by Nika Rhone
So please, God, don’t let her cry.
Finally, Amelia took a huge breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.
“Better?” Daryl didn’t ask if she was okay because a single look into her eyes told him she was miles away from that. But if she was at least past the anxiety attack, or whatever the hell that had just been, then he could risk stepping away for a minute to get a sit-rep from Doyle.
Not meeting his eyes, Amelia gave a tiny nod.
Daryl waited a minute, but she didn’t say anything. Realizing his hand was still on her back, although he’d stopped rubbing, he snatched it away. “I’m going to call Doyle. I’ll be right at the rear of the truck if you need me, okay?”
She nodded again.
He hesitated; he’d feel better if she actually said something, but it didn’t seem like she was quite back together enough to manage that, so he walked the few yards to the rear of the truck, far enough to be out of earshot if he spoke low, but close enough to hear if she had trouble breathing again.
Doyle answered on the first ring. “Is she all right?”
“She’s…okay. She had a panic attack or something and couldn’t catch her breath, but she seems to be past the worst of it now.” Daryl glanced up at the open passenger door, but couldn’t see Amelia from where he stood. “What the hell did Thea say to her?”
There was a moment of muffled talking while Doyle conveyed his words to Thea before he answered. “So far, nobody here has said anything about the wedding being cancelled. The lunch Amelia was supposed to host today was pushed off until tomorrow, but nothing else has been changed or called off.”
“Son of a…” Daryl bit off the curse, not wanting it to carry to Amelia’s ears. “What the hell do they expect to accomplish? The bride called the wedding off. Period. Hosting parties isn’t going to change that.”
“No, but it buys them time,” Doyle said, sounding grim.
“Time for what? To find the best way to word the press release?”
“Or to change the bride’s mind.”
Daryl froze. They wouldn’t. But even as he thought it, he knew they would. Neither the bride nor groom’s parents were the kind to take no for an answer if yes suited them better. So far only a small group of people knew about Amelia’s decision. If her parents could convince her to change her mind, they could have her back in Connecticut and saying “I do” before anyone else was the wiser.
There was only one problem with that plan.
“Amelia isn’t going to change her mind.” Daryl felt very certain in that assessment. She was the least impulsive of the Royal Court. If she’d decided to end her engagement, then she was damn well positive she wanted to end it.
“She might not want to, but she doesn’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to standing up to her parents. Add the Davenports to the dog pile on her back, and how long do you think it will be before she crumbles?”
Considering the way she’d been second- and third-guessing herself already this morning because of the guilt? Not long at all.
Shit.
“What can we do?” Daryl clamped down on his temper. He hated bullies. And that’s what the Westlakes were.
“Keeping her away from her parents would be a good start.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Daryl muttered, giving in to the urge to pace along the back end of the truck. “Even if she doesn’t present herself like a wrapped present today, they’re not going to give up. They’ll keep calling. Or if she doesn’t answer, they’ll track her down and confront her wherever she is.”
“She can hole up with the Fordhams. Thea already talked to her parents. They’re beyond livid about the whole thing, and Evie told her to have you bring Amelia to the house asap.”
The affection Doyle had for his future mother-in-law was clear in the way he said her name. It wasn’t misplaced, either. Evelyn Fordham was good people.
“I don’t think she’d go,” Daryl said, “for the same reasons she gave for not spending last night there or with the Beaumonts. Once her parents knew she was there, they’d be pounding at the front door until she gave in and saw them.”
“Red wouldn’t let them past the front gate.”
Red Fields, Daryl thought with grim amusement, would gladly kick their snooty asses all the way to the state line if given half a chance. “If they were denied entry, they’d just find another way to get to her, even if it meant threatening the Fordhams in some way. They won’t give up. Not if they’re really trying to keep this wedding on.”
“Everything here points to yes, so that’s what we have to assume until we hear different.” Doyle sighed. “And you’re right. Having Amelia stay at either estate will just create more problems than it will solve. She needs to be out of Boulder altogether. Proximity is a major part of the problem.”
“Being predictable is the other,” Daryl said. “We need to get her someplace they wouldn’t expect her to be. Someplace she’s never been before.”
“As soon as she buys an airline ticket or books a hotel room, it’ll send up a red flag somewhere. Same for anyone connected to her or to either family.” Doyle sounded as annoyed as Daryl felt about the probability that one or both of the senators had called in a marker with one of the alphabet agencies. It was the only explanation for how fast they’d known about Amelia coming back to Boulder, right down to the flight she’d been on. It was borderline illegal and made keeping Amelia invisible for the next week a hell of a lot more difficult than it should have been.
“Are you willing to stick with her for the duration?”
“Boss, if anyone but you asked that question, they’d be picking up pieces of their ass with a pair of tweezers.”
“I just needed to check.” Doyle didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “Once you leave Boulder, it’ll just be the two of you. If we’re going to switch things up, it’s got to be now.”
It was a perfectly logical assessment, so Daryl put aside his outraged sense of honor and considered the situation. Could he handle being with Amelia Westlake for the next eight or more days? Being not only her sole source of protection, but in her constant company, day and night, no matter how much they might get on each other’s nerves?
Though she was a princess, she’d never been a prima donna, at least not that he’d ever known. She wasn’t a chatterbox like Lillian, so she wasn’t likely to talk his ear off. And while quiet and a little bit introverted, she at least had a brain in her head. They could probably manage a few days together without driving each other too crazy.
“Unless she’d prefer Kirsten or Francine, I’m in,” Daryl said, naming the two female members of the security staff with whom she’d be most familiar. Which she might, given the choice. But he didn’t like not finishing something once he’d started it, so if she didn’t mind having him as her bodyguard, he was in it for the long haul.
“Good.” Doyle sounded pleased by his answer.
Maybe a little too pleased.
“I have an idea how you can stay off the grid,” Doyle said, confirming Daryl’s suspicions.
“What is it?”
“You need someplace that’s less than a day’s drive, so there are no hotels or airlines to book.”
“Right.”
“Someplace you know well enough to feel safe at, but not someplace many people know about.”
Feeling like he was being led down a primrose path, Daryl said cautiously, “Yeah.”
“Someplace isolated, but not totally cut off from civilization, where she wouldn’t be recognized if someone saw her.”
Warning bells started to ring. “Doyle…”
“Someplace you could just drop in anytime, unannounced, and know there’s always a bed, or two, in this case, waiting for you if you need it.”
Oh, fuck no.
“Forget it.” The words were a growl. “No way in hell.”
“It’s the perfect solution.”
“No.”
“You can be there by, what?
Midnight?”
“If I was lucky,” Daryl said. “Listen, Doyle—”
“I suppose you could always stop and find a discreet hotel for the night if you had to,” Doyle continued, rolling right over him, “but there’s less of a chance for the senator’s friends to get a bead on you if you drive straight through. Besides, the later you arrive, the less people that are likely to see you.”
“There are reasons I don’t go there very often.” Daryl gripped the phone so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter.
“Are they more important than Amelia’s safety?”
No, dammit. But still… “This is not a good idea.”
“Give me a better one.”
He wanted to. But he couldn’t. “Fuck.”
“You’ll need to get on the road as soon as you can. Thea said Amelia’s welcome to raid her closet, but you’ll probably still have to stop at a store somewhere along the way for her to pick up toiletries and…woman things.”
“She might not agree to go,” Daryl said, although it was more a desperate hope than a real possibility.
There was a terse silence. “Convince her. Amelia means a lot to Thea. If she ends up marrying that asshole, I may have to kill him just to keep Thea from doing it herself.”
If it came to that, Daryl would probably end up sharing a cell with him. Anyone who could leave the bruised look in a woman’s eyes like Amelia’s had held the night of the party deserved to die.
“This is a bad idea, Doyle.”
“It’s what we’ve got. Make it work.”
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Daryl muttered a heartfelt “Fuck me” and struggled to come to grips with this latest turn of events. Doyle was right. They needed a place to stash Amelia that was safe, out of the way, and not connected to her in any way. This fit the bill. But dammit all, he really, really wished it didn’t.
Walking to the front of the truck, he was relieved to see Amelia was no longer paler than the bleached sheets his stepmother hung on the clothesline out behind the house. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back against the high headrest on the bucket seat, hands clasped in her lap, but she didn’t look peaceful. She looked exhausted.
“We need to talk about some things.” Daryl stopped when she lifted her phone from her lap for him to see.
“Thea filled me in while you were talking to Doyle.” She opened her eyes and rolled her head so she could look at him. “I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t leave me there yesterday or I’d probably be on a plane back to Connecticut right now, memorizing my apology to Charles and his parents for inconveniencing them with my attack of nerves and practicing my princess wave for four hundred and eighty of my closest, dearest friends.”
There was a bitter bite to her sarcasm, but she wasn’t wrong. “They can’t force you to go or to change your mind,” he felt obligated to point out.
She shot him a get real look. “Like everybody doesn’t know I’d fold like wet tissue paper once they started working on me.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. For not just leaving me to my fate.”
Daryl shrugged. “Thank Leon.”
“God, Leon.” Worry darkened her emerald eyes. “Is there any way to check on him? If he lost his job because he helped me…”
If Leon had lost his job because he warned Daryl about the Westlakes’ machinations, Doyle would most likely hire him on the spot. “I’ll look into it. But right now, we need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
Amelia gave a brittle laugh. “Do? If I don’t want to end up Mrs. Charles Wilson Henry Davenport by this time next Saturday, I need to disappear for a while.”
“Agreed.”
“I can go visit my Aunt Josie in Texas.”
Daryl had a vague recollection of the woman from the engagement party the year before. She was Meredith Westlake’s aunt, making her Amelia’s great-aunt, and while she was as rich as Croesus, she was also about as old as dirt. He shook his head.
“It would be one of the first places your mother would think to look once they realize you’re not in town.”
That deflated her a little, but she nodded. “You’re right. Okay.” She thought for a second. “You can take me to the airport, and I’ll buy a ticket to a random city, one I have no connection to, and just check into a hotel there and…what?” she asked as he shook his head again.
Where to start?
“Okay, first off, buying a plane ticket would mean having your name in the airline’s database, which we’ve already seen your father capable of somehow tapping into for information. So if you get on a plane to anywhere, he’s going to know it. Same goes for checking into a hotel anywhere.”
She looked chagrined. “Okay, then I could drive somewhere, and use cash to get a hotel room.”
“The only place you’d be able to check into without giving them ID is a no-tell motel, and you sure as hell won’t be staying in one of those.” The thought of classy, elegant Amelia Westlake staying in a dive like that was almost sacrilegious.
“Oh.”
He hated knocking her ideas to the ground like so many bad apples, but he needed her to realize that none of what she suggested were reasonable solutions to her current situation. Which would leave what he was about to propose the only logical way forward. And for that to work, he needed to clear up one last misconception.
“And secondly, you won’t be going anywhere. We will. So whatever plan we come up with, it will involve the two of us, together.”
“What?” She practically squeaked the word. “We? Together?”
“Yes, we, together.” He tried not to feel insulted she thought he would abandon her.
“But…why?”
“Because you have some very powerful people angry with you right now, and I don’t trust them to play fair when it comes to getting their way.” He tried to temper the snapped reply by adding, “Look, I know they’re your parents, and I’m sorry if that sounds insulting, but…”
“No, it’s not, because you’re exactly right. They are angry, and they really, really want this marriage to happen. But why should you get stuck with the job of babysitting me? Again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Bringing me back home. Staying over last night, which you didn’t need to do, and which I’m sure was much more of an inconvenience than you let on. And now offering to take me someplace safe, and…and…” She trailed off, sounding flustered and uncertain of what she wanted to say.
“Would you be more comfortable with Kirsten or Francine instead?” Because if so, they needed a whole new plan. Funny how he suddenly wasn’t at all thrilled about that possibility when just a minute ago he’d been cursing both Doyle and his idea.
It took a second before dismay dawned in her expression.
“Oh! No! No, it’s not that.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I have total confidence in you, Daryl. And you don’t make me uncomfortable. I just…I hate that you’re disrupting your life for me like this. I’m sure babysitting me for the next week isn’t your idea of a fun time.”
Realizing her objection hadn’t been about him but rather for him, something inside of Darryl eased. “I don’t think it’ll be yours, either,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but also speaking no less than the truth, “but if you’re willing to suck it up, so am I.”
She gave a small laugh and nodded. “Okay. Deal.”
“Deal.” He accepted the delicate hand she offered just like she had the night of the party and gave it a solemn shake, taking great care not to squeeze too hard. Her hand felt cool, and he was tempted to hang onto it now and warm it between his own. Thankfully, she withdrew from the shake before he could embarrass himself by giving in to the odd impulse.
“So.” She straightened in her seat, regaining some of that poker-back posture she always wore. “Where are we going?”
Working hard to control a grimace, because he needed her to love the idea even though he hated it, Daryl replied, “How would you feel about meeting
my parents?”
Chapter Seven
Everything moved so fast after that Amelia found herself sitting in the passenger seat of the black monster truck heading north without even being one hundred percent certain she’d actually agreed to the plan.
As if she wasn’t humiliated enough about the mess she’d gotten herself into, now she had to involve total strangers? And not just any strangers. Oh no. That would be bad enough. No, she would be throwing herself on the mercy and hospitality of Daryl Raintree’s parents.
What was he thinking? And what was she thinking going along with it?
Simple. That she was willing to do just about anything to avoid the wedding that was evidently moving full speed ahead back in Connecticut, unwilling bride notwithstanding. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around that.
Yes, she might have waited until almost the last minute, but she’d been very clear when she spoke to Charles. I don’t love you. You don’t love me. This marriage would be a mistake. I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you. She’d given him back the ring. For pity’s sake, it couldn’t get any plainer than that, could it?
The. Wedding. Was. Off.
Except…it seemed it wasn’t.
And Daryl might say no one could force her to say “I do,” but he didn’t know what her parents were capable of making her do like Amelia did. For twenty-three years, she’d knuckled under and gone along with whatever they wanted. She learned at an early age it was pointless to try to argue, object, or worst of all, to rebel.
Her mother may have never raised a hand to her, but she had honed the art of drawing blood with her tongue to an art form. That, in Amelia’s opinion, was a much more effective weapon to use against a child than any fist or belt. When the one person who’s supposed to love and cherish you the most tells you you’re a disappointment in everything you do, it isn’t long before you start to believe it and are willing to do whatever it takes to try and make her proud.
