Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
TRISTAN
“I’ve been thinking,” I say. “What about a virtual geofence?” I’ve been bouncing that idea around in my head. The girls aren’t going to let the dome thing fly, so we have to be resourceful, and I have lots of resources.
Killian twists the pliers. The man on the table screams, high and thin, until he finally runs out of air.
“Virtual what?” Killian asks, not bothering to look up.
“It would be a dome but invisible to the human eye.” Killian finally glances up at me. “Think of it as an invisible, electronic upside-down bowl made out of invisible radio waves or light beams instead of glass or metal. A 3D Airspace Perimeter. Radar Drone Detection.”
Killian releases the pressure and considers this. “Shit, it even goes up?”
“Complete coverage. No one in or out without tripping sensors, whether on the ground or in the sky.”
The man on the table whimpers. Killian pats his cheek absently.
“How soon can we get this geofence? Those two are getting harder to contain.” Lily I can handle alone, but the two of them together are an entirely different story. It’s like they’re constantly playing a game of who can think of the craziest idea to put them in danger.
“You see my Lily hit this dumbass with the two-by-four?” I smirk.
I hate that she had to do that. She should have been back here tucked in the library.
I would have built a whole ice cream store for her right here.
But I respect the hell out of the fact she wasn’t going down without a fight.
She gets that from her father, whether they are genetically related or not. “She’s a little bloodthirsty.”
I lick my bottom lip, thinking about her nipping it last night. Fuck, I can’t wait to get back to her. Then I can spank her ass, and then kiss and lick it all better.
“Speaking of.” Killian nods toward the second man, zip-tied to the chair in the corner. “Hey. You. Has either of you ever killed a woman?”
The chair man shakes his head, fast and desperate.
“What about you?” Killian asks the other.
The table man lets out a choked sob. “No. Not this job.” But there have been others.
“Just kidnapping, then,” I say. “Delivering to whoever pays in Grandeurs.”
When we’d gotten them here, we stripped them down to their boxers. Inside one of the man’s shoes was one Grandeurs gold coin. They are very rare and were banned at one time. I’d guess the worth of the one coin to be around three grand right now.
What I do know, if my research is correct, is this can’t be a coincidence. The fire, the raid where I believe Victor acquired Lily, is the main source of the coins.
“Old money,” the chair man volunteers. It’s not only old money; it’s royal money. “Please. We don’t know names.”
Killian looks at me, wanting to know what my next move might be.
“Let me see here.” I walk over and pick up the one coin and toss it into the air, catching it. “We have rare royal money from a country I’m speculating my girl was born in. A fire to cover things up to make it appear she died with the two people that were trusted with her care.”
I have an idea of what this all might be. It sounds far-fetched, but is it?
“You’re saying a royal family sent these two, and it’s connected to Lily. A king sent them.”
“The king is dead,” the man in the chair says.
The table man flinches. It’s microscopic, but I catch it.
I smile. “There it is.”
“What?” Killian asks.
“He knows.” I lean over the table, close enough to smell copper and piss. “Who sent you after her?”
“God save the king,” the man gasps.
“You should be worried about saving yourself,” I warn.
“Her Royal Majesty,” the chair man says. “She sent us. The girl must die. She threatens our country by existing.”
“Do not tell Lily he said that,” I warn Killian. “That will go straight to her head.”
“It’s not a joke!” he hisses.
“You’re right.” I walk back over to the table. “You should have been more helpful,” I tell him. “Now go see your king.” I drive the knife into his chest.
The blade goes in smoothly, between ribs, finding the heart. His body doesn’t jerk or flail. Just stills. The only sound is of a long exhale like air escaping a tire. The man’s eyes stay open, fixed on the ceiling.
Killian raises an eyebrow. “That was dramatic.”
“He was boring me.” I wipe the blade on the dead man’s shirt. I pivot, pointing my knife at the other one. The one that gave us information. What he just saw should help move along this conversation. I have other places to be before Lily gets herself into her next mess. “Your turn.”
The chair man starts pleading, pulling at his bindings. “I told you everything. I told you—”
“And we appreciate it,” Killian says, crossing the room. “Really. Very helpful.”
The squealing starts in earnest then. High-pitched, almost comical.
Like a pig, like a cartoon, like nothing human should sound.
Killian works efficiently, almost bored, asking about the queen’s resources, her reach, and how many more teams might be coming.
Then in a final desperation, he spills the tea of rumors about the queen and her son, Prince Julian. Set to be the next king.
He doesn’t stop there. At this point, he’s rambling to keep living.
I tune it out, stepping toward the stairs to get service, to check on Lily.
Of course, she’s moved. Slow but in my direction.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Killian pauses, knife in midair. “What?”
“Girls are investigating.”
“Investigating what?”
“Gardening.”
He processes this. “Should we clean up?”
I look at the chair man. He’s still breathing, barely. The information is extracted. The queen wants my girl dead. The king is dead. There’s a country somewhere that thinks Lily’s existence threatens their stability.
“Yeah.”
Killian finishes with a single efficient stroke. Silence returns to the room.
“Roland will handle the bodies,” Killian says.
I’m already moving up the ladder. “Right now, we need to look innocent.”
“Innocent.” He barks a laugh, following me up. “We’re covered in blood.”
“Then we look like we were butchering deer.”
“Do you know how to butcher deer?”
“No.” I push through the greenhouse door into the humid air thick with orchids. “But they don’t know that.”
We hear them before we see them. Giggling. Stumbling. “Are they drunk?”
“Appears so,” Killian says. Two drunk women in crowns, armed with antique handcuffs and who knows what kind of intentions.
Lily notices us first, Teddy swaying behind her. She stops when she sees us. Sees the blood on my hands, my shirt, and Killian’s grin.
Her eyes go wide. Then narrow.
“Gardening,” she says, flat and dangerous.
I smile, helpless against her, against this, against everything. “Want to see my orchids?”
“I, ah”—Teddy tilts her head—“think your orchids might be bleeding.”
“We came to help garden,” Lily says, standing up taller. “Where are the shovels?”
“Lily, don’t volunteer us to dig holes. It’s really hard. It’s the absolute worst part of gardening.”
“Right, shit,” Lily mutters.
I glance over to Killian, who is watching them too with an amused expression. “Oh, and we’re mad at them!” she suddenly remembers. “They didn’t want to trauma bond with us.”
I don’t know what the fuck they are talking about, but I can’t help but smile.
Killian and I often operate in the darkest of places. These girls are the light we’re both desperate to catch.