Royal Elite: Leander (11 page)

At least on a physical level.

“Leander?”

Drawn out of his reverie, Leander rubbed a hand down his face, then raked his fingers back through his hair, catching the band tying half of it back. He worked it free and scrubbed nails against his scalp. The actions bought him time to think.

“Yeah, I'm here. He's not dangerous, Wynn. I...I'll explain when I get there, all right? Just stay away from the house.”

“Why the long hesitation? Do you have an idea what he means about you dying in a few days? Because really, Leander, I'd like to know what you know.”

He wanted to tell her that he couldn't. That he
shouldn't.
Instead, he said, “I don't have any idea what he's going on about, Wynn. We'll find out when I arrive.”

“He said he was the only one who could save you. What does that mean? If he's speaking in metaphorical terms, I'm going to hurt him. Real bad.”

Leander's shoulders twitched with mirth. “You can believe that when he speaks so plainly about death, he means it just like it sounds. He's got information about a possible hit on me, or some other thing like that.”

“A
hit
on you? Like an assassination attempt?” Her voice pitched high with distress.

The drone of the jet, which was still on a steady incline and climbing to altitude, provided a lulling hum to fill the silence in the room. Given the right circumstances, it would put him to sleep. He said, “Yes, something like that.”

“Leander—we have got so much to talk about.”

“Us along with a few others, I'm sure,” he said in a dry voice. Chey and Sander too, and perhaps Mattias and Chayton's significant others at some point. Someone needed to keep the girls off the phone with each other.

“It's not funny.”

“I know. And to be honest, Wynn, I'm not prepared to talk about it all right now. Let's get this thing over with my dad first, okay? Then we'll tackle the wedding, and--”

“And then the honeymoon, and then 'work' for Mattias. I see the excuses piling up, Mister.”

In truth, Leander wasn't sure
what
to say. The cat was out of the bag, at least a little bit, and he wasn't sure he and the rest of the Elite could cover their tracks now. At least with their wives or significant others. He needed a pow-wow with the guys before he tackled Wynn, so they could tell their wives the same story.

And didn't that sound terrible, he thought. Arranging to lie to his intended. Their secretive activities in the Elite, a select group of high powered men who intervened for threats to one of their own, had been kept under wraps for a reason. If the perpetrators found evidence of their involvement, retaliation would be swift and harsh. They'd already seen proof of it months ago. Never mind that the women would worry themselves sick every time one of the men left the house. He didn't think it a good idea to tell them the reality, despite what Chey had seen.

“It'll be all right. We'll be there in the morning.” Leander hoped Wynn wouldn't press him for answers now. He didn't want to lie more than he had to. A knock at the bedroom door snared his attention. Down the line, he said, “Wynn, I have to go. Talk in a few hours, okay?”

“Yes. And don't think I'm going to be satisfied with a pat on the head and some lame 'this is just a one time thing', either. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” He ended the call with the press of a button. “Come in, Chey.”

“What did Wynn have to say? Is she all right?” Chey said when she stepped inside. She left the door open and crossed the room to the chair adjacent to Leander's. Leaning a hip against the tall back, she crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with a no nonsense expression.

“She's fine. She wasn't at the house when I called.” Leander stared up at Chey, sliding the phone between his fingers and the armrest, tapping and turning, tapping and turning. A restless habit when he wanted to be up and moving. He knew round two of The Inquisition was about to hit.

“What's going on, Leander? I mean, what's
really
going on? If your father is a threat to Wynn--”

“He's not a threat in the way you think. My father is a driven man, but not one to prey on other humans.” Leander dodged around the topic as best he could. Chey might be the queen of Latvala, and he respected her position and power, but she had no sway over his personal life.

“But he's still a threat in
some
way, or that's the inference I get from your answer.” She arched a brow.

Turn, tap. Turn, tap. His eyes fell on the phone. It rotated over and over, like the cycle of his thoughts. Rephrasing, he said, “My
father
isn't a threat. That's all I can really say.”

“Leander. We're thousands of miles above the earth. No one is listening in, no one can hear this conversation but you and me. What's going on?”

“I know. These are things I'm not at liberty to discuss, though. I'll get there and find out what he wants me to do, or what I have to do, and then Wynn and I can return to Latvala. We'll get married and life can carry on.” He reeled the phone in, tucked it into a pocket of his vest after turning it off, then looked directly at Chey.

She quirked her lips, clearly unhappy with that answer. “All right, fair enough. What about the things I saw in Ankara? What are the lot of you up to that you haven't been telling us?”

“I
swear
you and Wynn have to be blood related,” he said, appeased when he got an unexpected laugh out of Chey.

“That's what you get for falling for her. We're tenacious and stubborn, too bad for you.”

He chuckled and got up from the chair. A mini-fridge sat on the far side of the room, a mini-fridge he knew was always stocked with drinks. Pulling a bottle of water out, he offered one over to Chey, who murmured her thanks and took it from his extended fingertips.

With one of his own in hand, Leander cracked the cap off and had a long drink. Draining half the bottle in one go, he surfaced with a sound of appreciation. His throat was as dry as sawdust.

“You didn't answer my question,” Chey said in a matter of fact tone.

She really
was
as tenacious as Wynn. “I know. Can we wait on that, Chey? I'm pretty wiped out.”

“Yet you're pacing the room.”

He shot her a wry look and nearly asked her if she did any espionage work on the side. Chey didn't miss much or mince words. “I will for a while until I come down from the adrenaline rush.”

Chey tapped her fingers on the water bottle, studying him with an almost unnerving intensity. In that moment, Leander got a glimpse of what Sander went through when Chey was adamant about getting an answer. He maintained silence, holding her eyes, hoping she would reconsider pushing the issue.

“Take the bed. I'll curl up on the couch out here and rest until we land.” Chey straightened from her lean.

“There's no way I'm taking the only real bed on board. Nuh-uh. You have a good night's sleep--”

“Take the bed, Leander,” Chey said quietly, then smiled a little smile. “I might not know the whole story with all you men, but I
do
know that you've got something big coming up and you need to be rested to deal with it.” Chey didn't wait for an answer. She turned, stepped out, and closed the door behind her.

Leander ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he needed to come down off the adrenaline high before he could even think of sleep. So he paced and drank, hydrating his body after sweating the day away in the heat.

Tomorrow, at least, he would have a better idea of whether he would live or die.

. . .

“Wynn, it's Chey. I wanted to call you before I got a bit of sleep—if I can sleep at all—and find out what Leander said.”

Wynn, back in the same booth after a long walk through the woods behind the cafe, toyed with the coffee mug while she listened to Chey. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window to her right, casting streaks across her table and the floor beyond. She'd been in and out all day, taking turns walking, exploring and fretting. The waitresses all knew her by name, now, and after she'd explained her situation in subtle, undefined terms, the staff was understanding and willing to accommodate.

“He didn't tell me anything. I'm so frustrated. I mean, I've been at this cafe since early this morning, but I don't want to leave and get a room anywhere,” Wynn said. “And he's telling me I can't go back to the house. My hands are tied. But I'm going to have to do something soon. The cafe only stays open so long.”

“I know. I couldn't get anything out of anyone, either. I saw what they're doing, though. No getting around that now,” Chey replied.

“What was it like?”

“Military-ish clothing, you know, vests and pants with pockets for ammunition and weapons and whatnot. They're armed to the teeth—it looks like an undercover operation, which is what it is. This can't be the first time they've all worked together, too, so I'm guessing that all those times they left on three day 'errands' or 'meetings with foreign kings' or whatever were bogus. They've been going off doing this for a long time as a team.” Chey scoffed.

“That's fantastic. So they've been risking their lives and we didn't even know it.” That wasn't the news Wynn wanted to hear. Leander providing 'security' for Mattias or Sander was one thing, as was collecting information on the sly. Taking off for dangerous missions on other people's behalf was another.

“It looks that way. And when I left Ankara, they were pretty sure another strike was coming, so now I'm worried about them all.”

“I know, same here. I just hope everything is over quickly and everyone makes it out without a scratch.” Wynn paused, then added, “I guess I better find the closest hotel and get a room. It's going to be a while before you get here.” Another day without Leander. Wynn was getting twitchy.

“Make sure you text me where you're staying. I don't know what Leander will do once we get there, but I have a feeling that he'll go straight to the house before he sees you,” Chey said.

“Oh, that's not the way it's going to happen at all. Just let me know when you land. I plan to meet you both at the house.”

“Wynn--”

“I know what he said, and I don't care. I'm tired of not knowing everything. I bet they'll say it's 'our best interest' and that 'it's safer' if we don't know what they're doing. That's baloney. I deserve to know when he is and isn't going to be in danger.” Wynn huffed a breath and put a lid on her irritation. It stemmed from worry about what kind of trouble Leander might be in.

“Okay. I'll let you know when we touch down. Try and get some sleep and we'll see you some time in the morning.”

“Thanks for calling, Chey. Have a safe flight.” Wynn ended the call, gathered her things, and after leaving a large tip for the waitresses who had been so kind all day, departed the cafe.

Although she didn't think she'd get any sleep, she knew she had to try and rest.

Tomorrow marked two days Leander had left to live.

Leander's 'second' phone went off, startling him awake. He flailed an arm up in defense until he got his bearings, which was quicker than most people given his extra curricular activities. He'd learned to snap his mind to attention in seconds after waking, a necessary survival trait.

The drone of the engine assured him they were still high above the earth, making way toward the west coast of California. He didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been asleep. After a brief shower the evening before, he'd stretched out to try and regenerate his body and his energy. Reaching for the nightstand, he picked up the cell phone and answered without glancing at the screen. It could only be a member of the Elite calling on this line.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm here.”

“Leander, it's Mattias.”

He sat up straighter in bed, propping his torso up with one hand. “What's the news.”

“They tried to follow you once you had Chey in the car. Probably wanted to take you hostage and question you. So we had to stop their vehicle and storm the building.”

“Damn. Tell me everyone got out all right.” Leander didn't like the odds. The men holding Kristo outnumbered their group two or three to one.

“Ahsan managed some intel from our hostages. How many men there were, and their tentative positions, so it made the task a
little
easier. We extracted Kristo and the man who seems to be in charge of the operation. We're en route to Weithan Isle right now to return Kristo and the hostage to Augustin. Everyone's fine.”

“So what
aren't
you saying?” Leander asked. He'd known Mattias long enough to know that there was something else. Something Mattias hadn't divulged.

“I don't know. I don't want to say it was too easy, but something just felt...
off
to me when we got in there.”

“Like what?”

“I can't put my finger on it. Just something. Sander and Ahsan noticed it too, though they didn't say anything until we were on Ahsan's private plane out of there.”

Leander went over everything that had happened since the moment they'd received notice that Kristo had been taken. Every phone call he was privy to, every bit of information coming in from spies and hackers, trying to find a hole or some obvious tripwire.

“Well, let's go over everything. We heard about it through underground word of mouth, gathered a team, and decided to extract him ourselves. Negotiations between Augustin and the leader of the group deteriorated, with no agreement made for a ransom due to Augustin's apparent 'lack of funds'. So Augustin is attempting to trade in goods for his son's life. Right so far?” Leander threw back the covers and paced to the cooler. Pulling up a bottle of water, he worked the cap off and had a long drink. Coffee would have been better, but water would do. His mind kicked into high gear, looking for points of weakness or instability in the plans so far.

“Yes, that's where we're at. We arrive at a place for surveillance and wait for our opportunity to snatch Kristo, then Chey arrives unexpectedly with four guards. Kristo's holders send over two pretty unskilled assassins to...what? Kill us all? Maybe that's the part that's really bothering me. If they wanted us dead, why not send an entire team? They have to have better shooters than that. Unless we're dealing with a group of men who didn't plan this out very well, which I doubt because they knew where to snag Kristo and those men overtook Kristo's security with ease.”