Blood and Bone: (Royal Blood #6) (5 page)

“
T
wenty years
!
”

I cowered as my wife Amanda shrieked at me.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” I pleaded. “I was ordered not to tell you. It was for yours and the boys’ safety.”

I’d never seen her look so angry before in my life. Amanda Jackson was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, but right now, she looked like she was going to kill me herself.

Her wavy brown hair was wild and out of place, her blouse was stained with dirt, and her jeans were torn on one knee. Well, she and the boys had just been shot at by a madman, saved by an ex-assassin and his girlfriend, and driven to an MI6 safe house in Fulham. They’d been pulled out of their safe, comfortable lives away from their friends and family and dumped here…and it was all because of me.

“We were attacked in our own home, Marcus,” she said, tears beginning to fall. “And now you tell me you’ve worked for MI6 for almost twenty years. What am I meant to believe?”

“This almost never happens,” I declared. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and I knew I’d stuck my foot in it again.

“So you were already working for them when I met you?”

“Yeah. But I only ever worked a desk job,” I offered like it was a consolation prize at a carnival sideshow. “I work with computers and tech. I never lied about that.”

Another tear fell from her beautiful eyes and trailed its way down her red cheek. “
Lied
,” she whispered. “You lied.”

“
To protect you
.”

Mercy appeared at the door and knocked softly. “Mrs. Jackson?” she asked, her smile kind and sincere. “The boys are all tucked in.”

Amanda glanced at me and sighed. “I’ll be right in.”

“They’ll be safe here,” I said, my heart breaking. “These guys are the best.”

“That’s the thing Marcus. I’ve got no say in it,” she said, sounding utterly defeated.

My mouth flapped uselessly as she shuffled from the room and down the hall to the bedroom Mercy had set up for the boys. They had some toys and books, but it was a far cry from being safe in their own room at home.

“She’ll be okay,” Mercy said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “She’s had a nasty shock today. You can’t really blame her for spinning out.”

“She found out her entire world was a lie,” I said, staring at the empty doorway where Amanda had disappeared. “And the boys… They’re too little to understand. It’s all my fault. Mr. Moltke—”

“
Will pay
,” she snarled. “None of this is your fault, Jackson. It’s
his
. You’re still here, so what are you going to do about it?”

I squared my jaw and puffed out my chest. I was just a desk guy. Science, technology, and tinkering were my things, not running around the world chasing an evil mass murderer. Miss Reid had saved my life just that morning. I would be forgiven for making rash decisions under the duress of an increased level of adrenaline. What was I meant to do?

“He came after my family,” I said softly. “He came after my Amanda, and he came after my boys. They’re just children, Miss Reid. They don’t understand what’s happening.”

She smiled and glanced toward the door. “X is here,” she said. “He didn’t catch the shooter, but we’re going after Moltke. We’re going to need support in the field.”

My eyes widened. “You want me to go with you?”

“Think about it,” she threw at me, walking toward the door. “We’re going to Berlin first thing in the morning.”

I watched her disappear down the narrow hallway to the living room where muffled voices were probably discussing the events of the day.

Me? Go into the field with Miss Reid and Mr. Blood? I enjoyed the pressure of a high-level security hack from the comfort of my own desk, not out there where the bad guys could shoot at me while I did it. Thinking about Amanda and the boys down the hall, I wasn’t sure I should leave them…but they wouldn’t be safe until Mr. Moltke was brought to justice and tried for the crimes he’d committed. They wouldn’t be able to go home until he was behind bars.

If only I’d died in that explosion this morning
, I thought and instantly shook my head. What was wrong with me? Mr. Moltke had come after them because I was meant to be inside that building, but Mercy had saved me. They weren’t safe either, but they weren’t thinking about hiding away in a safe house until all the work had been done.

This was my chance to make Amanda see I was a man of my word. I’d protect them. I’d make their lives safe again, and once I’d done that, I’d leave MI6, and we’d start again someplace else. No more spy work, no more secrets, just bland old day-to-day normalcy.

Striding down the hall, I burst into the living room where Mr. Blood and Miss Reid sat talking earnestly. They glanced up at my appearance and waited.

“I’ll do it,” I declared.

“Will you be able to work on the fly?” Mr. Blood asked, and I nodded.

“I was pulling apart radios and building short wave receivers at five years old,” I said proudly “I can handle it.”

“We’ve got your back, Jackson,” Mercy said. “And Folsom will make sure your family is protected until we can get Moltke.”

“I know. It’s just I’ve never been in the field before.” I glanced at Mr. Blood, who was playing with a mean looking knife. That guy was like James Bond on an acid trip.

“There’s nothing to it,” Mercy declared. “We’ve got all the heavy lifting. You just need to supply tech support.”

I moaned, sinking down onto the couch. “You make it sound easy.”

Mr. Blood shifted, placing the knife on the table. “Have you fired a gun before?”

“All agents, desk and field, are required to go through basic training,” I rattled off, my palms beginning to dampen.

Mr. Blood raised an eyebrow. “I gather that means yes.”

I shrugged. “I did a refresher course five years ago.”

“Crash course.” He picked up the gun on the coffee table and disengaged the clip. “Bullets go here. Takes a clip of nine.” He slammed it back in place. “Load a bullet in the chamber when you put in a new clip.” He slid back the mechanism on the barrel and it clicked back. “Check it’s loaded correctly here.” Then he pointed to the rear of the gun. “Safety is here.” He flipped the switch at the back of the gun. “On. Off. On. Off.” Aiming toward the wall, he finished with, “Trigger. Aim, compensate for recoil, and fire.” Spinning the gun around in his hand like a magician, he curled his fingers around the barrel and held it out toward me butt first.

“The rest is math,” Mercy said. “Stance, force, accuracy.”

Mathematics was a language I understood better than English, so I nodded and took the gun from Mr. Blood.

“Have you been to Germany before?” Mercy asked.

“I’ve been to Blackpool,” I said, remembering the seaside trip I took with the family to the northern part of the UK. Mr. Blood frowned, and I wondered if he ever took holidays as an assassin. “You know, in the north? It has a sandy beach, so it was a real trip, you know. Pebble beaches suck.”

Mercy elbowed me and shook her head. “Not exactly what I was getting at.”

Mr. Blood narrowed his eyes. “We have a lead on where Moltke may be going next. Or at least who he’s working with. To what end, we don’t know, but it’s the only lead we have.”

“We’re surveilling a meeting between two bad guys,” Mercy explained. “Folsom is leaving us some equipment, but we need someone to help operate it.”

“Done,” I said. “Whatever you need, I’m your man.”

“We won’t be coming back until the job is done,” Mr. Blood added. “We’ll be dark. No support, nothing.”

“I understand.” Tonight would probably be the last time I’d have contact with Amanda and the boys until Mr. Moltke was brought to justice. That meant even MI6 didn’t know what we were about to do… How deep did his betrayal run?

“Go,” Mercy said. “Be with your family. There’ll be more than enough time to explain the mission parameters en route to Berlin.”

I nodded and rose to my feet, beginning to feel the weight on my shoulders. Leaving them be, I went back down the hall to the main bedroom. Amanda sat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in her lap.

I remembered the day I first saw her. She was a barmaid at the local pub, and every man in the place wanted a piece of her—she was that beautiful. I never thought I’d have a chance with a woman like that, but when I went up to the bar to order a pint, she’d asked why I didn’t have a crack like all the others.
Because a woman like you deserves far more than a cheap line thrown over a sticky bar.
I’d said the right thing for once in my life, and the rest was history.

She glanced up when I stepped into the room, and I took a deep breath, steeling myself for another barrage of abuse. I deserved it, but she’d see what lengths I’d go to ensure their safety. She’d see how much I truly loved her. I
never
lied about that.

“I’m going with them to get the man who did this to you,” I said.

“What?” Amanda asked, rising to her feet. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m going to make sure he can’t hurt you or the boys again,” I replied. “I’m going to prove my love to you.”

She shook her head, her eyes misting with another round of tears. “
You stupid man
.”

I sighed. Had I said the wrong thing again? “Amanda…”

When she threw herself into my arms, I held onto her tightly, burying my nose into her hair.

“I’m so angry with you,” she murmured. “So bloody angry I want to string you up, Marcus Jackson, but I can’t lose you. I almost lost you twice today already.”

“
I love you so much
,” I said, crushing her against my chest.

“Come back in one piece,” she whispered. “And come back with that asshole in a body bag.”

B
erlin was
warm for the first week of May.

It was the beginning of the summer months here, even though it was still technically autumn, but the passage of time from snow to sun had passed so quickly, it felt like another world.

I leaned against the facade of a little bakery and studied the towering Brandenburg Gate. It was a large Ancient Greek-esque structure with columns and a statue of a quadriga—a chariot with several stallions in full flight—positioned at the top. All in all, it was an impressive sight.

The massive monument once marked the divide between East and West Berlin at the height of the Cold War between the United States and Russia—or the USSR. Back then, I imagined the structure must’ve been a lot less welcoming sight with guard towers, spotlights, barbed wire, and armed soldiers. Now the square before it on the Eastern side was set up with a vibrant summer market.

All kinds of stalls were set up, selling everything from traditional German food and drink to jewelry and crafts. Tourists and Berliners alike had swarmed en masse to spend the day in the sunshine, which made it the best place for a meeting between business partners.

Why high-class terrorists wanted to meet in places like these was beyond me, but I supposed it had to do with the few thousand human shields milling around the markets.

A bell jingled as the door of the bakery opened beside me, and Mercy appeared with a giant pretzel in her hand, a bite already taken out of it. She was wearing a little singlet top that dipped low, showing off her cleavage, and short shorts with boots that showed off her long legs and perfect little ass. I wish she’d chosen a more suitable outfit, but she’d convinced me it was what people wore around here in the summer. In contrast, my outfit consisted of a black tight fit T-shirt, beat-up gray jeans, and boots.

“This pretzel is amazing,” she said through an appreciative moan. “Are you sure you don’t want one?”

Sliding my aviator sunglasses on, I shook my head. “We’ve got to get moving.”

Mercy threaded her arm through mine as we wandered through the stalls, pretending to look through all the wares for sale. Stopping by a jewelry stand, she pawed at some rings.

“There’s a lot of interference,” I complained, scanning the crowded square.

“When you pinpoint their location, I can get rid of some of that background noise,” Jackson said over the coms.

Mercy raised her eyebrow in appreciation. “Now this was what I was talking about when I said I wanted to be a spy,” she murmured in my ear.

“I’ve got movement on the north side.” Jackson’s voice filtered over the coms.

He was back at the safe house, watching over us through an assortment of CCTV and traffic cameras…and the encrypted transmitter that was rigged to capture the conversation between Gruber and his associate. We had to get within thirty feet of the target for the sound to come out clear enough to capture the entirety of the exchange.

“Grubby Gruber?” Mercy asked, running her fingers along a display of handmade soaps.

“That would be him,” he replied. “Matches the photo Folsom gave us.”

“Watch his movements,” I said. “We’ll narrow down the meeting point.”

Threading my fingers through Mercy’s, I tugged her forward, and we wandered aimlessly in a northerly direction.

“You know,” she said. “We’ve never spent time together like this before.”

“Like what?” I asked with a frown.

She knocked her shoulder against mine. “Walking hand-in-hand like a normal couple at a German summer market.”

“Sounds boring to me,” I muttered.

She laughed. “Then people avoid eye contact with you because you look like a big, scary biker…”

“I was a big, scary biker,” I retorted. “Once upon a time…”

“It does make moving through a crowd a little easier,” she said, sounding amused. “You part the sea like Moses.”

“
Hardly
.”

“Gruber’s stopped,” Jackson said, interrupting our exchange. “Coffee cart at the center of the market. He’s at a table with a checkered tablecloth. He seems to be alone. I couldn’t make any tails on him.”

I nodded at Mercy, and we made our way toward the café, the sights and smells of the market washing over us. Food, spices, and perfumed soaps assailed my senses as we made our way through the rows of stalls, and then the scent of roasted coffee mingled with that of a neighboring bratwurst stand as we emerged into a clear space set aside for seating.

Instantly, I identified Gruber at one of the tables, clearly recognizable from the surveillance photo we’d been shown back at MI6 in London.

“That’s the fucker,” Mercy whispered. “What now?”

“We wait for his friend to show,” I murmured back.

Abruptly, Mercy grabbed my hand and pulled me backward to yet another stand covered in jewelry. It was made with silver and gold and adorned with an assortment of raw and polished crystals in all kinds of colors.

“
Oh my god!
” Mercy exclaimed. “Honey, everything is so
beautiful
.”

Rolling my eyes at her over-the-top portrayal of a British tourist, I lingered by her side as Gruber waited for his associate to arrive.

“Actually,” she went on, “I really like this stuff.”

“Hold your position,” Jackson said in my ear. “You should be in range. Filtering out some of that background noise now…”

While Mercy pawed every single item of jewelry, I scanned the crowd and glanced at my watch—the ever annoyed boyfriend waiting for his overenthusiastic girl to finish ogling pretty jewels.

We didn’t have to wait long for pay dirt. When Gruber’s associate arrived, it was exactly the type of guy I’d been expecting—shaved head with a mean yet rich look about him…

The associate wore a light gray suit with a black shirt, no tie, the top three buttons undone. His black loafers were polished to an obnoxiously high shine, his sunglasses expensive. This man obviously had a lot of money and didn’t mind flashing it around, which wasn’t rare for bad guy assholes like these.

On first glance, it appeared he had come alone to meet Gruber, but I wasn’t a fool to assume there were armed men in the crowd disguised just like Mercy and I.

The man approached our mark, and Gruber stood to greet him.

“Bateman,” Gruber said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m surprised you of all people took on our client’s interests.”

The man smiled and took seat across from him at the table. “Why is that?” His accent was British. Posh. Stank of money, and I assumed most of it was dirty.

Gruber shrugged. “It has a lot to do with his unpredictability, no? Where his true intentions lie.”

“It is not for us to wonder,” Bateman said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “All that matters is the bottom line.” He smiled, and the men began to laugh like they were sharing the punch line of a private joke.

Gruber raised his espresso cup. “And what a line it is.”

“Are we on schedule?”

“The item is complete,” Gruber replied. “Testing has proved fruitful, so I’m sure it will be worth every Euro.”

“Excellent. My employer will be pleased.” Bateman took his phone out of his jacket pocket and tapped on the screen. “Fifty percent as agreed. The remaining will be transferred to you upon delivery.”

Gruber checked his phone, no doubt making sure his money had arrived to the place he’d intended it to. “And when is that?”

“We’ll be in touch.”

Bateman rose to his feet and scanned the square, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. His gaze fell over the place where Mercy and I stood, and I turned away slowly, my expression bored like I was just some guy waiting for his girlfriend to finish fawning over jewelry.

I held her hand as I waited, scanning the crowd to try to pinpoint Bateman’s men. If I was going to follow him back to Moltke, then I’d have to be smart about it. Who knew how many eyes were on the marketplace…

Bateman was acting as a go-between for Moltke and Gruber, so the man we tracked didn’t have to show his face. He was a hunted man after all. Practically every agency in the world would be joining forces to apprehend the terrorist who murdered two hundred government employees. Wherever he surfaced, he’d be cornered like the rat he was.

Humanity could be the lowest of the low when it wanted to be, but unite them in the wake of terrorism, and you had a powerful force at your beck and call.

Moltke had to be a ghost in order to play his hand… Whatever it might be.

Mercy had made a snap decision while I watched the crowd for Bateman’s men to reveal themselves.

“I’ll go after Gruber and the device.”

“No,” I hissed, tugging her against me. “Not on your own.”

“Stop holding my hand, X,” she spat back at me. “I’m capable. You know I am. We can have both leads, and you know it.”

I narrowed my eyes. I had to make a decision now or not at all.

“Fine,” I said. “You take Gruber, and pump him for information on the bomb. I’ll tail Bateman and see if he can lead us to Moltke.” Before she could stalk off, I grabbed her wrist. “I’m going radio silent…”

“Then
you
be safe,” she said, placing a kiss on my lips. “I’ll have Jackson watching over me.”

I let her hand fall away from mine as she weaved through the crowd toward the coffee cart where Gruber still sat, waiting for Bateman to make himself scarce. I didn’t like it, not being there with her, but she was right. Mercy was more than capable. Section Seven wouldn’t have recruited, trained, and approved her for field duties if she weren’t.

Leaving her to handle Gruber, I wandered through the crowd, tailing Bateman, conscious of the fact he still had his own men scattered about the market.

Good thing for me, I was the best ghost out there.