“Brick, move in,” the chief said. “Tariq, prepare to intercept trailing security.”
“Roger that.”
“Apollo,” Pike said, “on you in five…”
Owen eyed the windows of the outdoor shop and saw the four women in its reflection. He stood and strained his neck, searching for that nonexistent friend again.
“Two…”
Tugging down his ball cap so Leighton wouldn’t recognize him right off, he looked in her direction. Felt his heart twinge at the droop to her shoulders, the way she kept her head down. Behind her, the burly oaf was barreling down on her.
Two additional operators Omen had recruited intentionally shifted between Leighton and the princesses.
Brick barreled into Leighton, snatching her bag.
“Look out!” Owen bolted forward, partly hating that he was playing a fake hero, but it served a purpose. “Hey!”
As the attacker, Brick hooked an arm around Leighton, eliciting a scream as terror seized her.
That expression on her beautiful face tore at Owen. “Hey!” he shouted again, rushing into the supposed fray. “Hey-hey. Easy, man. Don’t do this.” He motioned the other princesses away and focused on Brick. “Let her go, man. This isn’t worth it.”
Leighton was hauled off her feet, and the move made Owen tense. The big buy was going a little rough. “Easy, easy!”
When he heard tires squealing a block away and the signal from Pike in his ear for the big finale, Owen threw everything he had into launching at Brick. Pitched the two apart. Clipped the back of Brick’s legs. The big guy stumbled backwards, last-minute hauling Owen to the ground with him. Owen dropped hard onto the guy’s gut. Heard the hard grunt.
Before he could realize it, Owen found himself on his back. He jabbed a dagger hand into Brick’s side. Heard the guy’s pained grunt. Hoped he hadn’t struck too hard. He’d deliberately gone into the wrong spot to prevent any real damage. But it gave his escape legitimacy.
But the brawny guy was faster than expected—he drove a stiff left hook at Owen’s chin. That sucker hurt too, pain ricocheting down his jaw and neck. But even as he stumbled backwards, he was free. Hopped to his feet, landing in a fighting stance. Angled aside and shifted around, searching for the objective.
Mouth open, Leighton stood frozen, bags dangling from her hands. Though she turned, as if to flee, she didn’t.
“Go!” he shouted.
Tires screeched in the street behind him, and he looked there, found SUVs barreling at them. He pivoted back to her—still standing there. “Go go go!” Tugging down his ball cap even more, he caught her arm, hurrying her toward the interdicting limo, then turned back as if to deal with Brick. But the guy was gone, as planned, sprinting between buildings.
“Hey! Stop!” Owen took off after him. Bolted toward the alley. Saw people glancing after Brick, then to him. “Move-move-move!” He careened into the wall and used it to redirect his momentum. Darted into the shadowy darkness. Banked left at a concrete wall. In his periphery, he noted Brick duck into a side door, which Owen shot past. He came out the other side, looking around.
“Where’d he go?” he growled to the ambivalent pedestrians. With a shout, he pivoted and glanced back into the alley. Drew around and threw a punch in the air for obvious display, knowing he was likely being monitored by the royals.
He huffed and rubbed where Brick had punched him. “Think he nearly broke my jaw,” he complained aloud.
“Had to make it realistic,” Brick snickered in the comms. “Besides, I owed you for that kidney strike.”
Ignoring the complaint, Owen stalked back to the café to retrieve his drink and lunch.
“They have eyes on you, Apollo,” Pike reported. “Nice and steady.”
That warning of being watched churned through him and made it really hard to keep his focus ahead. By the time he returned to the café, his food and drink were gone. “You kidding me?” Nursing his bruised jaw, he sagged in defeat and headed off.
“Tails sticking close,” Pike comm’d. “You know what to do.”
Owen headed to the designated hotel, where he’d been booked with a multiple-night stay. He made his way up to the room. Inside, he went to the small bathroom and checked the bruise swelling across his jaw. Then he ordered room service, turned on the TV, then subvocalized, “Going dark.”
“Good work out there,” the chief said. “See you on the other side. Go dark.”
After flushing the comms device down the toilet, Owen lowered himself to the edge of the bed and waited for the food. Yeah, it’d gone to plan out there, but now it was all on him. On the royals playing into an anticipated timeline of events. Following the logic and obsessive control Faruq was known for. Absently, he touched the advanced tech implant that would afford limited comms with the team, and only on their activation.
So don’t screw up. The many reminders that this wasn’t just about his life but Leighton’s rang in his head. What if the royals didn’t play into the trap? Could Pike be wrong? As much as Owen didn’t like OTG or its chief, the guy had a reputation for a reason. What if the royals showed up and he was brought to her? Would Leighton recognize him? Or had her attention at the party been his imagination?
