Royal Elite: Leander by Danielle Bourdon Read Free Book Online Page B

touched down less than fifteen minutes later on a private airstrip provided explicitly for use by the elite of the world. Leander couldn't fathom what the fees might be to take off and land. Every time he tried to offer Sander and Mattias money to help cover the costs, they turned him down. Ahsan and Chayton did the same. His brethren in the Royal Elite probably thought he couldn't afford it, although they knew he didn't get to be a part of the group without having some kind of backing or political affiliation. To date, he'd been vague about his family history.
    And for good reason.
    To throw people off, Leander had dropped hints among the lower ranks that his family was in banking, and at another party halfway around the world two weeks later, he'd suggested a royal connection. Of course society twisted the tale to their own liking, embellishing grandly until Leander was actually the son of a superstar soccer player, which was exactly the reason he'd dropped all his hints into the ears of very drunk people in the first place. It added to the general confusion and kept him out of the limelight. It kept tongues wagging and people guessing, never a bad outcome when he wanted to steer true knowledge as far away as he could.
    Someday, he knew, he would have to tell Wynn. So far she hadn't pressed him too hard for information, but it wouldn't last. Especially when they had children.
    “You going to sit in the seat and miss all the action?” Sander said.
    Interrupted from his mental reverie, Leander snapped his attention from the window to Sander. The jet had come to a stop after taxiing into place and both Sander and Mattias stood near the door, waiting.
    “I'm coming, I'm coming.” Lurching up out of the seat, he snagged his backpack and followed the men down the stairs to the tarmac. Even for early morning, a hot wind gusted across the terrain, whipping at their clothing and packs. Each man carried hidden weapons and extra ammunition along with other gear sometimes needed on missions. Rope, knives, gloves and many other articles that came in handy in a pinch. No one asked any questions, no one stopped to check their bags. Money greased the palms of the hands that mattered and anyone in authority looked the other way.
    Entering the terminal, a squat, square building that blasted cold air from high vents, the men navigated the spacious layout of sofas and chairs and the single side bar manned by two bartenders. Through the other set of doors, a rugged, all terrain vehicle resembling a miniature tank waited. To better blend into the desert landscape known in this part of the world, the transport was the color of sand, with tread on the tires gutted so deep Leander could nearly fit his entire boot inside.
    A driver sat in the front seat, decked out in military fatigues the same color as the vehicle, someone known and used by the elite on missions of this nature. For every five men on the ground, there were fifty doing work behind the scenes: intel hackers, computer wizards, photographers, spies. The Elite kept their network of outsiders as small as possible to avoid detection. Whenever possible, they chose to pull from the higher echelons of society, functioning as a group under the radar of everyone else.
    Climbing into the passenger seat, Leander took point and tucked his backpack down into the space between his feet. Mattias and Sander got in the back and banged their doors closed.
    “All right, let's go.” Leander wasted no time getting away from the airport. As the vehicle surged away from the building, he started the process of arming himself. Shoulder holsters, knife belts, extra magazines of ammunition and other weaponry found their home somewhere on his body. The growl of the engine drowned out the sound of ripping velcro as he filled the pockets of his vest and pants.
    Mattias guided the driver from the back seat, directing him around the heart of the city to the perimeter. Here, where the modern creep of technology