The Prince and the Pop Star: Rich and Royal Romance (True Royalty Book 3)

by Miranda King

  She sighs. “I want to be out there with them.” She slumps her shoulders. “But I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Then will you stay here, like you promised Logan?”

  She nods in defeat.

  He releases her arm, and looks out the window. “I didn’t hear their location changed. You weren’t supposed to see this. I’d take you to another room, but you’re safer here than anywhere else, strange as it sounds. We also don’t know if others are helping her because we haven’t finished a sweep of the base.”

  “Go help. I don’t need babysitting.” She doesn’t tear her eyes away from the window. The three outside appear to be locked in a stalemate.

  “You’re the last civilian on base. All the performers you came with have already left. Your safety is our top priority.”

  “My life isn’t worth more than a soldier’s.”

  “For a soldier it is.”

  “Is it because I’m Eden Knight?”

  “No. It’s because we protect our own.”

  “Then what about Dante and Logan?”

  “Trust me when I say we have every resource on it.”

  “What can I do?” The pent-up nerves in her body demand that she does something.

  “Pray.”

  She walks back to the window, rests her forehead on the glass, and does just that. It’s all she can do for now.

  Ollie aligns himself next to her. “Do you want to hear what’s going on? I probably shouldn’t, but that’s your brother out there.”

  “Yesss.” She steels herself for what she might hear.

  “We don’t get every word. There are patches of static and background noise.” He switches a button on the radio to speaker.

  “… told you earlier not to cock block me, Logan.” That’s Dante’s voice. The background is fuzzy and the words are choppy, but that’s him.

  “I’ve got a date with an angel tonight. Not you.” His words are terse. “Get out of here… I mean it. GO.”

  “Shut up.” The woman shouts with a shrill voice that sounds like she could easily break. “I can’t think with you talking.”

  “Then you talk. Tell us what you want.” Logan holds out his hands to her.

  “My husband back,” she cries out. “He’s gone, and justice demands a death for a death.”

  “But not your own,” Logan reasons, gesturing to the IED belt.

  “I don’t want to live without him.” Her voice barely maintains control. “I honor him by doing this.”

  “Let’s find another way to honor him.” Logan’s voice is calm. “No one needs to get hurt.”

  “You’re wrong.” She pierces Dante’s neck with the tip of her knife. “Someone has to die.”

  Dante stands strong, but more blood trickles down.

  Oh, Dante…

  “Wait!” Logan holds his hands up to the woman and walks closer. “Let him go. Take me.”

  No, Logan, no…

  “I’m a prince. My death will be a great victory for your country and honor for your husband.” He continues his slow steps towards her. “Take me. Just let him go.”

  She maintains a firm hold on Dante and the trigger. “You kinda look like that Prince… don’t see a name on your shirt… nothing to prove…”

  Eden hugs his shirt, the one with his name embroidered on the pocket, around her tighter. Thank God. If he’d been wearing this shirt…

  “I am His Royal Highness Prince Logan Thorton of Summerland, second in line to the throne.” His rich baritone rings strong and clear.

  “No, he’s not,” Dante snorts so convincingly, that if she didn’t know it was true, she might even question it.

  “I am.” Logan is firm.

  Their exchange about who is who continues, and the woman ping-pong’s her gaze back and forth between them.

  “Told you before not to cock block me, Logan… I’m… the hero….” Her brother’s voice is gruff.

  “Why don’t you both be the heroes.” The woman looks down at the trigger. “It’s time.”

  Dante jerks against the woman and their arms entangle. Logan has his arms stretched towards them, like he’s looking for his opening to jump into the fight.

  Noooo, Dante… Logan…

  “Get away from the window.” Ollie pulls on her. “Don’t look.”

  She shrugs him off, keeping her eyes on her brother and Logan. She only hears grunts over the radio.

  But then her brother’s voice trumps the chaos. “You’re… Han Solo now… don’t… forget me… promise….” There’s an urgency and finality to his words.

  Dante clutches the woman’s hand that holds the trigger. In her other hand, the knife gleams.

  “Stop fighting.” She stabs him in the side.

  He grunts.

  “Dante, Dante, Dante!” Eden pummels the window with her hands, using all her strength. Ollie takes her by the shoulders, trying to yank her from the window, but she wrenches free from him.

  The radio blasts that woman’s voice. “You’re going with me.” She twists her knife in Dante, like she’s skewering him.

  Noooo….

  “Dante, I love you!” She hammers her hands hard against the glass. Ollie grabs her by the waist, trying to pull her back, but she kicks and screams until he lets her go. She presses her face against the window and hears her brother’s voice on the radio.

  “But not him,” Dante gasps to the woman. “That’s all I ask. Justice is an eye for an eye.”

  “Then tell your friend to back off,” she warns.

  They step backward. Not far to the side of them is a parked vehicle, and Dante seems to be angling them towards it.

  “Go, Logan. Get out of here.” Dante’s voice is weak.

  Logan inches closer.

  The woman twists her knife again. Dante groans.

  “Stop,” she tells Logan. “Or I’ll finish him off right now.”

  He halts. Dante and the woman move further and further away from him.

  “Your friend is right,” she tells Logan. “Justice is one for one, not two.” She and Dante stand on the far side of the vehicle. “This won’t be seen as an honor killing, only a terrorist act if I take you both. So get out of here!”

  “I won’t leave. Let him go.” Logan puts his hands up. “Take me. I’m the one—”

  “—Go!” Dante interrupts. “Take care of Eden….”

  Dante thrusts his body and the woman towards the other side of the vehicle.

  Eden flattens the side of her face against the window, clawing her fingers on the glass. “Nooo, Dante. Nooo!” she screams.

  Dante throws himself on top of the woman like he’s a human shield. They tumble behind the vehicle.

  That’s all she sees because Ollie swoops her up into his arms and carries her away from the window.

  “Put me down.” She beats on his chest. “I can’t leave. I promised, remember?”

  “Common sense supersedes promises.” He’s dodging furniture with her in his arms. “This room is certified blast proof, but let’s not test our luck.”

  The radio emits a high-pitched noise, and then…

  Dead silence.

  White light flashes in the darkness. A split-second rumble, and then….

  B-o-o-o-mm.

  Glass rattles. The earth shakes like an earthquake’s epicenter.

  Ollie stumbles and they hit the floor. He pins her down, and she fights to get up.

  “Dante! Logan!” She screams over and over again. From her angle she can’t see outside the window. “Dante, Logan, tell me you’re okay!” Her vocal cords amplify to their maximum capacity. “Tell me you’re okay!”

  Dead silence.

  She turns her face up to Ollie. “Get off me. We have to help them.” She kicks him with her legs and arms. “Why aren’t we out there helping them?”

  Dead silence.

  “Ollie,” she grabs his lapels. “Tell me!”

  The features of his face have hardened to stone, but his eyes
have liquefied. He looks towards the window. “You’re not going out there.”

  “I have to get out there. That’s my brother… and Logan.” Her heart squeezes so hard inside her that it’s hard to breathe.

  “No, it’s not safe. There could be others out there.”

  “Then let me look out the window.” She squirms under him. “Get off of me! I have to see if they are okay.”

  “Eden, that’s not a good idea.” He swallows, like the words are hard for him to say. “Some things are better left unseen. Trust me.”

  “But I have to see them… I have to see them….” Desperation stabs her and twists her insides until her heart is about to explode.

  He releases his hold of her and sighs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Prince Logan in Coma after Base Attack”

  – headline from The Summerland Tattler

  “Please pray for the Prince…”

  – Pop Star Eden Knight’s tweet to her fans on Twitter

  “I did not die, and yet I lost life’s breath.”

  – Dante Alighieri, Medieval Poet

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Something soft warms his left side.

  Eden?

  Too dark to see, but he feels her presence.

  “Talk to me, Logan… Talk to me… Talk to me…”

  She is tucked against him, laying on his left side. Hard not to miss her curves and that sweet smell of her hair.

  “Wake up. Wake up.” Her hand strokes his chest.

  Her touches soothe him, making breathing a little easier. Pain is everywhere, except where her body touches his.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  He tries to open his eyes and his mouth, but they are not cooperating. Nothing in his body is.

  “Uggh…” She sighs. “Men and their stupid three-day rule. Talk to me… wake up. It’s been three days. You have to pull through, Logan.” Her voice reaches down to his core. “Don’t leave me here without you.”

  He doesn’t understand the ache in her voice—he’s right here.

  He feels her repositioning, and she settles her head in the crook of his arm.

  “It was so terrible. I saw everything… I can’t get the images out of my head.” She snuggles closer to him. “Logan, I need you.”

  She’s hurting. She needs me.

  He wills his mind to push him out of this dark place.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “I love you, Logan. I love you… I love you…”

  He feels her press kisses on the side of his chest. Countless kisses, each one sending shots of electricity through his veins.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Eden loves me, needs me…

  He swallows, and it’s like a sweater got shoved down his throat. His tongue is thick, but at least he can now move it around his mouth. He fights to crack open his eyes, and his eyelids give a little. The bright light burns his eyes, yet he slowly opens them.

  Her blonde and pale pink hair is scattered across his chest. Her face is turned away from his, but he can see the sweep of her long eyelashes.

  She inhales a long breath. “I love you so much…”

  He clears his throat. “What’s not to love?” His voice is raspy and broken, but he tries to infuse it with humor.

  “Oh, Logan. You’re awake!” She’s nearly crying. “You’re awake!” She lifts her head, and her blue eyes shine. “I thought I’d lost you.” She laces her fingers with his and raises his hand up, kissing each of his knuckles. “I just couldn’t lose you, too.”

  She’s lost someone?

  Something slams into his brain harder than a T-90 tank.

  The knife. The woman. The blast.

  “Dante…,” he chokes out. “He didn’t make it…,” he says the words, confirming what had to be a reality. Of course Dante didn’t make it. He couldn’t have survived that blast. “He saved my life… He’s gone, isn’t he?” Logan’s throat constricts and then every muscle in his body seizes in sharp pain, radiating from his heart. Like that woman who’d murdered Dante also stabbed her knife straight into Logan’s chest and is now twisting it around and around like a screw, spiraling him to someplace hard and dark.

  Eden nods confirmation about her brother. Her eyes blink rapidly, like windshields for her tears.

  Beep—Beep—Beep…

  It’s hard to breathe. “No, no, no.” He jerks his head from side to side. This can’t be.

  I’m the one who should’ve died, not him. If we hadn’t gone on that mission… If that woman had seen me before Dante… If I’d negotiated better to exchange my life for his…

  Dante would still be alive.

  He should be alive.

  It’s all my fault.

  His body convulses. Eden pushes a red button on the bed. She slips off the bed and stands by his side, clinging to his hand, not letting go. “Stay with me,” she pleads. “Don’t leave me here without you…”

  Beep—Beep—Beeeep…

  “You have to move,” the nurse who runs into the room commands Eden. The nurse does something to his IV. White coats swarm his bed. People shout at each other and prod him.

  Beep—Beep—Beeeeeep….

  A long flat piercing sound penetrates him.

  Eden is gone. No more softness.

  Everything fades to black.

  “Eden?” Where is she? He can’t find her. But he’s so tired that it takes too much energy even to breathe. He should just give up.

  I have to find her. Keep breathing. Don’t give up.

  “Eden, come back to me… Eden… Eden…”

  A fog lifts. His eyes open. Sun shines in the window.

  Eden is here. I haven’t lost her…

  “I almost lost you. Oh, thank God.” Eden’s voice is strained and she clutches his hand.

  She calls for the nurse who comes in and demands Eden get off the bed and sit in the chair. The nurse summons the doctors to do their exams on him for what seems like hours, until finally, she shuts the blinds and leaves. Darkness falls across the room.

  Eden scoots the chair closer until it hits the metal rungs of the bed. She grabs his hand. “Do you remember me?”

  “Of course.” How could he not? She’s the reason why he fought to keep breathing.

  “Do you remember why you are here?”

  “I remember.” He turns his head away from her. “Dante….”

  “Yes, Dante.” She caresses his hand with her thumb.

  He remembers Dante. He remembers exactly how he died. He remembers the promise he made to Dante about Eden. He remembers the last thing Dante told him.

  Take care of Eden.

  Translation: Keep his hands off her, but take care of her at the same time.

  Logan pushed that promise to the breaking point when he had his hands on Eden that night after the lights went out on base. That can’t happen again. Dante’s memory deserves better from him.

  He withdraws his hand from hers and looks away. He feels her watching him. If she only knew how hard it is to pull away from her.

  She offers gently, “Would it help to talk about what happened?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Something scratches in his throat like an itchy sweater. “What’s done is done.”

  She reaches for his hand again. She watches him as he pulls it away. “Logan, talk to me. What’s wrong?” She grasps his hand and doesn’t let go.

  “This.” He holds up their interlocked hands.

  “What’s wrong with holding your hand?”

  “It makes me feel…” Loved. “Uneasy.”

  She drops her hand like he’s burned her. “What does that mean?”

  What does that mean?

  He wants to smile. That’s his Eden.

  But he keeps his poker face on. “If you’re looking for something more than friendship, then I can’t give it to you.”

  “I don’t understand,” she sputters. “The last time I saw you before”—she swallows hard—“you know”—she
swallows hard again—“you said you always come back for the things you love. And you meant me. You meant me. I know you did.”

  There’s a leather bag by her chair, and she pulls something out of it. His military shirt.

  “You didn’t mean this shirt.” She tosses it on the bedstand. “You meant me.”

  “If you’re asking me if I care about you? Yes.” That’s an understatement. He doesn’t just care about her. He loves her. But it would only make the situation harder if she knew. “I will always take care of you. If you ever need anything from me, just say the word, and I will be there for you as your friend.”

  “Friend—umm, no.” Her smile holds back something, like it has a secret. “No, you love me, and I know it. You called my name dozens of times while you were out.”

  I called out her name?

  “Calling out my name like that means you love me,” she persists.

  “I think that’s only in Hallmark movies,” he jokes, trying to cover-up how close she is to the truth.

  “I don’t know why you won’t admit your feelings for me, but I will figure it out eventually. No matter how long it takes. Love is patient. It says so in the Bible.”

  “The Bible also says that love is kind,” he counters. “Like the kindness of a friend.”

  “Yet doesn’t the Bible also say that ‘love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth’? And the truth is: You love me. You haven’t said it, but I know you do. And one day, you’ll tell me you love me.” Her conviction gives her the glow of an angel. “I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises, Eden. They are Hell to keep.”

  “Oh, I promise, Logan. Hell doesn’t scare me. I’ve already been there and back this past week. You love me, and one day, you will admit it.”

  “I will admit it now: I do love you—as a friend.”

  “Friend.” She squints her eyes at him. “If I never hear that word again, it’ll be too soon.”

  “I promise you will hear it again. Because that’s what you are. My friend. I promise I will keep saying it until you realize that’s all we are.” Maybe if he says it enough times, it will sink into his head, too.

  “I won’t hold you to that promise, Logan.” She folds her arms.