The Princess Predicament

by Lisa Childs

  Dread kept her legs locked in place—unable to move forward, to run toward the edge of that cliff. She had a horrible feeling that she knew what she would see when she looked over the edge.

  Like a bird of prey, the helicopter circled back again. It was the colors of her country. But that offered Gabriella more fear than comfort. The only one she could trust who worked for St. Pierre was Whit.

  And he was gone.

  The helicopter engine sputtered. The metal screeched, trees scraping it, as the helicopter made its crash landing. It landed in a tiny clearing behind her, between her and the house. Leaving her an unobstructed view of that cliff.

  She kept watching it. But Whit didn’t pull himself up it. Neither did the man he’d pushed over the side. No one came back up.

  Finally she forced herself to move toward where they had fallen. But her legs trembled so badly that she had no balance. She stumbled and pitched forward. To protect her baby, she put out her hands—and dropped the gun Whit had left her for protection into the thick grass.

  Behind her the helicopter engine whined down to silence. It was eerily silent. So quiet that she heard the footsteps on the grass.

  Panic overwhelmed her, sending her scrambling for the gun. She delved her hands into the grass. But it was so thick and long that she couldn’t find the weapon.

  She had nothing to protect her. No gun. No Whit. Tears of loss and fear and frustration stung her eyes, so that they watered. And her throat filled with emotion. She couldn’t even scream.

  But what did it matter? Who would hear her? Anyone who cared was gone.

  Strong hands grasped her arms and pulled her to her feet. She drew in a shuddery breath, trying to summon the strength and courage to fight.

  Whit might have been gone. But she still had her baby. She had to fight for him—to protect him and herself from whoever had come for her.

  So when she turned, she lifted her leg and kicked out with her all might—hoping to knock her attacker’s legs from beneath him—hoping to knock him off balance enough that she could escape.

  But there was more than one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aaron caught Charlotte, stopping her fall. Gabby gasped in shock over seeing her sister and realizing that she’d nearly knocked down the woman—the very pregnant woman.

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

  Charlotte nodded. “Are you?”

  The tears she’d momentarily blinked away rushed back, filling her eyes and her throat, so she barely got out her, “Yes.”

  It had been Charlotte and Aaron on the helicopter. Charlotte and Aaron who had nearly crashed. She’d nearly lost them, too.

  “Where’s Whit?” Aaron asked anxiously, his blue eyes bright with fear for his friend’s safety.

  Hysteria threatened, but Gabby pushed it back to reply, “Whit’s gone…”

  “Where’s Whit?” Aaron asked, glancing around the small area. “Did Zeke take him somewhere?”

  Zeke Rogers. That was who had landed in the first helicopter. That was who had fired those shots. That was whom Whit had been fighting when he went over.

  “Come quick,” Gabby ordered. She hadn’t believed help would come, but it had. So maybe she needed to believe again—in Whit. To hope…

  “They were fighting,” she said, gesturing ahead of her at the cliff as she struggled to run through the tall grass, “and they fell.”

  She ran but Aaron wasn’t pregnant, so he was faster. He beat the women to the cliff, stopping only at the edge. His jaw clenched as he stared over the side.

  When Gabby rushed up, he turned around and stopped her with his arms on her shoulders. “Don’t look!”

  That had been her first instinct, too, not to look when she was so certain of what she would find. Utter despair and loss. But she hadn’t thought there would be help, either. She hadn’t really believed that anyone would ever find her and Whit. So she had to look. Had to know for certain…

  She tugged free of Aaron’s grasp and looked around him. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the edge of the water below, to the body so busted up on the rocks so that it looked like a broken marionette.

  “That’s not Whit,” she said with horror. It couldn’t be Whit. He couldn’t be gone.

  But they wouldn’t be able to confirm or disprove the identity of the body because waves tugged at it, pulling it from the rocks to disappear into the ocean.

  She screamed.

  *

  WHIT’S ARMS BURNED with his effort to hang on, his hands wrapped around a rock jutting from the cliff. The rock was damp, and his grip began to slip. He didn’t want to wind up like Zeke, who’d crashed onto the rocks below. His eyes had been wide open, staring up at Whit in death. But now he was gone.

  And Whit heard Gabby’s scream. It chilled his blood with fear—for her safety more than his.

  “Gabby!” he yelled back. “I’m coming. I’m coming!”

  He wouldn’t leave her—not like this. Not any way. As one hand slipped off a wet rock, he lurched up, reached out blindly with his free arm and somehow managed to clasp another rock while not letting go of the one he held. The rough edges cut into his palm, and his shoulder strained with the movement. But he didn’t care. His own discomfort was nothing in comparison to the fear and anguish he’d just heard in Gabby’s scream.

  She screamed again—his name. But now her voice was full of hope and relief. “Whit!”

  He stared up at the hilltop and found her leaning over the edge. A rock beneath her foot slipped loose and tumbled down the cliff. And she slipped, too.

  “Gabby!”

  But strong hands grasped her arms and pulled her back. He couldn’t see her—couldn’t see who had her or if she was really safe.

  “Gabby!”

  Now someone else stood on the edge, staring down. “Son of a bitch,” a deep voice shouted. “What the hell…”

  “Aaron!” Relief that Gabby was safe flooded Whit. His friend would protect her, like Whit had tried, with his life if necessary.

  “How the hell am I supposed to reach you?” Aaron asked with frustration, as if he were trying to figure out a particularly vexing puzzle.

  Whit’s grip, on one rock, slipped again. But once again he held tight with the hand that had a hold on a rock and swung his free arm. He managed to catch the edge of another rock—higher up. “I’m coming,” he assured them.

  Aaron must have taken him at his word because he disappeared from sight. Disappointment and panic flashed through Whit. They had only just regained their friendship and their trust. So he suffered a moment’s doubt—wondering if his old friend was really going to help him.

  That panic had him swinging his arm again, trying to reach a higher rock. But his fingertips slipped off, and his arm swung back—nearly making him lose the grip he had with his other hand. He kicked out, trying to find a toe hold.

  And beneath him the waves crashed against the rocks, as if getting ready to carry his broken body out to sea, too.

  But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Not ever. He swung his arm toward the wall of rocks again—trying to catch hold. And his fingers touched something else—rough fibers. A rope dangled over the edge.

  “Grab it!” Aaron shouted.

  Whit grasped the rope in a tight fist. But he didn’t let go of the rock with his other hand. And finally he got a hold with his foot.

  “I got you,” Aaron said. “I can pull you up.”

  Maybe he could. While not as big as Whit, Aaron was a strong guy. But still Whit couldn’t completely give up control or trust. Instead of just holding on and letting Aaron pull him up, he used the rope as a railing to make the climb himself.

  He was climbing up to Gabby—to make sure she was safe. Even though Zeke was gone, it wasn’t over. If Zeke had been working for someone, that person could hire another mercenary to finish the job. But even if they figured out whom Zeke had been working for, Gabby would always be in danger; her life and her safety alw
ays at risk because of who she was. Princess Gabriella St. Pierre.

  And he was just a royal bodyguard…with nothing to offer her but his protection. And he hadn’t done a very damn good job of protecting her yet.

  She would be safer with Charlotte. And happier with a prince. So when he stepped foot on the topside of the hill, he resisted the urge to grab her up in his arms and hold her close. And when she reached for him, he caught her hands and stopped her from embracing him. Because if he gave in to temptation and hugged her, he would never let her go again.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her beautiful face stained with tears she’d shed over him.

  She was too good for him. Too good for anyone…

  “What the hell happened?” Aaron asked.

  Whit nodded. “I’m fine. It was Zeke who hit the rocks.”

  Charlotte nodded. “We figured it was Zeke.”

  “Acting out of revenge,” Aaron said, “for us getting him fired.”

  Whit shook his head. “It was about money.”

  “Was he going to kidnap me to get my father to pay him a ransom?” Gabby asked. She tugged her hands free of Whit’s, as if self-conscious that she’d reached for him and he’d held her off. She slid her palms over her stomach, as if to soothe their baby.

  He could walk away from her—to keep her safe. But could he walk away from his son? Hell, the child—heir to a country—would probably be in even more danger than Gabriella had been.

  “I think it was about money,” Whit agreed. “But I think someone was paying him…”

  Gabby flinched, as if in pain. And he couldn’t add to that—couldn’t tell her what Zeke had been paid to do: kill her.

  “You’re not feeling well,” he said.

  She glanced up at his face, as if dazed. And she began to tremble. “I’m fine,” she said. But she had to be lying.

  “Aaron, get them back to St. Pierre,” he ordered.

  “What about you?” Aaron asked. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “I need to clean up around here—make sure Zeke was alone.” And that the man was dead. He intended to go down to the beach below.

  And Charlotte and Aaron must have read his intentions. “Aaron can stay with you. I’ll take her,” the former U.S. Marshal said. “We have a pilot with us.”

  “But your helicopter was hit.”

  “The bullet did no structural damage.”

  “Is the pilot someone we can trust?” Whit asked. Before they could answer, he shook his head. “You better fly them, Aaron.” Because somewhere out there, someone still wanted Gabriella dead.

  “I’m the one who flew us here,” Charlotte said. And then she was the one who’d landed the helicopter after it had been hit. “I’ve had my pilot’s license for years.”

  “Of course you have,” Gabby murmured—with a flash of bitterness.

  And Whit remembered that the women had unfinished business between them. Charlotte had kept secrets from Gabby that she’d had no right to keep even though she’d had her reasons. Maybe sending the two of them off alone together wasn’t the greatest idea.

  “So let’s go,” Gabby said, and she left him without a backward glance—as if she’d dismissed him after he’d done his job. Was that all he was to her? An employee? While she walked away, Charlotte and Aaron embraced—as if the thought of spending just mere hours apart was intolerable to them.

  “Be safe,” Aaron implored his fiancée.

  “Always.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more,” she said and pressed a hand to her own swollen belly. “Because I love you for the both of us.” With another quick kiss for her baby’s father, she followed Gabby to the helicopter pad.

  Both men stood until the helicopter lifted off and flew away—its engine loud and strong and its course straight.

  “No smart remarks?” Aaron asked.

  “About what?” He knew, though. He’d teased Aaron in the past about his public displays of affection. The man always fell easily and hard. But he’d never fallen as hard as he had for Charlotte Green, and those feelings were so much stronger because they were reciprocated. Whit couldn’t tease him about that—not when he was envious as hell of what his friend had found.

  Aaron narrowed his eyes, which were an eerie pale blue, and studied Whit’s face. “Are you really okay? You didn’t hit your head when you went over the cliff?”

  Whit shook his head. “There are steps over here leading down. We need to check down there—”

  “He’s gone,” Aaron said. “There’s no way he survived that fall.” He shuddered. “I can’t believe that you did—that you caught yourself. You are so damn lucky—like a cat with nine lives.”

  Whit nearly shuddered, too, at Aaron making the same comparison the mercenary had.

  “But knowing you like I do, you probably used up the last of those nine lives today,” Aaron continued. “So we shouldn’t risk going down that cliff.”

  “Maybe Zeke lost his phone,” Like he’d lost his life, on the rocks, “when he fell. If we can find that and figure out who he was talking to, maybe we can figure out who hired him.”

  “You think Gabby’s still in danger?” Aaron asked, with a glance toward the sky—obviously concerned about both women. But the helicopter was long gone.

  “I know she is.” And even after they found whoever had hired Zeke, she would still be in danger—still have people trying to kidnap her for her father’s fortune.

  “What else do you know about her?” Aaron asked. “Who the father of her baby is?” The question was obviously rhetorical; his friend was pretty damn sure it was his.

  Whit clenched his jaw.

  And Aaron whistled. “I can’t believe it—after everything you’ve said about never getting married—”

  “That hasn’t changed,” Whit said. There was no way in hell a princess would ever consider marrying him. And even if she did take the chance on him, her father would never approve their marriage.

  “And the fact that we have a job to do hasn’t changed, either,” he continued. “We need to protect her.”

  “From whom, do you think?” Aaron asked.

  Whit shrugged. “I don’t know. We thought it might be Prince Linus’s father. She doesn’t think her ex-fiancé could have concocted that elaborate a plot on his own.”

  Aaron gasped. “King Demetrios and his younger son are at the palace. They said they were concerned about her. Why would they want to hurt the princess?”

  Whit shook his head. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to hurt Gabby. “I don’t know if they’re involved. All we know for certain is that someone wanted her to never return to St. Pierre.”

  And Gabriella was already on her way…

  *

  “I DON’T NEED to ask who the father of your baby is,” Charlotte remarked, once she and Gabby walked into their private suite of rooms in the palace.

  They hadn’t talked at all on the helicopter. Gabby hadn’t been ready to deal with the woman she now knew was her sister. Nor had she been able to deal with her disappointment over how Whit had treated her. It was like their making love had been just her dreaming.

  Because he had acted like it had never happened. He had acted like they had never been intimate enough to have conceived the child she carried. His child.

  “You don’t?” Gabriella wondered. Because Whit had certainly not betrayed their relationship. But Charlotte had always been able to read her—even while she, herself, had been keeping so much from Gabby.

  “You love Whit,” Charlotte said, her voice soft with sympathy. From the way he’d acted, she had undoubtedly been able to tell that Gabby’s feelings were not reciprocated. “You were falling for him six months ago, but now you love him.”

  Gabriella shrugged. It didn’t matter how she felt since her feelings were not returned. He’d asked her to take a risk on him…

  A risk that he would figure out how to love? That risk had obviously not paid off. />
  “I don’t need to ask who the father of your baby is, either,” Gabby said, her heart warming as she studied Charlotte’s face—so like her own except for the happiness that illuminated it from within—making her breathtakingly beautiful.

  “I got pregnant the night of the ball,” Charlotte said, pressing her palms to her belly as Gabby always did. “The same night I assume you must have since we both left the next day.” Her light of happiness dimmed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my plan went so wrong.”

  “You were the one who was kidnapped,” Gabby reminded her. “I’m sorry…”

  Charlotte shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Aaron found me.” The light inside her brightened again. “He rescued me.”

  “He loves you.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Yes. He asked me to marry him, and I accepted. I love him.”

  Gabby flinched with jealousy and then was angry with herself for being so petty as to envy someone else’s happiness.

  Charlotte reached out, pulling Gabriella into a close embrace—or as close as their pregnant bellies allowed. “And I love you,” Charlotte said. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you that I’m your sister. I couldn’t tell you about our mother.”

  “But you knew how the queen hated me,” Gabby said, pulling free of her. “You knew how that bothered me.” Even after the woman had died. “You could have told me she wasn’t really my mother.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “If I told you the truth, I would have been fired. It killed me to keep it from you, but it was better to keep the secrets and keep you safe.”

  Whit had been right about her reasons. Tears stung Gabby’s eyes. “You—you wanted to tell me?”

  Charlotte nodded, and the gesture had tears spilling from her eyes to trail down her face. “As soon as I found out I had a sister, I wanted a relationship with you. That’s why, when I found the letter in the things my mom left behind when she died, I quit the U.S. Marshals.”

  “I thought you quit because of what happened with Josie and Aaron and Whit.”

  Charlotte had had Whit help her fake Josie’s death so that she could relocate her. Making Whit keep the secret from Aaron had destroyed their business partnership and their friendship.