“Hullo, Thea.”
Male. Scottish. Here. Nick?
I blinked and tried to focus through the dim strawberry haze. A man, ten feet away.
“Christian?”
My head swam. I was about to pass out. Or maybe I already had. This was a dream, a surreal nightmare.
“You’re dead.” I managed to croak out the words.
“Not yet,” he said. It was an echo of something another Fraser-Campbell would say.
“Where are we?”
“Believe it or not, it’s a very pink prison.”
He came forward and I could focus again. Tamar’s gun had really done its job on my brain. “It is you,” I said in disbelief, the haze slowly wearing off.
“I wish I could say I was glad to see you.”
“I wish I could kick you in the balls,” I said.
He chuckled with little humor.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” Christian sighed.
“Have you been here this whole time?” It was shocking. Here? In a time capsule of faded femininity? “Who put you here? Tamar?”
“So many questions, as usual.”
Yes, and asking them had sucked the small jolt of energy seeing him had given me. I collapsed back on the shabby pillows and willed the blissful blackness to suck me back into peace. Thankfully, it worked. I passed out.
When I gained consciousness a second time, I heard a female voice.
“What did you do?”
Then Christian’s. “Nothing. She just rolled into a ball. Darling, I have no reason to hurt her.”
Darling?
“She’s our last chance. What if she’s found the documents? We need her alive.”
Yes, you do.
“Let her rest, love. What if she remembers wrong? We can’t afford another mistake.”
Love?
In my half-conscious state, I imagined jumping up and doing some kung fu moves on Tamar and then kicking Christian in the balls as an encore. A deep, instinctual warning bell sounded in my mind and I stayed where I was until all was quiet.
Or maybe I passed out again. Hard to tell.
The sound of silver against china was the bell that signaled another pain that my body instinctively knew: hunger. I pulled myself into a half-seated position. Christian was sitting in a spindly chair in the corner. I was reminded of the chair of doom in Big Gran’s office.
“There you are. I was beginning to worry about you.”
I could only focus on the plastic bottle in Christian’s hand. “Water.”
He walked to the bedside and gave me the bottle. I drank nearly half the bottle before he spoke again. “Careful, there. Don’t want you to be ill.”
I stopped drinking, the water dribbling down my chin. “Fuck you.” I had waited months to say that to Christian.
“Thea.” His tone was patronizing even here. I couldn’t help myself.
“Don’t fucking use my name.”
He paused, and it was possible I imagined the rueful look on his face. “It was never supposed to turn out this way.”
“You called her ‘darling.’ ”
“Yes, well.” He nodded, an efficient, businesslike gesture incongruent with the situation we were in. “I have a strange attachment to my life.”
The grimness in his voice snapped me to attention. What had he said? We were in a prison? Were we in danger?
“What’s going on, Christian?”
He smiled tightly. “I want you to hear it from me. Tamar and I are in a relationship.”
“Did you know she bugged your rooms and office?”
“That’s not surprising. She believes in complete honesty between couples.”
When we were together, I found that dry humor charming. Now I found it terrifying. “You can’t mean that you’re still together.”
A look of real pain crossed his eyes. “Thea, you would be surprised what you would do if someone threatened to murder every coworker you had.”
I supposed I would be more horrified at the thought of Christian being manipulated by Tamar in some sort of twisted love affair if I weren’t tied up—and a victim of them both. After all, how much sympathy was I supposed to have toward the man?
“How long were you cheating on me with my own security officer?”
“From almost the beginning, I’m afraid. It was always so hard to schedule alone time with you.”
I tried not to show what I thought of that ludicrous statement, but my head was woozy and I couldn’t help but make a face at him. “What sorts of drugs was I given?”
“Nothing that should do any permanent harm.” Christian picked up a bowl off the bedside table and placed it on the bed next to me. It was half full of some lumpy stew. “If you’re hungry, you should eat. There’s more—don’t worry. You’re not being starved.”
I weighed the option of eating possibly poisoned or drugged food and decided against it. I was currently locked up with my ex-fiancé and my obviously insane bodyguard. I needed to keep my wits about me.
With that thought, I tried to assess my surroundings. There were thick antique shutters over the windows, but they were locked with small padlocks. Even if I could find something to smash the locks or splinter the heavy wood, it didn’t look like my ropes would stretch that far. I eyed the rope around my wrist. I would need something to cut through the nylon. I tried to think creatively, but I was a princess, not an escape artist.
The bowl Christian had given me was made of thin, cheap porcelain. If I could break a shard off, could I use that as a weapon? Or . . . there was the spoon.
Hot tears flooded my eyes. A freaking spoon was my only tool to cut through ropes, pick a padlock, break open a window, and fashion a device to lower me however many stories down into the streets of what I hoped was still Drieden City. While a murderous, highly trained ex–army officer was on my trail.
“Any chance there’s a knife or an ax around here?” I asked Christian, because one never knew. Perhaps he could be easily convinced to let me go.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” He held up his right hand. A moody purple gash was healing across his palm. “Tamar only uses the highest-grade ropes for the people she loves.”
I shook my head and picked up the water bottle and finished it off. Hopefully that would help flush out whatever narcotic Tamar had given me and I could start working on Plan B. Whatever that was.
“Tamar’s just gone to the store. She’ll bring back more water.” Christian took the empty bottle from me and then grabbed my hand. I wanted to jerk away, but I wasn’t clear on how much sociopathy I was dealing with here.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, trying to keep the hysteria at bay by focusing on facts.
Christian’s eyes went watery. “I’m so sorry, Thea. I’m so sorry that I did this, that I started all this.”
“Are you going to kill me?” I heard the question as if it were coming from someone else’s mouth.
Now he looked almost offended. “I’m not a murderer. You know that.”
I did not know that. I did not know who Christian was or why I was here. Even though I had a hundred more questions, I had to save my precious energy until I knew how I was going to get out of this.
Sometime later, Tamar returned with a basket.
“She won’t eat,” Christian explained to her.
Tamar looked concerned. “It’s been over a day since you’ve eaten.”
A day? Since I’d had chocolate cake for lunch with Sophie? What was my family thinking? Someone must have realized I was missing—Lucy, my maids, even. Surely they were coming to get me soon.
Of course I could say none of this to my kidnapper. “I’m not feeling well,” I said vaguely, placing a hand on my stomach.
Tamar crouched down and looked at me closely. “They think you’ve run off again. You sent Lucy a text that you wanted to mourn Christian in private. ‘Get some closure,’ I think, were your exact words.”
My bra
in was still operating on a delay, so it took me a moment to realize what she had done. “You used my cell phone?” I asked, in horror.
She stood, brushing her hands off. “I’m doing my job, protecting you.”
“How?” I lifted the arm that was tied to the wall. “How is this protecting me?” Then I pointed to Christian. “And sleeping with my fiancé? Was that protecting me, too?!”
“He’s a cheater. You deserve better.”
“And you deserve him?”
Tamar shook her head in resignation. “The heart wants what it wants.”
And that was when I fully understood that I had to be very careful around this psychopath.
She kneeled down in front of me and said frankly, “We’ll let you go as soon as you tell me what we need to know.”
My stomach churned. This was not good. Not good at all.
“Where are the Cayman papers that show how Aurelia has cheated this country?” Tamar’s question was calm and straightforward, and I feared that as soon as I answered her, I would end up like Tomas Claytere. Missing, with nothing but a dried puddle of blood across a fuchsia satin duvet to suggest my demise.
But how could I get out of this? What would I tell her? Should I try to delay this? Could I lie? Misdirect?
“I kept hoping you and the brother would find something.” Tamar sounded irritated. “But you came back from Scotland with nothing.”
Christian’s head hung back. “Ah yes, Nicholas. I could hardly believe it when Tamar said that he was alive. We were so hopeful that he’d help you find the documents for us.”
I stared at Christian’s lengthened neck, his profile, searching for any similarities between him and his brother. Maybe they were more alike than I could see, but I was blinded by the violent emotions that were overtaking me. Still, I managed to sound mostly calm when I asked, “You wanted us to find the Cayman papers for you?”
Christian barked a strangled, dry laugh. “Not just the Cayman papers. Those mean nothing without the firm records. Anders won’t pay us our money until we give him the proof that’ll end the monarchy. And Boson Chapelle practically closed down after Tamar killed everyone who knew what they were doing.”
Tamar threw up her hands. “I was protecting you!”
“She was eliminating the competition,” I said. It was simple supply and demand. The fewer people who could provide the incriminating documents, the more the price went up.
“Yes! Thank you!” She flashed me a triumphant look before turning back to Christian. “Thea understands what I do for you.”
“Thea’s very understanding,” Christian said with a distant note in his voice that Tamar didn’t seem to catch.
But I did, and I understood that there was a very dangerous game being played here and Christian had, knowingly or unknowingly, just laid out the rules for me.
This was a scavenger hunt. Once someone found a clue, Tamar killed the person to make sure she and Christian were the only ones at the finish line with the prize.
“Now.” Tamar faced me again, all her trained-assassin attention on me. “Where are the papers that will bring down the House of Laurent?”
thirty-eight
I PRETENDED TO PASS OUT.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Tamar muttered.
“Some people don’t handle tranquilizers well.” Christian sounded resigned. “And the ones you have are for horses.”
Tamar swore, and I heard the toe of her boot smack something hard. “We only have two more days to get those fucking papers.”
“Anders won’t take back the offer, darling. He needs us too much.”
“And he won’t make the deposit until we hand over the documentation, idiot.”
“I’m an idiot? You’re the one who’s made it impossible for me to get the right papers!”
“You were going to leave me for her.”
“I was engaged to her.”
Tamar might have made a snorting sound—it was hard to tell with my face pressed into lumpy goose down again—and soon it was quiet.
Until Christian spoke.
“You can get up now. She’s gone.”
I opened one eye, and through the matted curtain of hair that had fallen over my face, I saw that there was no sign of Tamar. When I pushed back into a seated position, Christian nudged a tray toward me with his foot. “You need to eat.”
“Is it laced with anything?”
“Could be.” He sounded tired. “But if the choice is between starving and being drugged—”
“I’d rather die with my wits,” I snapped.
Given the dim light of the room, I felt more than saw Christian’s gaze, heavy with meaning. “We’ll see when you’re here a few months.”
“I won’t be here long,” I said, as much for him as for me. “I’ll have the entire country looking for me.”
“You? The disappearing princess? They’ll figure Honeybee just took another little flight.”
I wanted to argue with him, but the sinking feeling in my gut was because I knew he was right. How many days would it be until Lucy grew suspicious of whatever lies Tamar had told her? And Nick . . .
I couldn’t count on Nick to rescue me. He’d already gotten what he’d wanted. I was no longer of any use to him, so why would he try to come find me?
In the silence, I began to hear other noises. The street outside. Water pipes and furnace hisses. Soon the sounds were integrated in my head, reminding me that there was a vibrant, busy world out there. A world that I wasn’t ready to leave yet.
“So what happened, Christian?” I finally asked. If I was going to die, I wanted to know all the answers. After all I’d been through to get them, he owed me that much. “I could have handled you with another woman. You could have sold secrets to Anders. But leaving me at the altar?” I forced a brittle laugh. “That was unconscionable.”
He thought for a moment. “It was all Tamar’s fault.”
“Of course it was. You were her weak little pawn. You had no control over your actions.”
“Yes, we had an affair. Which was useful, I suppose.”
“Useful?” I hoped my disgust was clear.
If Christian noticed my repugnance at his word choice, he didn’t seem chagrined in the slightest. “She was the one who helped me put the pieces together. You see, I’d been going through our client files, trying to understand what might have been made public in the Cayman papers disclosure.” He raised his eyebrows. “When I saw that much money? From a Driedish corporation? It could only mean big oil or the government.” Christian smiled ruefully. “Tamar told me about the times she’d visited Perpetua with you after university, and it all clicked.”
“A useful mistress indeed.” I tried to sound haughty, but the words tasted bitter on my lips.
“And then Tamar went to Anders. Told him what she had seen. That there was a secret corporation based on royal lands that was taking money from the Driedish people,” Christian finished. “He offered her millions, so we decided to give him what he wanted and to use the money to run away together.”
“And you left me at the altar.”
“Well, I tried breaking up with her before that.”
I didn’t believe it. “Sure you did.”
“When Aurelia offered the change in succession,” he smiled ruefully, “becoming a king before the age of forty seemed like a better deal than Anders’s offer.”
“I bet she didn’t like hearing about it from a bug,” I said, thinking of the black disc in Christian’s room at Ceillis House.
Christian looked impressed. “Yes, when I told her the plans were off, we had a big row. It got a bit . . . heated.” He winced and put a hand under his rib cage. “Then I promised she would still be my mistress. She pretended to forgive me. I’d had a headache after the whole thing, and she gave me one of those horse pills, said it was a pain pill. Fast-forward twenty-four hours and I had missed the big day. And the whole world vilified me as the man who abandoned their precious prin
cess . . .”
“At least you had a backup plan.” My voice was filled with spite and exhaustion.
“True.” He seemed very matter-of-fact. “I have goals, Thea. If that means I tell Tamar what she needs to hear, then that’s what I’ll do. If that means I fake my own death to get my brother off my trail or help her recover those papers . . . I’ll do what I have to do. Do you understand?”
And with that hanging in the air, Christian went quiet so I could process the new information. More than ever, I was certain that I was going to die. If I didn’t give them what they wanted—or if I did. They’d kidnapped a princess. They couldn’t afford to let me go.
I had only one chance to change the outcome of this story.
“Tamar! Tamar! Tamar!” I screamed her name as loudly as I could, praying that I was making the right decision.
The history books had never prepared me on how a princess should betray her queen. But they had taught me how to manipulate an enemy.
I heard her footsteps in the hall and thought of Nick, wondering how a woman half his size could sound twice as heavy. And when she said, “Yes, Princess?” I heard an echo of Nick’s voice, except when he used the title it was gently sardonic. When she used it, the title now seemed loaded with threat.
Christian narrowed his eyes and rubbed his stubbled chin. “You couldn’t just tell me?” he murmured.
“You’re a team, aren’t you?” I shot back, which made Tamar give Christian a wary look.
Christian flashed her a meaningful smile. “Tamar knows how I feel about her.”
I had to say, his declaration of devotion was scarily authentic, and I had to smash down a wave of doubt that rose over me. What was I doing, playing into the hands of these criminals?
“I wanted you both to hear.” I turned my attention to Tamar. “I found the files when I was looking for Christian,” I told her. “The ones that Anders wants. The ones that will link my grandmother with Magdalena Energy and will help destroy the monarchy.”
“Where?” Tamar clenched her fists. “I’ve followed you for weeks and you haven’t had anything.”
“We found them in Scotland.”
She made a frustrated noise. “I knew it!” She turned on Christian. “I told you they were in your apartment.” She turned back to me. “They’re in his boxes at Brisbane Castle?”
The Royal Runaway Page 22
