Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I need help getting home,” I said. “I lost my backpack that had my wallet and passport in it.”
King Lior nodded. “Of course. I’ll send you home on one of our planes with a diplomatic pass.”
Uncle Felix smiled, his face open and welcoming as usual. “You’ll stay for a visit first, though, right?”
I shook my head. “I really need to get back. I was in the middle of a case at work, and there’s some follow-up I need to do in the office.”
He looked disappointed, which made his husband frown. “You will stay for dinner, at least,” Lior said.
Chris elbowed me. “That’s his commanding voice, in case you didn’t realize it was supposed to be scary.”
His fathers both shot him a look, but Chris only grinned. He was known in our family as a showboat, which didn’t surprise anyone, considering the immense wealth and privilege he’d grown up with here in Liorland and Uncle Felix’s huge, irreverent Wilde family in America.
“I’m suitably terrified. But also hungry, so I accept. Thank you.”
The evening that followed was a nice break from reality, but as soon as I got back to my room, my now-charged phone was buzzing like an angry yellow jacket stuck between a window and the screen.
The first call I returned was to Rocky, who answered the phone with a “Jesus Christ, Jett! Where are you?”
“Liorland.”
She huffed out a breath. “Liorland? What the fuck are you doing there?”
“Well…” I blew out a breath.
On the train here from Maiori, I’d had nothing but time. Time to think, and rethink, and overthink.
Time to look over that warning text I’d received from an unknown number the day of the bombing and remember that Rocky didn’t know I was staying at Locke’s house. Time to remember Liyana saying, Thank you, Jett. I hope someday to repay your kindness. Time to realize that good and bad, truth and lies, loyalty and honor, weren’t the black-and-white concepts I’d thought they were when I’d first become an agent.
I’d had time to regret, too.
I’d foolishly gotten way too involved with a supposedly heterosexual billionaire. A man who literally controlled the world like pawns in a game. A man whose determination and responsibility were melded into his very soul. A man who’d stood alone, acted alone, for so long, that when I’d begged him to leave, he’d stubbornly insisted on staying behind—alone.
No loyal ESP agent would risk his career over Locke Maris by being less than a hundred percent honest with his boss…
Unless that agent had a damn good reason, like being head over heels in love with the man and determined to protect him at all costs.
“I’m visiting my cousins,” I lied with no compunction whatsoever. “They invited me, and I figured, ‘Hey, I’m on vacation, and Rocky specifically told me to stay out of trouble, so why not?’ But don’t worry, I’m heading back to Italy first thing tomorrow. I’ll collect the package you sent to the post office and set up surveillance—”
“No!” she almost shouted. “Jesus, no. Under no circumstances should you go back to Maiori, Jett. I mean it.”
I sat on the bed, stacked the pillows behind my head, and tried to think what the Agent Jett Marian that she knew might say. “What? Why not? Come on, Rocky! It’s been almost a week. I’m so relaxed by now my muscles are starting to atrophy!”
“Have you not checked the news in the last forty-eight hours?” she demanded. “There’s been a blockade in the Kiel Canal.”
“No way.” I sank further into the pillows. “You mean… you think the convo I overheard was actually them… what? Plotting something? Shit.”
“We don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s not related to the explosion near the canal. That’s confirmed by CJ and the others. The official cause is a software glitch. If there was an unofficial cause, we haven’t figured it out yet. But listen, Jett, Trevi said you contacted him for information about a company…” Papers rustled in the background.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Malik Makida. I remembered someone mentioning that at lunch, too. Trevi said it’s owned by Saleem al-Qadiri, so it makes sense that’s why they mentioned it, right? Did that have something to do with the canal thing?”
“No. But…” Rocky hesitated. “Saleem al-Qadiri was killed by a car bomb at a villa just outside Maiori yesterday.”
“What the fuck? I was just there! I left first thing yesterday morning. Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have left—”
“No, it’s probably better that way. But that’s why you can’t go back. The investigator showed your picture around to the owner and staff at the villa—”
“Why?” I didn’t have to feign shock now. I sat up on the bed and glared at my phone. “Why the fuck would he do that and blow whatever cover I would have had?”
“Because I couldn’t get in touch with you! Because we were concerned that you might have tried to get close to the players. And that you might have been hurt in the process.”