51. Nina
51
NINA
There’s no bliss like waking up beside Wesley. Flipping around in bed and finding him there is all the coffee I need.
Not really, but he’s already as important to my mornings as coffee. And that says something.
We savor the little time we have before meeting Arlo at noon, and I make sure Wesley changes his bandages and takes ibuprofen.
I was surprised to hear that he was going to give Arlo what he wanted alongside information about Santiago’s hidden assets. I wanted to be in the room with Wesley. He wanted me to stay at the palace. I compromised by taking a spot in one of the surveillance vans out front.
I step into a pair of denim shorts with a T-shirt from my high school volleyball team before tying my hair into a bun at the crown of my head.
“Are you really going?” Maia asks, arms crossed as she stands in the middle of my room.
Wesley left over an hour ago and I have to meet Jack at his office in ten minutes. I lower onto the divan to lace my sneakers.
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Maia, please ,” I snap. “This is hard enough as it is and I don’t need you or Dad or Ruby making it worse!”
She deflates, dropping her arms. “Then I’m coming, too.”
“Why?”
“Because if shit hits the fan, I’ll be there to help you.”
I survey her ripped jeans and flowy shirt. I chuckle, rising to my feet with my hands on my hips. “And what would you do?”
Maia rolls her eyes and reaches into her back pocket. She flicks open a switchblade at least six inches long. “Slice and dice, duh.”
I choke out a laugh, shoving her shoulder to walk out the door with me. “You’d be proud of me. I treated some dude’s head like a baseball with a metal pipe.”
Despite my repulsed shiver, I don’t regret hitting Maximo. He would have killed Wesley.
Maia blanches. “Holy shit.”
“He was a big guy!” I argue.
“How big?” she asks, seemingly unconvinced.
“ Twice the size of Wesley.”
She winces. “Damn.”
My heart thunders. I don’t understand how people can deal with these high-stress situations on a regular basis. After the past few days, I’m ready to sleep for a week.
I sit with Jack in the van, watching Wesley head into the partially burned-down building. I’m grateful it didn’t entirely collapse. As awful as these people are, I don’t truly want to hurt anyone.
I resist bouncing my knee as I hold the headphones to my ear, listening to Wesley’s breaths through the microphone.
“I underestimated you,” Arlo says. “I admit I thought the stories were bogus.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Wesley says with a sniff.
“Name one reason I shouldn’t submit this contract.”
“Jose Rivera.”
“What about him?” Arlo asks.
“I’ll take him out for you and we call it even.”
I lift my head. What?
He laughs. “Just like that, huh? The man lives in a fortress.”
My stomach caves. I look at Jack, hoping that he’s panicked, too, but he listens intently, his head lowered and brow furrowed.
“What is he doing?” I ask.
“Making a deal.”
“I thought he was giving Arlo what he wanted,” I say. Why would Wesley offer to kill someone for him? My panic deepens as they list further details of the deal. “If he does this, how do we know Arlo won’t hold it over his head and ask for more?”
“It’s a business deal.” Jack’s reply is curt, as if I’m bothering him.
“Will it make Arlo stronger?”
Jack doesn’t answer. Fury simmers under my skin. Wesley wants to get out of that world—and Arlo Serrano is dragging him back under. When I become queen, I want Wesley at my side, and Arlo will figure out a way to hold proof of this over his head in exchange for more jobs—more killings .
We were supposed to do this together. Instead, Wesley lied to me and took a completely different route.
I shove Jack’s shoulder, my hands shaking with anxiety and anger. “Hey! Will this make his business stronger? ”
“Yes!”
“We’re setting ourselves up to get fucked in the future,” I bark, jumping out of the van before I can second-guess myself. There’s no way Wesley will do a job for Arlo, not when he’s trying to change. He could get seriously hurt or killed. What if he has to call in a favor to get out alive? Then he’s indebted to another mercenary who will call on him in the future. Call me paranoid, but it would be the perfect opportunity for everything to go wrong.
“Your Highness, no!” Jack yells as I run into the building. I hear his footsteps behind me, but it’s too late.
I need to offer something— fast .
Or nothing at all.
Who does Arlo think he is? Look at the big picture.
“No!” I yell, stopping in the wide-open area between the lobby elevators. Arlo’s men startle and aim their guns, so I lift my hands in surrender. It’s a good thing Wesley all but wrestled to put me into a bulletproof vest. I ignore the simmering look he gives me.
I drop my arms and say to Arlo, “This ends now.”
Wesley shifts toward me. “Nina?—”
“The only way this works is if we do it together,” I snap, my voice hushed. I bite back my hurt and focus on the task at hand.
“I understand why you’re so brave, Miss Laffley. You have the royal guard behind you,” he says, and I glance around for Daria. She’s the one who snitched, but she’s not even here.
“He’s not doing any jobs for you.”
“Is that so?” He chuckles. “What is your offer?”
“There’s no offer. Walk away or become an enemy of the royal institution and I spend my career taking you down.”
His chuckle turns into full-bellied laughter. He glances at the six people behind him. I keep a strong face in the spite of the ridicule. Arlo steps closer to me. “You don’t have the guts. It’ll be a bloodbath and your conscience can’t handle that.”
“Can’t it?” I challenge, matching his step so there’s a foot between us. “You can blame this fire on whoever keeps a bottle of Jack in their desk. Couldn’t have set it without them. And how’s Maximo? I hope his recovery is smooth.” I lower my voice. “There might be death in this path, but think long and hard about who will be standing by the end of it. A centuries-old monarch, or your little business?”
Arlo’s jaw ticks, and I control my features as much as possible. Truthfully, the furious sense of betrayal from Wesley keeps me from cowering.
Just when I think Arlo is going to back down, he lunges, yanking my arm and pulling a gun.
I land against him, my back to his chest, as cool metal presses against my head. My defenses crumble at the sight of Wesley’s panicked eyes and my body tingles with anxiety. Shit, shit, shit.
“Can’t take me down if you’re dead,” Arlo says into my ear, his breath fanning my skin as his hand wraps around my throat. My chest tightens, and if fear hadn’t clogged my throat, I’d vomit.
“Don’t do this,” Wesley threatens. “You said yourself you underestimated me.”
“I think I will bring her with me.” I shudder at the kiss Arlo plants on my temple. “For now.” He presses the barrel of the gun under my chin, and I hate the whimper that escapes as he drags me through the emergency exit.
After discarding my bulletproof vest, Arlo shoves me through the open door of a waiting SUV. Indignation sparks up my core, but I shouldn’t be violent—not yet at least. He climbs in behind me and slams the door. The driver peels off and I struggle to catch my breath. I clutch the door to steady my spinning head.
“Where to?” the driver asks when the narrow alley dumps us onto a main road.
“Drive around the city. We need to lose Revalté. I bet he’s chasing us like a dog right now.” A wicked smile spreads across Arlo’s face. He turns to me, the gun still pointed. “You almost won.”
I’m at his mercy, no matter the red-hot anger boiling under my skin. While he has the gun and strength, I notice the nervous tick in his eyes. He was going to give in.
I look out the window for the fifteen minutes of driving, fighting to ignore the fact that a deadly weapon is pointed at me. My emotions pile inside me so high that goosebumps cover my skin. I wish I hadn’t ambushed the meeting like that. I wish Wesley trusted me enough to have a conversation about our options.
The car pulls in front of a luxury apartment building. A blond man, not much older than I am, opens my door, and I’m faced with another gun. “You scream, you run, you die.”
I only manage a nod as he and numerous other men guide me through the lobby. I inhale slowly. At least I won’t be locked in a dark basement.
I watch everything. The dust in the corner of the elevator. The defective button for the third floor. The way Arlo’s ring looks a size too small. I don’t know if I’m searching for a way out or a distraction from what’s happening.
I’m led through a lavish apartment into a windowless room with two sofas and a coffee table between them. The blond man shoves me onto one of the sofas. I notice the minibar next to the door and hear the distant voices of others in the apartment.
“I won’t leave you alone this time. I learned my lesson.” Arlo lowers across from me. “Are you thirsty?”
I shake my head.
He snaps his fingers for the same blond man to pour a glass of liquor. Arlo lights a fat cigar, puffing smoke around his face.
“I don’t understand why my brother didn’t kill him years ago,” he says in Maldanian.
“Too obsessed with money,” the blond one replies, leaning on the doorframe.
From the way the two of them look at me, they don’t know I understand Maldanian. I can decipher the bones of their discussion, and having to translate in my head keeps me from being reactive and giving myself away.
“Morality threatens loyalty, Pavlos. We all know that,” Arlo says, voice gravelly as he takes a long drag of the cigar. He stares at me, his gaze hungry, vengeful, and curious. “The Ghost is coming for us because we took his whore.” He flicks ashes onto the expensive carpet. “And if we don’t get her out of here, all of us are dead.”
“We can put her on a plane.”
Terror thrums through me. I want to say I’m appearing fearful so he lets his guard down, but I’m not acting.
“Call Suchko,” he says. “We can give her to him. See how fast it can happen. And get Daria on the phone.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he switches to English. “You’re awfully quiet. You had a lot to say back there. Cat got your tongue?”
Despite my shaking limbs, I don’t break eye contact.
I’m just watching you chase your tail.
I clamp my mouth shut, forcing the words in. He doesn’t get the satisfaction of a response.