Saving the Princess

by Helena Newbury

  She bit her lip and nodded, then turned to stare out of the window. Aw, hell. My stomach twisted. She’d only been trying to help.

  I sucked in a breath and hardened myself. Getting close to her had just put her in more danger. From now on, I had to keep my distance. And if I wanted to keep her alive, I had to figure out which one of her guards was the traitor. I looked in the rear view mirror.

  Emerik was sitting with his arms primly crossed, his back ramrod straight even in sleep. He’d tried to stop me going into her room. To protect her from me? Or to protect the assassin? He’d claimed he hadn’t heard anything. Because he was in his sixties and his hearing wasn’t as sharp as mine? Or had he heard the same sounds I had and flat-out lied? Afterwards, he’d looked guilty as hell. Because he’d messed up? Or because he was in league with her attacker?

  Then there was Jakov. Everything pointed to him. He was new to the job. His parents were from a country that was still Lakovia’s enemy, even if the fighting had stopped. The same country the lead assassin seemed to come from. He could have been placed as a sleeper agent. Or someone could have turned him, or blackmailed him into helping them.

  I sighed. It could be either of them. The only way to know was to test them.

  Just outside Phoenix, I pulled into a gas station and roused everyone. “Use the restroom, grab a drink,” I told them. “We’re heading for Tucson.”

  Jakov just nodded politely but Emerik spoke up. “How long will that be?”

  “Two hours, maybe a little less.”

  He hurried off in the direction of the restrooms. A few moments later, he was back. Just long enough for him to pull out a secret cell phone and tell the assassins where we’re heading.

  I reached the off-ramp for Tucson before I announced, “Changed my mind. We’ll head on to Benson and stop there. Less people, less chance the Princess will be recognized. It’s only another hour.”

  Emerik’s face fell. “Are you sure, Mr. Buchanan? Why not just stick to the plan?”

  Yeah, I thought, furious, because your buddies are waiting for us in Tucson, aren’t they?

  “Mr. Buchanan knows this country better than us,” the Princess told him. Benson will be fine.”

  I saw Emerik look forlornly at the lights of Tucson as we sped past. And he got more and more agitated as we drove on. Soon he was checking his watch every few minutes and I could see sweat gleaming on his forehead. My chest tightened. I was sure, now. Yeah, you need to call and tell them where we’re really heading, don’t you?

  As we drove on, I could see him constantly watching Caroline and Jakov. When it looked like both of them were dozing, he reached into his pocket. I stared in amazement. He was so desperate, he was going to try to send a message right there, from the back seat. But then Jakov stirred and Emerik quickly pulled his hand back.

  We pulled into Benson just after dawn. I found a diner and we all trooped inside. I could feel my heart pounding. This is it.

  Right on cue, Emerik said, “I need to use the restroom.” And he was gone, almost running towards the door.

  I told the others I’d be back in a minute and marched towards the restroom, the anger building with each step. That son of a bitch. The Princess had trusted him for years, since she was a child. And he’d betrayed her in the worst way possible.

  I silently opened the restroom door. Four stalls. One occupied. I couldn’t hear him talking to anyone, so he must be texting. I took a step back, gathered myself and smashed my boot against the door. It flew open, crashing against the wall. And there sat Emerik, with—

  What?!

  With a syringe in his hand.

  For a second, we just stared at each other. Then I grabbed him by the throat, lifted him into the air and slammed him against the wall. “You’re a junkie?” I yelled. “That’s how they got to you? They got you hooked, then they blackmailed you?”

  “What?” he croaked. “Who?!”

  “The assassins! You ran in here to tell them where we were! Just like you called them to tell them we were going to Tucson!”

  The confusion in his eyes turned to shock, then anger. “You think I’d betray her?” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m diabetic!” He said it as if it was some huge confession. “No one knows.”

  I blinked. And replayed the last few hours in my head.

  Me rousing him in Phoenix. Him running off to the restroom to check his glucose levels in secret. Asking how long until we got to Tucson. Figuring that he could inject there, in two hours. Then being trapped for an extra hour in the car, getting pale and sweaty, unable to inject without revealing his secret….

  Shit! It all made sense. I released him and he dropped to the floor. “Why keep it a secret?” I demanded.

  “I’m past retirement age!” he snapped. “Any physical weakness and I’d be gone, and—” He looked down at his polished shoes for a second. “And protecting her is my life,” he said quietly.

  All the adrenaline drained out of me. It wasn’t him. I could hear the emotion in his voice and you can’t fake that kind of loyalty. I cursed and leaned back against the wall of the stall. Then I filled Emerik in on the leak, and how I’d narrowed it down to the two guards.

  “It’s Jakov,” he said immediately. “I never trusted him.”

  It made sense on paper, given Jakov’s heritage, but he didn’t feel like a traitor. Goddammit, I’m no good at this!

  I marched back to the table and asked the Princess for a moment alone. Then I told her everything that had happened, leaving out Emerik’s diabetes. She was furious that I’d tested him, but relieved that he was cleared. “So now what?” she asked.

  It had to be Jakov. But I couldn’t accuse him without evidence. And until I figured out how to prove it and neutralized him, the assassins were going to follow us wherever we went. Dammit!

  We went back to the table and I gave the waitress twenty bucks to let us make a call on her cell phone. FBI Director Gibson picked up on the second ring and I put him on speaker.

  “The guy who left his prints on the vase is Silvas Lukin,” Gibson told us. “I’m looking at his photo right now. Mean-looking son of a—”—he caught himself when he remembered who was listening—”Sorry, Your Highness. Anyway, he was an officer in the Garmanian army.”

  The Princess looked up at me, her eyes huge with fear. Emerik said nothing, but his shoulders had set hard with tension. Jakov was staring at the phone as if willing it to unsay what it had just said.

  “Was?” asked the Princess.

  “He was jailed for war crimes. He ran a special ops unit tasked with operations behind Lakovian lines. Very efficient: he was awarded a whole slew of medals. But his unit also got a reputation for cruelty. They were sent to assassinate a Lakovian strategist and they tortured his wife in front of him first. They were told to destroy a weapons plant and, instead of just letting the civilian staff escape, they rounded them up in the cafeteria and executed them. But the worst one was in a town called…”—he struggled with the pronunciation—”Thoreeny? Thorina?”

  “Thorine,” whispered the Princess.

  I’d never heard her sound so scared. Raw horror, something so bad it was buried in her psyche forever. Something she’d give anything to un-know. I reached under the table, grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.

  The others were having the same reaction. “That was him?” muttered Emerik. Caroline looked as if she was about to start crying.

  “What happened in Thorine?” I asked helplessly.

  “It was a town Garmania took over early in the war,” said Gibson. “Lakovia had finally liberated it. Lukin and his team sneaked in to...to get revenge, I guess. They went to the town’s main church and—” He broke off. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. “Oh. Oh Jesus.”

  The Princess was squeezing my hand like that was all that was holding back the tears. “It was where we’d taken all the children,” she whispered. “To keep them safe.”

  “Lukin’s team used gas,
’ said Gibson. “Three hundred and sixty-seven children. Dead. Lukin said at his trial that he didn’t want them growing up into more Lakovian parasites. They sent him to a military jail for life, but he escaped four months ago. And it’s not just him. The guy you shot, at the motel? One of Lukin’s old unit. My bet is that all the assassins are. Lukin’s put his old special ops team back together.”

  We still didn’t know if these people were operating on their own or with the backing of the Garmanian government. But at least we knew who we were up against: a special ops team, used to sneaking behind enemy lines, lead by an absolute psycho who detested Lakovians.

  And now their mission was to kill the Princess.

  I reached under the table with my other hand and clasped the Princess’s hand in both of mine. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  “What do we do?” asked the Princess. It was the most shaken I’d seen her.

  I sighed and tried to think. We couldn’t risk going to New York until we got rid of the traitor: we’d be sitting ducks on a plane.

  I needed somewhere I could protect her. Somewhere safe. Somewhere familiar.

  The answer came to me and I closed my eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. No! I couldn’t. I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t put him in danger.

  “What?” asked the Princess.

  I opened my eyes. I couldn’t let her be in danger, either. I made up my mind.

  “We’re going to Texas,” I told her. “We’re going home.”

  19

  Kristina

  I watched open-mouthed as the landscape changed. I’d been blown away by Arizona with its vivid orange rock and sweltering heat, so different to Lakovia. But Texas was different again. Texas was huge, rolling plains and a sky so big it took my breath away. We drove all day and I watched the odometer count up: miles and then tens of miles and then hundreds of miles and we were still in Texas. Lakovia is not a big country. My whole sense of scale was being redefined. Even Garrett probably seems small in this place.

  I stole a quick glance at him. No. Not even Texas could make him seem small. But he did fit here, more than he had even in California or Arizona. This was his home.

  My quick glance was turning into a stare. I knew that behind me, Emerik would be scowling at my obsession. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t tear my eyes from that jawline and those hard lips. My own lips tingled from the imagined feel of brushing his and the feeling spread, kisses tracing over my chin and down my neck. I felt his breath hot on my skin and his stubble scraping against me. Felt the softness of his hair as it twisted between my fingers and the hot shock of his tongue on my nipple—

  I was becoming addicted to him. It was more than just the physical. It was having seen how far he’d go to protect me. I’d been guarded my entire life, but no man had ever made me feel safe like this. And it was the way I felt every time I was close to him. Bring us within six feet and there was this...craving I felt down the whole of my body, a need to be pressed up against him, to have his arms around me.

  It made no sense. I was meant to be soft and graceful and refined and I’d always assumed that the man I’d fall for, when it happened, would be similar: I imagined him slender and quick, a man who wore an immaculate suit and knew how to dance. But my soul-deep yearning was for the exact opposite: for thick, sculpted forearms that crushed me to a hard chest, for a stubbled chin that rested against the top of my head, for thighs and ass that were all about brute power. I was soft but I wanted grit. I was pure, but I wanted—I flushed—to be pinned and spread by that muscled body.

  I pressed my thighs hard together looked away. But as soon as my eyes left him, I could feel his eyes on me. Gliding down over my cheek, my neck. Over the thin cotton vest top I’d stripped down to, caressing my bare shoulders, smoothing over my breasts as if with big, warm palms. I actually felt my nipples pucker and tighten. Being this close was torture.

  I forced myself to focus on the landscape. He was right: the sunsets here were amazing. The sinking sun turned the clouds from gold to amber to deep, boiling red, until it looked as if the sky was lit by glowing coals. Just then, I saw my first enormous herd of cattle in the distance, and got my first glimpse of cowboys on horses herding them, just tiny silhouettes against the glow of the sun. I drew in my breath and watched, transfixed. I tried to imagine their lives: riding under that massive sky, the quiet around them, the solitude. Compared to the bustle of the palace and the city—“They look so... free,” I breathed. Then I blushed. “That probably sounds really stupid.”

  I heard the jingle of his dog tags as he shook his head. That deep rumble, gentle and sincere. “Nope. Don’t sound stupid at all.”

  When we turned off the highway, I felt his mood start to change. Those powerful shoulders rose with tension and his whole body hunched over the steering wheel. What was it about this place that freaked him out? Wasn’t this his home?

  We turned into a long driveway, rounded a corner screened by trees and suddenly screeched to a stop. Everyone oofed against their seatbelts. The hood of the pickup was an inch from a closed gate.

  Garrett got out, opened the gate and climbed back in. “Sorry,” he muttered as we drove through. “That wasn’t there, last time I was here.”

  “How long has it been?” I asked.

  He was silent for a moment. “Two years.”

  A farmhouse came into view ahead, old but still beautiful, with walls the color of buttermilk and an eggshell-blue roof. A man was walking towards us across the grass, thick curls of white hair visible under his Stetson. At first, he wore a frown. Then, as he saw Garrett, his eyes widened.

  Garrett pulled up and switched off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. He climbed out and walked slowly towards the older man.

  I leaned forward, entranced. The man was just as tall as Garrett, his body loaded with muscle despite his age, and he still had that ramrod-straight, military posture. He had the same heavy jaw and hard cheekbones as his son, but his skin was weathered by a life outdoors and crinkled by smile lines. I’m getting a look at what Garrett will look like, when we grow old together. And it was good.

  Then I realized what I was thinking and crushed those thoughts down inside. Stupid! My only future was back in Lakovia. I’d be back there within days... or I wouldn’t live that long.

  As the two men drew closer, Garrett walked slower and slower, almost trailing the toes of his boots on the ground like a reluctant child. That fear had reached its peak: this is what he was scared of.

  “Hi Dad,” he grunted.

  20

  Garrett

  It got harder to move forward the closer we got. Two years of shame and guilt heaved me back. Just get in the pickup and go!

  But if I did that, she was dead.

  I lifted a boot that felt like it weighed a million pounds. Took a hesitant step towards him. But I couldn’t take another. There was so much on that craggy face: shock and sadness and hope and pity. I don’t want your pity.

  And then I didn’t need to walk any further because he took two big steps forward and crushed me in a hug. Being hugged by my dad is like being grappled by a bear, big and warm and strong and you ain’t getting out of it. I took a deep, shaky sigh, closed my eyes and relaxed into it. And for a moment, at least, everything was okay.

  When he finally decided to let me go, I looked towards the car. The Princess quickly jumped out, followed by everyone else. “This is Princess Kristina of Lakovia,” I told him. “And her maid and her guards. We need your help.”

  Dad looked me in the eye just once to check I wasn’t yanking his chain. I gave him a solemn nod.

  “Well, I’ll be,” muttered dad. And then he turned to the Princess and, despite being a Jarhead, ground-pounding hayseed himself, he whipped off his hat and did a very good approximation of a bow.

  Dad still ran the place with the same military discipline and attention to detail he had when I was a kid. Probably what had kept him going since mom died. He got the others settled
in the living room and then took me into the hallway so we could talk.

  “Always figured you’d show up one day with a girl,” he said. “Never figured it’d be a princess.”

  “It’s not like that.” I felt my neck go hot. “I’m just protecting her until I can get her home.” And I filled him in on everything: the plane, the highway, the motel, Silvas Lukin and his special ops team. “I’m way out of my depth here. This is some sort of conspiracy. I’m just a grunt.”

  “Grunts are the ones who win the war,” said Dad. “Always have been.” He took me over to the gun locker, unlocked it and swung the doors wide. “How much trouble you figure we’re in?”

  I gazed at the wide array of guns and then took out an assault rifle, just like the one I’d used in the marines.

  Dad stared at me. “That much, huh?” He took a pump-action shotgun for himself.

  “We’ve got another problem,” I said, and told him about the traitor in our group. “I think it’s Jakov. His folks are from Garmania.”

  Dad gave me a look. “I didn’t raise you to think bad of someone on account of where they’re from.”

  “I know. But it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Can you help me watch him?”

  “He can take tonight’s guard shift with me. You can go with the one with the stick up his ass... Emerik.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Ever since this started, I’d been trying to do this on my own. Having someone to share the burden with felt amazing. But my stomach still knotted when I thought about the danger I was putting him in. “We need to be careful. These guys are trained killers. They came all the way to America to kill her.”

  “Well….” Dad racked the slide on his shotgun. “They come to Texas, they’re going to find out they made a mistake.”

  I had to smile at that. I laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for bringing this to your door.”