Page 108 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
“I suppose you couldn’t simply buy your way to legitimacy.” Aggie tried to move around Nestor’s bulky frame to catch her in his eyesight once again, his words as cutting as his physical blows. “My father will be quite pleased to see you—assuming you survive long enough for a reunion.”
But Bris barely heard his taunts. The message burned her hands. She hid it behind her as his threats grew more desperate and horribly descriptive. Her heart raced. She knew exactly who was behind the Myrdons. Here was proof of betrayals within betrayals in this deadly game where she’d finally found her ace.
The question now was whether she’d live long enough to play it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
WherewasBris?Wasshe safe? And what about Gena? Achilles’s worries crashed into each other like waves against jagged rocks, barely giving him time to process one fear before another took its place. He sat in the sterile conference room, his wrists raw from the restraints, the polished table reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights overhead.
Phoenix had abandoned him for the moment, which only made his anxiety claw deeper into his gut. He preferred having enemies where he could see them. Phoenix could be going after Bris, and he wouldn’t know!
The door opened with a soft click, and Polly appeared in the doorway, hesitating before stepping inside. Her cold confidence from earlier had cracked, replaced by something that looked almost like guilt.
Rage surged through him at the sight of her. How dare she waltz in here acting uncertain when she’d assisted with so much death? His hands clenched into fists as she approached, and he noticed she still clutched his phone in her trembling fingers. Hope flickered—maybe he could still get it from her.
She moved closer and whispered urgently, “Bris is safe.”
How did she know what was happening with his wife? His whole body screamed at him to watch for tricks. No way was he giving away her location. He studied Polly’s face as she touched his handcuffs, noting genuine concern in her dark eyes. Either she was using the same acting skills that had fooled them all, or she was actually trying to help him.
Her quick fingers working against the handcuffs showed that she knew what she was doing. No noblewomen should have these kinds of skills, but this one had grown up here during the civil war. Her whole cover story could be a fake—she might’ve had to scramble on the streets to get enough food to eat. “I have word of your wife’s location,” she whispered.
Word from who? He’d left her at the bell tower. And this had to be a setup! He glared at her. “Are you fishing for information? Trying to get me to confirm or deny what you think you know?”
Her expression crumpled with what looked like genuine anguish. “Relax, I work for your mother, so keep your insults to yourself. I had to infiltrate the Myrdons, and it wasn’t easy,okay? Gain their trust, learn their plans—hopefully warn you before it was too late.”
The catch on his handcuffs clicked, and they fell loose while he stared at her. A double agent? Polly barely looked like she could be a single agent with those dimples. How could he be sure? “No one could know my true allegiance, not even P—” She hesitated, her voice breaking. “Is Peder really dead?”
Achilles had no idea what had happened to his friend, but something in her tortured expression made him take a chance on trusting her. “He was alive when I last saw him.”
Relief flooded her features as she grappled at her side and thrust his phone into his hand. “I thought this might be useful.”
He barely had time to process when the door exploded inward. A squad of armed men in tactical gear stormed toward them, their weapons trained on Polly. The phone had just touched his hand when she spun around, using her body to shield him from their view. Achilles threw his wrists behind his back to conceal the contraband.
Phoenix appeared in the doorway, his pale eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction. “Well, well, it appears we have a little spy in our midst. We can’t have you spoiling our prisoner with unauthorized visits, now can we?”
His men ruthlessly grabbed her, tugging her arms behind her. “Let me go!” Polly shouted. They dragged her away, but her defiant gaze met Achilles’s for just an instant—long enough for him to see that they’d never break her.
She’d taken this chance, knowing the risk, all to assure him his wife was safe, find the truth about Peder, and give him some kind of way to communicate with the outside world. And Achilles could only call out threats, hoping that would be enough for them to leave her alone. There had to be a way to make sure her efforts weren’t in vain!
The door slammed shut, leaving him breathing hard in the sudden silence. His hands were free, and he had a phone. Now the question was who to call for help.
Fingers shaking, almost uncontrollably, he scrolled through his contacts while his mind raced. No seeking the cross, even if he could. His mother’s number wasn’t there. No one else seemed to have any real power in this situation. Except… one person stood out. Someone with heart and spunk—and who had the connections that spanned international waters.
Making his decision, he dialed quickly, not knowing how much time he had before his captors returned.
The phone rang once, twice, his heart pounding a hole through his ribs with each electronic tone. Then a familiar voice answered, though it sounded strangely high and strained.
“Achilles? Is that you?” Charisse’s usually composed tone was tight with what sounded like fear. “I heard there was trouble on the island. Are you all right?”
“I’m not…” He had to make this fast. He kept his voice down. “The Myrdons have Gena.”
She gasped. “How?”
“I don’t know, but I think this all has to do with offshore drilling off the coast of Aeaea—something they started in the nineties, and they want to finish it all off—stealing every natural resource that Tirreoy has.”
“Achilles! Wait! I think I know who they might be…”
“You do?”
