Page 82 of Lost Kingdom

“They knew I had a vested interest in you. There’s no one in this city who doesn’t know that. If they were smart, they’d have tossed your brother out the front door every single time he tried to party. But I guess they thought I was bluffing.” Another kiss. “This is what happens when you’re born to rule, but don’t. They consider me weak.”

“You’re taking it personally.”

“Itispersonal! I warned them away from you, Aubree! I told them to stay the fuck away. But they tracked you down in the fucking dark anyway. They touched you. And for that alone, they’ll lose their hands.”

“Tim—”

“They knew,” he growls. “They fucking knew what you are to me, which is why they did what they did, and they did it while you were alone. They had to know I wouldn’t let it stand.”

“Almost like they were trying to lead you into a trap, huh?” I snag my phone and type in Duane’s apartment address, then I hand the device off to the driver in silence, and come back to slide my fingers through Tim’s beard. “Like they were betting on you storming out to avenge me onimpulse. How does one take a city, when the namesake lives and breathes peace inside that city?”

“They kill him.” His eyes grow wider, searching mine. “You think?”

I drag him down and kiss his too-firm lips. “I know. They targeted Duane long ago, because of his connection to me, and mine to you. This isn’t an underdeveloped coincidence that would have had you bleeding out in the snow. This was calculated, and would have been successful if you followed your temper last night instead of intellect.”

“It’s a decent theory.” His brows pinch and dig a line across his forehead. “It’s hard to know who to look out for when we don’t even know who Booth works for.”

“All the more reason to move carefully. Staying home and spending the evening with your wife will always be the smarter plan.” I lower my hand and set it on his lap, then I straighten in my seat and glance out the front windshield as we head toward my brother. “The city is in flux right now. Your father only died this year, and Felix’s focus is, understandably, on New York. He can’t guard both coasts, so it makes sense that Copeland is experiencing a shift in its foundations. Whoever this person is, isn’t brave enough to siege New York. But they’re stupid enough to try their luck here, where three of five Malones live.”

“So what do you suggest we do, smarty pants?” He grabs my hand and brings it up to nibble on my fingers. “We’re fighting a ghost, and somehow the naïve, sickly-sweet hippie girl is our Battalion General?”

I snort. “I’m just someone on the outside, fortunate enough to be able to look in with an objective eye. Up here, please.” I lean forward and tap the driver’s shoulder so he can see where I point. “The brownstone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He indicates right and slows as we approach Duane’s building.

“Our life is a journey,” I explain, “and that journey is constantly changing. Our paths rely on everyone else’s. So me stepping in and saving Duane all the time changed his future. You going out last night to confront a ghost would have changed yours.” I unsnap my belt and wait as he does the same and opens the door. Then he slides out, holding my hand and bringing me to my feet on the sidewalk.

“Ma’am.” The driver steps out of the front and offers my phone back. And though he doesn’t offer his hand, I do. And he’s not in the life where he can afford to refuse. So he shakes my hand and drops his gaze, while beside me, Tim’s eyes narrow in thought.

“Thank you for the ride. We shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes. Would you mind waiting?”

“Of course not.” He’s a hardened man, I know. He’s seen things that visit him in the night. But his cheeks warm now for every second I hold on. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.” I release him and loop my arm around Tim’s. “Let’s go inside before we freeze.”

“What was that?” Tim opens the building’s front door and leads me into a lobby only fractionally warmer than outside. “You hitting on my driver, Aubree Grace? Right in front of me like that?”

I roll my eyes. “No. But keep him on staff. I like him.”

“How much do you like him?” Jealousy is like a drum in the air. An insecurity beating at the back of a person’s skull and putting words into an otherwise intelligent man’s mouth. “Should I fire him, reassign him, or kill him?”

“Keep him,” I snicker. “He cares that you’re safe. Known him long?”

His eyes are a perfect molten green, the exact right color to prove my point. “A while. Do we have a problem here?”

“Nope.” I set my hand in his back pocket and burrow into his side. “Duane’s on the second floor. 2B.”

“Yeah.” He leads me up the stairs and toward the dented and dirty door. “I know. Are you prepared for the possibility he had visitors overnight?” He yanks me to a stop just two feet from the door and pulls me around. “I know you like to believe the best in everyone, and maybe your calm thinking saved me from an assassination attempt last night,”and yet, he remains skeptical, “but chances are, Booth’s boy hunted Duane down. If he’s not dead, he’s been tuned up. You won’t like what you see.”

“Assumptions lead to false narratives. And false narratives have been known to start more than a few wars.” I turn to the door and insert the key I was given long ago, then I cross the threshold and step face-first into that overpowering scent of Axe body spray. Because he’s still doing that, I suppose. “Duane?”

I don’t bother watching my back—there’s no one on this planet who would protect me as fiercely as Tim—but I peek into the kitchen, then the living room, littered in old pizza boxes, soda bottles, and a box of tissues.

My nose wrinkles in disgust.

I push the laundry door open and spy the toilet, lid up… hasn’t been cleaned in a while.

“My brother is an unsocialized pig. There’s a reason he’s not in a committed relationship yet.”

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