Page 69 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

Chapter Thirty-Six

W here was Bris? Was she safe? And what about Gena?

Achilles’s worries crashed into each other like waves against jagged rocks, barely giving him time to process one fear before another took its place.

He sat in the sterile conference room, his wrists raw from the restraints, the polished table reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights overhead.

Phoenix had abandoned him for the moment, which only made his anxiety claw deeper into his gut. He preferred having enemies where he could see them. Phoenix could be going after Bris, and he wouldn’t know!

The door opened with a soft click, and Polly appeared in the doorway, hesitating before stepping inside. Her cold confidence from earlier had cracked, replaced by something that looked almost like guilt.

Rage surged through him at the sight of her.

How dare she waltz in here acting uncertain when she’d assisted with so much death?

His hands clenched into fists as she approached, and he noticed she still clutched his phone in her trembling fingers.

Hope flickered—maybe he could still get it from her.

She moved closer and whispered urgently, “Bris is safe.”

How did she know what was happening with his wife?

His whole body screamed at him to watch for tricks.

No way was he giving away her location. He studied Polly’s face as she touched his handcuffs, noting genuine concern in her dark eyes.

Either she was using the same acting skills that had fooled them all, or she was actually trying to help him.

Her quick fingers working against the handcuffs showed that she knew what she was doing.

No noblewomen should have these kinds of skills, but this one had grown up here during the civil war.

Her whole cover story could be a fake—she might’ve had to scramble on the streets to get enough food to eat.

“I have word of your wife’s location,” she whispered.

Word from who? He’d left her at the bell tower. And this had to be a setup! He glared at her. “Are you fishing for information? Trying to get me to confirm or deny what you think you know?”

Her expression crumpled with what looked like genuine anguish. “Relax, I work for your mother, so keep your insults to yourself. I had to infiltrate the Myrdons, and it wasn’t easy, okay? Gain their trust, learn their plans—hopefully warn you before it was too late.”

The catch on his handcuffs clicked, and they fell loose while he stared at her.

A double agent? Polly barely looked like she could be a single agent with those dimples.

How could he be sure? “No one could know my true allegiance, not even P—” She hesitated, her voice breaking. “Is Peder really dead?”

Achilles had no idea what had happened to his friend, but something in her tortured expression made him take a chance on trusting her. “He was alive when I last saw him.”

Relief flooded her features as she grappled at her side and thrust his phone into his hand. “I thought this might be useful.”

He barely had time to process when the door exploded inward.

A squad of armed men in tactical gear stormed toward them, their weapons trained on Polly.

The phone had just touched his hand when she spun around, using her body to shield him from their view.

Achilles threw his wrists behind his back to conceal the contraband.

Phoenix appeared in the doorway, his pale eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction. “Well, well, it appears we have a little spy in our midst. We can’t have you spoiling our prisoner with unauthorized visits, now can we?”

His men ruthlessly grabbed her, tugging her arms behind her. “Let me go!” Polly shouted. They dragged her away, but her defiant gaze met Achilles’s for just an instant—long enough for him to see that they’d never break her.

She’d taken this chance, knowing the risk, all to assure him his wife was safe, find the truth about Peder, and give him some kind of way to communicate with the outside world.

And Achilles could only call out threats, hoping that would be enough for them to leave her alone.

There had to be a way to make sure her efforts weren’t in vain!

The door slammed shut, leaving him breathing hard in the sudden silence. His hands were free, and he had a phone. Now the question was who to call for help.

Fingers shaking, almost uncontrollably, he scrolled through his contacts while his mind raced.

No seeking the cross, even if he could. His mother’s number wasn’t there.

No one else seemed to have any real power in this situation.

Except… one person stood out. Someone with heart and spunk—and who had the connections that spanned international waters.

Making his decision, he dialed quickly, not knowing how much time he had before his captors returned.

The phone rang once, twice, his heart pounding a hole through his ribs with each electronic tone. Then a familiar voice answered, though it sounded strangely high and strained.

“Achilles? Is that you?” Charisse’s usually composed tone was tight with what sounded like fear. “I heard there was trouble on the island. Are you all right?”

“I’m not…” He had to make this fast. He kept his voice down. “The Myrdons have Gena.”

She gasped. “How?”

“I don’t know, but I think this all has to do with offshore drilling off the coast of Aeaea—something they started in the nineties, and they want to finish it all off—stealing every natural resource that Tirreoy has.”

“Achilles! Wait! I think I know who they might be…”

“You do?”

“Yes… daddy mentioned working with their survey teams recently. They want extraction equipment from us.”

“For the drilling!” The pieces were finally clicking into place, and the disgust of discovering his captors’ motive heightened the need to discover their identity. His father wasn’t lying. This was all real!

“Yes, the offshore reserves.” And he could hear movement on her end, voices in the background. “Look, those people are extremely dangerous—ruthless killers who won’t hesitate to eliminate obstacles. I wouldn’t cross them. Just give them what they want and get your sister back as soon as you can.”

Was she serious right now? Obviously, she had no idea what they were asking for. “I can’t do that… they want Bris dead.”

Silence stretched across the connection before she finally spoke, her voice strangely flat. “Maybe they won’t actually harm her.”

“You said it yourself—they’re killers.”

“Come on! It’s your sister’s life! You’ve got to find some way of working with them. Do you think Bris would really blame you for thinking about Gena? She loves her too.”

What was she saying? Alarm crept through him as he heard the change in Charisse’s voice, the casual way she dismissed the danger to Bris, while trying to make him panic for Gena.

A darker, more suspicious thought began taking root.

“How exactly did your father get involved with these people in the first place?”

“Just business connections…” She began to hedge, her usually clear voice turning careful. “You know how it is. People come out of the woodwork with questionable projects.”

“And your father just happened to know they were cold-blooded killers?”

“Word travels fast in our circles!” Her impatience was showing now, along with something else.

Panic? “I… I spoke too harshly. Bris might be a spoiled princess, and I wish that she hadn’t gotten in the way of what we had, but that shouldn’t be a death sentence.

When I think about what her father did to your family…

” Her voice cracked… and he’d known enough catty women to recognize manufactured emotion.

“I’m sorry! I’m just so worried about Gena, and about you! I don’t want either of you hurt.”

He’d been so blind! She might as well have whacked him on the side of the head with a frying pan for how much she’d taken him by surprise.

There was far more here than casual business connections.

His growing suspicions crystallized into cold certainty, but he forced himself to stay calm, to put his best acting skills to use.

He needed just the right amount of trust in his voice, the perfect note of desperation—the same techniques he’d used when he’d worked for the Myrdons.

“Charisse, listen to me. I can only talk for so long before they catch me with this phone…” Someone truly innocent would have asked for more info, but Charisse just listened with breathless anticipation.

“If your father has any influence on these people, I need him to get Gena’s location. I’ll figure out the rest from there.”

She gasped. “Achilles, wait! Don’t hang up. I’ll do what I can, but it won’t be easy. Don’t do anything reckless, okay? Just play nice, and we’ll get you out of this.”

He let out a dry laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. “You do this for me, and I’ll give your father exclusive drilling rights on Aeaea for fifty years.”

The eager intake of breath on the other end told him everything he needed to know. The Oshears weren’t just connected to this conspiracy—they were the coldblooded titans bankrolling it. Phoenix was their hired gun, and Charisse had been playing him from the very beginning.

His wife’s life was hanging by a thread, and the woman he’d once trusted had her hand on the scissors.