Page 113 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
His stomach turned, and he thought he’d be sick as her voice shot him into that terrible night in the crypts. All he could think about was that bloodthirsty woman who’d sent her assassins after Bris. That had been Charrisse all along! The girl wasn’t lying—shedidlike to get her hands dirty!
“But you knew Aggie was here,” she said. “Didn’t you? Thought we were flying into an ambush.” Her lips turned to a pout as she descended into babytalk. “And you didn’t warn us? We could’ve all been killed.”
Was she completely insane? He watched her produce a pistol from her designer purse. He moved back as far as he could, not trusting the wild expression. “We have no choice but to fight his way out of here now that we’ve come. Daddy wouldn’t listen, you know—he just wanted me to marry you, thought you were the safer option, that I could wrap you easily around my fingers, like the dumb ox you are. But let’s be honest, I don’t need you. Aggie will do absolutely anything for me.”
So, this was Aggie’s latest strategy—seduce the delusional heiress and use her family’s resources? Clever, in a narcissistic, sociopathic way. Achilles tried to raise his hands in surrender… they didn’t get too far, and he groaned, his mind racing on ways to de-escalate this madness. “And daddy—uh… your father is going to be okay with you taking home, uh… Aggie?”
“No, he’ll be enraged.” She grinned. “He’d had every intention of assassinating the man I loved, make it look like the rebels killed him so there would be no rivals to the throne but you! I couldn’t let that happen to my baby. It’s us against the world now.”
Bonnie and Clyde, except Bonnie was certifiably off her rocker, and Clyde was a war criminal. He wished them all the happiness they deserved—which was none—especially since their aim was to destroy his country with their lunacy.
The helicopter door burst open, carrying Achilles with it. His feet, followed by his knees, skidded through the dirt, his chin knocking against the heavy metal siding. His head lifted as he came face to face with Phoenix. He’d returned with several soldiers, all taking cover from intense gunfire.
“Initiate Protocol Seven!” Phoenix shouted. His face was red. Blood spilled down his neck. “Level the entire complex!”
Achilles choked back his dismay. They planned to obliterate the stadium entirely. Was Bris in there?
“No! You’ll get Aggie too!” Charisse shrieked. She tumbled down the seat, ramming Achilles back against the door on her way to the battle outside.
“Stop her! Get her back!” Phoenix yelled. The men all rushed after her, leaving Achilles standing against the door with men shooting around him.
He tugged on his restraints, his brain refusing to believe that a little thing like jagged strips of plastic could keep him trapped here. Pushing to his feet, he cursed loudly, only to be shushed soundly.
Whipping around on his heel, he was almost barreled over by a woman wearing a headscarf—not a disguise, but practical protection from the dust and smoke. Her arms flew around him, and he took in a good whiff of Bris.
He couldn’t even embrace her, couldn’t keep her safe! Panic seized him. “You shouldn’t be here! They want you dead!”
She snorted. “Who doesn’t?” So like Bris not to let anyone stop her! Her hands were already at her headscarf, unwrapping it as she spoke. “Your mother knows about Gena now! And she’s definitely working with your father. Nestor’s been her spy… well, and the Myrdon’s spy, but he hates them because they’re blackmailing him—Oh! And this place is the cross and her heart—” She twisted the fabric tight between her hands, forming a makeshift rope. “Hold still.” Working the scarf around the zip tie, she began sawing rapidly back and forth.
Was she actually trying to get off his restraints with her headscarf? “What are you doing?”
“Something I saw on TalkieTalk once.” The friction made the plastic warm against his wrists as her words tumbled out urgently. “And you won’t believe it, the Myrdons send messages with Nestor to Aggie… so he pretends to work with them…” The zip tie snapped suddenly, plastic fragments scattering to the dirt. Achilles stared down at his freed hand in disbelief, butBris didn’t pause—she worked on the next restraint, talking with the same casual intensity like she was working on his nails at a salon. “Aggie has been playing some side chick and—and I intercepted the message…”
The last zip tie fell to the ground, and he stopped her frantic explanation by capturing her lips in his desperate need to have her in his arms again. He’d been too long without her. She let out a breath that he lost no time making his.
Her hands fisted in his shirt as she pulled him closer. The gritty feel of dust and fear against her cheek only made him hold her tighter, kissing her like it was their first and their last. His fingers threaded through her dark hair—so soft, so silky, all that he remembered and hoped he’d feel again. Her soft sound of surrender sent heat racing through his chest—relief and longing colliding. He never wanted to let her go.
She pulled back, breathless. He caught her hand before she could get too far. “I tried to save your life by talking up your Tyndarian Offshore Holdings in Aeaea.”
Bris cried out in something that sounded like laughter… or was she really crying? She clung to his fingers. Her forehead pressed against his shoulder. “Did it work?”
“No, I’m a terrible liar.”
“You are!” Tremors ran through her small frame. “I thought I’d never see you again—I—I need you, Achilles! Don’t ever leave me again!”
An explosion thundered behind them, the shockwave rattling the windows behind them. His whole being revolted in defiance. Now that he had her, her safety was his priority!
Keeping her close, he ripped open the front passenger door of the helicopter and threw her inside. “Don’t move!” He rushed around the front of its black polished metal to take the pilot’s seat on the other side of her. His hands moved with practiced efficiency—battery switch on, fuel pump switches engaged.
“You won’t believe what Aggie is planning.” Bris dug into her pockets to pull out a piece of paper. As soon as she brought it up to his face, the environmental control system kicked on with a mechanical whir. The sudden rush of air caught the paper, ripping it from her fingers. “Are you kidding me right now?” She ducked below the instrument panel, scrambling after it.
At the same time, a heavy thud announced someone boarding the aircraft behind them, followed by the slam of the door. Achilles’s stomach dropped as he glanced in the mirror to see who had joined them.
Charisse. And she wasn’t alone. He froze at the sight of a red-headed demon springing from the depths of Hades. Aggie was with her in a black jumpsuit, settling back against the seat with a satisfied smirk on his bruised face that made Achilles’s blood run cold.
No! No! Were they unholy spirits come back to haunt him? With his whole body prickling with alarm, he moved fast. His hand pressed against Bris’s back, pushing her down further, so she wouldn’t be visible. Please let these high-backed seats conceal her from these killers.
Bonnie and Clyde were the picture of bad romance—Charisse’s delicate hand intertwined with Aggie’s as if they were ready for a buggy ride around the park. The Myrdon heir fixed him with a watery blue gaze that held triumphant malice. “Ah, my dear, we’ve found our pilot.”
