Royal Line by Carrie Ryan (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📗

Roman, gave me another quick squeeze and then stepped back. Wilder put out his hand. “Come on, little sis. Let’s get you in the car. Looks like you’re getting that adventure you’ve always wanted after all.”

Chapter 3 Kannon

How did it come to this?

A client, was a client, was a client, was a client.

I didn’t care what kind of clients we had at Kannon Security. All I cared about was that we had them. And business had been good over the last three years. We’d weathered the rocky storms and growing pains of building a solid security business.

But if I had to rank our clients in a hierarchy of worst to best, my current assignment, Lilith Montague, was the worst kind.

First, she was the daughter of a diplomat. That meant she’d spent most of her life learning how to appear to be one thing while being something else entirely. She’d spent her whole life smiling for the cameras, shaking hands, being the perfect daughter, while behind the scenes, being allowed to get away with murder. Although, I hoped that wasn’t literal in this case.

I loathed diplomats’ kids because they were the ones most likely to thwart the rules. They threw themselves into finding trouble and not bothering to find their way out of it. And despite access to the finest education, they did their best to squander every single opportunity placed in front of them and pull out that dumbass card every chance they got.

And Lilith Montague was no different. If she heard there was a squander-your-life event, she’d be first in line for that shit. She was your typical Kardashian-living, influencer-aspiring, refuse-to-do-anything-with-the-brain-God-gave-her kind of girl. Which was a shame, because I had a great deal of respect for her father.

Drake Montague had given me my first job. Right after I opened Kannon Security, he’d picked our no-name security firm to do a job for him at an event. I’d asked him why he’d chosen us, and he said because he’d been like me once. Unlike most diplomats, he’d served in the military, and he’d honestly wanted to make the world better.

Thanks to his endorsement, we’d gotten bigger and better contracts. I would always be grateful to him. Especially given the shitstorm of my life before I opened Kannon Security.

When Drake Montague called looking for a favor, I didn’t say no.

My other least favorite kind of job was the bodyguard gigs to concerts. The kind of shows that made Burning Man look like a stuffy event. First and foremost, there were drugs everywhere. Too many exits and entrances, and they were always packed to the gills. Not to mention my team basically telegraphed that they were bodyguards. We worked best in casual attire; dressed up, we stood out like sore thumbs. We were the only ones not taking any drugs. It didn’t help that everything was brightly lit with flashing lights suffusing the area. It was easy to miss what you needed to see, and far too easy to see something that wasn’t there at all.

Sparrow tapped into her coms. “Boss, can you check your south exit? Something looks off.”

I frowned at that. “Copy.” I headed that way, holding back a growl.

Sparrow made her way to the women’s restroom. Her sightline was on Lilith at the bar. And my other guys, Max and Aidan, were basically beating the men off of her. Sparrow at least looked undercover. She looked like she could be one of Lilith’s friends. Which certainly helped.

My gaze narrowed, and I frowned when I locked onto what Sparrow had seen at the exit.

“Blue baseball hat, ripped tank, eyes glued on Lilith?”

“Yup, that’s the one. He’s been keeping a little too close from behind as we’ve made our rounds. I keep seeing him on my radar.”

“Copy. I’ll go talk to him.”

Normally, with a job like this, I’d send Sparrow with Olly or Marcus. Nikolai worked better on his own. But because this was Drake’s daughter, the whole team came along for the ride. Fantastic. Not like Drake wasn’t paying us handsomely, but still, a babysitting gig. And all said, with all of us here, we were billing at thousands an hour. As if we had no other active pressing cases.

Easy. Drake gave you a shot when you were about to spiral into the depths of hell. So cut the kid some slack.

I had to remind myself of that. Without Drake’s support, things would have been much, much worse for me. I could put up with his daughter for a night…at a Paris Fashion Week party.

Suddenly, there was a long beat of silence that sent my arm hairs standing at attention. It was the calm before the storm. Then there was a bass drop accompanied by a loud bullhorn alarm. The kind they played in clubs. Some DJ came on with a mic and said, “We’re going to kick it old school, ladies and gents, taking us back and dropping you into a little foam.”

I frowned. “Did he just say foam?”

On the other end of the coms, Sparrow made a gagging sound. “Yes, he did. And for the record, I’d like to note that it’s disgusting.”

Olly laughed. “He is really trying to nail that old-school vibe and kiss the designer’s ass. 1999 is the theme of the Blink & Marc fashion show. Weren’t any of you paying attention? Sparrow, you of all people.”

Sparrow snorted. “Um, no. I don’t do the whole fashion thing. I just naturally look fabulous. Besides, check your patriarchy at the door, handsome. It is possible for me to have tits and not like fashion.”

“Are you two done yet?” I frowned as I searched the crowd. Luckily, I towered over most of the party guests. “Nikolai, Blue Cap has vanished from sight. I repeat, he’s vanished from sight.”

I made my way to the door, hoping to catch the guy, but I couldn’t find him in the crowd. And then the foam started. Kids at the center of the dance floor started hopping