Christmas Conspiracy (19 page)

The heat of the fire scorched his clothes as they kicked a path through burning debris. Hayden could be anywhere.

Despair clawed at Logan’s gut. Methodically, frantically, they searched each pile of rubble, before rushing to the next one.

Finally, they reached the newly capped well. Only twenty feet west, the ranch was untouched by flame.

A strange tinny sound lifted over the clamor around them.

“What’s that?” Rafe asked, turning in a circle, searching for the source of the noise.

Logan concentrated, trying to identify it. “A siren, but it doesn’t sound right. More like a....” Realization hit. “Hayden’s fire engine!”

They bolted toward the burning remains of the oldest barn on his property.

Tim, the young ranch hand, lay dead, his throat slit. Bloody footprints led toward the toy fire engine resting twenty feet beyond, its waning siren still going off.

Acid burned the back of Logan’s throat as he tore through the area, fear licking through his veins. Each piece of wood he shifted, each step he took, he braced himself to find his son—injured or worse.

He’d killed men; men had died around him and Logan had never been more scared than when he peered behind the well to the last spot that seemed possible.

His knees buckled. Another body lay spread out, his head blown half off, a serrated Bowie knife by his hand. Tiny footprints marred the bloody soil next to him.

“Hayden!” Where was he? He followed the prints as they grew ever fainter, then froze as he saw tire tracks gouged into the surface of the earth as if a heavy vehicle had spun out on the dirt. Signs of blood and a skirmish led away from the ranch.

Hayden had been kidnapped.

* * *

L
OGAN’S PHONE RANG
, and he reached for it blindly, unable to look away from the evidence. “Carmichael.”

“Hey, boss.” His foreman’s tired voice came over the line, along with the harsh sound of a siren. “Fire engine’s here.”

Logan cut him off. “And the panic room?”

Rafe raced to Logan’s side. He hit the speakerphone. “What’s happening there?”

“The ranch house burned like hellfire. We cleared what debris we could without exploding any of the gas tanks, or burning the men handling them—”

“How much longer?” Logan’s gut churned with worry.

“The fire hose soaked the rest of the debris, so the entrance should be clear in ten minutes. Maybe less. It’ll be dangerous, but…”

“Get it done.” Logan swore. Adrenaline had his heart slamming out of his chest. “Ten minutes might be too long. We lost contact with Zane shortly after the blast. Hurry.”

“Got it…and Sheriff Redmond and Deputy Parris are on their way. ETA five minutes. Dr. Sandoval called, but she’s still a ways out.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Rafe had donned plastic gloves and he moved the arm on the dead body out of the way enough to expose what little remained of his face. “Think this is the guy who murdered Paulina?”

“I’d bet on it.”

Logan studied the man. “Wait a minute. He looks familiar…” Logan tore the guy’s shirt aside to reveal a dirty bandage on his shoulder. Logan ripped it off. Gunshot wound to the shoulder. “This is the guy I shot. He locked Kat and me in the burning barn.”

“Great. He’s a psycho killer, and someone wanted
him
dead. Who the hell are we playing with here?”

“I don’t know yet. ID?” Logan asked.

Rafe reached into the man’s pocket and pulled out a driver’s license. “Fake,” he muttered. “But a good one. Hank Smith.”

“Get his prints and we’ll run the picture.”

“If we don’t hit, I’ll call in some favors in D.C. and run it through Interpol.”

Logan studied the ground around his ranch hand’s body. “Tire tracks didn’t come this far. Where’s the second intruder?”

“He probably took Hayden,” Rafe said quietly.

“Victor wants us dead. The king wants Kat and Hayden alive.” Logan shot to his feet. “I don’t know what happened here, but for now, let’s get to the ranch house and help there.”

They ran through the fiery chaos that used to be the Triple C ranch. Logan lurched to a stop when the ranch house came into view. The firemen held the hose firm as water gushed out, soaking the smoking lumber, but too many sections over the panic room still smoldered and burned. Including where the second—secret—vertical escape hatch should have been. He prayed the electronics there would still work. They had to get Kat and the others out.

Logan jumped onto an unused bulldozer. Once seated, he shoved the machine into gear and drove into the hellish, flaming debris. Fiery heat and steam blasted him. Overheated oxygen seared his lungs. The firemen turned the hose to drench him and the area around him. Over and over again, he smashed the bulldozer through the rubble until he’d cleared a path to the panic room’s second escape hatch.

Logan turned off the bulldozer and jumped down. Water soaked him as he clawed in desperation at the wreckage blocking the entryway. They had to be okay. They just had to.

Rafe and a few others joined Logan and soon they cleared enough burned lumber, ash and dirt from the now-slick iron stairwell to reveal the safety door with its covered keypad. The metal was hot to the touch, but it appeared the insulation had protected the electrical panel inside from melting down. He prayed it still worked.

With shaking fingers, Logan hit the combination.

The door creaked open.

“Kat? Lanie?” Before he could finish, Kat burst through the door carrying their daughter.

“We’re here, Logan.” Kat threw herself into Logan’s arms. “Hayden,” she gasped. “Some men in a car took him away! We saw it.” She clung to him, tears streaming down her face. “A black SUV. A man with a knife was going to kill Hayden. Another man shot the guy with the knife,” she sobbed. “Then this car came out of nowhere. They grabbed Hayden and headed away from the house.”

Logan looked at Zane. “You get a plate?”

He nodded. “One of the cars from the king’s entourage. No ID on the shooter. Yet.”

Logan’s body went ice cold with fury. His son had almost died. The king had taken him. Someone would pay.

“I want Hayden,” Lanie wailed. “I wanna go home.”

Kat hugged her baby. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

Logan’s phone rang. When he recognized the king’s number his jaw tightened. He pressed the speakerphone. “You’ve gone too far, Leopold. Where’s my son?”

“I’ve gone too far!” the king roared. “My grandson would have died in your care. I saved him from those who would murder him.”

“Where is he?” Kat yelled.

“Since you can’t keep your children safe from danger, I’m bringing him to Bellevaux. Come to me and I will protect you.”

“No!” Kat shouted. “He will never stay there. I will never stay there. I want my son!”

“He’s in my custody now and under my protection,” her father said in a cool voice. “I’m the king.”

“You’re mad,” Kat yelled.

“Be that as it may, your son is alive because of my intervention, Katherine. Now, come take your proper place and I will protect you.”

“You’re his grandfather, how can you do this?”

“I will do anything to save my country,” he said. “You don’t understand, caught up in your little world, but it’s important to my people—your people—that this country survive. I refuse to let them be swallowed up and our traditions lost.”

Logan put his hand over the speaker. “Tell him what he wants to hear, Kat. Rafe and Zane will watch over Gretchen and Lanie. We’re leaving now.”

Kat froze, but realized she had no choice.

“All right. I’m coming. But he is my son. If he’s hurt, you won’t like my reaction.”

“You may make a good queen, after all,” the king mused. “I’ll be waiting. Logan knows the way.”

* * *

T
HE
D
UKE OF
S
ARBONNE
gazed at the tapestry lining the throne-room wall. The king hadn’t entered the area since the explosion so the duke had commandeered the space. Leopold probably didn’t even know. Weakling that he was. He faced his aide. “Niko, what news do you bring that has you trembling this time?”

The man stiffened. “King Leopold has made a surprisingly forceful move. He kidnapped his grandson.”

“Really.” The duke paced the marble floors. “I didn’t think he had it in him.” He turned on Niko. “Where is the boy now?”

“The young prince is on the way to Bellevaux via the king’s private jet. He should be here within six hours. Our contact said the king has prepared two sets of adoption papers. One for the princess. One for the boy.”

“He won’t live that long.” The duke sat on the jewel-encrusted throne and leaned back, tapping his index fingers together. “Plan an interception. The boy can’t live. I
need
the princess. Only by joining our bloodlines together will I cement my hold on the throne.”

“Your Grace,” the man interjected. “May I point out that where the boy goes, the princess will follow?”

The duke smiled. “Kidnap him again, Niko? It’s risky. I’ll have to take out the king’s entourage.” He stared up at his inspiration—the tapestry of his ancestor’s greatest victory. “Kill them all, but bring the boy to me.”

This plan was worthy of the first Duke of Sarbonne. “The princess will hate her father for what he’s done. I’ll offer her an attractive alternative. She will become queen and I will become king on Christmas. Her child shall live.” He fingered his whip. “For now…”

“You will control Bellevaux…and its new wealth with Victor Karofsky’s contracts.”

The duke’s fingers drummed along the gold-plated arm of the throne. “Tell Victor Karofsky I am changing plans. We complete the transfer of power tonight. If he wants the mineral rights, he will make this all work.”

“Y…Your Grace, Karofsky is a dangerous man—”

“And I am not?” the duke roared, slashing the man with his whip. “Who will rule Bellevaux. Me or Karofsky?”

The man clenched his fists and bowed low. “You, Your Grace.”

The duke reveled in the blood running down Niko’s face. “Don’t forget again. We do this when
I
decide. I want duplicates of the adoption papers. As soon as the princess becomes the king’s heir, I’ll marry her.”

“And King Leopold?”

The duke smiled, and fingered his bloodstained whip. “It’s a shame how…accident prone…he’s about to become.”

He looked up at the tapestry. Soon. Roland, Duke of Sarbonne would restore the rightful bloodline and begin the next royal dynasty. King Roland and Queen Katherine of Bellevaux.

Their children would be strong and powerful. Never weak. Or they would be eliminated.

“Prepare the prison for a special set of visitors. As soon as the papers are signed, the king and the pretender prince will die.”

Chapter Ten

Deke crouched in the hidden closet at the back of the king’s jet, the one used to secret the monarch should his plane come under attack. Fear sent sweat trickling down Deke’s back. He prayed no one checked in here or he was dead. He’d crawled to the farthest end of the space so no one opening the door would see him. But, if they glanced inside…

His entire body had gone numb in the cramped quarters, but nothing mattered except surviving, then saving Maria.

Victor Karofsky’s network extended everywhere, and one of his henchmen had infiltrated the king’s guards. Deke had used that contact to gain access to the plane. Now he remained concealed—actually trapped—within the enemy camp, but he’d had no other way to reach Bellevaux.

His face was probably plastered all over the internet and news stations by now. Hans’s body would have been found. It wouldn’t take long to make an ID through Interpol, and Deke had traveled with him. Deke’s own identification may already have been made.

Footsteps approached the back of the plane. People stood outside the closet where Deke hid.

“Why are we in here? This is the king’s bedroom.”

“You have new orders, Sergei.”

“What are you talking about?” the captain of the royal guard asked.

“You’re going to die for your country.”

A grunt, then a crash sounded against the wall right in front of Deke. Another muffled cry came from the main part of the plane, along with a child’s screams.

“Drug the boy and help me hide these bodies.”

The cries died away, and an ominous silence filtered into Deke’s hiding place, then the door whipped open and the bodies of Sergei and another man were shoved into the closet. One corpse fell sideways on Deke, but he didn’t dare move for fear of discovery.

“Call the duke.”

After a moment, a voice said, “Your Grace. It is done. Those faithful to the king are dead. We have control of the plane. The boy is yours.”

Stunned, Deke strained to hear beyond the wall.
Was this the start of a coup?
It was too soon. Victor had particular plans in place.

“I understand. The plane will be diverted, as requested, to the new location.”

Another bit of silence.

“Thank
you,
Your Majesty! I, too, look forward to the new dawn of Bellevaux under your command.”

Deke waited until the man left the luxurious bedroom and pulled out his satellite phone, weighing the risk of calling for help. But, Deke had run out of options. Victor would kill Maria. Swallowing the burning acid rising in his throat, he pressed a series of numbers then hit the call button. He had to have help.

“Maria?” A weak cough sounded. “Where have you been? I’ve been—”

“Pierre,” Deke interrupted in a low whisper. “It’s me.”

The man let out a sound of disgust. “Why are you calling me, you piece of scum? Where is my daughter? I can’t reach her.” A fit of coughing on the phone dissolved into a groan of pain.

“What happened, Pierre? Are you all right?”

“I was careless. I crossed the duke and paid for it. The scars and bones will heal, but my hatred of him won’t.”

“I’m in trouble, Pierre. You were right about Victor. I failed my mission. He has Maria. I need your help.”

Urgent whispering filtered in through the phone.
Deke’s body went ice cold. “Who’s with you, Pierre?”

“I cannot say in case you are caught, but he may be able to help us. Tell me everything.”