Soldier (Talon, #3)(14)

A muffled pop rang out, the distant retort echoing behind us, and Griffin jerked in his seat, his eyes going wide. I jumped and stared in shock as a thin stream of blood ran down his face from the hole in his forehead. For a second, he sat motionless, looking stunned. Then he toppled forward and hit the table facedown with a thud. The empty glass fell to the sidewalk and shattered, the crash unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. For a single heartbeat, everything was frozen.

Then someone close by let out a shriek and pandemonium exploded around us.

Riley leaped up, shoving his seat back, as the restaurant crowd began to flee, overturning tables and chairs, shoving each other aside in their desperation to get away. “Get inside, Firebrand!” he snarled, glaring wildly at the rooftops across the narrow street. “Get out of the open, now!” Dodging humans, we ducked into the tavern, which was in a similar state of chaos. People were either running away, hiding or talking frantically into their cells. I heard the bartender on the restaurant phone, trying to speak into it while two patrons yelled at him over the counter.

Riley pulled out his own phone and spoke briefly to Wes, his golden eyes scanning the crowds and rooftops across the street. The patio was nearly empty now. I could see Griffin’s body lying on the table, a pool of crimson spreading over the white cloth. My cheeks felt sticky, and with a start of horror, I realized his blood had spattered over my face when he was shot. Firmly I shoved my stomach down before it could crawl up my throat.

“I don’t see anyone,” Riley muttered, and a tremor went through his voice. But whether it was fear or rage, I couldn’t tell. I shivered, and he looked down at me, his gaze intense. One hand rose, his thumb gently brushing my cheek, as if assuring himself the blood on my face wasn’t mine. “You okay, Firebrand?” he whispered.

Shakily, I nodded. “Was this...Talon?” I whispered back, and he gave a grim nod.

“Yeah. It must be. Though this is the first time I’ve seen a Viper take someone out in broad daylight, in front of a crowd. That’s not like them at all.”

“Could it have been the Order?”

“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t have any reason to kill him, especially if he was selling them information, too. Talon is the one who wanted him silenced.” His gaze flickered to the patio and the body sprawled on the table, and his brow creased. “They must’ve really wanted him dead, to take him out like that.”

A siren blared in the distance, making us both jerk up, just as a familiar car lurched to a stop in front of the tavern.

“There’s Wes,” Riley said and brushed my arm. “Let’s get out of here. Keep your head down and move fast.”

With one last look at the body on the table, I fled the tavern after Riley, my heart pounding wildly as I threw myself into the backseat and slammed the door. Riley dived into the front as Wes hit the gas, honking the horn and weaving through pedestrians, and we sped away into the city.





GARRET

6:22 p.m.

Parked in the shade beneath a gnarled tree, I raised the binoculars and stared at the mansion at the bottom of the rise. This hilly, residential area several miles outside London seemed to be one of the wealthier parts of town, as large houses with an acre or two of land were not uncommon. Through the gated fence, the enormous, redbrick estate loomed at the end of a long carriage driveway. To the untrained eye, it looked like a normal—albeit huge—mansion, with tall windows, a pool out back, and a perfectly landscaped lawn and garden. But normal homes didn’t have guards posted around the perimeter, or a pair of trained attack dogs that swept the grounds every so often, searching for intruders. Normal homes didn’t have the type of security usually reserved for royalty—the precautions here indicated a man who either was so paranoid, he thought enemies lurked around every corner...or had something to hide.

The first time I followed the Patriarch to this neighborhood just north of London, I’d been surprised, maybe even a little stunned. In the Order, prudence was commended and extravagance was frowned upon. Everyone, from the senior officers to the newest grunt, made do with what he had and did not reach beyond his station. Wealth and physical possessions were unimportant. We served a higher order and anything that could tempt or distract us from our holy mission was to be avoided.

But the Patriarch was certainly doing well for himself, considering the size of his home and the number of guards posted. I knew he also had a small apartment in London, because he’d spent the evening there once, entertaining what looked to be a pair of officers from the Order. Perhaps he kept the apartment to hide the fact that he really lived here, in this enormous mansion. Considering the mansion’s isolation, I suspected most of the Order didn’t know where their revered leader actually lived. I wondered what they would think if they did know. If the man really was receiving visions from God, it was definitely paying well.

Lowering the binoculars, I leaned back in the seat, trying to get comfortable and knowing that was impossible. This was the fourth evening I’d sat here, lurking around the home of my former leader, the head of the Order itself. So far, I’d seen nothing unusual. No suspicious activity, no strange guests arriving in the middle of the night. The downstairs window, where I assumed the Patriarch’s office was located, glowed softly with lamp and computer light, and would for another thirty-eight minutes.

I took a sip of bitter black coffee, trying to curb my restlessness. Stakeouts were not my forte. Sitting around, waiting for something to happen...that was what Tristan had been good at, what made him such a deadly sniper—his ability to wait as long as it took for the target to show itself. I was better at kicking down doors and charging in, guns blazing, to shoot everything that moved. That wasn’t an option here, but I was running out of time. If something didn’t happen in the next few nights, I was going to forgo the stakeout and try to sneak into the house itself. Given the amount of guards, dogs and security, such a plan would’ve horrified Tristan.