Free The Wrath of the King by Danielle Bourdon Page A

he?
    “I can't. The scene is still being investigated--”
    Impatient, Gunnar shoved Ingvar's shoulder. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been able to move the soldier. Tonight, the General back-stepped, raising his hands, and allowed Gunnar past.
    Striding out of his suite, Gunnar headed for the stairs and the next floor down. Guards were everywhere; two flanked him once he departed the royal level and followed him through the corridors toward the room where Belmar apparently ended his life. Disregarding more guards stationed outside, Gunnar stepped across the threshold. A coppery, metallic scent hit his nose first, before the scene distracted him from the smell. Adjacent to a sitting area was the kingsized, four poster bed. Across it, sprawled with his arms akimbo, lay Belmar. Once pristine covers in light blue were now drenched with dark red blood, the spray dotting material all the way up to the pillows. It appeared the councilman had perched on the very edge of the mattress and put the gun in his mouth. The gore looked especially harsh surrounded by such rich luxury.
    Far from a forensics expert, Gunnar observed a handful of men in suits and gloves, taking pictures, taking samples. They handled everything with utmost care, tiptoeing through the room while bagging a tiny piece of this and sliding a bit of that into a clear glass vial.
    “Which one of you is in charge?” Gunnar asked. Everyone stopped and looked his way. One man stood straighter, then picked his way over to the door.
    “I am, your Highness. Larss Hansen.” He did not offer to shake hands.
    “What are the findings?” Gunnar did not offer to shake hands, either. He studied Larss' blue eyes, searching for evasiveness or shifty nerves. Larss met his gaze head on.
    “Suicide, your Highness. Has no one told you--”
    “With absolute, one-hundred percent certainty? You're positive there could have been no foul play?”
    Larss stiffened. “We have found no evidence to remotely suggest that, your Highness.”
    “It doesn't matter what you think you've found. I know this wasn't suicide, so start examining the evidence more closely. Report directly to me when you find clues as to who might have done this.” Gunnar left a surprised Larss standing there. Leaving the room, angrier than he'd been in some time, Gunnar stalked the hallways until he hit the royal floor. He went to Paavo's bedroom door and banged three times with a fist.
    “Paavo!”
    The door swung open. Paavo, in casual nightwear of solid black, frowned at Gunnar. He appeared studiously groomed, hair combed away from his face, jaw clean shaven.
    Gunnar's fist came around, aiming for his brother's chin.
    “Gunnar! What are you doing?” Natalia shouted from her room across the hall.
    Paavo's head snapped aside at the contact. He staggered back one step and snarled. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
    “ You ordered that hit. We both know it. I want to know what you're up to, because it can't be anything good. Murder in your own house, Paavo? Is that what you'll stoop to?” Breathing hard, hands in fists at his side, Gunnar ignored the guards crowding close at his back in favor of staring his brother down.
    “Gunnar!” Natalia ran across the hall, peach silk robe flapping against her ankles.
    “Watch yourself, Gunnar,” Paavo said, with clear warning in his tone. “You're blindly throwing accusations around, and may I remind you that I am your King now.”
    “Don't throw your title at me when a man lies dead one floor down, caused by your own order. You might not have pulled the trigger, but you killed him as surely as if you had. This is not the way Ahtissari men take care of business.” Infuriated beyond good reason, Gunnar tugged his arm out of Natalia's hands.
    “What are you saying? Gunnar, Belmar committed suicide. It wasn't murder,” Natalia said.
    “You speak ignorantly, sister, because you don't know what I know. Belmar came to me earlier today,