The Prince and the Player

My scalp prickles as I feel the blood drain from my face. They’re talking about killing Rowan at the race!

The room is silent. I hold my breath waiting to hear what Reggie will say. Do the right thing, Reginald…

“You’re planning to assassinate the crown prince.” It isn’t a question. It isn’t even as shocked as it should be.

“Such an ugly word.” Wade’s slimy voice makes my skin crawl. “I’m merely observing it’s a difficult track. It involves much braking and rapid acceleration. A hairpin turn is positioned at the top of a high cliff, and at one point, the drivers are plunged into almost total darkness.”

“The tunnel,” Reggie says quietly.

“Fatal crashes occur all the time in motorsport. It would be a shame if your future king’s car failed. If he slammed into the wall and joined their ranks.”

Closing my mouth, I swallow, trying to restart my breathing. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get back across the hall, to our room and tell Ava. She’s got to warn Rowan… I start to move just as the men resume speaking.

“It won’t work,” Reggie says, and I stop to listen.

“Why the devil not?”

“MacCallam. He’s the presumptive heir. If anything happens to Rowan, he becomes the crown prince, and he’ll continue his brother’s legacy.”

“You disappoint me, Reginald,” I hear him moving. “You think my plan doesn’t include MacCallam?”

I’m frozen in place. Not Cal…

Reggie hesitates a moment. “What have you planned?”

More movement. “As captain of the pit crew, Cal would know if the car had problems. He would be in charge of checking it out, top to bottom… Unless he had ambitions of his own. Unless he saw an opportunity to seize power.”

Reggie makes a grunting sound. “Everyone knows how close the brothers are. No one will believe Cal would intentionally hurt Rowan.”

My knuckles are white on the kitchen counter. I’m holding on, bracing myself against what they might say next.

“They don’t have to believe it. They need only look at the evidence.”

I push off the counter and start for the door, but just as I’m moving, my phone chirps loudly with a text.

“Who’s there?” Reggie shouts, and I hear them both heading my way fast.

My heart is flying, and I run around the corner, pushing off the wall as I skid to a stop at the door. Jerking the handle down, I’m pulling it toward me when it flies from my hand with a SLAM!

“What have we here?” Wade’s voice is a sinister smile. He grabs my shoulder in an iron grip and slams my back against the wall, forcing an Oof! from my mouth. “What the fuck are you doing sneaking around our rooms?”

It takes me a moment to catch my breath. “I wasn’t—” My text tone sounds again, and Wade’s eyes drop to my waist.

“Take her phone,” he says to Reggie.

“Zelda,” Reggie says, taking my phone from my pocket. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Ah, Miss Wilder,” Wade Paxton smiles, and I recognize the evil glint in his eyes. I’ve seen it before in our trashy foster “father,” although I never called him that. “Do you know who I am?”

He has greasy black hair and a little mustache, and he’s wearing a suit. On the pocket is an insignia. Lifting his lapel, he holds it closer for me to see.

“Wade Paxton,” I say quickly.

“Correct. Prime Minister of Totrington.” His painful grip moves to my upper arm, and he lifts me, half-dragging, half-pushing me into the living room of Reggie’s suite. “You’ve been spying on classified state secrets. Do you know what we do with spies, Miss Wilder?”

“You don’t have to kill me,” I say fast. I might be out of my league with these guys, but I grew up talking my way out of trouble. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave here and go back to Miami.”

“You must think I’m a fool.” He looks to my former associate. “Reggie, who is that text from?”