Chapter 2

TWO

Natalia

The alarm goes off early every morning, but I’m always up before it buzzes. I’ve been home for a month but am still having a hard time sleeping. It’s not even five in the morning and I’m awake, so I get out of bed and pad into the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth, putting my hair in a ponytail. I pull on workout clothes, since I’m going to hit the gym, and grab my phone on the way out.

I take the stairs and head down to the professional quality gym that was built here at the palace where I live. I’m the first one here today, as usual, and I get on the treadmill. I start to run even though I haven’t eaten or warmed up. Work and exercise keep the memories, and the loneliness, at bay. It’s hard being back at the palace because everything reminds me of what happened.

The last few nights before Logan died.

The pool where we’d skinny dipped.

Mottled memories that leave me sad and confused.

I pick up speed and close my eyes. I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to forget him, but the daily reminders are killing me. Not just of him, but of the danger, the risk, and my own mortality. My job as a Royal Protector is inherently dangerous, and while I’d never been afraid before, I am now. It’s more of a subconscious thing, where I pretend everything is okay by the light of day and then it all comes crashing down at night when I close my eyes.

I never sleep more than a few hours, and when I do, it’s often riddled with nightmares. I wasn’t with Logan when he died, but I know the story about what happened, so it lurks in my subconscious, taunting me every time I close my eyes. My nightmares run the gamut from Logan’s actual death to the deaths of all the men I served with in Iraq, which only happens in my dreams.

I hadn’t known much about the marines before I’d joined that unit, and everything I read about Iraq had been unflattering, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter if I wanted to become a Royal Protector. And I did. It’s all I’ve wanted since King Erik took back our country from the dictator-style monarch who ruled us for the decade Erik was in exile.

I was in the Limaji military by then. It was the only way to make enough money to help my family eat, so I did what I had to do, but I hated every minute of it. Until King Erik took power.

Then everything changed.

I was assigned to duty at the palace as one of the Royal Guards, and from there I applied to be a Royal Protector. They are the elite bodyguards to the royal family, and I was honored to be invited to join them. I expected a rigorous training regimen but didn’t realize I’d have to be deployed. Not just to a war zone but embedded with an American military unit.

The marines are as intimidating as they are impressive, and I didn’t want to be in Iraq for six months. I never expected to make friends while I was there, or that I’d start falling for my commanding officer.

“Good morning.” Sandor’s voice makes me jump and my eyes pop open.

“Good morning.” I nod.

“How are you?” he asks, getting on the treadmill next to mine.

“I’m good. How are the babies?” I ask. He and his wife Lennox are having twin boys, and they’re due any time now.

“They’re almost cooked,” he said, giving me a wry smile. “Hopefully they’ll be here sooner than later because Lennox is done.”

“I’m sure she’s uncomfortable,” I say, slowing down a bit. It’s hard to talk when I’m running the way I am. I’m more tired than usual today, too, which doesn’t help.

“You okay?” Sandor asks. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Didn’t sleep well,” I admit, slowing to a walk.

“I want you to talk to someone,” he says after a moment.

“What?” I ask in confusion. “Who?”

He turns assessing blue eyes on me, squinting slightly. “A therapist. We brought someone in after Logan passed, but you left for the Middle East before you had a chance. I’d like you to see her.”

“I’m fine,” I protest, shaking my head.

“I don’t think you are.” He watches me closely. “Natalia, you’ve been home a month, and you’re not settling back into civilian life. Everyone has noticed, and whether it’s because of what happened to Logan or something you saw when you were deployed, I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. You’re not sleeping, and I think you’ve lost weight, so I want you to see Dr. Saluga.”

“I don’t need to see anyone,” I protest, shaking my head even as a bit of dizziness washes over me. “I’m…fine.”

“Natalia?” He’s looking at me funny.

I pause, holding on to the sides of the treadmill and dipping my head as I try to breathe through a touch of nausea.

“Nat, come on, sit down.” He’s standing next to me, but my vision is blurry.

Dammit, why am I so dizzy?

“Come on.” Before I can protest, Sandor scoops me up and carries me out of the gym.

“Sandor…” I try to push against him, but he’s six feet six inches of steel and I’m too weak at the moment to even fake it.

“Get me some water,” Sandor yells to someone.

He puts me down on a chair and I try to get up, but my legs betray me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” One of the other Royal Protectors, Jonas Germano, comes running into the room.

“She got dizzy,” Sandor tells him, taking the bottle of water he brought. “Get me a wet cloth and call the doctor.”

“No…” I try to protest but I don’t feel well. It’s weird because I normally have a stomach of steel.

Someone presses something cool against the back of my neck, and Sandor holds out the water bottle.

“Take a sip,” he commands quietly.

I have no choice but to comply.

“Hey, guys! What’s…” The head of palace security, Joe Westfield, comes in and stops talking when he spots me. “Hey, you okay?” He sits beside me, one of his warm hands on my back.

“Just a little dizzy,” I murmur.

It feels weird to have them all looking at me, but I can’t seem to push through whatever this is.

“…full physical,” I hear Sandor saying.

My head jerks up. “No, I’m okay. I didn’t eat before the gym and?—”

“When was the last time you had a physical?” Joe interrupts quietly.

I sigh. “I don’t know. We had to send my medical records to the U.S. military before I deployed, so it was last year sometime.” After I got shot while attempting to rescue Princess Elen. We got her out okay, but I wound up with a bullet in the gut. Luckily, it didn’t hit anything vital, and I healed relatively quickly. It made me hate doctors, though.

“Yeah, but that was more about your recovery after getting shot,” Sandor says. “I think you need a full physical. Blood work. Everything.”

I groan because Sandor is the boss. If he says I need it, I have to do it. Otherwise, he can take me off the schedule, and that’s the last thing I want. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll call and?—”

“I’m making you the appointment for today,” Sandor says. “I know you, and you’ll make it for next June or something.”

I scowl at him. “I just didn’t eat, that’s all.”

“Then let’s get some breakfast,” Joe says, getting up. “Come on, I was going to get something anyway.”

I breathe deeply and get to my feet. “Yes, all right.”

“I can assign you to diaper duty,” Sandor calls after us.

I give him the middle finger salute without turning around and am gratified to hear his laugh. Things are casual in situations like this, where we’re technically off duty.

“You have anything you might want to talk about?” Joe asks as we settle in the main security conference room where we hold our daily briefings. We order breakfast from the kitchen, and someone has already brought us coffee and pastries.

“Not really.” I pour a cup of coffee and am about to turn away when I glance back at the cream longingly. I learned to drink it black when I’d been deployed, but I really miss cream and it’s not like I can’t afford the calories. Sandor’s right that I’ve lost a few pounds, so I dump in more than I usually do because I can use a creamy distraction today. I know Joe well enough to sense he isn’t going to let me off the hook any easier than Sandor did.

“So what’s going on with you? You haven’t been yourself since you got back and, based on the report I got from your commanding officer, you didn’t see much in the way of action. It was a quiet deployment.”

“Deployment was fine,” I reply crisply.

“Then this is about Logan.”

I really don’t want to talk about Logan.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” he says gently. “It’s also okay to admit you’re afraid.”

“I was fine in Iraq!” I blurt out. “Why would I be afraid now?”

“Because Logan didn’t die in Iraq,” he replies, meeting my gaze. “He died here .”

“I don’t know how to stop seeing his face everywhere I go,” I whisper. “In the gym, the conference rooms…”

“I know.” He pats my hand. Joe is almost sixty, and though he’s in excellent shape and doesn’t look his age, he’s become a fatherly figure to most of us. “Believe me, I see him too. That’s why we had a therapist come in for a while. Most of us did group therapy, but a few of the crew saw Dr. Saluga privately as well.”

“Well, if you saw the therapist and are still seeing him everywhere, what’s the point?” I demand.

“Because it doesn’t hurt as much anymore and for me, at least, I’ve come to terms with his death. I’ll never completely get over it, but at least now I’ve dealt with most of the emotions and understand that it’s part of what we do. It’s part of this life, and though it doesn’t happen often, it happens. Just like in the military.”

“But it shouldn’t have happened. We train as hard as we do so it doesn’t happen!”

“We also train to get driver’s licenses, and yet we sometimes die in car accidents. Pilots spend years learning to fly, and sometimes planes crash. Sometimes shit just happens. It sucks ass but death is part of life. Logan knew what he was getting into when he took this job, and he had zero regrets.”

“How do you know?” I ask, swiping at unexpected tears.

“Because he didn’t die right away. Because he talked to Sandor in the car on the way to the hospital. He had instructions for his mom, what he wanted done with his things… And he thanked Sandor for being his friend and giving him the opportunity to be a Royal Protector.”

“And no message for me.” That hurts a little.

“I’m sorry, no.” He looks apologetic. “He was more focused on telling him it had been his honor to live—and die—for this family.”

“Well, that’s bullshit!” I cry, slamming my hand down on the table. “It wasn’t even his country.”

And then I burst into tears.

* * *

It’s been a long day. Between getting dizzy at the gym, my breakdown in front of Joe, going to the doctor for a physical, and then meeting with Dr. Saluga in the early evening, I’m drained. Not that it will help me sleep, but at least I’ll rest. I hope so anyway.

And for the first time in days, I think of Cooper.

We emailed and texted constantly the first couple of weeks I was back, and then he was supposed to be leaving for the U.S. And that was it. Which is weird. I spent almost six months with the man. We were together every single day, and even though we only hooked up a few hours before I left Iraq, I know Cooper about as well as I know anyone. There’s a reason we’re drawn to each other, and even though our lives are taking us in different directions, I thought we would remain friends, if nothing else.

For him to simply ghost me makes no sense.

It hurts so I make a conscious effort not to think about him. Or about that night in the storage locker. No one has ever taken me that way or been so rough while simultaneously so excruciatingly sensual. It’s unbearable to think I’ll never have sex like that again. Or talk to him again.

It’s not that my heart is broken, but we’re supposed to be friends. From the day I arrived in Baghdad, we had a connection. He showed me the ropes, introduced me to people, and helped me acclimate to something so different than what I was used to. I honestly thought he would treat me better than this.

He should be back in the U.S. by now. Unless something happened. He only had a few weeks to go in the deployment when I left, and while it’s unlikely, what if something happened to him?

I grab my phone and open the texting app.

I got close to the guys in the unit I’d been assigned to. They were a little distant at first but warmed up to me and I to them. One of the guys was a retired marine who was now with the NSA. I’m not exactly sure what his position is or why he’d been temporarily embedded with a marine unit again, but I text with him regularly now that he’s back in Washington, D.C. and I’m home.

NATALIA: Hey. Have you heard from Cooper? I’m kind of worried. He usually texts me every day and he’s been quiet for over a week.

To my surprise, my phone rings, and I answer in confusion. Louie had never called me before.

“Hello? Lou?”

“Hey, Natalia.” His voice is somber.

“What’s going on?” I ask automatically, my heart starting to beat harder. For him to call, he has to have bad news.

“So, about Cooper.”

“Is he okay?” I whisper, sinking onto the bed as a feeling of dread spreads through me.

“You sitting down? Because it’s not good.”

No, no, no…