THOMAS
I’d thought I understood the fierce love my brother Will had for his wife. It was no secret to what lengths he had gone for her. He had endured physical and emotional pain, carrying the weight of her life on his shoulders, watching from a distance, waiting years to have her. He’d killed for her. And because he loved her, he’d been denied his child for eight years. It was the darkest form of love. Obsession. Possession. Control. It was how my father had loved my mother as well.
Katie deserved time to think things through. She knew if she chose me, I would own her. In exchange for my promise to worship her every day for the rest of my life, she would belong to me. Negotiation didn’t exist in this kind of commitment. Only a strong, forgiving woman could love a man like me.
I’d moved back into my own flat. There was no reason for me to stay at the Reeds’ penthouse. Carolyn had refused to aid me in her husband’s matter, and with her daughter gone, our business had ended.
After looking in on John, I poured myself some scotch and settled in the solitude of my living room. I needed downtime to focus. Track down Chris Reed before the assassin found him. The blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows remained open, the city lights reflecting on the East River. It was a great view, but it meant nothing to me. I needed to get the hell out of New York.
My mobile rang, the number of the penthouse security office on the screen. “What?” I snapped.
“We have a situation,” the security officer said. “We’ve had our eyes on 4-C, like you asked. Someone just came out of the apartment and took the elevator up to the penthouse.”
“Description.”
“About six feet, fit, wearing jeans and a black hoodie.”
“How many men do you have on detail?” I demanded.
“Myself and two other officers. Should we call the police?”
“No. Guard at the lift, disable the power. Do not engage, for fuck’s sake. Assume the man is armed and dangerous. I’m on the way. In the meantime, bring in the rest of the team, but remember—and I can’t stress this enough—don’t do anything until I arrive.”
The Reeds’ penthouse was a ten-minute ride on my motorbike.
When I arrived, tenants lingered outside on the pavement, annoyed because they hadn’t been allowed inside. One of the security guards stood at the lobby entrance door, arms crossed and legs splayed wide to prevent anyone from slipping through.
I pushed my way to him. “Report.”
“Nothing new, sir,” he said at full attention. “Nobody in or out.”
“Are the stairwells secure?”
He shook his head. “We’ve had some trouble moving some of the tenants. They figured out they could still use the stairwells.”
I nodded. “When the other men get here, I want one on every floor.”
“Roger that.”
He saluted me as I passed through, as if I were his goddamn drill sergeant. Another guard waited by the lift. As instructed, they’d cut the power. I knew the main stairwell stopped below the penthouse. Beyond that, there was a private stairwell with restricted access leading to the penthouse. I’d installed dead bolts and motion sensors on those doors, controlled by my system. None had been breached.
The problem was, I couldn’t disable them without my equipment. I’d moved everything to my flat. Powering up the lift was out of the question. Too much risk. The only way in was the fire escape.
I took the stairs two at a time. When I hit the fourth level, I broke into 4-C, kicking in the door. The wood split where it met the frame. Reed needed to address that issue on all units.
I climbed out an east-facing window—just below Katie’s bedroom suite terrace—and took the fire escape up to the penthouse level. The terrace was seven feet away from the ladder. I’d taken apart the landing that gave access to her room.
At six-four, I was strong and in my best form, so it wasn’t an impossibility for me to make the jump. I calculated the trajectory, took a couple deep breaths, and went for it. I caught the cement railing with my fingers and pulled myself up and onto the terrace.
Grief hit me with the memory of seeing Katie watching the moon from that very spot. How she’d stripped for me just inside the French doors. The scent of her hair still lingered on my shirt, the softness of our last kiss on my mouth. The feel of her warm flesh was still present on my fingertips.
Grief turned to rage at the cold realization it was me who had pushed her away. I couldn’t get my shit together enough to hold on to the woman I loved. That same rage propelled me to continue the task already in motion. Cracking a glass pane with my elbow, I reached inside and unlocked the door leading into Katie’s bedroom.
With my gun in hand, I planned to work my way through the flat and check every room.
The gallery came into view, as did the back of a man’s head.
With my pistol aimed at him, I warned, “Move one fucking inch, and you’re a dead man.”
The glass in his hand hit the floor, shattering to pieces at his feet. “Please,” he begged with his hands up, fingers stretched out in full view. “Please, this is my home.”
He wasn’t armed, and he was frightened.
Not the assassin. It was Chris Reed.
I holstered my gun. “Turn and face me. Then, you can tell me what the hell you’re doing, Reed, sneaking into your own home like a common thief.”
He let out an audible rush of breath and turned. “Hastings. Oh Christ, I thought it was the hit man.”
“Make no mistake, the prime minister’s assassin will come for you. Talk, or you’ll get no help from me.”
“Yes, yes. Let’s go into the library.” He poured himself another glass of Macallan and one for me while I rang the security team.
“I want answers, mate, or things could get quite uncomfortable for you. You want me on your side.”
He bobbed his head and clutched his glass as if were his lifeline. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, but first, I’d like to know where you sent my daughter.”
“Katie’s safe, and that’s all you’ll get until I know what you did to cause the British prime minister to put a price on your head.”
His eyes widened. “I’m innocent. I swear. Whatever they think—”
“Listen to me carefully. I don’t want to hear vague explanations or bullshit excuses. Your daughter was almost killed. You should know that if a hair on her head had been harmed, we wouldn’t be having a conversation right now.”
He sighed heavily and sank onto his leather sofa. “Okay. Bear with me. The situation is complicated. It’s a long story.”
“Cut to the goddamn chase, Reed.”
“Well, okay. What it boils down to is my wife’s infidelity. She was unfaithful, and her affair produced a child. I’ve been searching for intel on the boy’s whereabouts, not committing espionage.”
“Go on.”
“Carolyn’s son has level three ASD. The prime minister is the boy’s father. They fought. He didn’t want the boy, but he also didn’t want his wife or the public to find out about the child or his affair with my wife. Carolyn hid their son, afraid the prime minister would come for him—or worse, that he would, well, end the boy. The boy’s guardian recently betrayed Carolyn by moving the child. We believe the prime minister has their son now. I’ve been searching for him.”
“What benefit did you gain from disappearing?”
“A man known to be collecting information for me inside the UK was executed. There were texts between us. Nothing criminal. Enough to alarm the minister. I panicked, and Carolyn said hiding was for the best, to keep Katherine safe. I came back against my wife’s wishes. I’ve been here, in the vacant apartment in my building, for the past three days.”
My jaw clenched. I flexed my fists. “The governor was wrong.” A swallow of scotch burned the back of my throat. “I presume you have corroborating evidence to back up your story.”
“A paternity test was administered early on. The records were buried, but we were able to retain a copy of the report with the results.” He went on to tell me about the countless threats they’d received from the prime minister over the years. He believed Carolyn’s intentions were good.
“You’ve forgiven your wife for her infidelity?”
He shrugged. “I love her.”
“Of course.” I understood his kind of forgiveness now. “Sit tight while I make some calls. You need to make one of your own—use the landline to ring your daughter. Katie needs to hear from you. Her new number is there, on your desk.”
“Hastings, wait. You’ve used that name several times. Are you personally involved with my daughter?”
I turned my back on him to leave the room. “Make the call. Do it now.”
Katie was close to her father. I wanted her to have the opportunity to tell him.
When I returned to the library, Reed was on the leather sofa, another glass of scotch in his hand.
He scrubbed a hand over his face before making eye contact with me. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know how to process this relationship between you and Katherine.”
My chest split. “She left me, you know.”
He nodded, examining my expression, my hand on my chest. “I’m sorry, I think. Yes, I believe that I am. She had no choice but to keep the truth from you. It wasn’t her secret to tell.”
I went to the bar, built into one of his wooden bookcases, and filled my glass. “Quite right. She’s blameless.” I took a drink, turned. “The director general demands your cooperation. In return, his team will take out the remaining assassin, and he’ll see that a parliamentary commission forms to investigate the prime minister’s actions against you. You’ll travel to London in my custody and be remanded by MI5 upon our arrival.”
Reed opened his mouth, but before he could speak, I cut him off. “Think carefully before you respond, mate. Leaving with me is your only ticket to stay alive and to see your daughter again.”
“Okay. Then, I will go. And Carolyn’s son?”
“If your wife wants to establish custody of the child properly, she must raise the legal matter in England, where the child resides.” I checked my watch. “The director’s plane arrives in thirty-six hours. I’ll meet you here three hours prior to that. I trust you’re not going to run again.”
He shook his head. “You have my word. For my family’s sake.”
The next thing that entered my mind was Katie, the thought that she might refuse to see me.
My hand shook as I set down the glass.