Chapter 17

Malachi

Tarrant's thinly veiled words unlocked Malachi's uneasiness. They had talked before briefly, but there was something about him that made his stomach churn. He had to remember, though, that they were there to investigate him. He wasn't sure Tarrant would tell him anything because Malachi would seem to be in with the royal family now, even with the opposing words he wrote in the media.

"When love calls, you have to heed it," Malachi said, glancing fondly at Nick. Nick smiled back, though it was strained. "How are things with you?"

Tarrant nodded. "Good, thanks. I loved your latest article. In my heart, I'm hoping what you're writing is still true, but I still wonder if your opinion has changed."

Tightening his hold on Nick's hand, Malachi said the words he hated, knowing he needed to keep the ruse up. "Not at all. Just because Nick works for them doesn't mean they're any less unnecessary. A strain on the economy is still their major role." The words tasted of flour, and he sipped his lukewarm orange juice.

Tarrant's face lit up. "Exactly! Same with all of this." He waved his hand around. "Why spend thousands of pounds to hold an event like this when that money could be given directly to the cause?"

Malachi knew why, but he just nodded in response. "The artwork is incredible. Have you seen it?"

Tarrant smiled, his shoulders losing the tension they'd found during their conversation. "They are incredible. Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you." He held out an envelope towards Nick, who frowned.

"What's this?" he asked before taking it. He slid his finger beneath the flap and pulled out a piece of folded white paper. Unfolding it, he looked at it, and Malachi saw anger overtake him. Nick dropped the paper and grabbed Tarrant's tuxedo jacket.

"What the hell is this?"

Tarrant struggled, hands covering Nick's on his jacket. "I was asked to give it to you! I don't know!"

They were drawing attention, and Malachi picked up the discarded paper and envelope.

#3

He frowned. What did it mean? Two guards came through the crowds that had formed, standing around them but letting Nick do what was needed.

"By whom?"

"A guy at the door. He said he had to get it to you, but the guards wouldn't let him in."

Nick shook him. "Why, then, did you think it was a good idea to offer to bring it in?"

Tarrant's eyes widened. "He said it was important!"

Nick cursed and dragged Tarrant with him, the two guards leading the way. Malachi followed, unsure of what was happening. What was the relevance of the number three? There was nothing he could put his finger on, but it was potentially a closely guarded secret. Whatever it was, wasn't good. He followed them into a smaller room, and Nick shoved Tarrant to the sofa, grabbing his gun from the holster but holding it down by his side.

"Who was it?" Nick asked.

Tarrant spread his hands. "I don't know! I'd never seen him before."

"Describe him."

Tarrant rubbed his hands over his face, his eyes glazing. "Um, taller than me, brown hair, wore a suit, unkempt beard. Um…" His face flushed. "Bright green eyes. Never seen that colour before. It's what drew me to him."

Nick huffed. "What did he say to you, exactly?"

"Just that the envelope needed to get to you in time."

"In time for what?" Nick stepped closer.

Tarrant shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't have time to ask because the guard shoved him away from the door."

Nick shook his head and peered at one of the guards who'd come with them. "They secure?"

"Already on their way home," one said.

Nick grabbed his phone, dialled and put it to his ear, walking away from them towards the window. "Yeah… Number three… Uh-huh… Do you think it's linked?… Okay. We're on our way back… Yeah." He glanced over his shoulder at Tarrant. "He'll spend the night talking with Brady. We need to figure this shit out and fast." He ended the call and faced them. "Owen, Sam, can you please escort Tarrant to Brady? He'll be expecting him by the time you get there."

The two guards moved, gesturing for Tarrant to stand, and though the guy sent Malachi a questioning glance, Malachi wasn't interrupting whatever it was. They must have their reasons for it. After they left, Nick exhaled.

"Sorry about that," he said, and Malachi shook his head.

"Why are you sorry? There's obviously a reason for it. You don't just go grabbing people for no reason." He would've liked to know the reason, but he wasn't going to push.

Nick put his gun away and held out his hand for the paper, staring at it for a long moment before putting it back in the envelope and tucking it inside his jacket.

"We have to get back."

Malachi nodded, his chest aching when no explanation was given. He understood. Nick couldn't tell him everything; he wasn't allowed. It still hurt, though.

They climbed into the town car and fell into silence. Nick was lost in his thoughts, and Malachi was trying to figure out the relevance of the number three. Three victims? Three chances? Three… He shook his head. He had no idea. Wishing he could help, he took a chance and covered Nick's hand with his own.

"Are you okay?"

Nick's gaze focused on him slowly, and he blinked as if coming out of a trance. He turned his hand over and squeezed. "Yeah. It's… There's…" He sighed. "Can we talk about it when we get back?"

"Of course."

He listened to Nick make several phone calls, though nothing that was said gave any indication of the topic. Malachi hoped it wasn't anything to do with him, and they were going to interrogate him when they got back. He'd answer any of their questions, of course, but he had no idea what was going on.

When they finally pulled up to Windsor Castle, Malachi trembled from worrying so much. It eased slightly when Nick took his hand when they climbed out of the car and led them down the corridors to what Malachi now knew was Sec HQ. Nick knocked and waited for someone to open it, and then they were inside.

"Where is it?" Brett asked. Nick let go of Malachi and pulled the envelope from his pocket. Brett pulled on some gloves and opened it, his eyes scanning the page and envelope. "Nothing else?"

"No. Just that and a brief description of who gave it to Tarrant."

"Did it ring any bells?"

Nick shook his head. "No idea who it was from that."

"Felix is getting us some photos to look at. Maybe we can get a facial recognition hit once we know which one he is." Brett glanced at Malachi and then back at Nick. "Fill him in."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Brett stared at Malachi again. "The words you put in your articles are for self-preservation, right? You're not hiding anything from us, are you? Because if you are and we find out, your punishment will be far worse than what you could dream of."

Malachi's stomach revolted at the idea that he would do anything to truly hurt the royal family—though words can be hurtful, he supposed—so he shook his head. "I don't want anything to happen to them. I promise. It's purely self-preservation."

Brett nodded. "Fill him in, Nick. You never know, he might have an idea of what the fuck is going on around here. Owen, help him out."

Over the next hour, tucked into a corner of Sec HQ, Nick and Owen provided him with the information about the events that had been happening but kept out of the media as much as possible. Randall's kidnapping and Dominic being shot. Evan and Owen being blackmailed and blown up. And each of them being left with a number. It had confused the hell out of him until he realised they were all in relationships. Dominic and Randall. Owen and Evan. Nick and…Malachi. One guard, one partner.

"You're thinking the things that happened to me were because of you," he surmised, staring at Nick.

Nick nodded and peered at his hands. "I can't think of another reason. Not now we have this?" He pointed to the number three. "It fits." He swallowed hard and finally met Malachi's gaze. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

"If you are."

Nick frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The first thing happened before we were together. Are you certain they're related?"

He was glad Nick didn't instantly dismiss his thoughts and actually sat there and worked through it. "I can't be certain, but it's a good guess. Although we weren't together, we were attracted to each other, and if others could see it—which I'm sure they could from their comments—then it fits. I'm not ruling out that it could be two separate things, but as you've not found anything relating to anyone potentially going after you, I'm still erring on the ‘me' cause."

Malachi could see where he was coming from. He didn't have any idea who could want to hurt him, but it didn't mean he had to like making Nick feel like it was his fault.

"Why are they targeting bodyguards?" he asked.

Owen shrugged. "So far, we have found nothing that points to anyone in particular. It seems to be that whoever is doing it is using pawns to do their dirty work. People who've got beefs with us outside of the top person's agenda. If we didn't have these numbers linking things, I don't know if we would've even figured out they were." He sighed and rubbed his face.

Malachi worked the information around in his head. Something niggled at him. "Could it be a former bodyguard with a grudge?" he said, trying to work through it. "A spurned lover from someone? Anyone have a past they haven't mentioned or refused to talk about?"

Owen scoffed. "Most of us have something in our past we don't want to talk about, but no. I can't think of anything right now. Brett would be the best person to ask that to, but I can't guarantee he'll answer. He's good at what he does, and keeping secrets is his best skill. After all, the king needs to trust someone with all their information."

"Someone knows about these tunnels, and as a reporter who researched them and thought it was all bogus, it needs to be someone in the know. Someone who was given the information. I doubt they could have just stumbled across the entrances. So, either someone is giving information out to others, or it's someone who already knows the information. Like a former bodyguard or staff household member."

Nick frowned. "I don't know who would fit that bill. We need to get access to former employees. I'm sure Brett has already done it, but we could cross-reference things."

Malachi loved puzzles like that, but he was less sure of himself when so much hung in the balance. "Who else could it be? Has anyone got information from Tarrant yet?"

"The Police Commissioner is interviewing him, but from what I've been told, he doesn't have much to say. He'd never seen the person before and had no contact with anyone prior who had asked him for information or to do anything for them. It almost seems like it was the wrong place and time kind of thing, but I don't trust it. Maybe Tarrant didn't know it was going to happen, but I have a feeling he was targeted."

"Why?"

"You. If this is going the same way as Dominic's and Owen's stories did, they used people around them to lure them in. This would be a way to lure you into the asshole's game, ensuring I take part, too."

Malachi shook his head. "I can't believe all this was happening, and I had no clue."

Nick grinned. "We can keep secrets if we need to." His expression changed but then brightened again.

"What was that?" Malachi studied him.

"What?"

"Something went through your mind right then. What was it?"

Nick licked his lips. "Nothing." Malachi raised his eyebrows, and Nick sighed. "Fine. Nothing I can tell you." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but even I can't tell you everything. Not yet."

"I don't expect you to, Nick. I understand the need to keep things quiet, but you seemed… I don't know. Confused? If I can help in any way, I'd love to. But not at the cost of you telling me stuff you can't. I won't let you risk your job like that."

"I'm glad to hear it," Brett said from over Malachi's shoulder, making him jump. "Anything?"

"Not yet, though have we looked at former bodyguards?" Nick asked.

A wave of pain washed across Brett's face, but he hid it quickly. "We've looked at the most obvious ones. The ones who left on not-so-good terms. Maybe we should dig deeper."

"Or look into the pasts of the ones who are already here. Do they have someone who holds a grudge against them and is using the other guards to get to them? A way of making that one pay for a perceived slight." Brett stared at him, unblinking, and then he turned and walked away. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked Nick.

Nick watched Brett, shaking his head, but Owen answered. "Sometimes, he'll think of something and go off on a tangent. You might have given him an idea. His brain tends to focus on the new thing and forget where he was in a conversation. Especially when it comes to something like this. Something so important." Owen stood and headed after him.

Malachi could understand. If someone was trying to hurt his family, he would be distracted, too. He bet it was tenfold for Brett, both his guards and the royal family were important to him. They needed to find this son of a bitch and stop him.

"What can we do?"

Nick shook his head. "I honestly don't know. If this is related to me instead of you, we need to go through people I've upset, had arguments with or whatever. That'll be fun."

"If it's one thing I'm good at, it's research. What do you want me to do?"

"Get Felix to get you on a computer," Brett interrupted. "See what you can find out." He met Malachi's gaze. "As much as I want to trust you, Malachi, I can't afford to right now. So, your computer will be monitored."

"I understand, and that's no problem for me. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve. You might even learn something." It seemed strange teasing the head of security to the royal family, but when Brett's mouth twitched, it was enough of a reward for him to know it was okay.

"Get to work."

"Yes, boss," Nick answered for them.

Malachi was exhausted, but he pushed it away, grabbed a cup of tea—to the turned-up noses of several coffee drinkers—and settled next to Felix. After the man had logged him on, he set to work. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, but he took a name from the list Felix had given him and started work. Once he got into research mode, it was easy to forget bodyguards surrounded him—people who had thought the worst of him until someone had decided to research him.

And as he delved deeper into the names, he found out information he never thought he'd know about anyone. How many people were into BDSM that were friends with the royal family? Could there be any truth to the rumours of Club Royal?

Malachi had so many questions. Questions that not only pricked his reporter's brain but also pricked his personal one. If there was some truth to the rumours, could he finally be truthful about what he wanted from a relationship? After all, what man truly wanted a partner who wanted to be whipped before that partner then took control of the sexual acts that came afterwards? He couldn't even explain it properly. Anytime he tried, his partners looked at him like he was an alien.

He hadn't even gone as far as to attend a BDSM club to ask questions. Who could he trust with that knowledge? Who wouldn't recognise him and use it as some way of blackmailing him into doing something for them? And so, he'd shoved those needs down as far as he could and enjoyed a "normal" relationship.

But if there was any truth to the rumours, maybe he could ask for help to figure himself out. He glanced around the room. Despite not knowing most of them to talk to—though he knew all their names—he trusted them all. He'd seen how they worked together and interacted with each other and the royal family, and they were amazing people. Could he risk being laughed at again by asking for help?

Staring back at his screen, he exhaled. Maybe not yet.

"You're one of us now, Malachi. Start believing it," Felix muttered from beside him. "Whatever you need help with, we'll help. You just need to ask."

Malachi held his breath, letting that information seep into his brain. "Thanks."

Maybe. One day.

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