Page 84 of Pulled By the Tail
Despite Talen’s jest that his time in the Navy was mostly reading in his bunk or scrubbing the ship for inspection, when bad shit happened, it happened fast. He learned to listen to his instinct.
“Go to your female,” he said, pushing his brother toward the building. “Have her send out my mate.”
Quil mumbled about not being a messenger but entered the building.
Five minutes later, no one had exited.
Chapter 21
Georgia
Quil sat on the floor next to her, his hands and feet tied with rope and covered in thick, silver tape. He scooted over to Fiona, where she was similarly bound. “You did not return any of my messages.”
“Is now really the time?” Georgia hissed.
“I just needed a little me time. I was always coming home, honey bear,” Fiona said.
“You emptied our accounts.”
“What’s the point of getting away from everything if I’m scrounging for pocket change? I wanted a break from stress, not to be stressed.”
“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Georgia snapped.
“I’m having a private conversation with my husband,” Fiona said, indignant.
“Really? Right now? We’re in peril, Fiona. Peril. This is fucking perilous.” She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers, drawing attention to the rough rope binding her hands together. “Maybe you can cut the bullshit and just admit that you’re a gold digger.”
“Better a gold digger than knocked up and fat.” Fiona tossed the glossy tumble of chestnut locks over her shoulder but the rope binding her hands marred the dramatic effect.
“Fiona, stop being petty,” Quil said.
She frowned and pouted, sticking her lower lip out. “I see what’s going on. I was gone for two minutes and you replaced me!”
“You were gone for two months,” he retorted. “No contact. No indication you ever planned to return.”
“Will you be quiet!” The unknown Tal male picked up a well-used mallet and slammed it into a wooden post. The timber shuddered and bit of plaster from the ceiling rained down, stunning his captive audience into silence.
The male crouched down in front of Quil. “You’re him, aren’t you? Tranquility? It’s an honor, Your Grace.”
“No, you’re mistaken.” Quil sneezed lightly in the male’s direction.
“You’re as rude as a royal.” He tilted his head to the side as his tail lazily waved behind him. “Your Grace? That’s how you address a duke, yes?”
“I’m not that male. I’m not royal.”
A silver knife flashed and blood trickled down Quil’s cheek from a small incision. “Huh. You bleed as red as the rest of us.” The male looked to Georgia, his gaze lingering on her belly. “And the next generation.”
“Oh, honey bear, is it true? I knew it!” Fiona practically bounced with excitement, ignoring the fact that the psychopathic male sliced up Quil.
“This male has told you falsehoods,” Quil said.
“I want to be a duchess,” she whined. She glanced at the unknown male and licked her lips. “He said he needed proof. He said the music box wasn’t enough; that he needed DNA.”
Talen
Patience.
The assassin had his back to the window.
