Cracked Kingdom (The Royals #5)(84)

“I agree,” is Hart’s response. Her lips tilt up a tiny bit at the corners. “And I thought my dad was bad.”

Ella is relieved. “So when do we leave?”

I pull out a piece of paper and hand it to Hart. “After Hart does these.”

She jumps up. “What’s this?”

“What is it?” Ella slides over to peer at the list of exercises.

“It’s a physical readiness test. You can go when you pass all of these elements.” Hart and I spent an hour arguing over whether she was going with us tonight.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she squawks.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Not even a little. If you want to crawl around in the forest and spy on your dad, then this is the price of admission.”

“I told you I don’t hurt anymore.”

“And I told you I didn’t believe you.”

We glare at each other.

“Ten burpees?” Ella says, plucking the list from Hartley’s fingers. “When would she be doing burpees tonight?”

“She might have to jump up and run. She might have to hop a fence. She might have to leap over a log. These are all exercises designed to simulate duck-and-cover and escape maneuvers.”

“I’m going even if you don’t take me with you, so short of tying me up and stuffing me in a closet, I’ll be lying on the pine needles right next to you in less than an hour.”

I throw up my hands. I knew this was a losing argument but I had to try. I stomp off to the front door where Ella left a bag. How did I fall for someone twice as stubborn as Ella? I grab a few items and return to Hart, thrusting them into her hands. “Ella brought these for you. Why don’t you change and we’ll go case the joint.”

She hops into the bathroom to change.

“You’re going to burn a hole through the door if you stare harder,” Ella says.

“You didn’t see her get punched in the stomach.” That image is going to stick in my memory for a long time.

“We women are hardier than we look.” Ella flexes a non-existent muscle in her arm.

I don’t want to get into an argument so I keep my grumbles to myself. Hart exits the bathroom, pulling the hat over her head.

She stops short, registers my concern and comes over to pat me on the shoulder like I’m a five-year-old who lost his toy down a storm sewer.

“I’m going to be okay,” she reassures me.

My eyes fall to her wrist. “Don’t do anything dangerous. We’re only there to take pictures to add to the audio we recorded and the text message you received. Nothing more.”

She gives me a smart-ass salute.

“You, too,” I remind Ella, who jumps up to stand beside Hart.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“You two are real clowns, aren’t you?” I sigh. I should’ve never introduced them. “Let’s go, Thing One and Thing Two.”

“Does that make you the Cat in the Hat?” Hart mocks.

My response is to swat her ass as she passes by on her way out. She finds this hilarious and so does Ella. They crack sillier and sillier jokes, quoting lines from Dr. Seuss books, which somehow Hart recalls.

But as each mile passes, their laughter gets quieter and less frequent until it’s way too quiet in the cab of the truck. I glance over and see the two girls gripping each other’s hands. Nah, I don’t regret introducing them. I wish they’d found each other sooner. They have a lot in common and, after tonight, I think they’ll need each other more than ever.

“Ready, Things?”

Hart gives a nervous bob of her head while Ella’s jaw hardens. I wish the two could forget what happens tonight. Whatever the outcome, they’re both going to be hurt by the actions of their dads, and that sucks hard.

"I'm going to drive down the road a bit. Are you two okay with walking?"

"Yes," Ella replies and immediately jumps out when the vehicle stops. Hart tumbles out after her.

I grab the camera from the glove compartment.

Outside, Ella’s hopping from one foot to another. "Come on," she hisses and gestures for us to hurry.

As soon as I clear the door, she's jogging down the road. Hart and I hustle to catch up.

"Let's go this way," Ella says, pointing to a low wooden fence that surrounds the entrance to the park that sits about a city block ahead of us.

Concern for Hartley tugs at my gut, but she climbs over the fence without so much as a wince. I relax. Maybe she wasn’t lying about not being sore, after all.

We skulk into the woods, careful to avoid stepping on branches that might give us away. Thankfully, the ground is mostly grass and weeds. It's dark, with the canopy of trees blocking the half moon. Out in the parking lot, a few lamps light up the paved space. There are no cars here at all.

Did we miss them? Did we come on the wrong day?

"Hart—" I start.

She waves her hand furiously. "Shh. Get down. Someone's coming."

Headlights flood the entrance to the park. Ella and I drop to the ground. The camera digs into my breastbone. I hope our dark clothes hide us well enough. The first car is a familiar silver one. It’s the perfect car for a clandestine meeting. Electric cars make almost no noise. If it weren’t for the lights, we would’ve missed it. Steve parks his Tesla on the far end of the lot, just beyond the last pool of light.