Royal Elite: Leander by Danielle Bourdon Page A

night raid unless intel comes back that the people responsible for the kidnapping are getting itchy trigger fingers should Augustin not come up with the money,” Mattias said.
    Leander added, “And I have a feeling he won't. Things are about to get dicey.”
     
    . . .
     
    Thanks to a layover in Britain and another in New York, Wynn didn't arrive on the west coast of the United States until the wee hours of the following morning. By the time she collected her luggage and car from the rental company, the sky was just starting to lift from purple-black to pewter tinged with pink. Departing Arcata airport in a compact rental car, Wynn punched in the address on the navigator and followed guidance onto Highway 101, heading north.
    With the Pacific to her left, Wynn drove up the coast toward the Redwoods. She stopped for coffee and something small to fill her stomach as the sun breached the horizon, eating on the road because she didn't want to waste precious minutes loitering around a fast food restaurant. Aware of the press of time, of the days creeping past closer toward the wedding, all Wynn could think about was finding Leander's father and putting an end to whatever danger her fiance might be in.
    Towering redwood trees, the reddish trunks broad and tall, crowded closer to the road as she drew in closer to her destination. The forest of ancient trees threw dappled shadows over the winding road as the sun began its slow ascent into the sky.
    Any other time, Wynn would have paused to enjoy the unique giants and the expansive forest floor. She loved the redwoods and had spent time in this part of the world on former vacations. Assuming this was where Leander grew up, that the address was a house his father owned, it amazed her to think Leander had been here the whole time, living his life unaware his future wife paid regular visits to the area. She'd had to go halfway around the world to meet him, and wasn't that the irony of ironies.
    Leaving the main highway behind, Wynn navigated the directions from the GPS through several smaller side roads, where quaint businesses and most other residences disappeared. For nine miles, she saw nothing but trees.
    Driving slower, Wynn rounded a gentle curve and hit a small straightaway. Signs, brightly yellow with bold black lettering, announced this was a Dead End. A voice penetrated the quiet music in the background. “In a quarter of a mile, your destination is ahead on the right.”
    Indeed.
    Pulling to the shoulder, Wynn stared up past heavy tree trunks to the homestead sitting back a small distance from the road. Whatever she expected to find at the end of her journey wasn't the modest, log cabin style house nestled into uncountable acres smack in the middle of the forest. A broad front porch with rocking chairs overlooking the trees gave the residence a comfortable, lived in appearance. The house wasn't cut from a millionnaire's budget, but it also wasn't a shack by any means, with its well cared for exterior and fine craftsmanship.
    Putting the car in park, Wynn cut the engine and exited the vehicle. In such a desolate area, she didn't think twice about leaving her purse on the passenger seat or the keys in the ignition. She did take the letter with her, however, as she walked up the flat driveway, assaulted by the scent of forest and greenery and the pungent musk of redwood bark.
    Once, she thought she saw a flicker of movement in the rugged terrain, but by the time she looked, all was still and calm. A darting rabbit or other forest creature, no doubt.
    Noting the driveway led back beyond the house to a separate garage and other strange looking outbuildings, Wynn cut across the sidewalk, ascended the wooden stairs, and knocked on the front door.
    She couldn't tell if anyone was home or not.
    After several minutes and no answer, she knocked again. If she had to park her backside in one of the rockers and wait, she would.
    Whatever it took.
    Deciding to explore, in case Leander's