Chapter 22
Dead
Stella
As soon as the shots rang out, we were whisked away by our team and taken straight to a situation room where the gang was quickly assembled.
“Was this the bloody plan?” Rhys thunders, “because a little fucking warning would have been nice! What the bloody hell was that?”
“The earl is dead,” Jake says with a blank face. “We’re going to keep the hit quiet for as long as we can but he’s no longer a threat.”
“And her uncle?” Rhys asks.
“He’s under the impression that he’s being safely sequestered until he can be flown to his home country.”
“He’s not going to make it,” Rhys says.
“No, he’s not.”
“Good.”
“So the party’s over and it’s time to get to work,” Jules says. “I love being one of the guys.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Grace cackles. “God, I miss the game some days.”
“Thank God, that’s over,” Kayla says. “I don’t have the stomach for murder and intrigue like those girls do.”
“Well…” I start.
Rhys turns to look at me and his face is murderous. “Hen?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“What aren’t you saying?” He’s quiet, almost calm.
When he’s like this, I know he’s barely hanging on by a thread.
Unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do so I open my handbag, draw out the knife that was planted there and tell them everything.
Everyone starts talking at once… with the exception of my husband. When I realize he’s holding himself absolutely stone still, like a statue, I move closer to him and wrap my arms around one of his and tuck my head to his shoulder.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“The knife,” he answers cryptically.
“What about it?”
“It was my father’s,” he says, but what comes next steals the breath from my lungs. “That’s his cypher laid in the handle.”
“How would the Serpents have gotten their hands on it?” I question.
“Yes, Rhys,” Jake wades in. “How did they get it?”
“Taylor,” my husband replies in a choked voice.
I want to scream and rail against his brother for taking this stand against him, for hurting my husband who loves him so much. I just silently squeeze his arm because there’s nothing to say.
His brother was going to be a party to setting me up for the President’s assassination.
Rhys raises his free hand to cover mine on his arm.
“Here’s what’s going to fucking happen,” Jake snarls. “You are not going down for murder because I’m not going to fucking die.”
I gasp, making Rhys squeeze my hand.
“Hear, hear,” Rhys says.
Rick wades in. “The earl is dead, as you know, and your uncle will be dead by morning.”
“How?” Rhys asks.
“He’s old,” Rick shrugs. “Probably had a heart attack in his sleep.”
It’s so odd to hear these powerful men talking so casually about the planning and orchestration of the deaths of two people—two arguably horrible people. I hate it and at the same time, I can’t help but feel safer in a world where they no longer exist.
“I think we should keep their deaths quiet for as long as we can,” Jake says.
“At least until we’ve returned home,” Rhys adds. “Then we can figure out how to proceed from there. I’ll need to deal with my brother and my housekeeper, who is still missing after her part in the plot against my wife was uncovered.”
“Agreed,” Jake replies.
“You’ll contact us if you need anything?” Ryan adds.
“Of course,” Rhys replies.
“Then we’re all set,” Jake concludes.
“Aye.”
“It’s taken care of,” Rick says as he looks up from his phone.
“Good. Now the rest of us can take our women home,” Ryan says pulling smiles from everyone.
“You heard the man, hen,” Rhys says, standing up from his chair where I was curled into him. “It’s time to go home.”