If only Marcello knew everything he had done in the name of King and Queen and Country…well, he’d probably kill him, revive him, and then kill him again.
Ethan sighed. “I have work to do here. You get here, come find me. Until then, I have better things to do than listen to you treat me like a child.”
“I’m not the only one who wants you back here. Mama and Papa are worried about you.”
“That’s low, trying to use our parents to get me to do your bidding. I know they’re worried about me; they’re our parents, they’re always worried about us. So, why don’t you do your job, and I’ll do mine. I don’t take orders from you. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Ethan—”
Ethan hung up.
He loved his brother, loved all his brothers and his sisters. He’d take a bullet for them, hide their secrets or help bury them if they needed it—he’d done some of that and more for them. But there were times when they pissed him off to no end.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did. He went still as the air filled his lungs, as the scents and sounds of the chaos filled him. He opened his eyes as he exhaled, taking in the rhythm and movement around the room.
Slightly calmer, he noted where the different groups of people were focused. The bomb squad wasn’t exactly relaxed, but there wasn’t an urgency to them. Either the other crew had not found any more explosive devices, or they were still waiting to hear. If there were more planted, then Anda was at risk of being exposed or killed. They all were.
He didn’t see her in the ballroom—not surprising. After she’d gotten free from scrutiny, she would not have wasted a second to pursue her mission. She didn’t have a lot of time. She was still famous, and people knew she’d fallen through the stage. The press would wonder where she’d gone. So, whatever she had to do must be done quickly and efficiently before anybody caught on to her true purpose.
He needed to get backstage. No doubt, she was either there, or she’d already left the building and was in pursuit outdoors. If she’d already left, she would be harder to track and it would be harder for him to provide her backup. Then again, there were other agents here who might recognize her and help.
He cursed under his breath. He should have tried to pry some information from Marcello before he’d hung up on him. Since he wasn’t going to call him back, he instead focused on the movements of the agents around the room.
The overt agents were clustered in a corner, some talking into their wrists or phones, some to each other. He tried to track the covert agents, ones he wasn’t supposed to know about. Though he recognized some of them, they were playing a part, too, and he couldn’t blow their cover. The ballroom was massive, easily able to hold three thousand people or more, so more must be here and hiding out of view.
First order of business: get rid of his shadow.
“Agent?”
The man lumbered over. Hmmm. On closer inspection, he didn’t seem like the typical agents that protected his family at all. Those agents were quick to do a royal’s bidding, but this one seemed almost angry to be called over. As the man moved closer, Ethan realized he was wearing a pin but not the tell-tale pin that all Royal Protection agents guarding the family wore; it had a minute difference from the standard pin other agents received, but one that he recognized.
This man may not be an agent, which meant he was in danger.
He quickly captured a discreet image of the man approaching him, then messaged Marcello the picture and asked him to call in two seconds. Ethan had learned how to message without looking at his phone, a skill that came in handy now.
His phone rang and he answered, timing his words as Marcello came on the line. “Your name, Agent?”
“Joseph, Sir.”
That the RPS called the Royals ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’ as opposed to their titles was something everyone knew. The RPS was exempt from needing to use full titles.
Protocol.
“Your last name?”
A brief hesitation. “Mullin.”
“Well, Agent Mullin, I’m afraid I’ll need another moment. Prince Marcello’s on the line again. I must take this.”
Marcello immediately picked up on his act. “I don’t recognize the photo or an agent by that name, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Let me check.”
Ethan kept an even face, his words specific and vague, as he took a few steps away. “Don’t you know?”
“Yes, I know everyone guarding the family, but do you think I know everyone I command? After an attack, agents and other personnel are redeployed based on needs, so this Mullin could have been assigned to the ballroom without my knowing. There’s a chain of command so I wouldn’t necessarily order—”
“I understand.”
Marcello sighed. “Shit. I can’t see anyone by that name on any RPS roster. Are you alone?”
