Chapter 21

Nick

Nick stared at the words, trying to understand what they meant, but he couldn't. What did they mean, the wrong brother? There weren't any brothers at the castle, so what were they…? His thoughts stuttered to a stop. Malachi took the phone away, but the words were burnt into his retinas.

"Nick? Sit down."

The words broke him from his fugue, and he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling Jonah. He had two brothers. They had to be okay.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Jonah? Are you all right? Where are you?" Nick fired at him.

"Woah, bloody hell, Nick. Where's the fire? I'm in France, remember? Work sent me here last week."

Nick exhaled but didn't settle. "Keep your eyes open, Jonah. Things are happening back here, and I need you to stay safe, okay?"

"Sure thing. Eyes open."

When Nick had taken the job protecting the royals, he'd known there was a chance his family would be targeted in some way, so he'd prepared them right from the beginning. They had to make sure they were aware of their surroundings at all times, even more so since Eliza's incident.

"What's going on, Nick?"

"I can't talk right now. I have to get hold of the others. Just stay safe, yeah?"

"Sure thing."

He ended the call and dialled again. Rye's phone rang and rang until it clicked to voicemail. He hung up and tried again. And a third time. "Come on. Pick up." A fourth. "Where are you, Rye?"

Malachi rested his hand on Nick's arm when he tried dialling a fifth time. "Let's go ask Felix if he can find him."

Nick let him lead him down the corridors to Sec HQ, all the while redialling his brother. Rye would never not answer. Never. Images he didn't want in his head filled it anyway, and he swallowed hard, hoping they didn't come true. He couldn't lose his brother. Any of his family.

"Have you found him?" he asked Felix when they entered, but the man looked at him, bewildered.

Malachi squeezed Nick's hands. "We've not explained yet."

"I can't get hold of Rye. We got another email. We need to find him. He's not answering his phone. Where is he, Felix?"

Images bombarded him, and he cradled his head, staring at his phone. Where was he? He kept dialling, religiously lifting it to his ear to hear it connect, but Rye's voicemail was all he heard. Not the real-life, alive version of his brother. A recorded message that wasn't enough reassurance. He needed…something. Anything.

"What's wrong?" Rye's voice broke through Nick's internal dialogue.

"Rye?"

"Yes, what's happened? Why are you blowing up my phone while I'm in a meeting?"

Nick's entire body deflated, and he exhaled, barely able to breathe. "I was worried," was all he could say.

Rye sighed in his ear. "I'm fine, Nick. I'm—ahh!"

A sharp sound echoed through the phone, and Nick frowned. "What was that? It sounded like—Rye? Rye!" He stood, pressing the phone closer to his ear. "Rye!" He heard people talking and shouting down the line, but no one took the phone and told him what was going on. He stared at Malachi. "He's at work, Kai," he whispered. "He's safe at work, right?"

"Fuck."

A murmured curse hit his ears, and he glanced at Felix, who lifted his gaze to Nick.

"What is it?" he croaked.

Felix glanced at Malachi and then back at him. "There's been a shooting."

A stone settled in Nick's stomach. "Where?" He knew where.

"Rye's office. Two dead, three wounded."

Nick's knees locked to keep him upright. "Who's dead, Felix?"

Felix hesitated. "I don't know."

"WHO'S DEAD?"

"I don't know!" Felix shouted, pounding at his keyboard.

Nick turned and ran, ignoring the shouts from behind him and the pain shooting through his calf. He raced through the corridors to outside and his car. He unlocked it, climbing into the driver's seat and slamming the door, before starting the engine. Before he could drive off, the passenger door opened, and Malachi slid in, followed by the back doors, with Owen and Colt joining them. He didn't argue, just slammed his foot on the accelerator and headed for Rye's office.

He didn't hear the conversation in the car, though he knew they were talking. All he could focus on was getting to his brother. If the panic was half of what Malachi had felt earlier that day when he was racing to find Nick or when he was worried about his family, he could understand how terrified he'd been. The not knowing was the worst thing about it all. If he knew one way or the other, maybe he could figure out how to act, what to feel.

Breaking far too many speed limits, he finally abandoned the car down the cordoned-off street leading to Rye's workplace. He went under the tape and headed for the paramedics and ambulances.

"Sir! You can't be here! You need to get back behind the tape!"

Nick ignored him, seeing gurneys being wheeled out of the door, two with blankets completely covering them. He stopped. He wasn't sure he could know now he was there.

"Nick, he's over here," Malachi said, touching his arm.

Nick blinked and focused on where Malachi pointed. He could see Rye's face. Glancing over at the other gurneys, he breathed easier. He could see Rye's face. Of the six gurneys, two were covered completely, and he could see Rye's face. Rye was wounded. Rye wasn't dead.

He went over, legs trembling with every step. "Rye?" he whispered.

Rye's eyelids were dark against his pale skin, and Nick leaned forward. A gauze dressing covered his chest, red seeping through.

"Excuse me. Who are you?" a paramedic said, pressing a hand to Nick's chest and pushing him away.

"I'm his brother," he growled, pushing right back.

She let go. "Sorry."

"How is he?"

She sighed. "He has a chest wound, but we managed to stabilise him. We're taking him to hospital now. Do you want to ride with us?"

Nick nodded and watched them lift Rye into the ambulance. He turned to Malachi. "I need to—"

Malachi nodded. "Go. I'll be there soon."

Nick refocused on Rye again, climbing in when the paramedic said he could. He settled on the seat and reached for Rye's hand, hesitating until the paramedic nodded at him. He slipped his hand under the sheet and carefully held his brother's hand, needing that connection. He wasn't allowed to die. He couldn't. All of this was Nick's fault, and he refused to risk his family any longer. The moment Rye was well, Nick was handing in his resignation. He couldn't put them through this again.

As soon as they arrived at the hospital, Rye was wheeled away, and a nurse led him to a comfortable chair in a small room away from the main waiting area. He dropped his head into his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. Calling his parents was essential, but he just needed a minute. Tears dripped down his nose, and his entire body shook with the force of his sobs, but eventually, he eased.

A tissue appeared in front of him, and he jerked back, eyes widening until he saw Malachi.

"Sorry," Malachi whispered. "I wasn't sure if you'd heard me come in."

More tears filled Nick's eyes, and he dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around Malachi's waist, his cheeks pressed against his chest.

"It's okay, Nick. He'll be okay. He'll be okay."

The repeated mantra helped him to calm down again, and Malachi helped him to sit back on the seat. When he'd got hold of himself, he pulled out his phone. "I need to call Mum and Dad."

"They already know," Malachi said. "I called them before I came in. They should be here soon."

Nick's heart skipped a beat at the love shining from Malachi's eyes, and he pressed his lips to his. "I love you."

Malachi smiled. "I love you."

The door opened, and his parents came in, Eliza following. "How is he?" his mother asked, grabbing hold of Nick when he rose.

"He has a chest wound, but he's alive. I've not heard anything else since we arrived." His eyes filled again, and he was so sick of crying. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You don't have control over other people's actions."

"But it might be my fault—"

"Pssh," she said, waving his words away. "Doesn't matter what job you have. It doesn't give people the right to go around shooting others just because they feel like it. You know we'd never blame you because of your job."

"Well, I'm not going to have it for much longer, so you don't need to worry."

His father pinned him with his gaze. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll be a bodyguard until you're too old to move."

Nick shook his head. "I'm done. I can't let this happen again."

His father stepped closer, grabbing his nape and holding him still. "You're bloody good at what you do, Nick. Don't let anyone take that away from you."

"What? So I let them take my family instead?" His voice rose with each word.

"If that happens, it happens. But you fight every day for the right side of the coin. Quitting your job won't change how these people act, but having you keeping people safe means I can sleep at night."

Nick stared at him. Why was he not mad at him for causing Rye's injuries? Why was he not ranting and raving about Nick not taking care of his family before anything else? Other families probably would have.

He opened his mouth to argue when a doctor entered the room. "Mr and Mrs Tennant?" His parents nodded and stepped closer. "Rye is doing well after the surgery. The bullet went straight through him, but it did a little damage to his chest. We repaired everything with no problems, but now we need to let his body do the healing. He's in intensive care while we observe to make sure nothing unexpected happens, but I have no doubt he'll make a full recovery."

Nick sank onto a chair, and Malachi wrapped his arms around him. He closed his eyes and just breathed. His mind, full of what-ifs and what-nows, kept churning through everything, but he let it all bypass his conscious thoughts. He needed a mental health break right then. He heard nothing more, letting the conversation sink into the background. His mind drifted, remembering times from when Rye had been born, through his childhood, and the way he clung to Nick whenever he left to go somewhere. He couldn't lose his mini-me.

The thought made him chuckle, and Malachi asked, "Are you okay?"

Nick nodded, finally back in the room. "The son of a gun is too strong to be taken out by a bullet. He has too much to live for." He stood. "I'm sorry, but I need to go," he told his parents, the doctor having disappeared at some point. "I'm going to find who did this."

His mum hugged him. "I know you will, but I want you to rest first."

Nick shook his head. "I've rested enough lately. I need to do this. I can rest after."

She looked at Malachi. "Please take care of him? Make sure he eats and sleeps. He tends not to when he's distracted."

"I will. I'll stick right to him enough that he'll do it to make me go away." He grinned.

"I doubt that'll happen, but thank you. It was nice to meet you."

Nick threaded his fingers through Malachi's, and they headed for the door. He needed to see the police report and to find any information they had on where the shot came from, if they even had any idea at that point.

Malachi led him to the car and drove them back to Windsor without a word.

"What is it with these guys that they like shooting?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his jaw.

"What?"

Nick glanced across at him. "Whoever this guy is, or whoever these people are behind it, they like using guns. Dominic was shot, and Randall was held at gunpoint, as was May. Granted, Owen and Evan nearly got blown up, but not before Owen had been shot. And now, it's guns again. It's almost like they don't know any other way."

"Like they've been brought up around them or they've been trained to use them?"

Nick stared at him. "Military?"

"Makes sense. How they could get into places undetected. How they know people who can alter camera footage. It's all readily available to military personnel."

"But what's the point? What are they trying to do? What's the point they're trying to make?"

Malachi exhaled, pulling into Windsor Castle. "Chaos?"

Nick shook his head. "I could've gone with that if we had been all over the place and in chaos, but we're not. We're taking it as we normally would. We're stressed, of course, but not chaotic."

"To prove they can?"

Nick paused on that, but his gut was telling him no. He said as much. "With most people, we know what they're after because they make it abundantly clear, almost right from the beginning. It's almost like this is…" He froze, gaze locked on Malachi. "Cat and mouse."

"What? He's testing us? Seeing what the reaction times are?"

That didn't feel right, either. "I'm not sure. I need to talk this over with Brett."

They climbed from the car and, within minutes, were settled around a table with Brett. Nick explained his thoughts, trying to vocalise what his gut was telling him, but it wasn't easy. Brett didn't laugh him away, though. If anything, his expression grew grimmer by the second.

"The idea has merit. Military personnel would have that experience and ability. Or it could be someone who has friends with that experience. Either way, looking into that area would prove beneficial. I'll get someone on it straight away."

"We're going to keep researching what we can, and I want to see the police report," Nick said.

"It should already be in your inbox. They haven't found the location of the shooter yet. They're bringing in a professional who can figure out the trajectory."

"Same one as last time?" Nick raised his eyebrows.

Brett tilted his head. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"Aren't they trained?"

"You think it could be someone like that?"

Nick shrugged. "Why not? They'd be giving away where they'd made the shot from, but they could be convinced we'd find nothing. Getting cocky."

Brett nodded slowly. "I'll look into that, too."

Nick and Malachi settled at two computers, side by side, working through their own research areas to see what they could dig up. Nick read the police report, which, as usual, was scarce and had little to offer. What they did have, though, was something unexpected. Video footage. A witness had been recording on her phone at the time and had caught the shooting in the background. They had been a short distance away, and parked cars hid some of it, but Nick could see the impact of the bullet as it hit Rye and sent him sprawling to the ground. A lump made a home in his throat, but Malachi squeezed his shoulder, helping to dislodge it.

"We'll find them."

He spent the next few hours scouring everything he could find, rubbing his eyes more than once when things got bleary. When Malachi cleared his throat, Nick expected a reprimand. Instead, he got words he hadn't expected.

"Nick, I think this was staged."

His head shot up. "What do you mean?"

"He sent that email an hour before I read it. But the shot didn't happen until you were talking to Rye. He wanted you to hear it. He purposefully waited. How did he hear you? Was Rye's phone bugged? Yours? Mine? Did he have some satellite…whatever to let him hear your conversation with Rye?"

"It's not an impossibility," Felix interjected. "They're more common than most people believe. And easy to make if you know how and don't want anyone to know you have one."

Malachi and Nick shared a look. "Military," they chorused.

Felix nodded. "Some would know how to do it. Some are trained to know how to mock things together in case of emergency, like their radio breaking or something."

Nick frowned. "So, is he listening to us? Or just sometimes?"

"Let me check for any abnormalities in our frequencies. I might be able to tell if anyone is piggybacking off our signals, but it might not be so if they are using something else." Felix had moved to his computer and already started typing before he finished his words.

Nick rubbed at his eyes and then his temples, unable to stop a yawn.

"After this, we're going to bed," Malachi said. "You won't be any good to anyone without a brain rest."

Nick wanted to argue, but he couldn't. "Okay."

Malachi opened his mouth as if to counter Nick's argument and paused when there wasn't one. He narrowed his eyes. "Am I going to have to sleep on top of you to make sure you don't sneak off in the middle of the night?"

Nick chuckled. "Maybe. Would that be such a hardship?"

"I never said it would be. I was just wondering." Malachi smirked.

"You're always welcome to sleep on top of me."

Malachi's cheeks heated, but he didn't reply.

Abruptly dropping into his chair, Felix cursed. "Fuck me."

Nick rose and went to him. "What is it?"

"I should've checked. I thought we were clear…" His voice trailed off, his face paling. He turned wide eyes to Nick. "They've been piggybacking off our radios. They're likely to have heard everything."

"Have you stopped it?"

Felix nodded slowly. "I should've checked. It never occurred to me."

Nick squeezed his shoulder. "You can't do everything, Felix. And we've found it now. So where does that leave us?"

"Up shit creek," Brett said, his mouth a grim line. "I've just got off the phone from Commissioner Thomas. Tarrant Milton is dead."

Nick stared at him. "I thought we had him being watched?"

"We did."

"I'm starting to worry about any potential witnesses."

"You're not the only one."

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