I hate waiting. Patience is yet another virtue that soared right past me when I was born. It’s been an hour, and I’m not the only one worried. Josh is tapping his fingers like crazy on the dashboard, his gaze glued to the door through which EJ disappeared.
Someone’s been trying to call George’s cell for half an hour over and over – a familiar pattern of frantic redialing I recognize as either desperate or excited. I don’t have the device, or I’d definitely answer. I did, however, put a hit on his number in case its signal surfaced anywhere other than the ruins of the warehouse where he disappeared or the bay where his GPS tracker says he is.
His phone’s signal comes from the warehouse. The call originates from the palace.
At first, I thought it could be EJ, but that made no sense. I’ve been debating who it is, and why it’s probably the only signal in the palace not moving right now. The employees have spilled out of the west-side entrances, a couple of well-dressed men and women who look too wealthy to be servants mingling among them as fire alarms and a slew of other horrible alarms continue to go off. The compound is in lockdown mode, the palace being evacuated, and the security tripled in the time we’ve been here. There are police cars and fire trucks jamming up the narrow road from the west entrance, and it’s absolute chaos as they struggle to manage the crowds and figure out what’s going on.
We’re laying low in the employee parking lot, out of sight of the security and law enforcement personnel.
My focus returns to the tracer I have on George’s phone, and it dawns on me who might be calling.
Layla.
It doesn’t seem likely that she’s been overlooked. As far as anyone knows, she’s the heiress to the kingdom – the last person to be forgotten in anyone’s haste to leave the palace.
The caller tries again.
Whether it’s Layla or someone else, I can deduct two things: they know George, and they’re probably in trouble to be redialing this much.
“Hey, Josh … maybe you should go after –” No sooner do I start than Josh pushes his door open, as if he’s been waiting for someone to give him permission to go after the man he’s sworn to protect.
Shoving my laptop under the passenger seat, I grip my pwn pad in one hand and leap out of the car to follow.
Josh makes a beeline towards the palace, weaving seamlessly among the milling people, first responders and the harried palace security trying to herd everyone into one gathering place or another. I follow.
Josh doesn’t bother looking back, which makes me think George never warned him about keeping an eye on me, just on EJ. I’m grateful for the lack of babysitting and slip into one entrance past more servants pouring out.
Jostling my way into the palace, I start down the first vacant hallway I can find and take off at a run. Only when around a corner – and out of sight of the palace security rounding people up – do I stop to access the palace’s blueprints I’d downloaded during my two insanely boring weeks here.
Puzzled by the location of the call’s origination, I can’t figure out who it might be. It’s not coming from the private, luxurious wing of the palace where George and I visited EJ’s sister, Layla.
It’s coming from George’s hallway.
I take off at a quick trot through the hallways. The security cameras are still live, but the virus will take care of any footage, at least for now.
It takes me twenty minutes to reach the hallway where George lived. I skirt security personnel twice before tearing down his corridor and ducking into his room.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted (erotic) (#6, 101 Nights)
RomanceEJ and Alisha struggle to get along long enough to save their friends. Time is running out for Natalie, who is trapped and growing weaker after several weeks with little food. It’s up to George to help keep her spirits up and get her out of there wh...
