A Royal Mess and Her Knight To Remember

by Jill Shalvis

  “THAT DOESN’T LOOK like a needle and thread,” the woman in pink said slowly. “Because I really need a needle-and-thread person here. Take a look at me in this dress, would you?” She lifted her arms and Kyle had to give it to her, her hands shook only slightly.

  “I told you to get out of here,” he said beneath his breath.

  “I thought you were just being rude,” she said beneath her breath right back, her eyes never leaving the gun still trained on her.

  “Rude?” He might have laughed, if this wasn’t a nightmare waiting to happen. “I was trying to save your sorry ass.”

  “Hey, now, that’s no way to talk to a lady.” This from the guy holding the gun.

  Why had Kyle bothered to get out of bed that morning? It wasn’t enough to be forced into a tux. No, he had to be killed while doing it.

  Well, damn it, he didn’t plan to go easy, and he sure didn’t plan to go while looking like a penguin, arguing with an insane lady in the most godawful dress he’d ever seen.

  But when Jimmy the thug had turned his gun on her, every muscle within Kyle had tensed. This was his battle, and he refused to let anyone else get hurt, especially innocent bystanders. “Jimmy, remember who your target is here,” he said in quiet warning.

  “I remember.” The gun didn’t waver from the Lady In Pink. “But maybe I’ll take a detour from killing you and have some fun first.”

  Kyle heard the woman’s gasp, but he kept his eyes on Jimmy Tarintino, nephew of Joseph Tarintino, the local mobster Kyle had put away just last week for one hundred and ten years plus three consecutive life sentences. “Don’t get greedy now.”

  “Greedy?” Jimmy’s hand shook slightly, making Kyle’s heart stop. The idiot was going to pull the trigger without even meaning to. “You’re calling me greedy?” Jimmy asked incredulously. “You’re the one who took my uncle down for the glory of it.”

  Glory. Yeah, right. Glory was barely making enough money to keep him in a postage-stamp-size condo. Glory was risking life and limb on a daily basis being a cop, only to be taken down in a bridal shop.

  Wearing a tux.

  Kyle would have given just about anything to have his gun on him right now. But when Kevin had seen Kyle’s gun tucked in the back of his jeans, he’d about blown a gasket. No guns in a bridal shop, he’d said.

  Someone had forgotten to tell that to Jimmy.

  Jimmy trained his gun back on Kyle but kept his eyes on the woman. He licked his lips. Grinned. “Just a little detour, I think. You don’t mind waiting to die, do you Kyle? I’ll let you watch.”

  Yeah, his gun would be good right about now. “Jimmy—”

  Jimmy took a sidestep toward the woman, the gun still on Kyle.

  Ah, hell. Blood was not going to go well with his pink cummerbund, but he took a step forward anyway. He was still on the platform, with Jimmy below him. Three wide steps down was where the woman stood. Kyle figured if he could get close enough, he could take a flying leap and tackle Jimmy.

  “Come here, pretty thing,” Jimmy coaxed the woman with a lecherous grin that revealed a missing tooth. He’d lost it in an infamous fight with his brother, who’d lost an ear when Jimmy had bitten it off. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Come here and show me your pretty dress.”

  “If you think this dress is pretty, you need your eyes examined,” the woman said in an icy cultured voice. “And if you think I’m going to let you lay one sweaty, beefy paw on me, you need your head examined.”

  Perfect. A back talker. She couldn’t just stand there all meek and compliant-like and let Kyle save the day. No, she had to egg on a crazy man, when anyone in her right mind could see that’s exactly the type of fight Jimmy was looking for.

  Jimmy’s gun hand shook more noticeably now, and his eyes gleamed as he took another step, then another.

  Two more and Kyle would be able to leap from the pedestal and jump him. End of crisis. “Jimmy, remember how you let the store clerk and the two other customers go outside? Why don’t you do the same for her?”

  “No.” Jimmy licked his lips. “Look, Pinkie, I said get over here—”

  “And I said—” But she broke off with a scream of outrage as Jimmy tripped off the first of three white satin steps toward her. Then she screamed again as Kyle leaped into the air.

  Kept on screaming as she threw herself on top of Jimmy first, fists out and pummeling.

  In midair Kyle let out one concise and particularly vicious oath. His original target was now covered with pink satin. He might have landed anyway—he didn’t care about crushing her—but he did care about the gun going off accidentally. He cared about that a lot, as he was rather fond of his own hide.

  So he pulled back and landed painfully next to the now rolling duo. For a long, terrifying second he couldn’t see anything but obnoxious pink satin, so he reached out and pulled it free.

  It came with a woman inside of it, fists flailing. Jimmy was coming to his feet and grappling to right his gun, so Kyle was forced to get a better grip on the screaming pile of satin and shove them both behind a counter. He took a fist to the chin for his efforts, and might have taken more if he hadn’t manacled her wrists with his hand.

  “Cool it, I’m the good guy.”

  A gunshot echoed directly above his head, and he swore again—silently this time—before grabbing the fumbling bundle of satin and crawling as fast as he could along the bottom of the counter.

  “Let. Me. Go,” demanded the pink satin. She kicked out, nearly unmanning him.

  “If I do, you’re going to get yourself killed. Now stop—Damn it!” She’d freed her face enough to lean in and bite him on the shoulder. With not a little amount of grim satisfaction, he shifted her, tossing her over that shoulder in a fireman’s hold, one hand hard on her backside, the other aiding his crawling efforts.

  When she wriggled, trying to get into position to bite him again, he simply tightened his grip on her butt, which he could feel through all her layers, and it was a very nice butt indeed. Finally, with considerable effort, and no thanks to her, he got them to the other side of the room, where he paused, listening.

  Dead silence.

  Not good. Then, suddenly, another gunshot rang out, halfway between where he held the Lady In Pink and where they had started out.

  Good, he thought grimly. Jimmy had no idea where they were. Behind them, and only five feet away, were aisles upon aisles of long, flowing white wedding dresses, behind which he hoped and prayed was a back door.

  Crouching down, he dumped his load on the floor, staring in fascination as the satin righted itself and a face appeared. A very furious female face. Her mouth opened, and at the speed of light, he put his hand over it, not wanting her to risk their lives by lighting into him right now.

  But oddly enough, she didn’t try to speak.

  Her eyes however—the most interesting shade of gold he’d ever seen—spit daggers at him. He held her utterly still and looked away, trying to figure out Jimmy’s location. He could hear nothing, except Pink’s movements. He knew she wanted to tell him something.

  Too bad. She could wait.

  He cocked his head and listened again. Where could Jimmy have gone? There was no sign of him.

  If he lived through this, he was going to kill Kevin.

  Then pain erupted in his fingers.

  Pink had bitten him! Whipping his head toward her, he fought the urge to bite her back.

  She pointed to the opposite side of the store, where he just caught a whisper of a footstep.

  Jimmy. Probably figuring they’d gotten all the way across. He was blocking their exit out the front door, but they weren’t going to go out the front door. Ignoring his throbbing fingers, he nudged the woman, directing her with a toss of his head toward the rows and rows of dresses.

  She shook her head.

  He pointed firmly.

  Again, she shook her head.

  Unbelievable. Unused to being disobeyed—much less being bitten twice—he glared at her a
nd jabbed his finger into the air again. A scary jab. A follow-my-lead-without-question jab. A jab that would have had any of the men he worked with quaking in their boots.

  Not this lady.

  Instead, she lifted her chin so far he thought she’d get a nosebleed and gave the air her own jab, to her right. Beyond the counter was a discrete elevator door.

  The service elevator. Damn, she had a point.

  With a stiff nod, he went to lift her to her knees but she shoved him away. Nose still thrust in the air, she pushed back her wild hair and started to crawl under her own steam.

  Only to get tangled in the hoops making up her skirt. She would have tumbled to the wood floor, making a racket that would have gotten them both killed, but he hauled her against his side. Suddenly, he was blinded as her skirt raised up like a damn flag, right over both of their heads.

  Jerking the skirt down with one hand and holding her tight against him with the other, he made his awkward way toward the elevator, feeling her breathing down his neck the entire way. “I can save myself,” she said, her mouth to his ear.

  Uh-huh. Right. He’d never imagined it coming to this, crawling on the floor, holding a bossy woman against him, praying for his life. Man, he was tired of this job. Of this city. Of his life.

  If he lived—and he intended to live, thank you very much—he was ready, past ready, for a new venue. A few feet from the elevator he heard something behind him—or maybe it was just instincts—and one jerk of his head revealed Jimmy, climbing over the counter.

  Forget being quiet, it was hustle time. With a last flying leap, he got them to the elevator. “Open, open, open,” he muttered, hitting the button over and over.

  For the first time today, fate was actually on his side and the doors swished open. He tossed Pink into a corner, then followed, reaching for the close button and starting a new prayer.

  Close, close, close.

  “Who do you think you are? Robo Cop?” Pink snapped, fighting to untangle herself from her dress.

  “Gotcha,” Jimmy cried, falling off the counter to the floor. But he recovered quickly and aimed his gun.

  Kyle dove over Pink, covering her body with his.

  The doors closed.

  Several rounds hit the steel doors, leaving an indention, but not quite penetrating all the way through.

  “Get off of me!” She shoved at him for emphasis.

  Kyle, sweating, sank back against the wall. “You’re welcome.”

  “What for?”

  “For saving your life.”

  She let out a shocked laugh. “Saving my life? You should be thanking me.”

  “Why? I just saved your pretty little hide.” Kyle opened his eyes and for the first time leveled them right on her. She didn’t look terrified, or in shock, as he might have expected. Just angry.

  “You saved my hide.” She laughed again, though it was a weak one. Sinking next to him, her head thunked back against the wall. “I saved yours, buster.”

  “Buster?”

  “Who do you think managed to track the gunman?” she asked. “Who found the elevator? Who—”

  Another gunshot shut her up. Again, it didn’t penetrate, but the elevator jerked to a stop.

  “What—”

  “Terrific.” Kyle tipped his head back. The light for the second floor hadn’t come on. “We’re between floors. Sitting ducks.”

  “Why is that?”

  He looked at her again, taking in the lightest, most arresting golden eyes he’d ever seen, the most amazing matching gold hair tumbling past her shoulders and the impossibly useless pink dress. No use sugarcoating it. He told her the truth. “We’re dead.”

  “Not until we stop breathing, we’re not.”

  He couldn’t believe she wasn’t hysterical by now, or in shock. And in spite of the added complication she’d been, he felt a reluctant admiration for her. “Yeah, and we’re still breathing, aren’t we.”

  “That’s right. Thanks to me.”

  Okay, she was being a pain in the butt. But now that he’d had a moment to catch his breath, he had to admit she was a beautiful pain in the butt. As disastrous as the pink was on her, the dress did hang nicely from shoulder to low on her hips. And everything in between. For the first time, he saw everything in between. Her slender throat, her breasts thrust up and nearly out by the cut of the dress, her waist…she was pretty damn mouthwatering. He’d give her this, she wasn’t a hardship to look at it. “Move back.”

  She’d come up to her knees, and was inspecting the control panel. “Why?”

  “Because I said.”

  She rolled her eyes and poked at the panel.

  Another gunshot rang out, and directly in front of her the control panel buckled out toward her. Clearly not made of the same strength of steel as the doors, the bullet tore through.

  Kyle grabbed her and tugged hard, so that she fell back against him.

  The bullet hit the back wall, a foot above their heads.

  Kyle’s momentum had tumbled them both down with a jerk. And though he attempted not to notice, the jarring movement nearly freed a breast.

  Until she hit the floor, that is, because that’s when the skirt of the dress—buoyed by the hoops—once again flew up and over both their heads.

  With a savage sound of frustration, she tugged both of them free and glared at him as if it was his fault she had horrible taste in clothes.

  “Maybe now you’ll listen,” he said, gallantly swallowing a cocky I-told-you-so.

  “The panel is dust,” she said, ignoring him. “We’ll have to figure out something else.”

  She was cool as a cucumber. He’d never met a woman like her.

  “I can handle this.”

  “Really?” Her gold eyes looked him over. “Don’t take this wrong, but you’re not exactly doing a great job so far.” She turned away to inspect their surroundings. “Don’t worry,” she said in a patronizing voice that made his jaw clench. “I’ll figure this out for both of us. Just stay down so you don’t get hit.”

  Not only was he in a tux, not only did he have a mobster trying to gun him down, he had to be stuck in an elevator with the most irritating woman on the planet. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  “What?” She was distracted as she studied the ceiling.

  “The ‘don’t worry’ line. The ‘stay down’ line.”

  She sent him a vague smile, then went back to inspecting their surroundings as if she knew what she was doing.

  Clearly, she thought he was an idiot.

  Kyle didn’t need Jimmy to kill him. This nutcase in pink was going to do it by stress alone.

  ANNIE STUDIED the ceiling carefully, while wracking her brain, conjuring up every action-adventure film she’d ever seen—of which there were many—for inspiration. “There’s always a way out,” she said. “I just have to come up with it.”

  The man behind her made a rude noise. “This whole thing could have been avoided if you’d only listened to me in the first place.”

  “Oh, you mean when you told me to get out of here?” Hmm, the ceiling had several panels. Assuming she could reach one, she might be able to crawl out. She was good at escaping. She’d mastered it at age two, when she’d escaped into her mother’s royal closet to avoid eating her peas at dinner.

  It had taken the entire army of Grunberg royal bodyguards to find her, as this had been before her mother’s death, when the closet had been the size of a house and filled with enough clothing to clothe everyone in their entire country.

  By the time Annie had become a teenager, she’d gained enough skill that no one could find her when she wanted to be hidden, not even Natalia—her sister and closest friend. No one could find her but Amelia, but since Annie was convinced Amelia really was a fairy godmother in disguise, she didn’t count.

  “If you’d stayed back,” the man said, “I could have tackled him and wrestled away the gun. Arrested him.”

  She turned on him in surprise. Which was
not an easy move wearing such a stupid dress. While the skirt might be too wide, the top sure wasn’t. When she turned, she threatened to expose more of herself than she planned on exposing.

  Secret exhibitionist fantasy or not, she didn’t plan on showing off her wares to just anyone. Especially this man, with his intense eyes that gobbled her up and his tall, rangy body that could make a grown woman drool. Not that she was drooling.

  No, not over him. He was too big, too…real.

  Then what he’d just said sank in. “You’re a cop?”

  “What did you think?”

  She had no idea. Hmm…a cop. He’d dedicated his life to serving and protecting others. How irresistible was that?

  But he was about to get married. To someone else. If they lived.

  Not that he’d have been interested in her anyway. Well, not past the tiara and prestige anyway. She’d learned, hadn’t she? She should have had it down by now. No men. They wanted only one thing.

  Well, make that two.

  Sex and money.

  Too bad she wasn’t any good at the first and until she came into her trust fund in another year, had a lot less of the second than anyone would believe.

  “Maybe,” she said, “the other people in the store, the ones Jimmy sent outside, called the cops. Or maybe the shots alerted someone else in the building. Maybe there’s help on the way.”

  “You’re awfully full of maybes.”

  “Call me an eternal optimist.”

  “In that dress, you’d have to be.”

  She ground her teeth together. “This dress is hardly my fault—”

  “Look, let’s just get ourselves out of here before Jimmy figures out how to find us.”

  “Right.” She figured they’d have to go out the ceiling, crawl along whatever sort of system there was and—

  “We’ll go out the ceiling.”

  She stared at him. “That was going to be my idea.”

  The look he shot her was nothing short of patronizing. “Right. I’ll go first, and—”

  “I should go first.” She came up to him, startled anew by his sheer size. She refused to acknowledge how her head barely reached his wide shoulders, or the fact that his gaze dipped down to the barely there neckline of her dress, which she prayed had stayed in place. “I’ll need a boost.”