Chapter 4

4

Hank

"Fuck."

It was simultaneous. The wide screen ran the headline of the call for Ramsay's arrest just as my phone vibrated to show Garrison calling.

I left the princess in the living room and headed to the mudroom, where I could still keep an eye on her and keep my conversation with Garrison private.

"You seeing the news?" Garrison asked.

"Yeah."

"You're clear to talk?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"Petros Targen is calling for the arrest of Ramsay, but Ramsay and the queen are already airborne."

"So, is this considered a kidnapping now?"

"Not unless they took off without her approval."

"You know more than you're letting on."

"My intel is sketchy, but who suggested faking the princess's death?"

I thought about it. "I think she did. Which makes sense, so the perpetrators will be complacent that they'd succeeded."

"Or remove the one barrier between the queen and her siblings."

"They are her brother and sister." I scrubbed my face. "Why are we interfering?"

"The bombing might be staged to implicate Ramsay."

"How sure are you Ramsay is the good guy?"

Garrison exhaled in irritation. "I've worked several ops with him. He's solid."

"Okay, but you're not always right, right? People change allegiances. He's worked for murderous African warlords, G. When was the last time you've worked with him?"

"That's classified."

Thala looked away from the TV and over her shoulder, right at me. The narrowing of her eyes jolted guilt right through me. Fuck.

"You're putting me in a difficult position. I'm not sure I like it."

"You won't be for long."

"What do you mean?" I wasn't even supposed to follow the princess. All Garrison wanted for me to do was assess the situation at the theater. But I couldn't help myself. I followed the princess and roped in Kelso and Gabby. Now, she was my responsibility…guilty or not.

"What's the difficult position? I told you there was a rumored coup and the princess and her brother are suspects."

"Look, if I hadn't shown up, her bodyguard would have shot her."

"Are you sure?"

I replayed the scene in my head. It was dark, and the only lights were from the SUV, the plane, and the hangar, but my night-vision goggles were clear.

"Or one of them is playing for the other team and she was trying to make it look real."

"Look, I'm sorry I got you into this," G sighed. "Besides, don't you have to leave for Northern California tomorrow?"

"I could delay my departure."

"You don't have to. I can take it from here," Garrison said. "I just crossed Vegas. I'll be there in an hour and a half. Two tops."

The princess turned around and was walking toward me.

"Gotta go."

"Just keep an eye on her until I get there. Find out what you can."

I tried to act as nonchalant as possible when ending the call. Lead settled in my gut. Garrison was not wrong. When I followed the princess's vehicle today, I was operating under the assumption that she was behind the queen's attack. Everything that followed after had changed my opinion. Not exactly a one-eighty, though. Maybe it was a good thing Garrison interrupted our bonding-over-mythology moment. To remind me that I could be in the presence of someone who had no qualms about having her sister killed to gain control of her country.

"You didn't have to end your call on my account," Thala said. "I was just going to ask you if I could search the kitchen for food."

We stared at each other.

Bullshit , my eyes communicated.

She knew I was talking about her. This woman was a trained operative of her country. She'd learned military tactics since before puberty. And as I was quickly finding out, to underestimate her would be a mistake. I'd worked with female operatives trained from birth before, but it was the first time I was in the presence of a princess and a general wrapped into one.

I had bodyguarded princesses who fit the fairy-tale mold. Thala Targen and her penchant for ripping out trackers from her arm with a knife were far from the fairy tale.

I walked past her. "Food is my domain." Once in the kitchen, I checked the freezer and pulled out a frozen lasagna pan. "This'll take forty-five minutes." I busied myself with getting the dish ready. I could feel her scrutinize every inch of movement. After my call with Garrison, we were back to square one—not trusting each other.

"I need a burner phone with data."

"Who you gonna call?" I looked up.

She gave a brief, derisive snort. Resting both palms on the kitchen counter, she leaned in. She probably didn't know it, but I could see the shadow of her tits. I'd been trying hard not to think about what was beneath that tank, but that damned top she was wearing revealed more than I could ignore. If she wasn't so damned prickly and cold, I'd say we had chemistry. And this forced proximity would be more enjoyable. Come to think of it, I was enjoying it. It was almost a challenge to make her like me.

"It's none of your business."

"You still think that?"

"Who was on the phone?"

"A contact."

"You know something about the bombing and you're not telling me."

I popped the pan in the oven. "We can go around in circles about this, Princess, but I assure you, you know more than I do."

Her brows drew together. "What the hell are you talking about? You think I wouldn't call my brother right now if I knew who planted that bomb to kill me?"

"What if it was your brother?"

"That's ridiculous. And neither would my sister. Despite our differences, we love each other. Our political beliefs would not be enough for us to want to kill one another. Outside forces are out to get the House of Targen."

"Ah, yes, but your brother is not part of the line of succession. What if he wants to change that?" I leaned a hip against the counter and crossed my arms. "Ramsay is an obstacle to his access to your sister."

Her eyes bored into me. "So why don't you tell me what your contact is saying about him?"

I looked her straight in the eye. "What makes you think we were talking about Ramsay?"

She stared right back. One second, two seconds. Then she spun around and grabbed the hoodie. "May I have my phone back?"

I stalked out of the kitchen and stopped inches from her. She was tall, but I was taller. Instinct told me I needed every advantage when dealing with her. "What are you doing?"

"Hank I-don't-know-your-last-name, I think I'll take my chances with Los Angeles."

"Are you nuts?"

"No." She held out a hand. "Phone?"

When I didn't make any move, she lowered her hand. "Fine. Keep it."

She pivoted on her sneakered feet and walked to the foyer.

"You're really stupid enough to head out there?"

She yanked open the door. "Let me put it this way…I'm stuck in a cage with a snake. I'd rather take my chances out there in the jungle."

The princess stepped through and shut the door. The snake comment was like a venomous dart. She was not wrong. But what if she was just playing me? I made no move to follow her. She couldn't leave. The red gate wouldn't open, and oh fuck…shit , she wouldn't.

I rushed through the door just in time to see her climb the gate and before I could yell and warn her, the electric fence sparked.

Her body seized and shuddered. She didn't make a sound and fell.

My heart kicked hard against my throat. I rushed forward just in time to catch her.

Thala hit me with the force of a hurtling sack of potatoes.

We hit the ground.

Son of a bitch.

Thala

My body hurt. My shoulders felt out of joint. Copper coated my tongue.

Someone was tapping my cheek, but lead weighed down my lids. It took a supreme effort to pry open my eyes.

A worried Hank loomed above me.

"You bastard," I croaked as the events came back to me. I was flat on the ground, in a position of weakness, and I hated it.

"I wasn't the one who thought it was a good idea to climb the gate."

"You didn't," I gritted, "warn me either." It wasn't his fault. I knew this, but my pride wanted to blame someone else for my idiocy.

He got up and moved away but returned shortly. I realized he had several diagnostic apparatuses attached to different parts of my body. "Heart rate and blood pressure are fine."

He touched my hands and turned them palm up. That was when I realized my hands felt like a thousand needles had stabbed them.

"Your skin is red. Not quite first-degree burns." He sprayed something on them. "At least you didn't pass out."

"This is a travesty," I hissed. "Help me up."

"Stay down."

I didn't have the energy to argue with him.

He was flipping through pages of a booklet.

"I thought you said you're a medic. Are you trying to read up on how to treat an electrical shock?"

He glanced at me with impatience. "This is the specs of the gate. I want to see how many amps it is."

I didn't answer, waiting for more explanation.

He gave me his attention again. "An electric current passing through the body could have long-term effects."

Anxiety knotted my insides. "What long-term effects?"

The look he gave me wasn't promising. I would even say it was the look a doctor gave a terminally ill patient. "What long-term effect?"

A corner of his mouth quirked up. He put down the pamphlet. "Gotcha. If you had more humor in you, I would have extended your agony. But…you're fine."

"That wasn't funny."

He gave a humming sound that it was indeed funny to him. If I had the energy to give him a piece of my mind, I would. At this point, my brain was mush.

"Come on." He gave me a hand up. I limped to the couch.

"What were you worried about?" The anxiety that seized my entire body wouldn't let go. It was as though I was still in the grips of the electrocution.

"Shit." He coughed a self-deprecating laugh. "It's nothing, okay? If it were a stronger voltage, it would have caused neurological symptoms, but you should be fine. The gate's fencing was commercial and not specialized." His mouth twitched. "But it would be a good idea to be under medical supervision for the next forty-eight hours."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Maybe a week."

"You're making that up."

"Maybe. Be my guest and google it." Then he made a funny face. "Oh, I'm sorry, you don't have access to the internet."

I'd never wanted to punch a man so much. This clown was making fun of me at my expense. Granted, I brought it on myself. "You're making me angry."

This time, it was he who narrowed his eyes. "I should be the one pissed off. I shouldn't be in LA babysitting a princess."

"Then why are you? Obviously, you've been talking to someone about me."

He dragged a hand down his face. "I'm not liking this situation either, Princess. But the fact remains, you're my responsibility."

I gave a wave of my hand. "I release you of all your responsibility of being my forced protector." I straightened my back and squared my shoulders. "I need a phone with data. Untraceable, of course. Cash or a pre-loaded credit card. Then I can be out of your hair."

He stared at me for a while. It looked like I shocked him. Good. The sooner he realized I had no plans on staying with him while he was making deals behind my back, the better. As for him needing to keep watch over me for my health, I was calling his bluff. Come to think of it, the jolt I received was similar to the ones I'd gotten in training. Back then, I didn't even think twice about it and I turned out fine.

The shock on his face soon morphed into angry lines. It was the first time I'd seen such an expression on him that had me second-guessing my words said in an imperious tone. I wasn't used to this position of equals. I was used to giving orders, and most of the time, my subordinates obeyed. But Hank was not my subordinate. As far as he was concerned, I was still a suspect.

He jumped up from the couch and towered over me. "I'm a nice guy," he enunciated through clenched teeth. "Princess, I may be pissed at you, and I could still be smiling. In fact, I might be at the point of slitting my enemy's throat and the last he sees is my shit-eating grin."

"Am I your enemy?"

"I don't know yet."

"Are you pissed at me?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Does that mean you're beyond pissed at me because you're not smiling?"

"Because smiling doesn't seem to be getting through to you. You think because I don't have a scowl on my face, I'm not serious?"

"I don't want to stay here. I feel like I'm about to get ambushed."

"You're not. This place is secure."

"I don't like it."

He crossed his arms. "I don't care if you don't like it. I would care if you attempted to climb the gate again."

"I won't."

But before I could form another plan, he beat me to it. "You're not stealing my Jeep either. Listen, we're wasting precious time. I could be sitting down, digging into information while eating lasagna. And instead, I have to tend to a high-maintenance princess who got herself electrocuted."

"I'm far from high maintenance." I glared at him.

"Debatable," he shot back. "You know what? Do me a favor. Just sit back and let me do my fucking job."

"And what is your fucking job?" I countered. His brow shot up. Yes, I could curse like my soldiers if I needed to. It was a balance I had to learn as a princess who led the royal guard. "Find evidence to prove I'm guilty?"

He got down on his haunches so we were eye to eye. "I don't know, Princess. Am I going to find anything?"

"Who do you work for? Tell me that at least."

He grinned widely. And that was probably what he called his shit-eating grin. Unlike his smile from earlier, this one was aggravating. It was like an insult without words. No way was I staying here. The whole setup was starting to alarm me.

"I want my phone," I told him. "I'm calling my brother."

"What? You're giving up?"

"I'd rather take my chances with someone I trust than you. Petros will know what to do. You won't tell me who you work for. But I have my suspicions."

He stood and crossed his arms again. Even rocked back on his heels. At this moment, everything about this man made my blood boil. "This I've got to hear," he drawled.

I was at a disadvantage staring up at him, so I pushed up from my seat. The world spun for a second and my stomach heaved, but I tamped it down.

Hank made no move to assist me.

Good. He was learning I was no damsel in distress, even if he'd called me a high-maintenance princess. "You work for the CIA. What's stopping you guys from taking me to a black site, never to be heard from again? I've already faked my death. It should be easy for you."

"That's ridiculous—"

"Is it? So, who were you talking to on the phone?"

No answer.

I tilted up my chin. "It's not ridiculous because the CIA is used to manipulating geopolitical situations. The stean ore basin, our involvement in the energy pipeline running through Eastern Europe, plus the recent interest in our country because of the movie, have put us on everyone's radar." I extended my arm. "My phone."

When he made no move to give in, my molars ground with my helplessness. The aftereffect of the electrocution dulled my senses and reflexes. I was not equipped to argue and spar, and it only heightened the precarious position I was in. I was at Hank's mercy. "I gave it to you for safekeeping. You have no right to deny me access."

"No right? I killed a man for you." He leaned in. "So, Princess, you owe me that. I need to know if I saved the right person and I'm not simply taking your word for it."

"Well, I don't want to stay here. I feel claustrophobic."

He sighed, and it was a sigh of extreme resignation. "You won't stay here for long."

"What do you mean?"