Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel Mari Carr (great books of all time .txt) 📖

“I want to believe your intentions are good, but there are too many secrets within our society, and those secrets have left people dead.” Nikolett looked grim.

Enough was enough. “If I could tell you, I would, Admiral,” Annalise said with a resigned sigh. This answer was the truth, but the sort of statement that only led to more questions, which was why she’d avoided saying it before now.

“And if I could ignore what you’re doing, if I could afford not to question it, I would.” Nikolett stepped back. “Dimitri, take them into custody.”

“Sweet baby Jesus, y’all are too dramatic.” Walt, who’d had his hands on her hips, moved, pulling Annalise back another step and then putting himself between her, Jakob, and the rest of the room.

“Dramatic?” Nyx murmured.

“Maybe he’s the killer,” Dimitri muttered with the paranoid suspicion that probably made him an excellent security minister.

“No,” Walt said. “I’m not the killer, and neither is she. They can’t tell you because they were literally forbidden by someone higher ranking than you.” He looked at Nikolett.

The admiral exhaled slowly. “I knew it.”

“Wait…you mean…?” Grigoris looked at Walt.

Walt nodded. “The fleet admiral gave Annalise the case. He gave her the files, brought me along to be her medical expert, and forbade her and Jakob from telling anyone anything.”

“The fleet admiral,” Nikolett murmured. Her sudden smile was both predatory and grim. “Eric is back.”

Chapter Eighteen

Jakob, Walt, and Annalise stepped into the hotel suite without speaking. Annalise kicked off her shoes before dropping heavily onto a chaise lounge, while Walt walked over to the bar. Jakob remained by the door, out of habit more than necessity.

After all, Nikolett had sent two knights to accompany them to the hotel, and he knew they would stand sentry outside the door of this suite until the one thing they’d failed to resolve in today’s meeting was…well…resolved. Though God only knew how they’d accomplish that. Because what Nikolett wanted was Eric.

Looking around, Jakob had to admit to himself there were worse places to be. At least Nikolett had gotten them a suite to share, rather than forcing them to stay in their own rooms. And she had spared no expense in setting them up in what was basically their prison cell for the foreseeable future.

Nikolett hadn’t been pleased with their answers to her questions about Eric’s whereabouts. Probably because they’d had no answers. So she’d all but insisted they remain in Budapest. Jakob imagined she was on the phone with his and Annalise’s admiral, Dolph Eburhardt, at this very moment—the two admirals trying to figure out how to extract information he and Annalise didn’t possess, and even if they did, the fleet admiral’s gag order took precedence.

No one had seemed to believe that Walt had told them everything he knew, despite the fact that Walt had told them everything, from Eric showing up in Libya to the unknown people who’d been in the restaurant in Frankfurt.

“Nice digs,” Walt said, too cheerfully for the situation, as he lifted a bottle of red wine from the bar. “Wine?” he offered.

Annalise nodded, exhaustion rife in her tone as she said, “God, yes.”

Walt chuckled. “Should I bother with a glass or do you want to just chug it straight from the bottle?”

Annalise laughed softly. “You decide.”

Jakob wasn’t sure how the American always managed to lighten the heaviest of loads. He admired the other man’s sense of humor, wishing it was as easy for him to laugh things off, make a joke to break the tension.

When he was much younger, he’d been quite the clown—in his family and in school. But his silliness wasn’t appreciated in either place. While his Oma was amused, his father—a staunch military man and strict disciplinarian—had viewed Jakob’s humor as something that needed to be silenced…and as such, he hadn’t spared the rod.

That same “be seen, not heard” viewpoint had also been shared by the instructors at the boarding school he’d been sent to when he was ten years old. Jakob figured there were just so many times a child could be told to “be quiet” before the lesson stuck.

And considering the number of times his father had punctuated that request with a belt, and his teachers with a ruler, Jakob learned it very well.

Walt handed Annalise her glass of wine and Jakob noted the way she reached for it with her uninjured arm. After their meeting, Walt had X-rayed Annalise’s shoulder. Fortunately, as she’d suspected, she had suffered no broken or fractured bones, and while the bruise was deep, Walt assured her it would heal completely within a week or so.

“How about you, Jakob? Wine?” Walt asked again.

“I…” Jakob glanced toward the closed door, his action not lost on Walt.

“At ease, Ritter Bauer. You’re not on guard duty anymore,” Walt said, pouring two more glasses of wine before handing one to Jakob. “Our prison guards will keep the bad guys out, and us good guys in.”

“Old habits,” he murmured.

Annalise gave him a sad smile. “I think it’s going to take both of us some time to become accustomed to the new—old?—normal. He’s not out there watching or waiting anymore.”

Annalise had made a similar comment after they’d woken up this morning.

Axel was gone, the danger gone.

Their reason to be together…gone?

“I keep wanting to call Adele, to tell her he’s dead, but…I don’t think…” Annalise swallowed heavily.

Jakob gave her a sad smile. Adele had completely cut her twin sister out of her life and every attempt that Annalise had made to mend the rift between them since the attack had been met with outright derision and anger. Eventually, Annalise had stopped trying because she believed she was only hurting her sister more. Adele couldn’t look at Annalise without remembering, so Annalise removed herself from her life in hopes it would help her sister move on.

“Drink your wine,” Walt said, joining Annalise, lifting her feet to his lap as he claimed the end of the chaise. “Both of you. Actually, finish those first glasses now, so