The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,113

good idea,” Wallace says.

“Should I define ‘plausible deniability’ for you?” Grim scowls. “It’s too risky.”

“You think I don’t know that? But I have to see this all the way through. You’re sure about these eyes you got on him, Grim?”

“Of course. I’ve got a feed to the very spot where he’s hiding out. He moves, we see it.”

“If he moves,” I say, “kill him, but I’m still coming. I won’t do it, but I need to see it, if I can.” I clear my throat because the hot emotion there won’t allow me to speak otherwise. “I owe my brother that.”

Both men fall silent, and for a moment I think they’ll disagree, but Grim nods, his narrowed eyes promising me the vengeance I crave, but can’t execute myself.

“Wallace, we need to go,” Grim says, sighing and running a hand over the back of his neck. “I guess we have a flight to catch.”

The man in the belly of the abandoned building doesn’t strike you as a psychopath at first glance. He has a hot plate going, the aroma of bacon rising and filling the small space. He doesn’t even flinch when a mouse scampers over his bare foot. His purple hair grows in a chaos of curls, but the roots are golden blond.

He seems simply eccentric, until you notice the bomb in the corner. There are no flashing red lights or beeping sounds yet. No, he’ll set those up when he goes to the Oklahoma State Capitol building up the street later today, according to Chauncey.

“Where’s your mask?” I ask.

Gregory Keene whirls away from his bacon to face me. Immediately, a welcoming smile blossoms on his handsome face with its square jaw and blue eyes. “Maxim, you scared me.”

“Sorry about that.” I wave the gun I have trained on him in the direction of a stack of boxes a few feet away. “Have a seat.”

“I actually have a very full day planned.” Gregory nods toward the bomb in the corner. “As you can see.”

“This won’t take long. I promise.”

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he says, settling on the boxes. “I’ve seen you on the campaign trail, and you might actually have a shot at winning this thing.”

“Thank you for your expert assessment.”

“I particularly like your take on health care. Innovative.”

“Well, we both know how broken the system is. I really am sorry about what happened to your mother,” I tell him. “No one should be abandoned and given up on that way.”

The pleasant smile turns fox-sly and the welcoming blue eyes go cold. “I guess as president, you’ll fix it.”

“If I make it that far, I’ll try, but you won’t be around to see it.”

“I was really looking forward to seeing our girl today.” He sighs, shrugging philosophically. “Killing her will have to wait since I suppose the cops are on their way.”

My caustic laugh echoes in the dank little underground alcove. “Cops? You killed my brother and you tried to kill my girl.” I nod toward the bomb. “Three times now, if we count the car bomb.”

“Oh, let’s do count the car bomb. Killing your brother was some of my finest work.”

Every muscle in my body screams in protest when I don’t move, longing to lunge for him; to tear his throat out. Control is the friend urging caution.

“Peacefully in a jail cell after another fifty years is not how you die, Keene.”

“So, what?” Gregory folds his arms over his chest. “The future president of the United States is gonna kill me in cold blood? You can’t.”

“I deeply regret that you’re right. I can’t risk it.” I turn my head to find the shape of Grim carved into the shadows. “But he can.”

Gregory Keene never sees Grim pull the trigger. His head doesn’t explode. The bullet leaves a large hole in what I’ve heard Grim call the T Box, dead center between the eyes. All the trauma is inside, a death shot that destroys the lower brain stem, and all the processes necessary for life.

Gregory never had a chance.

The fatalism lands like lead on my shoulders, and I stare into the sightless eyes of the man whose life held so much promise. A genius. Stanford. Harvard. All thrown away because bitterness consumed him, eating its way through his morals and decency like parasites. He lost himself to grief.

Twice.

I know what that darkness feels like; how it crowds out all the light and makes you do things you would never consider before the loss. I wish things could have