Page 25

TWENTY-FIVE

In bad news for the terrorists, I had Terry and Eddie.

While I had taken my parents’ warning about the new cell of terrorists seriously, I hadn’t thought they were brave or foolish enough to launch an assault on the Californian royal airstrip or target His Royal Majesty of Montana’s precious horse cargo plane.

In good news for everyone, but especially for the terrorists, Daphne had already departed the strip with His Royal Majesty of Maine, Dr. Stanton, Thunder, Madelyn, the girls, my parrot, my leopards, and Zach and his family in an epic and heavily guarded entourage of rare animals and special people. Peter and his family, much to my relief, would come to California in a few days.

In bad news for me, I’d somehow thought it would be a good idea to stick around the strip with a bunch of edgy RPS agents to better learn what the RPS did and get used to having a viable detail.

In bad news for the terrorists, I had Terry and Eddie, and we were stuck near the open cargo bay door with the refueling gear, which was still parked nearby.

Had Daphne been caught up in the mess, His Royal Majesty of Montana would have been on the move within minutes to safeguard his heir and bring down living hell on those in his way. It was bad enough his sister’s precious husband was in the line of literal fire.

In exceptionally bad news for me, I’d become rather close acquaintances with a ricocheted bullet. Assuming I didn’t catch another bullet elsewhere, the injury to my leg would heal, and I would away with a scar—and the fact I could walk, albeit painfully, helped me focus on what was important in life: murdering asshole terrorists trashing my day.

“You suck, Terry,” I informed the RPS agent in a whisper. “The next time you mention anything about bullets and my leg ever meeting, you’re going to your room to think about what you’ve done.”

The man chuckled, and he handed over Pink Lady. “Put her in your breast pocket for this. I might need to roll around, and I haven’t taught her to go hide somewhere safe yet until called.”

Of the three of us, I was the one most wanted alive, which meant his squirrel would be safest with me.

If anyone even thought about touching Terry’s squirrel, I would eradicate them with extreme prejudice.

I gave the animal a kiss on her nose before stashing her in my jacket. “You’re wanted as a breeder,” I reminded him.

“Olivia has taken to reminding me of this daily, and she’s prouder than any peacock about it. She has herself a breeder , Ian. I thought this was evident by the fact we are having twins, and she didn’t even wait one cycle before deciding I was not being stalled.”

Eddie snickered. “I’m trying to figure out why I’m on the list. Do you think I can use it as part of a campaign to leave the pool of eligible bachelors? I am the only RPS agent in my group that isn’t hitched and whipped or at least dating.”

One day, someone would drop him a clue he was as good as hitched and whipped; his future wife just needed some encouragement. I hoped I was around when the fireworks went off, as I expected Deidre would take Eddie for the ride of his life by the time she was finished with him.

I suspected the terrorists crawling around the airstrip like a bunch of irritating ants would get the job done nicely. As I liked coming prepared, I took off my watch, handed it to Terry, and put on the one I had hoped I would never need to use, which would amplify my talents. “So, can one of you fine gentlemen fly this cargo plane?”

The plane had already been refueled, it was ready to roll, and it was even placed on the end of the tarmac, ready to take flight the instant a pilot got in.

To my amusement, both agents raised their hands.

“Dad has no idea I’m a pilot,” Eddie informed me. “After I got Black Sand, Senator Padrino started taking me up in his helicopter and teaching me. I flew my first Cessna when I was sixteen, and I had my full license at eighteen. I qualified to fly commercial planes at twenty, and at twenty-two, I was registered to fly royalty. We do not tell my dad I’m qualified to fly royals. Dad will have a literal heart attack.”

That was a problem; I could see him having a literal heart attack once news spread about the terrorists making a mess of our day. “And what’s your excuse, Terry?”

“I’m pulling a prank on Daphne. I started pulling this prank after my wife died; the RPS thought it was a good idea to have more emergency pilots, and they thought it would fill the empty spaces. I don’t really care I’m a pilot, so half the time, I forget I’m one, but I’m trained. I’m due for a refresher, though.”

Some prank. “You learned how to fly to prank Daphne?”

“I am one of the agents she tolerates with grace, and she flies a lot. As such, she needs someone qualified to work as a co-pilot. I got licensed years ago, but I’m rusty. I can handle co-piloting for Eddie, though. And yes, I’m qualified to fly this monster. Why?”

“If we can get it in the air, the RPS agents are not going to be concerned about one of us getting hit in the crossfire.” I glared at my leg. “Again.”

Eddie sighed. “I love your ingenuity, but there are literal holes in the plane, and she’s bleeding jet fuel.” He pointed at the tarmac behind me, and sure enough, fuel spilled onto the ground at a rather alarming rate. “Will is going to have entire litters of kittens. This plane is grounded for at least three weeks, and with the number of holes in her, he might have to upgrade. He does not want to upgrade his baby. This is his child . This is his second born child, as he got her shortly after his daughter was born.”

His Royal Majesty of Montana was going to lose his shit once he found out about his precious plane. “I’ll help pay to repair it.”

“Please do not blow up his plane,” Terry begged. “We will never hear the end of it if you blow up his plane. He is going to lock himself in his suite and cry for weeks over the bullet holes as it is.”

“I’m not going to blow up the plane, but we’re going to send a cascade of jet fuel onto the ground, which I’m then going to use in creative fashions. Madelyn watercolors. I create glass art with terrorists, apparently.”

“Is it possible to turn a terrorist into glass?” Eddie eyed where the fuel port was for the plane. “We could dump the fuel, Terry. The release on this model is right there .”

“As is the emergency beacon to notify the RPS across the world that the plane is involved with a terrorist event.” Terry sighed. “In good news, the terrorists are still fighting around the perimeter, so we could get to the release somewhat safely—and trigger the beacon. But your dad is going to be notified, Eddie.”

“He’s already going to be notified. Ian is on his notification list, and we couldn’t do jack shit to stop him from gaining notification rights. He already knows.”

Well, that was going to spice up our day more than a little. “Eddie, your dad is a pain in the ass.”

“He really is. You go first. Terry, you all right with doing cover?”

“I’ll cover,” Terry confirmed, and he drew his firearm, holding it with his right hand while flexing his left. “Once we’re in the plane, we need to move to the other side of the cargo bay; jet fuel is toxic, and we do not want to breathe in those fumes, especially not at the volume we’re sending across the tarmac.”

Well, there went some of my secrets. “I’ll handle the air issue. What are the odds this plane is going to be replaced, Eddie?”

“Call it eighty percent. She’s old, and she’s bleeding from her main tanks, her reserve tanks, and I’m pretty sure there’s damage to the landing gear. The tires on this fucking plane cost two million a pop, Ian, and at least one has several bullets in it now.”

Ouch. “How much does this fucking thing cost?”

“He’s going to have a two hundred million dollar bill replacing her. She’s a top line jet, she’s specially configured and was built from scratch. The repair job is going to be offensive. He might keep her and have a new one made, because this beauty is no longer viable for royal transport. We bar planes that have been used as target practice from being restored to service unless she passes her salvage checks. It’s rough getting them through those checks. But Will is insane, so he might salvage her anyway. He loves this plane.”

“Terry, I have a new hobby.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s killing terrorists.”

“It’s killing terrorists. Specifically, these terrorists.” I secured my enhancer on my wrist. “Do you know what I am right now?”

“I’m afraid to ask,” the head of my sister’s detail replied.

“Pissed off and ready to rumble.”

Eddie snickered. “Let’s get into the plane first, trigger the release and the alarm, and then discuss this in more detail. Terry, I’m with Ian. I have a new hobby, too.”

“I’m allowing it because you’re in the RPS, Eddie. You’re supposed to have a hobby of killing terrorists while on duty. Ian is not part of the RPS, so he does not get that excuse.”

“Maybe I should register to be part of the RPS,” I mused, eyeing the ramp, which we’d have to skirt around to get into the belly of the beast.

“No,” Terry and Eddie snapped.

I grinned at having nettled both. “Do you want your terrorists identifiable or extra crispy, Terry?”

“Normally, I would answer extra crispy, but I want to know who these bastards are so we can start breaking their cells down.”

“Alive or dead?” I fiddled with my watch, as which setting I used would determine if I went all out or limited the enhancer to be a little safer for everyone involved, myself included. “Because if you want them alive, I can just take out this entire airport and we can apologize to the RPS agents later.”

Both stared at me, and judging from the way Terry paled, he had done his math, realized I was, in actuality, Royal, and rather willing to give a terrifying demonstration of what a New Yorker could do when pissed.

“I have never been so afraid to answer a question in my life, and I’m counting when my wife asked me if I was all right with having twins. For the record, I answered that I was delighted we would be having twins. I did not at all imply she might be insane for wanting us to have twins right out of the gate. I would have been beyond thrilled with just one, Ian.”

Poor Terry. “And then my sister decided she had to join the twin brigade. I’m blaming you. You’re the one who has the buried mending talent and wants her healthy so she can have all the children she wants. Your talent clearly believes that means the hopeful moms want twins.”

If Terry paled much more, I worried he might faint. “Please don’t tell Olivia that. Please. She might tell my queen, and I won’t survive.”

I chuckled. “Alive or dead, Terry?”

“Dead terrorists can’t do anything to us, and Daphne might forgive me for not leaving her any. I’d like one alive, but I’m not sure we can realistically get one without putting anyone else at risk.”

“Terry, I can take out this entire airstrip and not kill anybody. But I don’t know that the RPS would at all like me afterwards, and it would be at least an hour for the agents to realistically recover.”

“Let’s not disable the RPS agents. There might be a second wave.”

“Dead it is.” As I would need to go big before going to the California palace for a nap, I set the enhancer to its maximum setting. “Please do not be surprised if I find a nice, quiet corner to sleep after I do this, because this fucking watch does not play around. I’ve only used it for testing in the manufacturer’s facility, and I got a discount on it because they don’t usually have access to a royal with a monster talent like mine. This was done so under wraps that Zach didn’t even know I had this or went to the factory for the testing. I had to sneak off. He was mad at me for three weeks over that.”

“I did see that in your record, and we never did find out what you were doing. That was the same trip you got your personal suppressor, which was noted.”

I reached up, unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt, loosened my tie, and opened my jacket to make sure I wouldn’t suffocate when I got to work. The jacket’s design would keep Pink Lady secure enough, and I’d take care with how I moved so she wouldn’t be dislodged. I checked on the squirrel to discover she’d curled up for another nap.

I loved his squirrel, and I would make a point of visiting her whenever possible.

“Let’s just say this enhancer, while legal, is something that people like my parents should never get their hands on, and if they knew I had it, they would be campaigning to take it from me. My parents believe I am redundant and scarred from Dennis’s death, keeping two watches.” I retrieved my suppressing watch and gave it to Terry. “This is the suppressor.”

I showed him the enhancer I wore.

“The only difference between them is that this one is silver and the face on that one is blue.”

“It’s a slice of a sapphire. Something about sapphires work well for enhancers, and that was part of the test. They were seeing what a high quality sapphire slice could do in conjunction with their tech. Let’s just say it works, but it works at a price.” I would not appreciate the price, which would drive every RPS agent to the brink of their sanity by the time I recovered.

Terry sighed. “What is it going to do to you?”

“You know that fever I tend to get with concussions?”

The man groaned and bowed his head. “You’re going to get a fever?”

“I don’t technically exert following usage, but I rock a fever for at least a day or two, and I’m definitely fatigued. There is actually a suppressor built into this, and if the watch detects talent exertion, it will activate the suppressor. We tried to induce exertion during the tests. Works like a charm. The last thing the manufacturer wants is their target audience killing themselves with their merchandise.”

Eddie eyed my watch with interest. “And it’s attuned to you?”

“It is, just like the high grade suppressors the royal physicians order for their principals when they need the specialty models.”

“Mom and Dad have both. Dad’s are all specialty; Mom throws hers at us kids whenever we look like we may need it and misplaced ours. Dad wants to throw his at us, but his empathy is ridiculous, so he doesn’t get any generics anymore.” Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out a silvery band. “Mine is the prison style because my talent is apparently a new class and they haven’t figured out how to contain it yet. But the prison ones work on it, and that’s all Mom cares about at this stage. And she keeps threatening to lock it if I don’t behave. Dad just complains because how dare they try to suppress me. Dad is just as ridiculous as Mom is.”

She would, if she thought that it would protect her precious little boy. More gunfire rang out, and I muttered curses over the whole situation. “Let me see if I understand this plan correctly. We’re going to sneak up the ramp. You’re following me, Eddie, and Terry is shooting anyone who doesn’t look like airport staff or an RPS agent? And we’re going right over there to press some buttons.”

“I will only be shooting if they come our direction, but that is close enough. Eddie, watch his leg. While the wound is shallow, it could collapse on him at any time. If it does, drag him and ignore his bitching. Smack him around if he puts up a fight. We haven’t done scenario work with him yet, because the New York royals are fragile and we need to be gentle with them. We’ll start throwing them around soon.”

I flipped my middle finger at Terry, waited for the frequency of gunfire to drop, and then scrambled around the ramp, kept low, scurried up the ramp and into the cargo bay. The thirty stalls, which were close enough to each other horses could see but not touch, made excellent cover, and I headed for the section Eddie and Terry indicated had the fuel release valves and the emergency system.

While it hurt like hell, my leg—and Terry’s basic bandaging job—held just fine.

Once we had a few stalls between us and the cargo bay ramp, Eddie took point, went for a wheel, flipped a switch, pressed two buttons, and gave the thing a spin. He went to two more wheels nearby and repeated the process. “There. The tanks on the wings and the main fuel tank are emptying. Give it a few minutes, and this bird isn’t going anywhere.”

Outside, fluid gurgled and splashed.

While in New York, the ability to control air fell under the flameweaving category, in reality, I used airweaving to keep the fuel fumes out and breathable oxygen in.

While I protected us from suffocation, Terry went to a nearby panel, smashed the clear cover with his elbow, and flipped a switch. “And now every RPS agency in the world, including New York, knows things are a bit problematic. Good luck, Eddie. Why don’t you send your dad a text that we’re playing with terrorists and that we’re going to keep score?”

“That is not going to help matters at all.”

“Ah, but it tells your dad that you’re safe, you have the high ground, and you’re in a good mood.” Terry chuckled, gestured for us to follow him deeper into the network of stalls, and headed towards one of the side windows in the plane. “Ian, peek through the window. Do not make yourself a target. Once you have a view of what you need to start working, do your thing. Ideally, you’ll make a lovely moat of fire to keep the terrorists away from the plane. That’ll give the RPS a chance to clean house. We’re going to get on our phones and text the appropriate parties. I’m just going to tell my wife I’m really sorry you just trashed the plane.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, Mr. Breeder.”

He snickered. “I’ll even text your sister and warn her you’re going to be a sad little prince in need of your aide’s affections to survive your gunshot wound.”

“Will California forgive me if I destroy their tarmac?”

“Ian, we just dumped an entire load of fuel on the ground, and we’re about to light it up. Show them flameweavers won’t actually light their entire kingdom on fire while you’re working, please.”

I sighed. “This sucks, and I resent that I have to do a demonstration of how ridiculous my talent is.”

“Terry, enroll Ian for some therapy over this incident. He’s clearly nervous over having to show people the Prince of New York is not just a pretty face.”

I glared at the future king of Texas. “Couldn’t you say handsome? I’m handsome. Terry is pretty.”

The former Montana RPS agent shrugged. “It’s true. Just kill some terrorists, Ian, preferably before we lose any RPS agents.”

“No casualties so far?”

“Unlike you, we are wearing bulletproofing in our suits. You’re only killing us with a head shot or a throat shot.” Terry tapped his glasses. “These are also bulletproof, and if they put on their helmets as part of dispatch, it’s damned hard to kill one of us.”

That would work. “All right. Any news on the wire on what the terrorists are wearing?”

“None of them are wearing suits, and there are only two or three internal agents on the ground working the royal airstrip. I was not aware of this, but all staff at this airstrip are members of the RPS.”

Well, that would make things easy. “Remind me to adopt that policy when we get back to New York, and I’ll fight my sister over it.”

“We’ll team up on it,” he promised. “I like this idea, and I resent that I didn’t think of it first.”

I inhaled, held my breath, and counted to thirty before exhaling. “Hold on to your pants, boys. Things are about to get hot.”