Chapter 6

6

Thala

My mouth dropped open. Outraged. His maddening grin widened. But I could feel the clerk at the counter watching us. Not that I hadn't made my own coffee before, but well, I rarely did. I was waited on at the castle. There was nothing domesticated about me, and there was nothing I hated more than being put on the spot in a situation I wasn't prepared for, especially if it had a high chance of making me look like an idiot.

I considered the row of cups in their dispenser and pulled at one.

"The large one."

I gritted my teeth. There was the one labeled L. I set that cup aside and yanked two from the right receptacle.

After I filled the cups with coffee, I fixed the right-size lids on them. I had half a mind to fasten one of them loosely, but I hadn't been petty since I was twelve. I put gum in Amadea's hair because she got to go to a tournament while I repeated my etiquette classes with a tutor.

After the gum incident, I was sent to a finishing school in Switzerland for a month. That was pure torture in itself.

But such were the requirements for a princess of Venusstea. To be a warrior and mother of the people. Something I admitted grudgingly that Amadea had done so gracefully for three years since our mother died.

I held on to the coffee since Hank had his hands full with grocery bags.

After he deposited them in the back of the Jeep, I handed him his brew. Then I let myself into the vehicle. When he slid in beside me, he held out my burrito. "Here's your cheese. I'll make sure you get a bite of—"

"Don't you dare—" I cut him off.

"I was going to say…mine. Why are you so defensive?" He started the Jeep and pulled out of our spot.

"If you have to ask, then you're an asshole."

He breathed a chuckle. "You have no idea what asshole behavior is."

"Ordering me to get coffee for you isn't? Is this some way of putting a princess in her place?"

The Jeep rolled onto the highway. Traffic got exponentially busier with the sun rising higher.

"Maybe. I'm not sure. You're not getting princess treatment from me, Princess . If we're going to survive this road trip and not murder each other, you have to get off whatever pedestal your subjects have you on because here, on this highway, in this Jeep, we're equals. So seeing that my hands were full of groceries for the both of us, it's only logical that I asked you to get the coffee. Admittedly, I might have asked it with more courtesy and I apologize for that—"

"No, no, Hank." I was suddenly embarrassed with my outburst. "I get it. I'm just trying to make adjustments to this…this…I don't know what to call this."

"A detour in your U.S. adventures?"

"Or misadventures," I grumbled.

"Hey, we could still turn this thing around." He handed me another burrito. "No. I'm not giving you mine. Can you unwrap it for me, please?"

I smiled briefly. Hank was brash, but he could be charming. He was right, though. He wasn't one of my subjects. And I know from his skills, he could have unwrapped this himself while driving, but traffic on the I-5 had backed up and become more hazardous, judging from the stop and go and sudden brakes and impatient vehicles, especially expensive sports cars cutting in front of Hank's Jeep.

"Asshole," he muttered.

At least he was a safe driver.

"Should you be eating and driving?" I asked.

"I can manage that." He glanced briefly at me before doing the same in the rearview mirror. He accepted his breakfast back and started eating.

I unwrapped mine and did the same.

"Wow, this is so good." I consumed half my egg-and-cheese burrito before I stopped and looked over at Hank. "I'm glad you convinced me."

"They use real shit." Hank took several bites from his while gliding smoothly into the right lane. "Know that I'm not usually this slow a driver, but since I have precious cargo with me, I don't want to risk reckless drivers getting us into a wreck."

"I thought you weren't giving me special treatment."

"I'm not, but you're my responsibility."

"Until you decide I'm the good or the bad guy."

He didn't comment on that, and instead he asked, "Wanna trade?"

"I don't think we're at the point of trading spit yet."

He laughed at this. "Fair enough, although I must say you're missing out."

After he wolfed down his breakfast, he asked if I wanted my cold burger from early this morning. I said I was full, so he asked me to unwrap it and he demolished that one, too.

If there was one thing I was sure about Hank Bristow, he could eat. I would even say food was his priority. Many times, in parliament, when we were in the thick of negotiations, no one ever thought about food.

Hank hadn't given me a reply about whether we were on the same side yet. I wasn't going to any remote place with him, but I was watching the road signs until I saw a familiar one. Was I ready to embark on an adventure on my own?

We exchanged small talk about California life. Nothing personal. I think he became wary when I asked about whether we were friends or foes. By my estimate, we'd been on the road for five hours. I hated not having my phone with me where I could look things up on the web.

When I saw the signs for San Francisco, I decided enough was enough.

"I want my phone and I want to make a stop in San Francisco."

He burst out laughing. But it wasn't a humorous one, it was full of mockery.

"You don't just make a stop in San Francisco. It takes almost an hour to even get into the city."

"You better think fast where to make a stop because I'm not going anywhere remote with you without letting anyone know."

"It's not like you're on a blind date. You're a suspect for the assassination attempt on your sister."

"And I was nearly blown up in a plane."

"You could be a loose end and your accomplice wants to get rid of you."

"Ramsay was the one who put me on the plane."

"And right now he has your sister's plane diverted to Canada."

"I want to call my brother."

"Tired of playing dead?"

"I don't even know what's happening because you wouldn't give me access to the web."

He exhaled a sigh and checked his rearview mirror. "We can make a stop outside of Pleasanton, but I strongly advise against contacting your brother."

"Let me guess. He's a suspect too."

"Everyone is a suspect, including your sister."

"How far?"

"Thirty minutes. Why? Are you hungry again?"

"No. But I could use a break."

He glanced at his side mirror. His jaw hardened and his mood change had me tensing.

"What's wrong?"

"I think we're being followed." He cast me a brief glance. "Are you sure you don't have another tracker on you?"

"Well, maybe you should've scanned me. Aren't you supposed to be a super CIA agent and have all those gizmos to look for them?"

"I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Besides…I don't mind them coming after us. I'm just concerned you'll end up dead-dead for sure."

"I can handle myself."

He gave me another look, then checked the mirror again. "All right. We definitely have a tail. But if you have a tracker, I'm not bringing trouble to my family."

"You're bringing me to meet your family?"

"Don't get too excited. I'm having second thoughts."

His humor was mixed with sarcasm. I turned in my seat to check our tail. "Which one? The GMC?"

Hank didn't answer. He was looking at the mirror on my side. "Fuck."

"What."

"Get down."

Without another word, he grabbed the back of my neck and shoved me forward. Glass shattered. I gritted my teeth. My head seemed to have relocated to my lap.

A tremendous jolt shook the Jeep and the sound of steel scraping over steel, and the sickening crunch of metal squeaked and grated all over.

Hank shouted, "Brace."

The screeching of tires followed his warning.

That didn't sound too good.

Then the vehicle seemed to go airborne, and my heart flew with it, waiting in agony for the descent.

All I could hear was a blistering string of curses from Hank. And then the worst landing I'd ever experienced happened—a jarring bump and then another. I felt my brain exit my skull. I expected the Jeep to cartwheel any second now, but then it skidded to a halt.

"Are you all right?"

Hank's yell sounded like it came from a tunnel.

I wasn't sure. I think I was in shock. I was staring straight ahead at a pond with ducks. They flapped their wings in agitation. People surrounding the pond turned toward us, their eyes and mouths wide open.

"Princess!"

"Thala," I said, almost in a deep slo-mo voice. "I think I'm in shock."

"Well, get unshocked," Hank growled. "Because someone wants to kill you."

He shoved a handgun at me. "Do you know how to use this?"

"Yes," I replied automatically. And as if the sight of the weapon kicked in my training, like a static-filled TV suddenly tuned to the right channel, I could hear and see everything sharply. My heartbeat pounded inside my rib cage so hard, it competed with my ability to breathe.

Hank shoved out of the Jeep and grabbed what appeared to be a submachine gun.

"Listen to me. This is real. Not an exhibition," he said.

Several shots pinged the back of the Jeep. He cursed. "Get behind the wheelbase. Don't engage unless it's a last resort. Your gun is no match for them at this distance."

"Okay."

"Over my dead body will they get you."

"Then let's not get to that point." I ratcheted the slide to check the chamber of the gun, showing I was in the fight.

Hank nodded briefly. "Come on. Front of the vehicle. I'll cover, you go."

He sprayed the embankment with a barrage of bullets.

And it was loud. Like we were in a war zone. I exited the Jeep and ducked behind the wheelbase like he instructed.

"You and your piddly shit rifles," Hank shouted. "How do you like that, huh?"

I waved spectators off. Most of them were already moving away. Some were filming. "Go! Not safe."

Gunfire erupted again and the remaining bystanders realized the danger was real and scrambled to the opposite side of the pond.

Hank crouched beside me. He was on the phone. The rat-tat-tat of bullets continued to plink the back of the SUV. More glass shattered. "Yeah, we're under attack…I don't know." He rattled off a location. "Send highway patrol. We can't keep this on the down-low. Lots of witnesses. Gotta go."

His last word barely left his mouth when the shooting died down.

"Have they left?"

He gave a slight shake of his head and looked around the vehicle. As soon as he did, a bullet bounced off the hood. Another hit the tire beside me.

"No. We just have to wait them out. Unless they show their ugly mug, we're not opening fire. We might hit the friendlies."

He meant the cops or first responders.

Hank's phone rang again. He put it on speaker. "Yeah."

"Patrol's right on top of you. I'm patching you through."

"Is this Hank Bristow?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"This is highway patrol. Officer Taggart speaking. I spot a GMC and a blue Mustang on the side of the road."

"That's them."

"Okay. We have a chopper en route, and more backup. Any info on what we're up against?"

"Well, unless you've got a long gun on you, I wouldn't approach without backup."

"What I thought."

"We're hanging tight, Officer. Don't take unnecessary chances…"

"Wait…"

There was a crackle and then. "They're leaving and…Fuck."

Rapid gunshots ensued, and cursing came over the phone.

Then there was dead quiet.

"Are you all right?" Hank asked the officers.

"We're fine. They bugged out. We have partial license."

"That probably won't help. Are we clear?" Hank asked.

"Stay where you are. We heard gunshots coming from you, too. We're doing this by the book, understood?"

"Yeah."

"You're not supposed to have that type of firepower, right?" I asked.

Hank stared at his submachine gun.

"Nope."