Page 200 of New Storm Rising
“Very amusing, Mrs Ambrose. But you did not answer my question yet. Are. You. All. Right?”
Glancing up, I met his eyes for the first time since the gunman had attacked. The wild look there had only intensified, like a storm, ready to drown the world in hail and thunder.
Standing up on my tiptoes, I placed a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Yes. Yes, I’m perfectly all right.”
He held my eyes for a long moment—then nodded, and finally relaxed.
“Adequate.” Yay! My hubby was back! “Now…” Straightening his back, his face iced over, and his gaze swept towards the exit. “Let’s deal with the mastermind of tonight’s excitement, shall we?”
A menacing glint appeared in his eyes.
Oh yes, he’s back. He’s back with a vengeance!
“You.” Turning, Mr Rikkard Ambrose directed his most icy stare, capable of freezing you to death at sixty paces, straight at the three thugs. “Stay there, or I will make certain you regret it!”
“Err…I think they’re still unconscious, Sir.”
“Then they will definitely stay where they are, will they not?”
That was certainly one way of looking at it. It would have been interesting to see what would happen if Mr Ambrose ever chose to switch his career to law enforcement officer. It would certainly redefine the term “excessive force”.
“Come.” Whirling around, he strode out of the statue and across the cobblestones to where a slumped figure lay on the ground. To judge by the way its neck was twisted at an interesting angle, the man had fallen from high above, and his abrupt meeting with the ground hadn’t been a friendly one. “Let’s have a look at who is brave enough to aim a gun at my wife, shall we?”
I felt a shiver go down my back at his tone—but I stiffened my spine and quickened my pace. “Yes, let’s. I’m rather curious about that as well.”
Giving a curt nod, Mr Rikkard Ambrose knelt on the cobblestones and reached for the black cloth that covered the man’s face. Pulling it aside, he revealed a narrow, harsh face, twisted in anger. A face that bore undeniable Spanish features.
My oh my. I had a sneaking suspicion that the Spanish noblemen’s trial wouldn’t take six months after all.
***
SHOCKING NEWS
Prison housing 2 Spanish noblemen mysteriously burns to the ground!
I stared at the newspaper headline screaming at me from the front page, and took a sip from my morning cup of tea.
“How very mysterious,” I commented, sending Mr Ambrose a look.
“Indeed,”
“I wonder how that happened.”
“Indeed.”
“Especially since it happened to a prison built from stone. Near the river. A day after heavy rainfall.”
“Indeed.”
I gave up. There was simply no one on this earth, the Sphinx and the Grim Reaper included, who had a better poker face than Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
Still…
I’d never been one to back down from a challenge, right?
Smiling broadly, I leaned across the table. Over the tops of my steepled fingers, I sent him an innocent look. “Mr Ambrose?”
He glanced up from the documents he was perusing. “Yes, Mrs Ambrose?”
