Footsteps approached and then the gunmen appeared outside, checking behind dumpsters and underneath the parked construction equipment. They glanced at the pipes but, like I’d hoped, they weren’t sure if we’d gone in there. And if we had, they didn’t know which pipe. We’re going to be okay.
Then I saw one of them walk right up to the pipes. It was the guy from the plane, the one with eerily pale skin. He pulled out a cell phone and started talking.
And then he did something that sent ice water right down my spine: he glanced up at the sky.
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled. I knew that look. I’d done the exact same thing myself, hundreds of times, in war zones.
It’s the look you do when you call for aerial surveillance. You lose track of the bad guys so you call back to base and wait for someone watching via satellite to rewind the footage and tell you where they went. You can’t see the satellite, of course. But you still glance up, while you wait. I do it. All soldiers do it.
But if these guys were doing it, it could only mean one thing.
The guy listened, nodded and put his phone away. Then he called to his buddies and started moving forward. Right towards our pipe.
I ducked around the corner and almost collided with the Princess, who’d crept up beside me while I’d been watching. “They’re coming!” I whispered. She paled. “Go! Get as far down the pipe as you can!” I glanced down the pipe and wanted to weep. After the corner, it ran straight. Just smooth concrete walls with no hiding places. The assassins would cut them down as soon as they turned the corner. There just wasn’t enough time.
Not unless someone held them back.
I looked at the Princess. My eyes met hers in the darkness and—
It took hold of me, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. I need to protect this woman. I wasn’t going to let her die here, scared and alone in the dark. And it wasn’t just about how beautiful she was, how much I wanted to grab her waist and pull her to me and kiss those sweet lips. There was a whole other level to it: that feeling in my chest, like the wind filling a sail—
I suddenly realized where I’d felt it before: at the recruitment office. And at my passing out parade. And when we’d been called in after one of our embassies had been bombed and I’d seen the Stars and Stripes lying on the ground, shredded and burning.
I hadn’t recognized it before because it had been so long since I’d felt it. Loyalty. Duty. That feeling that there’s something much more important than you. Something worth giving your life for. I wasn’t just entranced by this woman. I was loyal to her.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d reached out and grabbed her hand. I squeezed it: so delicate, so slender in my big, clumsy paw. I let go, but just as I moved back, she grabbed my hand and crouched there staring up into my eyes, her mouth open as if there was something she needed to say.
“Go, Your Highness” I said hoarsely. And then I ran around the corner towards the assassins.
The four of them were just approaching the entrance, still in the light, and they didn’t see me in the shadows for a second. I fired twice and got one of them in the chest: he went down but kept moving: dammit, body armor. These guys were well-equipped, too.
They started to fire into the pipe: they could barely see me in the darkness, but they didn’t have to, they could just spray and sooner or later, they’d hit me. I ducked behind the pile of concrete sacks, panting, then rose and fired a few more times. My jaw was set, grim determination powering me on. I didn’t have to hold out forever, I just had to slow them down until backup arrived.
A burst of fire hit the sacks of concrete and powder spurted into the air. The gray cloud enveloped me, filling my nose and mouth. I tried to breathe and sucked it straight down into my lungs.
And I felt the flashback coming straight for me with the speed and force of a runaway truck. I braced myself, tried to grapple with it, tried to slow the impact and hold it back—
I was back in the desert, the sand scouring my face and working its way under my eyelids. The sandstorm had turned everything into a featureless gray-brown void. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t see.
In the back of my mind, I knew that I must be still in the pipe, probably standing there vulnerable. But that all seemed so distant. The desert, that was real. I have to find him!
Pain exploded in my leg. I cried out and fell to one knee, then went down on my ass, my big body making a hell of a thump as it hit. I heard my gun clatter across the concrete floor.
“No!” A woman’s voice, echoing off hard walls. The Princess.
I was back in the pipe, blinking through the concrete dust. I’d taken a bullet in the leg while the flashback had me frozen. Now I was sprawled on the floor of the pipe with no gun and the gunmen were coming in. I looked around. Dammit, the Princess had run back to the corner and was standing there watching me, panting with fear. Emerik had hold of her arm and was trying to drag her away but she was resisting with everything she had.
They were going to kill her.
I groped for my gun but I couldn’t find it. The gunmen advanced, guns raised. Another few feet and they’d see me through the dust. I gave a growl of fury and clambered to my feet, wincing in pain. I’d run at them. Even if all I did was soak up some bullets, if it kept her alive another few seconds—
A wail outside, rising and falling. A siren. And then another and another, and the pounding clatter of helicopter blades. Backup had arrived.
The assassins took one more step towards me...and then turned and vanished into the dust.
Seconds later, armed FBI agents filled the pipe. I put my hands on my head so that no one would shoot me and let Director Gibson take over. I was too busy choking on the concrete dust to answer questions anyway. And inside, I was beating myself up for that flashback. They’d all nearly died because I was weak, because I was too much of a screw up. Then it got worse: I heard that the assassins had gotten away. My heart sank.
The FBI took us outside and I was finally able to breathe again. The Princess was sitting on the tailgate of an FBI truck, a blanket wrapped around her. They got me to sit down next to her and a medic dressed the wound on my leg. The bullet had only nicked the flesh: it hurt like a son of a bitch but I could still walk.
“The area’s secure,” Director Gibson told the Princess. He was holding a gauze pad against the gash on his cheek. “We’ll put together a fresh convoy to take you to the airport. But the important thing is, you’re safe now.”
Her glossy hair was dull with concrete dust, her legs bare under the blanket where she’d ripped her dress away. There were two big spots of blood on the front of the bodice where someone, maybe Gibson, had bled on her. She must have been terrified but she didn’t cry, didn’t complain, just nodded her thanks.
It killed me to do it. But if I wanted to protect her, she had to know.
“She isn’t safe,” I said in a low voice.
“What?” asked Gibson, frowning. “This whole area’s crawling with—”
“How did they know about the convoy?” I growled. “How did they know exactly where to find us on the highway, and which car she was in?”
Gibson’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
“These guys aren’t crazies,” I spat. “They’re trained soldiers. And someone’s feeding them information. You had satellite surveillance of this whole damn thing, right?”
“Of course,” said Gibson. “Standard protocol.”
“Well someone’s leaking it to the assassins. I saw them call someone up and ask them which pipe we’d gone into.”
Gibson’s eyes flashed with fury. “If there’s a leak, it’s not in my office!” He pointed towards the highway. “I’ve got eight agents dead!”
I glared at him. But I believed him. A leak at the FBI would explain a lot, but not all of it. It wouldn’t explain how the assassins smuggled two guys onto a plane. And Gibson seemed like a good guy.
Wherever the leak was, though, the result was the same. I lo
oked at the Princess. “As long as the leak’s there, she ain’t safe. You put her in a convoy, they’ll hit it. Take her to the airport, they’ll put a bomb on the plane. They’ve been one step ahead of you from the start.”
“Well, what would you suggest?!” Gibson snapped.
I glared back at him. Thing was, I didn’t know what to suggest. I was way out of my comfort zone. International conspiracies? Traitors, assassinations? I’d never felt more like a big, dumb, ground-pounding grunt.
But then I looked at the Princess again. She’d turned and was looking up at me, terrified. Those big green eyes were begging me to take it back, to tell her she was going to be okay. I nearly did. I could feel the muscles of my neck pulling, ready to shake my head. Ah, forget it. I’m sorry. I’m probably wrong. But—
But I wasn’t wrong. I could feel it in my gut, like I had in Gibson’s office. Something was rolling forward here, something huge and powerful that wanted to crush the Princess like a bug. The system. Politicians, governments, forces you can’t fight. Just like when I’d been kicked out of the Marines. And it was bellowing for me to get out of the way. These people had already killed eight FBI agents and put a plane full of passengers at risk: they’d kill me without a second thought. But it was her they wanted. All I had to do was shake my head, let the FBI take her, and I could head back to my life.
And tomorrow, I’d hear about her death on CNN.
I felt my jaw set. The hell with that. I looked at her, nostrils flaring with fury, and felt the sudden swell of loyalty and the pull towards her hit at the same time. Even like this, even filthy and dressed in ragged clothes, she was so beautiful it hurt. The need to protect her welled up inside me, unstoppable, and then it tightened down to a tiny, diamond-hard nugget of Texan stubbornness.
I didn’t care if the system wanted her dead.
I didn’t care that I was just one guy.
I wasn’t going to let it happen. Not to her.
The words were out before I knew what I was going to say. “I’ll do it. I’ll protect her.”
10
Kristina
I’d been sinking fast into the cold, dark place that haunts me in my nightmares. If the FBI can’t keep me safe, who can?! Suddenly, America, which had seemed so exciting just last night, was a terrifying, alien place. I just wanted to be back in the palace, sinking into a steaming bath scented with oils, with guards outside the door and more down the hall and thick stone walls and a perimeter and my parents and—
And then he said he’d protect me.
And I drew in a shuddering breath.
“What?!” said Director Gibson. “Are you nuts? I can’t let her go off with you! What would you even do with her?”
“Get her off the grid,” said Garrett in that deep, Texan rumble. “She’s gotta disappear. Only way she’ll be safe. Then I’ll figure out a way to get her home.”
My breath caught and a big swell of emotion made my eyes prickle with heat. He’d already done so much for me. Now he wanted to put himself at risk to save me. But...could I trust him? I’d known him less than a day.
I looked at Jakov and Emerik. They’d protected me so well, back in Lakovia. Emerik was like an uncle. His obsession with etiquette and tradition could be frustrating but I knew he was only trying to look after me. And Jakov was like a hot-headed, protective brother, scarcely older than me and ready to body slam anyone who threatened me into the dirt.
But they were outnumbered. And this strange country wasn’t their home. It was Garrett’s.
I wavered...right up until I looked into Garrett’s eyes. I gasped when I saw the fire there, the protective fury. It wasn’t like Jakov’s, quick and hot, impulsive. It wasn’t like Emerik’s, a steady flame held in a gilded lantern for decades. Garrett’s was like looking into a volcano: a never-ending supply of scalding determination. He would protect me. No matter what.
I nodded. “Mr. Buchanan, I accept your offer.”
Director Gibson’s eyes bulged. “What?! I can’t allow this! You’re coming back to our headquarters.”
I could see him nodding at other FBI agents to come over. He seemed like a good man. He was only trying to do his job. But Garrett was right: someone on the inside was helping the assassins. And the FBI was part of that system.
Agents surrounded me. A hand landed on my shoulder and I was coaxed to stand. They were going to lead me away, away from Garrett—
No they weren’t.
I was terrified but my father had taught me to never let people see you’re scared. I drew myself up to my full height and did my best attempt at what I call my mother’s queen voice. “I have done nothing wrong,” I said. “And you have no right to detain me.”
The hand disappeared from my shoulder. All the agents took a step back and looked at Director Gibson, their faces pale. Garrett took a step forward and put his body between me and them.
“How the hell are you going to make her disappear?” asked Gibson. “She’s a princess! She walks into a hotel, it’ll be all over the newspapers!”
“We’ll be discreet,” rumbled Garrett. That voice. It seemed to vibrate through my whole body, leaving me thrumming and tight-breathed. Oh God, what have I done? I was dangerously attracted to this man. Every time he gazed at me in that raw, heated way, I felt my body’s answering call, shockingly strong. I wanted to run and press myself to that big, hulking body and tilt my head back for his kiss. I wanted to feel those big hands on my back, on my ass, sliding up under my breasts and parting my thighs. I wanted to writhe against that strong chest and those hard abs, clawing at him as he tore my clothes apart.
Now I was putting myself in his care: we’d be together constantly. How the hell was I going to control myself?
Emerik elbowed his way through the agents. “Your Highness! I must protest! You’re entrusting our safety to—”—he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper—”to a common soldier!” Then he glanced at Garrett. “No offense.”
“None taken,” growled Garrett. “Never been ashamed of being a soldier.”
I glared at Emerik. He was treating Garrett the same way I’d seen the FBI agents treat him when we’d first arrived: like a beast. People were polite with Garrett, but only because they were scared of him. They talked down to him. With the FBI agents, it was because he wore threadbare clothes instead of a suit. With Emerik it was because he wasn’t the right social class. And all of them treated him as if he was stupid. Well, I wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. “That common soldier saved all of our lives!” I told Emerik tightly. I looked at Garrett. “What’s the plan?”
“We’ll need one of your cars,” Garrett told Director Gibson. “And I need a gun.”
Gibson looked incredulous. “I can’t give a civilian an FBI firearm! Do you know what—”
“If you want her to live, give me a gun!” snapped Garrett.
Gibson glared at him...and then motioned for the nearest agent to hand over his weapon. Garrett took the holster, too, which he had to adjust to fit his big frame.
“Now what?” I asked.
Garrett met my eyes and then his gaze rolled down my body, head to toe. I was a complete mess...but the look in his eyes didn’t say that at all. He looked at me as if I was the best thing he’d ever seen and that sent a warm glow right through me.
“Now,” he said, “you disappear.”
Garrett got behind the wheel of one of the FBI SUVs and drove us back up to the highway. Director Gibson got agents to collect my luggage and load it into the back. I grabbed a moment alone in the back seat to change. After rummaging through my suitcases, though, I realized I had a problem. I needed to be inconspicuous, but how do you do “inconspicuous” when everything you own has been picked out by the palace stylist to look good for the crowds? Half of the clothes were fiercely traditional, like the dress I’d worn that morning, and the other half were one-off designer pieces. I eventually pulled on the white business suit I’d worn at the UN, but I knew it still wasn’t right. I still
looked like me. It would do for now, but I had to do better. I’d put enough people in danger already.
Emerik, Jakov and Caroline got back in and we sped off. Garrett’s first stop was a strip mall. He got me to draw as much cash from an ATM as my card would allow. “After this, no credit cards,” he told us over his shoulder as we climbed back in. “And everyone throw their phones away.”
“Our phones?!” squeaked Caroline. She’s addicted to her phone, usually messaging some guy. But she along with the rest of us dutifully dropped our phones into a trash can as Garrett drove past it.
“You really think they’re tracking us like that?” I asked, my voice shaking a little.
“Your Highness, I don’t know what the hell is going on,” said Garrett. “But I’m not taking any chances, not with...you.” On the last word, his eyes met mine in the rear view mirror and locked there, and I felt that pull, stronger than ever. Then he looked away as if embarrassed, and I nodded and looked at my lap, face flushed.
And next to me, Caroline nudged me in the ribs and gave me a tell me everything look.
I gave her an innocent shake of my head, as if nothing was going on.
We had to ditch the SUV, Garrett said, because the FBI could track it. So our next stop was a used car dealership called Honest Al’s. Most of the cars had rust patches and the dealer...well, maybe I didn’t understand American humor but he didn’t look honest.
I gazed up at the sky. It was just past noon and it was ferociously hot. Emerik was scowling but I loved it. The sunshine in Lakovia always felt somehow distant. Here in America, the sun touched your exposed skin, its warmth soaking into your body. It made me want to strip everything off and bathe naked in it. I flushed at the thought and tried to look innocent.
Garrett looked around for a few minutes and eventually settled on a car. There was a lot of negotiating, some handshakes and then a few extra bills changed hands. “Alright,” said Garrett when it was done. “He’s going to ‘forget’ to put the paperwork through for a few days.”
Saving the Princess Page 6
