Read Online Royal Elite: Leander by Danielle Bourdon - Free Book Online Page A

Leander, with his gun at his side, safety engaged for now, panned the street as he'd been doing the last few hours. Sweat trickled down his cheek and dripped onto his vest. It was hot and getting hotter. He guessed the temperature to be in the mid-nineties already.
    Ten minutes later, a muffled scrape near the door set Leander on alert. In a smooth motion, he thumbed off the safety, swung his body in a pivot on one knee, and brought up the gun to aim at the doorway.
    “Coming up,” an accented voice said.
    Leander lowered the weapon just as Ahsan Afshar entered. “Good thing you called out before you got here.”
    Tall, broad and dark haired, Ahsan flashed Leander a grin and followed the walls toward the windows to stay as much out of sight as he could. “I know what a hair trigger you've got, and I like my life, thanks.”
    Leander snorted and slid the gun into its holster. That freed up his hands to raid his pack for a bottle of water. “Did you get all the information from Mattias and Sander downstairs?”
    “Yes.” Ahsan, dressed similarly to the others, lowered his pack to the floor. “Looks like we may be doing a daylight raid after all.”
    “Maybe. I've been watching the foot traffic down there, and the later it gets, the busier it gets. Even if we go in the back, someone's bound to see. Pedestrian or kidnapper.” Leander peered over the sill toward the street. Cars and people came and went, busy about their day.
    “Mhm.” Ahsan picked up his binoculars and scanned the front of the far building. “It's going to get interesting.”
    Leander muttered under his breath. Interesting in their business was code speak for deadly .
     
    . . .
     
    In an effort to remain as calm as she could, Wynn counted to fifty before she tramped up the steps, crossed the porch, and knocked hard on the door. “Sir? Excuse me, but my phone can't get a signal. Can I use yours? A landline, maybe?”
    Nothing. No answer. She knew he was in there, and knocked again.
    “It'll take me forty-five minutes to get back to the airport, and another day to return to Latvala. Well, what with the layovers and time difference. Anyway, please open the door!” Wynn stared balefully at the house, exhaling in frustration.
    After knocking twice more, the door swung open and Leander's father, lips quirked into an annoyed line, stepped back to let her in. The shotgun was gone.
    “Stop that infernal banging, I can't hear myself think. The phone is on the bar,” he said.
    “Thank you.” Stepping past, Wynn entered into a dining-slash-kitchen area of considerable size. Beyond, through an arch, was the living room. Tastefully furnished with leather and wood, the house exuded comfort and security, a home any parents could raise children safely in. Warm tones throughout created a hunting lodge atmosphere, yet no where did she see stuffed animal heads or other signs of taxidermy.
    Veering to the counter in question, which clearly doubled as a breakfast bar, Wynn snatched up the handset and dialed Leander's number. His father obviously already had it, so she wasn't concerned about leaving traces behind.
    “Leander, it's me. You need to call me back immediately, it's an emergency. I mean it, call me a.s.a.p.” Wynn ended the call, took a deep breath, then dialed Chey's cell phone.
    No answer. Wynn cursed under her breath. Chey wouldn't recognize this number and would probably ignore it altogether. When the voicemail came on, she said, “Chey, it's me. It's urgent, so call me back. If you can't, then find Leander and make him get on a plane for home.” Setting the handset back in the cradle, Wynn turned to face Leander's father.
    “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name,” she said, taking the blunt route. Leander had always spoken of his parents in the vaguest terms, never using their names.
    “Nathaniel.” Standing near the archway, hands in the pockets of his pants, Nathaniel stared at Wynn with a considering expression. At length, he said, “He