompted him. “After he was barred from playing chess...”
“He invested his winnings in real estate and the stock market. By some calculations, he’d amassed his first hundred million dollars in assets by the age of twenty-five. The more he gained, the more he wanted. He hates having his whims denied. After clashing with the governments of the various nations where he held property, over everything from building code restrictions to rules about exotic pets, he decided he didn’t want anyone to tell him what to do. He’s purchased isolated islands all over the world, and applied to the United Nations for membership as a recognized nation.”
“What?” Monica interrupted his story. “He applied for nationhood status? I thought he was just one man.”
“One very powerful man, who doesn’t want to be controlled by anyone.”
“So what did the U.N. do?”
“After they got done laughing at his request, they turned him down.”
“They turned down the guy who hates being denied anything? Please tell me he learned his lesson.”
“Unfortunately, their refusal had quite the opposite effect. It galvanized his determination to buy a seat, no matter what the cost. Regrettably, when he first approached my father, no one in Lydia realized what he was after.”
The Missing Monarch Page 4
