Page 13 of Heart of Stone (Dark Billionaires)

“Luck, coupled with meeting Rhys Stone and his brother Aldous, in addition to their cousin, Jensen.”

Kate finally released the question that had been rattling around her brain like a sharp stone in her shoe. “What happened to those women in the photos?”

His emerald eyes flickered. “We’re looking for them. We’ve been questioning your father since he arrived.”

He was still alive then. “We being… you and Brax?”

“Mostly.” Warren crossed his arms over his chest, frowning down at her.

“So you’re Warren Stone now?” Had Warren Harper died entirely?

“Warren Harper died with Aaron, kitten.”

The thought was like a knife in her heart. “Why?”

“When I was in prison, I was more alone than I’d ever been before.” He looked away with a frown, a tattoo creeping above his collar. “I was lucky enough to have Rhys as my cellmate. His mother, Alison… She did more for me than any foster family or social worker ever had. Eighteen months into my sentence, they offered me their name, and I took it.”

Kate pressed her feet to the ground, propelling the swing slightly. “When did you get out of prison?”

“Four years ago.”

Her lips parted in shock. “How did you go from being in prison to owning—” She gestured in the direction of the house “—Buckingham fucking Palace infouryears?”

“Rhys, Jensen, and I were in prison. Aldous was on the outside managing the holding company.”

She blinked. “That doesn’t even remotely answer my question.” Just as she heard distant voices, movement turned her head to the left.

Two men were walking nonchalantly up the path. One had a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck, whilst the other bore twin walking poles in his hands. Ramblers. Kate had sometimes seen them out and about in the forest that bordered their estate, walking at a brisk pace and avoiding teenagers on mountain bikes like the plague.

Warren lifted his body off the tree trunk, wearing an unfriendly expression. “Gentleman. This is private property.”

The two men shared a look. “Our apologies,” the one wearing binoculars said, pulling a map out of his pocket. “We are a bit lost, however. We’ve gotten slightly turned around. I don’t suppose you’d be able to point us in the right direction?”

“Back the way you came,” Warren said grumpily. “Where are you headed?”

“Broadwood’s Tower near Box Hill.”

“Then you’re on the wrong side of the A24.” He pointed at a spot on the map. “You’re here, on this path. If you follow it to the North Downs Way—”

Kate looked up in time to see the other man drop his walking poles and pull a wicked-sharp knife from his jacket. She shouted out a garbled warning, but Warren was already moving. He spun to the left, avoiding the bite of the blade, before wrenching the attacker’s arm down and twisting hard.

But whilst Warren was gaining the upper hand, the second moved in for the kill, drawing his own blade.

She had barely seen the bright sunlight flicker off the second attacker’s knife before she jumped into action.

Her father may be a neglectful addict, but he had also been a keen boxer back in the day, and was still an avid follower of the sport now.

Curling her hand into a fist, just like her father taught her, Kate took advantage of the attackers’ focus on Warren. With all her strength, she launched herself at the second one. Or, more specifically, at his liver.

Kate grunted as her shoddy, untrained punch connected. The impact sent a jolt up her elbow, but she ignored the pain, readying herself for another punch.

But the second attacker collapsed where he stood, his knees caving in and his arms coming around his waist. He hit the forest floor with an agonised groan.

A smile flashed onto her face momentarily. Had that actually worked? But there was no time to contemplate her victory. Warren, distracted by the sound of her grunt, turned.

A mistake.

The man he’d been fighting, his nose bloodied, took the opportunity as soon as it presented itself, aiming a lethal kick at Warren’s right leg, sending an awful,terriblecrack through the air. Despite his trousers covering the skin beneath, the sight of his broken calf, bent at almost a right angle, nearly had her retching.

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