Read Private Royals: BookShots (A Private Thriller) for Free Online

torchlight revealing a savage cut to Grace’s throat.
    ‘Christ. They butchered the poor girl.’
    ‘A butcher would show more humanity,’ Hooligan said, preparing his kit for sample-taking.
    Cook noticed the preparations. She turned to Morgan, who was stony-faced and silent. ‘I think it’s time we called in the police, Jack. We kept them out to preserve life, but this girl’s already gone. You’re investigators, not a SWAT team, and I think this case is going to need both.’
    Morgan thought for a moment.
    ‘It’s too late for Grace, Jane. Whatever happens next, Grace is gone, but as far as we know, Abbie is still alive. Keeping her that way is our priority, so we have to do as the kidnappers say and keep the police out of this.’
    ‘Someone needs to answer for this,’ Cook told him.
    ‘And they will,’ Morgan promised, his eyes ablaze in the darkness. ‘This doesn’t end when Abbie is safe, Jane. It ends when we find the bastard who did this, and he pays for what he’s done.’

CHAPTER 18
    PRIVATE HQ DID not possess a gurney, so Grace’s covered body was carried into the building on a spinal board, Morgan and Knight acting as solemn pallbearers.
    As they walked through reception, Sadie Wilkinson, Abbie’s publicist – who had remained at Private awaiting Knight’s return – saw the body bag.
    ‘Abbie!’ she cried out.
    Cook caught her, the powerful soldier holding back the struggling woman.
    ‘It’s not Abbie,’ Cook said soothingly. Wilkinson’s wild eyes looked at her questioningly.
    Knight recalled seeing in the briefing Private’s intelligence section had put together on Abbie’s publicist that she also represented Grace Beckit. He gestured that he and Morgan should lay their burden down, and then he stepped towards the woman in Cook’s arms.
    ‘It’s not Abbie,’ he told her. ‘It’s Grace.’
    ‘No!’ Wilkinson cried, her body shaking. ‘No!’
    Knight stepped across, and with his arms firmly around the woman’s shoulders he took her from Cook’s hold.
    ‘I’ll handle this,’ he mouthed to Morgan, and led the woman away on her unsteady feet, the publicist near-paralysed from shock.
    ‘Didn’t look like there was any relief when she found out it wasn’t Abbie,’ Hooligan observed, and explained to Morgan and Cook that Wilkinson was the kidnapped girl’s publicist.
    ‘She’s probably Grace’s rep too,’ Morgan guessed.
    Having been directed there by Knight, two members of Private staff arrived and, with Hooligan, carried Grace’s body to where it could be kept in the lab’s cold storage facility.
    Left alone with Cook, Morgan shook his head, unhappy at the turn of events.
    ‘She shouldn’t have had to see that.’
    ‘It’s not your fault,’ Cook assured him. ‘You couldn’t have known.’
    ‘I’m the head of Private, Jane. Everything that goes on in my company is ultimately on me.’
    With another shake of his head, Morgan realised he was talking to a prospective future employee, and not just a beautiful woman who was impressing him with her guts and vision.
    ‘You know what? It’s done,’ he said, regaining his composure. ‘We need to concentrate on Abbie. I’m going to call Flex, see if he’s come up with anything.’
    ‘I’ll go get us some coffee.’
    Left alone for the first time since the afternoon, Morgan took a few moments to clear his head. He took deep breaths and thought about the view from his home, the Pacific Ocean waves crashing over the rocks. Feeling centred, he dialled the number for Flex’s office.
    ‘All right, Jack?’ the muscled man answered the phone.
    ‘That depends on what you tell me,’ Morgan said, trying to sound light-hearted.
    ‘Then you’re buggered, mate, I’m afraid. No luck with anyone I’ve talked to so far.’
    ‘Someone must have employed Shaw,’ Morgan urged. ‘His last client was a private hire, as they served together, but there must be a trace of him elsewhere?’
    ‘There are a few companies