Riled (The Invincibles Book 4)
Riled
Heather Slade
The Invincibles Book Four
Copyright © 2020 by Heather Slade
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Also by Heather Slade
BUTLER RANCH
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Prequel: Kade’s Worth
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Book One: Brodie
Book Two: Maddox
Book Three: Naughton
Book Four: Mercer
Book Five: Kade
Butler Ranch Boxed Set: Books 1-5 with Bonus Book: Ainsley
K19 SECURITY SOLUTIONS
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Book One: Razor
Book Two: Gunner
Book Three: Mistletoe
Book Four: Mantis
K19 Security Solutions Boxed Set: Books 1-4
Book Five: Dutch
Book Six: Striker
Book Seven: Monk
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Book Eight: Halo
MILITARY INTELLIGENCE SECTION 6
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Book One: Shiver
Book Two: Wilder
Book Three: Pinch
Book Four: Shadow
Military Intelligence Section 6 Boxed Set: Books 1-4
THE INVINCIBLES
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Book One: Decked
Book Two: Edged
Book Three: Grinded
Book Four: Riled
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Book Five: Smoked
COCKY HERO CLUB NOVELS
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Book One: Undercover Agent
Book Two: Undercover Saint
Book Three: Undercover Angel
Book Four: Undercover Devil
KB WORLDS EVERYDAY HEROES
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Book One: Handled
COWBOYS OF CRESTED BUTTE
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Book One: Fall for Me
Book Two: Dance with Me
Book Three: Kiss Me Cowboy
Book Four: Stay with Me
Book Five: Win Me Over
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Contents
Prologue
1. Rile
2. Kensington
3. Rile
4. Kensington
5. Rile
6. Rile
7. Kensington
8. Rile
9. Kensington
10. Rile
11. Kensington
12. Rile
13. Kensington
14. Rile
15. Kensington
16. Rile
17. Kensington
18. Rile
19. Kensington
20. Rile
21. Kensington
22. Rile
23. Kensington
24. Rile
25. Kensington
26. Rile
27. Kensington
28. Rile
29. Kensington
30. Rile
31. Kensington
32. Rile
33. Kensington
Epilogue
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About the Author
Also by Heather Slade
Prologue
Rile
When I close my eyes, your voice floats through the jet’s white noise and settles on my heart like a cold mist. And then you’re gone. Always gone before I can make sense of the words you so desperately want me to hear. I stop short of crying out for you to say it again, beg like I always do, for you to stay with me and never leave.
I wait for the pain as it claws its way back into my soul. There’s comfort in the familiar. At least I know I can feel…something. My eyes fill with unshed tears, and I murmur your name. Celestina. More than my northern star, you were my sun, my moon, my universe, my guiding light. Without you, I’m lost. So lost.
Forcing my eyes open, I look out the plane’s window as we begin our descent to Mallorca, the island that has become my home because it’s where you rest and will, for all eternity.
I stayed in my seat while the Bombardier taxied from the private runway to the hangar it shared with the much larger planes the DeLéons kept at their disposal. Part of me wished I could tell the pilot to turn around and take me back to Italy.
I stood, stretched my legs, and peered out another window when I saw my valet pull the black 1963 Mercedes-Benz 190 SL out of the same hangar the plane would soon be stored in. I smiled when he lowered the top; it was perfect convertible weather—sunny, but not too hot. May truly was the best month on the island.
I took one step down the plane’s ramp when I was overcome by what felt like a hurricane-force gale, yet the air was still. I gripped the railing with one hand while I rubbed my temple with the other as the message came through, loud and clear.
Kensington is in danger.
1
Rile
Seven Months Ago
London
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Cortez,” said the woman I’d known since I was a young boy and whom I still bowed to when in her presence.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Please be seated, Cortez. As you know, one of my husband’s sisters has recently passed away, leaving her granddaughter somewhat at…odds. Do you know of whom I’m speaking?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Kensington is a darling girl, but I fear her lack of parental guidance has resulted in her rather…irresponsible approach to life.”
While I didn’t know all the details, I’d heard enough to wonder why the Queen didn’t simply distance herself from the woman. The last I knew, Kensington had taken up with the great-great-great-grandson of the last of Austria-Hungary’s monarchs, Emperor Karl I.
“I’ve received somewhat concerning news, Cortez,” said the woman who was speaking to me now not as a former officer of MI6, but as my second cousin, once removed. “Given the delicacy of the situation, I’ve made the decision to keep the matter private rather than go to the prime minister.”
“What’s happened, ma’am?”
She looked over her shoulder as if anyone would’ve dared interrupt us and then leaned closer to me. “She’s been kidnapped,” she whispered.
“May I ask the source of this information?”
“I believe it’s come by way of the girl’s mother, my nephew’s ex-wife, Kendra.”
“May I also ask if she’s been contacted by the kidnappers?”
“I’ll leave those details to you, Cortez. I trust if anyone can locate her, it will be you.” The Queen patted my hand and sat forward in her chair, signaling our conversation was over.
I stood, bowed, and left the same way I’d come in—through the family entrance. I was no sooner in my car than my mobile rang with a call from my mother. “Good afternoon, Duchess.”
“How did your meeting go with the Queen, Cortez?”
“She believes Kensington Whitby has been kidnapped.”
“You doubt it?”
I brushed my lower lip with my index finger, wondering how much my mother already knew. “My prediction is that it’s more likely she’s run off.”
“What will you do?”
I smiled. The duchess knew exactly what I would do. “As requested by the Queen, I will handle the case as the kidnapping she believes it is. However, she has asked that the regular authorities not be involved.”
“Your Invincibles
will handle it, then, Cortez?”
I smiled. “Yes, Mother. Is there anything else you’d like to make me aware of at this time?”
“You know there’s rumor of an involvement between Kensington and Konstantine von Habsburg?”
“I am.”
“Perhaps, then, Budapest would be the place to begin your search.”
“Anything else, Mother?”
“Be safe, Cort.”
“I always am.”
My prediction, while not an intuition, was that locating Kensington would be more of a nuisance than a mission. However, given the Queen was one of only two women alive I could never say no to, I would treat her grandniece’s disappearance with the same level of tenacity and resourcefulness as any case I’d ever worked.
I rang the technological and logistics expert as well as the chief information officer on our team, Decker Ashford, to inform him of the mission I was about to undertake.
“Grinder is in London now,” he reported.
Of that, I was aware. He gave me the name of the same hotel where the man and I had met for a drink earlier that same day. I hated to interrupt what I knew was an inopportune time, but the third member of our team was currently in hospital, recovering from surgery.
I gave Ashford as much background as I had regarding the situation, asked him to determine the truest nature he could of the threat, and told him I’d check back once I made contact with Grinder.
Again, if it were anyone but the Queen herself asking me to do this, I would not make use of the SOS we used only for true emergencies, but I had no choice.
I made another call while I waited in the lobby for Grinder to join me, this time to Kensington’s mother. As expected, it went directly to voicemail, reinforcing my doubt that her daughter had actually been abducted.
“What is it?” Grinder asked when he exited the lift.
“A possible kidnapping.”
He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Who?”
“Someone with close ties to the monarchy.”
“We’re going deep on this one, aren’t we?”
“We are.”
He looked over his shoulder at the lift and then back at me. “Let’s go.”
“Is there something you need to take care of first?”
When he shook his head, I wanted to suggest that he go up to the room and, at a minimum, tell the woman whose bed he’d just left that he was leaving London. However, that would require I explain how I knew he’d been in said bed.
“There’s been a sighting in Budapest,” Decker reported a few minutes later. “I’m tracking credit cards and facial recognition.”
“Did she appear to be in distress?” I asked, not surprised in the least by her whereabouts.
“The information didn’t indicate either way, but I’ll keep you informed of anything else I learn.”
“Budapest?” Grinder asked.
“The plane is at Gatwick.”
“Why Budapest?”
I told him what I’d heard about Kensington’s involvement with the heir to the former Austro-Hungarian throne.
“Otto or Konstantine.”
“Konstantine,” I responded, surprised Grinder knew anything of the historic empire.
“He’s an asshole.”
When we landed at the airport in Budapest at three in the morning and deplaned, a car was waiting on the tarmac.
“Who are you?” Grinder asked facetiously. “And more importantly, can you arrange for a cup of tea and something to eat?”
I was the nephew of a reigning monarch, a king, and I could arrange for anything Grinder or I wanted, any time, day or night. Did I take advantage of my position? As little as possible with the exception of keeping the Bombardier at my disposal.
A driver delivered us to the Four Seasons Hotel where he’d already checked in on our behalf, under assumed names, and in the penthouse suite. With three bedrooms and a private lift, it would give us a place to set up a makeshift command center while affording us ultimate privacy.
“How much money do the Invincibles have?” asked Grinder, looking at the view from the suite’s window.
“You receive monthly reports.”
He raised a brow.
“Upwards of forty million pounds sterling. Do you require an exact number?” He certainly shouldn’t. Grinder was wealthy without his stake in the Invincibles.
“Wow,” he said, looking at the screen of his mobile. I opened mine as well and perused the same photos of Kensington that I assumed he was. “She’s gorgeous.”
Breathtakingly so. Despite the fact that Miss Whitby was far too young for me, I felt a stirring. Two, in fact. The first was one of intense attraction; the second, the same level of inappropriate possessiveness. Both were equally ridiculous. However, the longer Grinder studied the images on his mobile, the more I found myself wanting to rip it from his hand.
She looked like the supermodel her familial connections would never allow her to be. She was tall, perhaps close to six feet. She was reed-thin but with ample breasts, evident in the photo of her in a hot-pink bikini. Her honey-blonde hair was waist-length, and her amber-colored eyes were beguiling.
I’d seen her only once before, when she was a child. She was no longer anything of the sort.
“No wonder Konstantine was intrigued.”
“Given he no longer has royal connections and Kensington very much does, he’s in over his head. Not to mention, with the death of her grandmother, she inherited a significant amount of money.”
“Do you think he kidnapped her?”
“What I think is irrelevant. Her Majesty the Queen, whom we both serve, believes it to be true; therefore, we will act accordingly.”
“What if we locate her and she’s unwilling to come with us?”
“I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.”
We slept for a few hours while we waited for further word on whether Kensington or Konstantine had been spotted again. It was late in the evening by the time we did.
“Decker said she was seen by the same person who spotted her previously,” said Grinder, reading something on his mobile. “She’s in the seventh district.”
I groaned inwardly, familiar with the area known for a perpetual party atmosphere. I rubbed my chest against the feeling that overcame me—Kensington was not there of her own free will. “Let’s go.”
Kensington
Budapest
I would’ve left hours ago if two things hadn’t happened. First, Konstantine was drunk. While I normally wouldn’t care, I’d recently witnessed him become unreasonably angry when inebriated. Rather than risk his ire, it was easier for me to stick around and remain bored out of my wits.
Second, I’d noticed a hulking figure hovering at random times tonight. We’d been to three different clubs, and I saw him at each. At first, I thought perhaps he was a bodyguard I hadn’t yet met. That still may be the case, but I wasn’t about to go off on my own and be wrong.
I rested my elbow on the table and propped my head on my hand. Konstantine looked over his shoulder at me. When his eyes scrunched, I did my best to perk up.
The only reason I’d agreed to accompany him to Budapest in the first place, was because I was bored. Ironic that now I was more so.
I wanted to roll my eyes when he approached and sat beside me.
“You do not like my friends, Kenzie?”
I gave him my best fake smile. “Of course I do. I’m a bit tired is all.” We had been drinking for several hours; not something I made a habit of.
“Perhaps you think you are better than we are?”
Uh oh. I’d been witness to the ugliness that started with statements just like that. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to deflect his anger.
“I was hoping we could spend some time on our own, Konstantine.”
As I’d hoped, his eyes pricked up. “Yeah?”
I nodded. To this point, I’d avoided having sex with him. I hope he bought my sudden change of heart.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand and swaying as much as he slurred his words. He led me to the waiting car, stumbled as we got in, and fell on top of me. The smell of alcohol on his breath coupled with his behavior made me want to wretch.
I let him kiss me, but pulled away and motioned to the car’s driver.
“He doesn’t care. Do you, Boris?”
The man shook his head. “I do not, but the lady might.”
When Konstantine surprised me and backed off, I wanted to climb into the front seat and kiss the driver.
Once back at the hotel, I helped Konstantine to the lift and then down the hallway to our room where I poured him another drink.
Rather than take it, he pushed me up against the wall, sending the glass of liquor flying across the room. Using both hands, he ripped the bodice of my dress.
“Konstantine! What in the bloody hell?” I shouted, trying to get away from where he had me pinned.
“You’re a fucking tease, Kenzie, and I’m sick of it. Enough games. By tomorrow evening, you’ll be my wife and mine to do with as I please.”
His wife? Was he as mad as he was drunk? I pushed him with all my might, and he stumbled into the sofa. I tried to get to the door, but he grabbed my arm and dug his fingers into my flesh. When I screamed for help, he spun me around with one arm and backhanded me with the other.