Chapter 12 Sebastian #3
Silence stretched across the room as the colonel paged through the images.
Sebastian had seen them earlier and approved the tactic.
They’d gathered photos of every single member of the Kachusov family—at their homes, on the job, and even shots of the newest member, an infant who hadn’t yet left the hospital.
It made Sebastian sick to his stomach to consider what they were implying, but men like Colonel Kachusov understood no language outside of brutality.
“You wouldn’t dare.” But, for the first time, Kachusov didn’t sound certain.
“Try us,” Armand replied into the deadly quiet. “I dare you.”
Leaning back and manufacturing a calm he certainly didn’t feel, Sebastian dangled the carrot.
“Or, I can walk out there and make a statement of support for a democratic Belaria. I can emphasize how invested the Andraste family—and, by extension, the Dagmar Foundation—is to supporting the dream, no royal strings attached.”
Knuckles down against the table, the colonel didn’t answer immediately. “I need time to consider this.”
“Tick tock, Colonel. The offer expires when you walk out the door.” Sebastian could practically hear the grim smile in his brother’s voice. Any other alternative could give the colonel time to take another shot at them.
Apparently, it was enough to encourage the colonel to retake his chair. “What measure of assurance do we have to ensure you won’t change your minds?”
“The exact same amount we have that you won’t come at us again.” Sebastian shrugged.
“You’re suggesting we simply trust one another?” The colonel’s tone said he didn’t like it.
Neither did Sebastian. “Exactly.”
The colonel’s gaze went back to the tablet. Sebastian’s gut twisted. The other man blinked first, but if he tested them, it would be up to them to make it happen. “I do not believe you would target children.”
Sebastian didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.
Silence, in this instance, was a far better tactic.
He let all kindness bleed out of him. It dripped the way his blood had when their blade dug into his flesh, nicked his ribs and sliced into his lung.
He’d tasted the bubble of death as it choked him and the icy shroud threatened to take him away from everyone and everything he loved.
Their actions had compounded his injury to Meredith.
The idea that this man—this one man—could come at them again, could come at her?
No. Sebastian would kill him first. The nightmare needed to end.
Kachusov met his gaze. Whatever he saw in Sebastian’s face must have been enough to sway him.
“We will accept your terms, but know, if you cross us…only your blood will satisfy the injury.”
“Let us be explicit, as well. My family will continue as it always has. We will devote our time and our resources to helping others and leave your politics to your political parties. We will not endorse you nor will we condemn you. However, if even one drop of Andraste blood is spilled—one—then we’re coming for you and God help your family because we will not stop until your whole line is exterminated.
” It wasn’t an empty threat. In this, Armand and Sebastian were utterly united. They were done running.
“Mikael.” The colonel looked at the attaché. “Summon the press. We will appear together.” Uncurling his fist, he extended his hand to Sebastian. “Peace.”
It was an armistice at best, with only the promise of mutually assured destruction to hold them to their honor, but it would do. Sebastian rose and took the colonel’s hand. “Peace.”
The press conference wasn’t without its hitches and the Belarian press—or what passed for their press—displayed disappointment in Sebastian’s statement that the Andraste family planned to invest financially in Belaria’s future, but not personally.
The colonel’s smug acceptance and the arm he placed around Sebastian’s shoulders aggravated Sebastian enough to enjoy puncturing the man’s glee by announcing the immediate appointment of two prominent royalists to oversee the distribution of Andraste money in conjunction with executives from the European division of the family’s conglomerate.
Still, another twenty-four hours slipped away before he could board a jet with the French ambassador for Charles deGaulle airport.
The Andraste jet would be waiting for him at a private landing strip outside of Paris.
Nearly thirty-six hours without sleep or a phone call lasting more than ninety seconds with Meredith left him in a sour mood.
As soon as he was on board the jet, he stripped off his tie and threw his jacket onto a chair.
Unbuttoning his shirtsleeves, he began rolling them up and looked at the steward.
“When we’re in the air, I want Meredith on the phone.
” It was long past time they settled the issue of what the hell she’d been doing.
But it was Vidal, not the steward, who answered. “That won’t be possible.”
“Why the hell not?” He glared. Vidal played a vital role in pulling off the last several days.
Sebastian turned over the coordination and implementation of his security to Vidal.
In return, he handled every aspect of the protection detail and it went swimmingly, save for Meredith’s surprising appearance and equally abrupt exit.
“We have several hours on the flight and you’re exhausted.
Since Dr. Blake is currently teaching.” Vidal checked his watch.
“She will be in her lecture for at least another hour and with her doctoral candidates for the remainder of her day. She wouldn’t take your call. Besides, you should get some sleep.”
Fatigued or not, Sebastian recognized when he was being handled and saw through Vidal’s careful phrasing. “What do you mean, since she wouldn’t take my calls anyway?”
Vidal pulled out his own phone and studied the screen. “We will have clearance to take off within thirty minutes, if you wanted to take a shower before you get some sleep.”
He wasn’t going anywhere. “Vidal, answer my damned question.”
After returning the phone to inner pocket of his jacket, Vidal shook his head. “I don’t think I will. You have twenty-nine minutes.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think you will?” Who the hell was in charge here? The grit stung his eyes and he ached from head to toe, but he hadn’t just put himself through the grueling exercise of the last several days to not reach out to Meredith when it was over.
“Prepare a meal for His Highness.” Vidal addressed the steward. “And his pajamas. After we’re inflight, he’ll retire for the duration. Twenty-seven minutes, sir.”
“Get me a cup of coffee and answer my question, Vidal, before I kick you off my plane.” Sebastian all but growled and the steward froze, his gaze going from Sebastian to Vidal and back again.
“No coffee. Prepare his meal. Go.”
The steward accepted Vidal’s word and abandoned him to face to the prince. Folding his arms, Sebastian glared at the man.
“Your Highness, you can try to throw me off the plane, but it would be an embarrassing exercise for both of us. You’re exhausted and the last time you spoke to Dr. Blake in this mood, she hung up on you. Save us both the aggravation and get some sleep. We can discuss everything else afterward.”
“Since when do you speak to me like this?” It went beyond unusual.
“I’ve rarely needed to speak to you this way.
” Vidal gave him a curt nod. “You have twenty-five minutes.” When Sebastian didn’t move, Vidal closed the distance between them.
“Sebastian, get your ass in the shower. Clear your head. Get some sleep. If you talk to Dr. Blake while in this frame of mind, it will end badly for both of you. Particularly since you haven’t taken the time to process everything you’ve done.
You’ve handled the last few days with remarkable aplomb, exceptional fortitude and grace even your brother would envy.
That said, I will put you down myself before I let you sabotage the progress you’ve made with Dr. Blake. ”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Sebastian closed his eyes.
He was exhausted, all the way to his bones.
Vidal was right. He wasn’t thinking clearly.
Getting to Meredith was an imperative, but if Vidal knew where she was and what she was doing, it meant he’d kept touch with her security.
She was safe. He could afford to cooperate. “Fine. I will shower.”
“Excellent decision, sir.” To his credit, Vidal didn’t smile.
At the door to the private bedroom and shower, Sebastian glanced back. “Thank you for your help the last few days. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, sir. I am aware, but you are more than welcome.”
Sebastian deserved the rap on his knuckles, but… “Vidal?”
“Sir?”
“Talk to me in that manner again, and I’ll loan you to George.”
A quick grin creased the man’s face. “Twenty-two minutes, sir.”
Sebastian didn’t even make it to the meal. After showering and changing, he’d buckled into a seat in the private room. As soon as they were airborne, he’d crawled into the bed and collapsed. Six hours into the flight, Vidal woke him with coffee, food and a report.
“What’s this?” His eyes ached, and the words seemed to blur on the page.