Kingdom Fall

“We’ve got to eat.”

“And the candles?” I couldn’t read him as firelight danced in his eyes. I sat.

“I can blow them out and turn on the lights, if you’d prefer.”

“No,” I said, not wanting to discourage this romantic side. “You are full of surprises. From breakfast to dinner.”

“Not much to it. A pretty simple meal.”

“That from a man who’s a jack-of-all-trades. The only way I’d get a meal like this is if I ordered takeout,” I admitted.

“Lucky for you I’m here then, because there’s not a restaurant for miles. And delivery’s not an option.”

“What else can you cook?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Whatever, as long as there’s a YouTube video.”

“So if we were married, I wouldn’t have to cook?”

“We are married,” he said, not sounding happy about it.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Are you going to let me talk to my brother?”

“Eat first.”

I pushed the plate away a bit. “Why are you avoiding the topic? Do you know something I don’t?”

“He’s fine,” he said.

“You should know me better by now. Fine is not enough. I want to talk to him.”

“So, you’ll ruin a perfectly good steak that won’t taste as good cold or reheated?”

“I feel like you’re trying to distract me.”

“I’d like to eat, and nothing’s going to change in the next ten minutes,” he said, his knife and fork frozen as he waited to cut into the steak.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He put down his utensils and steepled his hands. “Fine. You want to do this now?” I nodded. “I got word when we landed that Matt got out,” he said.

“And?”

“And he went back undercover.”

“What?” I shouted, pushing back my chair.

“He said he had to complete the mission. He was too close to getting whatever he needed to bring down the cartel.”

I got to my feet and paced while muttering to myself. Striker went to a side cabinet in the living room, which appeared to hold replicas of technology from the past as decorations. But I was wrong. He switched on an old-time radio and tuned it.

“This is Striker, do you copy?”

“I’m here.”

When I heard Griffin’s voice, I wondered how high tech the radio was. I didn’t think CB radio frequencies could travel that far. But what did I know?

Striker handed me a mic that looked like what cops used in their cars to talk to their base command. He silently indicated which button I had to push to be heard.

“Griffin?” I said.

“Lizzy, are you okay?”

It was such a relief to hear his voice. “Yes, I am. I should thank you for everything. Though whoever you hired to pack for me should be fired.”

He laughed. “Not a lot of time. But you should thank your boyfriend—or should I say husband—not me.”

What he said, threw me off. I looked around and found I was alone. Striker was gone. “He’s not…” I trailed off because who was I fooling by denying our marriage. “What do you mean, this was…” I paused again. Even though he’d identified himself on the radio as Striker, it sounded weird calling him that to Griffin. “How was this Connor’s plan?”

“Your boy has skills, I have to say. I’m suitably impressed. He’s not the whiny rich boy I thought him to be.”

“He didn’t correct me,” I said.

“What?” Griffin asked.

“Nothing.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud anyway. I felt like a total ass. Striker hadn’t corrected me when I’d given all the credit to Griffin. Then again, I’d told Striker I couldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. So why would he have? “Where’s my brother?” I asked instead.

“Sorry, darling. Your brother is just as stubborn as you are. He said if he didn’t go back in, they would figure out he was undercover and things could get worse for you and your family because they’d dig deeper to find out exactly who he was.”

That sounded like my jackass brother. If he died, I would kill him again.

We ended the call and I went looking for Striker outside. I found him on a sculpted stone lounger with his empty plate and a beer bottle to the side, his eyes closed.

“Umm…”

His beautiful blues opened though they were shrouded in darkness. “Yes?”

“I’m not sure what to call you. Striker, Connor King, Mr. Black.”

“They’re all me.”

“What do you prefer?”

“Call me whatever you want, Elizabeth.”

That felt like a slap, and I stepped back. “Well, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For saving me when you didn’t have to. Cooking. Being you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do. And I am. Thankful, that is. And I hate to ask for another favor, but I need to let Anderson know I won’t be in for a few days.” I had no idea how long we’d be here.

“Taken care of before we left. He’s aware you and I are going on an impromptu vacation.”

“Is that what this is?” That wasn’t really the question I wanted to ask.