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)
The best way to help Locke was to… leave him.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my heart wrenching with uncertainty and helplessness. “I…”
“Go, Jethro,” he said softly. “Give me one less thing to worry about. Please.”
I kissed him again and then bolted through the door. No passport, no money—those were still locked in the suite’s safe, where Locke would protect them from the authorities.
The only thing I carried was my phone.
But I knew it was enough.
All I had to do was hop on a train and pay with my phone. Travel up the coast and make my way to Liorland. Beg mercy from my cousins. Contact Rocky and ask for help repatriating.
The hardest part would be coming up with a story to explain it all. As if I hadn’t been in the thick of it.
As if I hadn’t helped cause it all.
31
LOCKE
I watched Jett walk away, torn between wanting to pull him back inside to keep him with me and yelling at him to go faster. The sirens were already blaring, and I had no idea how he would ever get to town without being spotted on the road.
Who the fuck was Jett? What did he know? Who did he work for? Was he going to get in trouble?
It was killing me not knowing, but I cared about him enough to protect him from whatever consequences he was afraid of.
I only wished he’d understood that the Paxis Council hardly ever faced consequences. Our combined wealth, power, and connections were virtually impenetrable.
And as far as anyone knew, no one here had motivation to take out Saleem al-Qadiri, a friend of the family who’d come for a brief visit to pay his respects after the loss of my grandfather. Liyana and her driver were long gone, whisked away by whatever plan her father had made for them this morning.
I spent the next few minutes checking in with my security team and the remaining driver to make sure everyone was okay, and then I found Concetta. I made sure the staff had been briefed and that every member of the council who could evacuate had left immediately when the explosion happened. By now, they were already on boats speeding away to Tunisia, where their planes would inevitably come fetch them later tonight.
Having an emergency evacuation plan in place so the council wasn’t caught together was a requirement at every tournament, though I couldn’t recall the last time one had actually been implemented.
According to emergency protocol, I should be the only council person left on-site since I was the owner.
I heard shouting in Italian as first responders finally arrived on the scene. It felt like it had been hours since the explosion, but in reality, it had only been minutes.
First came the local police, but within half an hour, a team of national police arrived, and with them was an Interpol agent. When he learned I didn’t speak enough Italian to answer questions properly, he switched to English.
“My attorney is on his way,” I said, radiating innocence and confusion. “The man in the vehicle is… was… Saleem al-Qadiri,” I explained. The name was enough to get his attention.
“Who else is here?”
I shook my head and pointed at my ears. “I’m having difficulty hearing you.”
“We’re looking for this man,” he said loudly, turning his phone.
The picture on-screen was of a slightly younger Jett wearing a suit and tie and staring seriously at the camera. The sight made my heart ache and crack.
I wanted nothing more than to have that face here in front of me. To hold it in my palms. To see those lips tip up in an irreverent, teasing smile. To tell him… all the things I hadn’t trusted myself or him enough to say when I’d had the chance.
I met the Interpol agent’s eyes. “I don’t know that man,” I said, my voice ringing with absolute truth.
Because one thing was for sure.
Jethro Davis, the man I’d fallen for, was a ghost.
It took three days before they finally left me alone. The crime scene techs had come and gone. The attorneys and investigators had exhausted their attempts at getting information from me or access to the house.
Thankfully, Liyana’s father—Mehmet al-Qadiri—had started a rumor that Saleem had upset a powerful opposition group when he’d begun pushing a new profit model for his father-in-law’s oil holdings in an attempt to reap more of the earnings for himself. And it seemed Esteban Alvarado had helped him find the group to pin it on, because now the authorities were chasing their tails, investigating a bunch of leads that would never pan out.
The feint had worked in part because it was based in truth. Al-Qadiri hadn’t been content to wait for his father-in-law to hand over control of their vast fortune. In the end, his greed had led to his downfall.