Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (49 page)

“Has the heir been notified?” Reginald asked, his fingers tapping an armrest.
 
His eyes flicked to the security screen again.
 
If the King was truly dead, the vehicle on his screen could very well be full of hitmen sent from Murata…or Lord Stirling…or any of a number of Council members who held him low esteem.

Reginald ignored Murata’s clipped response about tracking down the King’s next of kin, a distant cousin in Luxembourg.
 
The allied powers of Europe were cracking down on Council assets worldwide, with enthusiastic assistance from the Americans.
 

Murata explained they’d lost contact with the next two heirs and currently searched for the third-string monarch-to-be.
 
Whoever the next in line for the Stuart throne was, they'd inherit a doomed and dying crusade and a cursed cause.
 
Murata’s news very likely signaled the fruitless end of almost a thousand years' work.

Reginald focused on the car again.
 
Could be a diversion.
 
The car?
 
Possibly Murata…maybe both?
 
He narrowed his eyes and regarded the old man again.
 
The question is…do you have it in you, Murata-san?

Murata met his gaze with absolutely no emotion.
 
The old man appeared made of stone.

Reginald quickly decided the old
samurai
most certainly had it in him and pulled up the castle’s security grid.
 
He tapped the screen ordering a full lock-down.
 
A red light blinked on the screen as the message relayed to Stefan and the rest of the personnel inside Dunkeith Castle.

“That’s all very interesting news, Murata-san, but I’m afraid I have some urgent business to attend to.
 
You understand.”

“As do we all, Earl Dunkeith.”

Reginald regarded the old man.
 
“Was that a threat, sir?”

For the first time in a long time, a slow smile spread across the ancient, wrinkled visage.
 
“
Haigo ni chui.
”
 
The screen went dark.

Reginald stared at the screen.
 
Watch your back?
 
Reginald frowned.
 
“
Kowaku nai,”
he spat.
 
I’m not afraid of you, Murata.

A security guard burst into his study and glanced around, weapon drawn.
 
“Everything all right in here, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” Reginald said irritably with a wave of his hand.
 
“See to securing the castle.
 
I want that car stopped,” he said pointing at the screen.
 
"Bring whoever is in it to me—immediately.
 
Do you understand?
 
I want them alive.”

“Aye, m’lord.”
 
The beefy knuckle-dragger turned and shut the door, already calling out instructions down the hall.

Reginald turned his attention back to the car as it emerged from the north side of town.
 
A group of his armed security forces raced in white off-roaders from the checkpoint buildings just south of the castle.
 
They surrounded black Mercedes, stopping it dead in its tracks.
 
His men tumbled out and silently aimed automatic rifles at the vehicle.
 
The driver wisely exited the car slowly, hands over his head.
 

“Well dressed,” Reginald mused, watching the drama.
 
The driver, in a black suit and tie, turned and slowly placed his hands on the hood of the car.
 
Two guards with rifles approached the right rear passenger door and opened it.
 
They stepped back in surprise, but only lowered their rifles for a split-second.
 
Reginald leaned in toward the screen.

"What's this, then?"

A tall, slender female emerged gracefully from the car and said something to the men.
 
They lowered their weapons and nodded.
 
The woman looked around at the assembled interdiction force and waved her hand in dismissal as only one born to power and privilege can.
 
She turned back to the car, still talking, obviously annoyed, but with the calm, polite demeanor of someone used to command and privilege.

Reginald smiled.
 
Lady Brunner.
 
He slapped the intercom.

“Stefan!”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Lady Brunner has arrived.
 
Please see to it that quarters are prepared for her and her men.
 
I want her escorted to the castle and given anything she desires.
 
I'll see her once she's recovered from her journey.
 
She is to be treated with all due respect, understand?”

“Of course, my lord.
 
Will the Lady be staying for dinner?
 
I can have another place set…?”

“Yes, I believe she will—we'll eat in the formal dining room,” muttered Reginald, watching the statuesque woman dish out an icy tongue lashing to his guards.
 
None of them had the testicular fortitude to cross her, but they clearly would not back down, for fear of crossing
him
.
 

Damn.
 
The girls.
 
Reginald thought quickly.
 
“Inform Svea and Jayne I shall not be dining with them tonight in the family rooms.”

“
Oh…ah…yes, my lord.
 
I…forgive me, my lord,
” Stefan said, stumbling over his own tongue.
 
“
Will you want the two of them to dine together tonight?
 
They…ah, seem to not overly enjoy each other’s company.”

Reginald laughed.
 
“No, they don’t, do they?
 
Split them up, then.
 
They’re probably just sitting there staring at each other over their drinks.
 
Svea may very well go for another run—I’ve never seen someone eat so little.
 
At any rate, leave them to their own devices, whatever they do.
 
I shall be occupied with Lady Brunner.”

“Very good, sir.”

Reginald smiled as word of his instructions reached the guards on the screen.
 
They lowered their weapons and were all bows and nods, waving the car on toward the castle.
 
Two of the bulky off-roaders took up flanking positions and the guards made a grand show of scanning the surrounding landscape with their weapons as they approached the castle.
 
The intruder had become the protected.

He stood from behind his desk and donned his suit coat.
 
The King had been killed by his own hubris and the exquisite Lady Brunner had come to him—
willingly
.
 
Despite Murata’s thinly veiled threat, the day looked to have taken a turn for the better, no matter what had transpired in Uig.

"Long live the king," Reginald said as he headed for the door.

C
HAPTER
40

Skye, Scotland.

Dunkeith Castle.

D
ANIKA
JERKED
HER
HEAD
to the right just as Jayne's glass flew past.
 
She caught some brandy on her cheek, then juked left, spinning her body as she closed with Jayne.
 
Jayne’s first jab went wide as a result and Danika used the opening to drive her own brandy glass into the back of Jayne's head as she swept by.
 
Ignoring the pain from her now-lacerated hand, Danika spun the other way and kicked at Jayne’s back, aiming her stiletto heel right at the spine.
 

Reginald wasn't there to play referee—this fight had been brewing for years.
 
Her only regret was now it fell to Cooper to handle Reginald.
 
Danika was furious—
she
was supposed to take down Reginald, but Jayne ruined everything.
 
Typical.
 

Jayne hunched and rolled forward, just out of reach of Danika’s kick.
 
In response, a shapely leg flashed out from under Jayne's high slit red dress and Danika found herself on the floor, staring at the ancient oak beams of the ceiling.

“God
damn
it!” hissed Jayne as she stepped back.
 
She clutched her head with one hand, probing through her tangled golden hair.
 
“You’re going to pay for that, you little bitch,” she muttered, staring at the bright red stain on her hand.

Danika calmly rose to her feet and waited.
 
Jayne had been wounded, but it was probably only a minor cut to the scalp—nothing to slow her down.
 
She'd already identified potential weapons when she entered the room: a small coffee table, a dessert service of glasses and small plates on an end table between the high-backed chairs, a notepad and pencil atop an accent table behind Jayne near the door, books on the wall, a fireplace.
 
Her eyes shifted to the poker—a wrought iron tool gilded in gold—hanging from an equally ostentatious fireplace tool rack.

Jayne's gaze followed to the poker.
 
Good
.
 
Danika lunged, not at the poker, but at Jayne.
 
Her ruse failed—Jayne deflected Danika's jab with ease and landed an uppercut on Danika's ribs.

Danika exhaled sharply and tensed her core, absorbing Jayne's next punch with little more than a grunt.
 
Sacrificing the hit freed her right elbow for a blow to Jayne's face.

The two of them staggered back a step, breathing hard.
 
A trickle of blood dribbled down Jayne's chin.
 
Danika ignored the ache from her intercostals and turned sideways to present a smaller target as she gingerly touched her ribs.
 
Nothing felt broken but she couldn't afford too many more shots like that.
 

They slowly circled, each sizing up the other—it had been a long time since they'd last sparred together.
 
Jayne had been a few years older and more experienced at the time so Danika had never been able to beat her.
 
They circled the room once, twice, three times before Jayne lunged again.
 
Danika threw everything she had into batting away the rapid fire punches that rained on her.
 
Jayne landed a solid hit to Danika's chest, followed up by a quick elbow strike to the stomach that sent the taller woman staggering back.

Jayne sneered and pressed her advantage.
 
Danika ignored the pain in her gut and ducked the first jab, then pushed forward, negating the energy of the followup strike.
 
Before Jayne could react, Danika used her superior size to slam her right shoulder into Jayne's chin, forcing her to backpedal.
 
Danika then swung up hard with her left hand, using her momentum to drive her palm straight into Jayne's sternum.
 

The force of her strike had the desired effect—knocking Jayne off balance and gaining some breathing room.
 
Jayne adjusted the rumpled dress on her hips, flipping open the high slit to free her bare leg up to her hip and quickly transitioned back into a fighting stance.

Danika deliberately removed her high heels while keeping her eyes on Jayne.
 
She'd always excelled at close quarters combat, but she'd need every advantage she could muster to defeat Jayne.
 
The woman had a combination of speed, ruthlessness, and reflexes that Danika wasn't entirely sure she could match.

Jayne smiled, removing her own shoes.
 
"Oh, we're getting serious, are we?"

Danika frowned as a wave of sudden doubt swirled in her stomach.
 
Could she take Jayne before Reginald returned?
 
The seconds ticked away.
 
Danika's eyes narrowed as she watched Jayne shift her weight from foot to foot, hands up in front of her, ready for round three.

I'm not going to be fighting this bitch when he gets back.
 
Danika took a casual step forward, eyes locked on Jayne.
 
When the shorter woman moved to attack, Danika knocked the punch aside and swung her right leg up in a roundhouse kick, hoping to knock Jayne to the floor.

Jayne turned with frightening speed and arrested the kick before it landed.
 
Danika balanced on one leg.
 
They were at an impasse until her ice-blue silk dress fell back over her straining thigh far enough for her to pull free her concealed knife and slash at Jayne's arm.

Once released, Danika adjusted the grip on her knife and watched Jayne curse as she applied pressure to her bleeding arm.
 
It was only a superficial wound, but the cut earned Danika some breathing room.