“Tell me about your family,” he said, changing the subject. He wondered what privileged family she belonged to. If they were local, he surely knew them. Her accent was that of a Santinian, but he knew so little about her. She could’ve moved here for IFRT. He wondered now how she’d originally become involved.
Her hand trembled, and she almost spilled the wine.
Asher’s eyes narrowed at her odd reaction.
“What do you want to know?” Abi asked, not looking at him.
“Everything,” Asher said, still trying to read her.
“I don’t talk about my family. It’s best people don’t know who I am. It creates unnecessary risk,” she said, handing him a glass.
“I get that, but you’re asking me to take a huge risk by getting involved in this project, yet you won’t tell me anything about yourself,” Asher said, his tone more accusatory than he intended.
Abi sighed. “I have two sisters, both younger than I am. My mother and father are in the importing business,” she said, seeming to watch him carefully.
“What do they import?” Asher asked, the names of prominent families reeling through his mind.
Abi paused, seeming to search her glass for answers. “Textiles,” she said.
Asher raised his eyebrows. “Well, that narrows it down,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. The majority of the prominent importers were in textiles.
She gave a small smile. “Why does it matter? I am not my family, nor am I involved in the family business. IFRT is my entire life. No boyfriend, few friends outside this circle. I am my own person.”
Asher didn’t like her defensive tone, but he did like that she’d revealed there was no boyfriend. He shouldn’t have cared about that—he’d only just met her, and she was involved in everything he shouldn’t be—but he couldn’t deny that it pleased him.
“Okay,” Asher said, but he still wasn’t ready to drop the family connection. “I’m not asking for a detailed life history, Abi.”
Abi chewed on her bottom lip and gave a resigned sigh. “Mackenzie. My surname is Mackenzie,” she said without looking at him as she continued to pour the wine.
Asher couldn’t recall any Mackenzies he knew, at least not wealthy ones in the importing business. Perhaps they weren’t local. He dropped it—for now. “Good. No more family talk,” he said with a smile. “Let’s talk about the operations of IFRT. I want to know the details of how you run these operations. I know there’s a more intricate strategy than just using informants, and if I’m going to get involved, I want to know exactly what I’m getting myself into.”
She pursed her lips and met his gaze. “Take a seat. We might be here for a while.”
Asher grinned as he turned, moving toward the seats. He was happy to spend all night with Abi Mackenzie.
Abi paused at a bookshelf, and he was surprised when she swung it open, revealing rows of heavy-duty filing cabinets. She opened a drawer and pulled out a file.
She walked back to him, sat on the chair opposite, and passed him the file. “Everything you need to know is in here,” she said. “This is the work that goes into one rescue mission.”
He placed his glass of wine on the table and opened the file. He felt Abi’s eyes on him as he looked through the various documents, reading some of the reports. “Do you go into the field?”
“If needed, yes. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes villagers—civilians—will only talk to me. They want to meet me to make sure they’re passing information to the right people,” Abi said, threading her fingers together to stop herself from fidgeting.
“That’s dangerous,” Asher said, stating the obvious.
“There’s risk in everything we do with IFRT, but someone needs to do it.”
Asher met her gaze. That might be true, but why her? “What do your parents think of IFRT?”
“My father wishes I’d become an accountant.”
Asher chuckled. He didn’t doubt that.
He looked over her, not for the first time tonight. She was different than he’d imagined. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected the leader of IFRT to look like—but he definitely hadn’t expected this tall beauty with the legs of a supermodel. Her brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, highlighting her strong cheekbones and heart-shaped jaw. Her olive skin matched that of a Santinian. She was beautiful, and he wondered if her beauty brought her more attention than she realized.
Her perfectly manicured fingernails, painted black, were clasped together on her knee. Her appearance was more polished than he’d expected, but he knew someone in her role would have to deal with dignitaries and other figures of importance. He studied her another moment, and she knew he was doing just that. She looked away like she was withholding something from him, and he wanted the opposite. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know everything. He wondered how old she was, but judged her to be a few years younger than he was. He doubted she was over thirty.
Asher returned his attention to the reports, hoping they might tell him something she didn’t want to. He combed through them, surprised to see more than a few familiar names. Her network was broad—and unlikely.
“I’m surprised to see some of these names,” Asher said lightly, watching her carefully.
“Why?” Abi asked, giving away nothing.
“Because some of these men, like Daniel Telfar, are known to be difficult to deal with.”
Abi eyed him, as if choosing her words carefully. “I think it depends on who they’re dealing with.”
Their eyes met, and Asher understood what she hadn’t said: the monarchy found them hard to deal with because they didn’t respect the monarchy—but they did respect Abi.
She continued, “They only accept our bribes because they believe in what we’re doing. They’re not corrupt men.”
Asher nodded, and he knew that to be true. Having this list of names, if he played his cards right, might actually be a good thing to help repair his family’s reputation.
“What exactly do you want from me?” Asher asked. “Do you need money in addition to the contacts?”
Abi shook her head. “No, I have money.”
Asher raised an eyebrow.
“I want contacts within the government. Primarily, I want clearances for my team through blockades and across borders. Weapons included.”
“I don’t know if I can do that, not without the King finding out,” Asher said, but truthfully he was already trying to work out ways to make it happen for her.
“Noah thinks otherwise,” Abi said.
“Noah is guessing,” Asher said bluntly, then quickly shook his head. “I’ll need to ask a few questions. I can’t give you an answer tonight.”
Abi nodded. “Thank you.”
Their eyes locked, and Asher couldn’t look away.
“If you do get involved in IFRT, and the King finds out, what will happen?” Abi asked.
Asher didn’t know if she was asking for his sake or for IFRT’s.
He sighed. “My father is an empathetic man, but he has to play political games. I honestly don’t know what he would think of IFRT. I would like to think he would support the organization if his hands weren’t tied. But you’re smuggling people over our borders with fake documents, and you’re rescuing people—and therefore antagonizing terrorist groups—in neighboring kingdoms, which could have consequences for them in addition to Santina. The King has worked hard to keep our country safe. But if, say, JISO terrorists become particularly pissed off at you, they could retaliate with an attack on Santina. My involvement would only increase that possibility.”
“Then why are you willing to get involved?” Abi asked, biting her lip.
“Because I think it’s an important cause, and I think I have just enough power to make a difference without bringing attention to my family. I’m not the crown prince,” Asher said with a wicked smile.
“Do you ever wish you were?” Abi asked, then seemed to reg
ret asking the question.
“No,” he said without pause. “I have never wanted that title. I like the freedom my position gives me, while still granting me the ability to serve our people.”
Abi’s eyes softened. “They say the two princes couldn’t be less alike.”
Asher smiled sadly. “Actually, we’re not that different, or at least we weren’t growing up. The title and responsibility sits heavily on Alistair’s shoulders, and he makes poor decisions. He’ll learn to deal with his responsibilities,” Asher said quickly, lightheartedly. He knew it sounded like he was trying to convince Abi. Hell, he was trying to convince himself.
“He won’t have a choice, will he?” Abi asked matter-of-factly.
“He’s the firstborn son, and we’ve never had a crown prince abdicate. While it’s possible, I suppose, it won’t happen. I know my father and my brother, and I can’t ever foresee that happening. Alistair is capable enough, he just needs to think straight.”
Asher dropped his eyes to the file and closed it. He had enough information to make a start. He would help Abi as much as he could, without detriment to his father or Santina. He drank the last mouthful of his wine and knew it was time to go.
Asher’s eyes locked on hers and his chest warmed.
“You’re surprising,” Abi said.
“I am?” Asher asked. He thought the same of her. “How so?”
“You weren’t who I was expecting,” she said vaguely.
“Who were you expecting? A royal, pompous ass?” Asher asked with a grin.
Abi laughed and her eyes danced. “I thought you might be a little more like Alistair,” she admitted.
In a world where women said what they thought Asher wanted to hear, and did things they thought he wanted to see, Abi seemingly did none of that.
His gaze fell to her lips and then he looked away.
“Well, I hope you’re pleased with who turned up tonight,” Asher said casually, but he meant every word.
She gave a beautiful smile. “Thank you again for coming,” she said.
Asher stood, reluctantly. He could’ve talked to her all night.
She walked him to the door.
“Where is your security team?” she asked.
“Outside. They’ve been waiting since Noah left,” Asher said.
Abi nodded, seeming to shrink back behind the doorframe.
Asher extended his hand. “We’ll talk soon,” he said, noting her firm handshake.
“Goodnight, Asher,” she said, closing the door.
He heard the locks activate as he walked down the stairs.
“Asher,” his security guard, Jesse, said as he was swarmed by the team and led to the car. With each step he took, he contemplated going back inside.
But he kept walking to the safety of his car.
Abi
She watched him walk to the car, flanked by a security team, and a moment later he was gone. She stared at the empty parking lot, watching droplets fall and splatter on the concrete. Soon the rain was too heavy to see the parking lot, and she closed the drapes. She filed away the documents Asher had been reading, tipped the remnants of her wine down her throat, and locked the office. There was no security team to escort her, but she didn’t need one. She was a nobody in this world, and that’s the way she liked it.
Abi drove through the quiet streets. There were few cars on the road, but she drove carefully anyway. Rachel always said she drove like an old lady—something Abi said was an insult to old ladies.
The IFRT headquarters was conveniently located just a few blocks from her apartment. During the day Abi walked to the office, but at night she drove to make sure she was safe. She pulled into her apartment complex basement and took the elevator to the second level. She could’ve purchased the penthouse, but instead she’d chosen the second floor. She had a fear of heights, and she wanted to save the money for IFRT.
She often wondered what people would say at her funeral, because no one knew what she did. Her father thought she had a purely administrative role within IFRT, which he disapproved of even though he admitted it was a worthy cause. Abi didn’t blame him for that. If she had a child, she’d hardly encourage the child to walk into the situation Abi was in.
But Abi was in.
All in.
And nothing would stop her now.
She’d barely taken a step into her apartment before the telephone rang. Abi ran for it, knowing it was either her family or Rachel—no one else had her home phone number.
“Hello?” Abi said.
“Oh, so you decided to come home tonight,” Rachel said playfully.
“You called earlier, I assume,” Abi said.
“You’re right, I did. So tell me, now that you’ve spent a good portion of the night with Prince Asher . . . what do you think of him?”
Abi could almost hear her smile.
“I think you were right,” she admitted, refraining from groaning. Although Abi wanted his help—his connections—she’d also wanted to dislike him. It would have been easier, then, to support her father’s feud with the King.
Rachel chuckled softly. “Charming, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Rachel, he is charming. Uncharacteristically so. He showed none of the arrogance I was expecting. He seemed like—”
“A normal guy,” Rachel offered. “That’s why we all love him . . . and hate Alistair.” Rachel laughed. “Well, not all women hate Alistair.”
Alistair had bedded half the city, while his brother had—to Abi’s limited knowledge—never so much as been seen on a date. Abi doubted that was true, though, because Prince Asher was a smooth operator. There was something magnetic about him.
Abi shook her head, appalled at herself for thinking like a fifteen-year-old girl.
“Seriously, though, what did he want to talk about?” Rachel asked.
“He wanted operative details. He said if he was getting involved, he wanted the full scope.”
Rachel paused for a long moment. “You didn’t give him that, right?”
Abi grimaced as guilt blossomed in her chest like a disease. “No, I gave him the mock-up file.”
Another pause. “And you feel guilty,” Rachel said. It wasn’t a question.
Abi sighed. “I think we owe him the truth. He’s putting himself in a risky position, partnering with us.”
“Let’s see what he comes to the table with first. Let’s see if he really is trustworthy.”
“Right, but by then the damage will already be done,” Abi said, slumping into the armchair beside the phone.
“Did he press you for personal information?” Rachel asked.
Abi groaned. “I gave him the surname Mackenzie. He dropped it after that, but I don’t know . . . he might still look into it.”
“I thought he might. Well, he’s going to be pissed if he ever figures out who you are and that you lied to him. So maybe that’ll cloud the anger about the edited file,” she said impishly.
“Not funny, Rachel,” Abi said, rubbing her tired eyes.
“I know, bad joke. He can find out easily, though, if he wants to. He does have a full security team at his service.”
“Yeah, I know,” Abi replied. Perhaps she should’ve worn a disguise, but she’d already met Noah several times when he and Rachel had been dating.
Rachel sighed. “We just need the government official contacts. Once we have them, we can create our own relationships,” Rachel said.
It was true, but they needed time to do that.
How long would they have before Asher discovered her true identity and cut all ties with IFRT?
Light was creeping in behind the curtains when Abi opened her eyes. She sat upright and stretched her back, her neck stiff and aching from sleeping awkwardly in the armchair. She’d spent an hour thinking about the potential mess she’d created with Prince Asher before finally drifting off to sleep.
Coffee.
Abi needed a strong cup.
She walked like a zombie tow
ard the coffee machine and powered it up. The green light flashed when it was ready, and the smell alone made her smile. She pulled her phone from her pocket, surprised to see two messages.
Energy flooded through her as she looked at the names.
Prince Asher: Colonel Stevens is in charge of border security for the next three weeks. This is his number. He will take your call.
A smile lit up Abi’s face. Screw the coffee—she had everything she needed. And he’d done it so fast. She typed a response:
Thank you, Asher! We really appreciate it. I’ll provide you with an update.
And if the second message contained what she thought it did, Asher’s message couldn’t have come a second too soon.
Sabrina: Location confirmed. Women identified. Crew are on standby, waiting for your confirmation to proceed.
Abi drew a long breath, mindlessly sipped on her hot coffee, and typed a response.
We’re ready. I’ll meet you at IFRT.
Abi’s toe tapped on the floor.
Stay strong, ladies, she thought. We’re coming for you.
The women they rescued were just a drop in the ocean of the women and children kidnapped and abused—but they still deserved to be saved. They all deserved a chance.
Abi’s excitement was quickly squashed by an incoming call. She looked at the name warily; he never called to chat.
William Bennett.
“Father,” Abi said sweetly.
“Hello, Abigail,” he said.
“What do you want?” Abi asked, sounding more like her usual self.
He chuckled. “To chat with my favorite daughter.”
Abi raised her eyebrows. “Best not let the golden children hear you say that,” Abi said, but knew her younger sisters wouldn’t believe she was his favorite anyway.
“They’re not around,” he said.
Abi nodded absently, taking another sip of her coffee.
BLOOD, LOVE AND LIES (THE ROYALS Book 1) Page 3
