Page 47
Story: Relentless Knight
I crouch and wait, watching for any guards that might pass by the gate, any sign of life beyond the blinking red dot that says the video is live.
Nothing.
Staying low, I look behind me. Maybe it would make more sense to go in through the back. But I suspect they’ll have more security there. I know Killian does.
Just as I’m about to rethink my strategy, the gates groan to life, sliding into the wall itself and vanishing out of sight. With bated breath, I creep forward, staying close to the wall and hidden in shadow as the nose of a car appears. The sleek black Jaguar purrs quietly past, the black-tinted windows making it impossible to see inside. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m not here to kill Lucian tonight. So I let the car pass unmolested.
I do, however, take the opportunity to slip inside the property line. Using the back of the car to stay hidden, I dip around the corner of the drive and stay low to the ground as I race toward cover.
The landscaping is immaculate and open, with emerald-green grass stretching as far as the eye can see. Italian cypress trees line the drive, hinting at the fact that Lucian must pour a lot of money into his landscaping. Because there’s no way in hell a tree like that could survive a New York winter without help.
I can feel the inner street urchin coming out in me, the part of my personality that detests big money like this when so many are starving on the streets. It makes that familiar itch to steal something tingle in my hands. To take from those who turn their noses up at those less fortunate.
The Kings aren’t like that. To a man, they might be rougher around the edges, closer to barflies and degenerates than they are men of honor. But at least they would give a man the shirt off their back if it would improve his day.
This kind of living just turns my stomach.
Once again, I shove those thoughts aside. Because it doesn’t matter what kind of man I think Lucian Agosti is—or how I feel about his lifestyle. He probably won’t live much longer anyhow. And I look forward to the day we can rip this place apart, stone by stone, just to show what happens to men who think they can lay a finger on what I find precious.
Turning my attention to the layout of the property, I take note of the silent stillness.Does he not have guards on duty?
I see men standing at the front door, but otherwise, no cameras, no perimeter watch. Glancing back at the gate, I watch it slide closed. It might be a pain to get back out unless someone happens to drive in or out again.
But that’s a problem for later.
Slinking low to the ground, hiding in the shadow of the towering wall, I follow the perimeter of Lucian’s estate. It stretches over what must be five acres—a massive plot of land for Queens. The compound itself is made of rich blond and brown natural stone from top to bottom, with towering archways for each door and wide terraces leading off the upper floors.
The lower entrances are all manned by guards. And as I loop around the far side of the property, I spot one sniper with a rifle looking out across the impressive view of the Sound.
He’s not paying attention,I note.
And the terrace above him has a light on. With the patio door wide open. I can tell as a brisk breeze catches the sheer blind covering the door, making the fabric billow out through the door.
My body tenses, and I glance back up at the guard. He’s still daydreaming, looking out at almost a ninety-degree angle to where I would have to scale the building to get inside.
My pulse quickens as I assess the climb. It would be tricky but not impossible. I might bust some stitches—which no doubt would infuriate Quinn—but that would be a small price to pay if it meant taking a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to slip inside Lucian Agosti’s home unnoticed and kill him.
But Quinn.
“You better come back alive,”her words echo in my head, as does my promise that this would only be a scouting mission. And my chest tightens at the thought of deliberately doing somethingthat would turn me into a liar. I don’t want to break my word to Quinn. Ever.
Still, what if this is the only chance we ever get?
Because as lax as the guards are, Lucian’s compound is near impenetrable. I’m not so sure I can even get out—let alone back in.
I could end this all tonight. Right now…
24
QUINN
I’ve completely given up pretending to be calm. And as I pace the home theater, I hardly acknowledge the movie playing from the TV. It’s nearly sunrise.
And where the hell is Lance?
Killian and Natasha gave up waiting for him hours ago, my brother saying that he’ll catch him in the morning. And because I don’t want him to know just how desperately I’m freaking out about the man I’mnotsupposed to be in love with, I pretended like I wasn’t tired yet. That I wanted to stay up and watch one more show.
But the truth is, there’s no chance that I could fall sleep without knowing Lance is safely home. And I haven’t spent the night without him in my bed in so long, I’d probably have nightmares even if I tried.
Nothing.
Staying low, I look behind me. Maybe it would make more sense to go in through the back. But I suspect they’ll have more security there. I know Killian does.
Just as I’m about to rethink my strategy, the gates groan to life, sliding into the wall itself and vanishing out of sight. With bated breath, I creep forward, staying close to the wall and hidden in shadow as the nose of a car appears. The sleek black Jaguar purrs quietly past, the black-tinted windows making it impossible to see inside. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m not here to kill Lucian tonight. So I let the car pass unmolested.
I do, however, take the opportunity to slip inside the property line. Using the back of the car to stay hidden, I dip around the corner of the drive and stay low to the ground as I race toward cover.
The landscaping is immaculate and open, with emerald-green grass stretching as far as the eye can see. Italian cypress trees line the drive, hinting at the fact that Lucian must pour a lot of money into his landscaping. Because there’s no way in hell a tree like that could survive a New York winter without help.
I can feel the inner street urchin coming out in me, the part of my personality that detests big money like this when so many are starving on the streets. It makes that familiar itch to steal something tingle in my hands. To take from those who turn their noses up at those less fortunate.
The Kings aren’t like that. To a man, they might be rougher around the edges, closer to barflies and degenerates than they are men of honor. But at least they would give a man the shirt off their back if it would improve his day.
This kind of living just turns my stomach.
Once again, I shove those thoughts aside. Because it doesn’t matter what kind of man I think Lucian Agosti is—or how I feel about his lifestyle. He probably won’t live much longer anyhow. And I look forward to the day we can rip this place apart, stone by stone, just to show what happens to men who think they can lay a finger on what I find precious.
Turning my attention to the layout of the property, I take note of the silent stillness.Does he not have guards on duty?
I see men standing at the front door, but otherwise, no cameras, no perimeter watch. Glancing back at the gate, I watch it slide closed. It might be a pain to get back out unless someone happens to drive in or out again.
But that’s a problem for later.
Slinking low to the ground, hiding in the shadow of the towering wall, I follow the perimeter of Lucian’s estate. It stretches over what must be five acres—a massive plot of land for Queens. The compound itself is made of rich blond and brown natural stone from top to bottom, with towering archways for each door and wide terraces leading off the upper floors.
The lower entrances are all manned by guards. And as I loop around the far side of the property, I spot one sniper with a rifle looking out across the impressive view of the Sound.
He’s not paying attention,I note.
And the terrace above him has a light on. With the patio door wide open. I can tell as a brisk breeze catches the sheer blind covering the door, making the fabric billow out through the door.
My body tenses, and I glance back up at the guard. He’s still daydreaming, looking out at almost a ninety-degree angle to where I would have to scale the building to get inside.
My pulse quickens as I assess the climb. It would be tricky but not impossible. I might bust some stitches—which no doubt would infuriate Quinn—but that would be a small price to pay if it meant taking a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to slip inside Lucian Agosti’s home unnoticed and kill him.
But Quinn.
“You better come back alive,”her words echo in my head, as does my promise that this would only be a scouting mission. And my chest tightens at the thought of deliberately doing somethingthat would turn me into a liar. I don’t want to break my word to Quinn. Ever.
Still, what if this is the only chance we ever get?
Because as lax as the guards are, Lucian’s compound is near impenetrable. I’m not so sure I can even get out—let alone back in.
I could end this all tonight. Right now…
24
QUINN
I’ve completely given up pretending to be calm. And as I pace the home theater, I hardly acknowledge the movie playing from the TV. It’s nearly sunrise.
And where the hell is Lance?
Killian and Natasha gave up waiting for him hours ago, my brother saying that he’ll catch him in the morning. And because I don’t want him to know just how desperately I’m freaking out about the man I’mnotsupposed to be in love with, I pretended like I wasn’t tired yet. That I wanted to stay up and watch one more show.
But the truth is, there’s no chance that I could fall sleep without knowing Lance is safely home. And I haven’t spent the night without him in my bed in so long, I’d probably have nightmares even if I tried.
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