9. Garrett

9

GARRETT

I wrenched on the door release and then shouldered the door open. Lifting the Princess off me was easy—she was just a little thing. I eased her up while I slid my body from under hers.

I emerged into a nightmare. The highway was blocked by crashing cars, both in front of us and behind. The other two FBI cars were wrecks, peppered with bullet holes. One was on fire. I didn’t have to check them to know no one inside survived. Thick black smoke was being whipped up by the wind and rolling across the highway. It kept blocking my view of the guys advancing on us. Each time it cleared, they were closer.

By now, Emerik and Jakov were out and were helping Director Gibson. I reached for the Princess, but she insisted on pushing Caroline out first. Then she emerged and the sight of her: so perfect, so beautiful amongst all the smoke and fire and twisted metal, made my chest close up. She just looked so painfully vulnerable: I wanted to pull her to me and spirit her the hell away from all this.

And I wanted to kill the guys who were putting her at risk. I got everyone to hunker down behind the car. Then I ran around to the driver’s seat. The driver was dead, but I found a handgun in a holster under his jacket.

When I ran back to the others, Director Gibson was taking out his cell phone. He’d gone very pale and was bleeding heavily from a long gash down one side of his face. He nodded at the gun. “Have you even fired one of those things, since you left the marines?”

The answer was no. But my hands seemed to have a life of their own, checking the magazine, chambering the first round, making sure the safety was off. The training was taking over. I can do this. I can do this.

Or at least, I could. Before the desert. I looked at the Princess. Please. For her sake: don’t have a flashback.

“Call for backup,” I grunted to Gibson.

“Doing it,” he said. And started issuing orders over the phone. Emerik and Jakov had guns out, too: I was right, they’d only been forced to disarm for the flight. With four of us, we might just be able to hold them off until help arrived. With a foreign VIP and an FBI director under fire, half the agents in California must be racing towards us.

At that second, the first bullets ricocheted off the car. I instinctively grabbed hold of the Princess and shielded her body with mine. She gave a yelp of fear and pulled Caroline tight to her, making sure she was protected, too. The guards stood and returned fire, one at either end of the car. Those two might not get on, but together they were formidable .

Gibson ended his call. “Three minutes,” he told me breathlessly.

I stood and returned fire while the guards reloaded. More bullets picked away at the car. The gunmen were close enough now to make out faces and I spotted the pale guy with the slicked-back hair giving orders. I watched as they spread out, trying to encircle us. I was sure, now: these guys had military training.

We weren’t going to last three minutes.

“We have to get out of here,” I muttered. But I couldn’t see anywhere to run.

I heard Emerik curse. Jakov was running towards the assassins, firing, trying to push them back. Goddammit! The kid was brave but he was going to get himself killed.

Even as I thought it, the gunmen returned fire and he had to hunker down behind a crashed minivan. Now he was trapped, out in the open. And the gunmen would be on him any second. Idiot!

I growled and charged out into the open, firing wildly. I grabbed Jakov by the collar and hauled him along the ground and back to safety. “ Stay together!” I snapped. He nodded, chastened.

There was a scream from Caroline. I looked round and froze.

I’d thought there were only four gunmen, but I’d missed the fifth. While I’d been rescuing Jakov, he’d silently circled around and sneaked in from the side. Now he’d grabbed the Princess, one arm around her waist and the other holding a gun to her head.

I stopped firing. I felt as if someone had his hands around my throat and was choking me. I knew I couldn’t point my gun at him before he killed her. He’d got the drop on all of us.

I saw his finger tighten on the trigger. My heart leapt up into my mouth: I’ve never felt fear like it. “Don’t,” I said desperately, as if that would stop him.

And then the Princess did something incredibly quick with her hand, like a cobra striking. She jabbed him under the arm and he let out a cry of pain and dropped his gun. Immediately, the Princess pulled away from him and ducked.

Emerik, Jakov, Gibson and I all raised our guns and fired. The guy staggered back and crumpled to the ground.

We all hunkered against the car again as the gunmen started shooting. They’d crept even closer while we’d been distracted. But all I could do was stare in disbelief at the Princess. I’d thought she was vulnerable, defenseless. What was that?!

She stared back at me, defiant. And just a tiny bit proud. I shook my head: I’d get her to explain later. Right now, we had to get out of there before we were overrun. I looked around again but this time, I thought to look down. The highway rose to form an overpass just ahead. Below us was a grassy embankment that sloped down to a construction site. “ There!” I yelled, pointing.

But then I looked at the Princess and a chill went through me. No way could she run in that huge dress.

She caught my look and looked down at herself. “Wait,” she said quickly.

I stood again and fired at the gunmen. They were dangerously close, now. Behind me, I could hear the sound of fabric being frantically ripped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emerik glance down and his eyes widen. Then he quickly focused on the gunmen, his face red. What the hell?

“Okay.” The Princess’s voice. I ducked back behind the car and—

The skirt was gone, thousands of dollars of silk and netting reduced to a long snake of cloth that now lay in the dirt. Below the waist, the Princess was now just in—

I had a glimpse of long, shapely thighs and elegantly curving hips. White panties—

I tore my gaze away. A second later, one white high-heeled pump was tossed onto the asphalt. Then another. “Ready,” she said.

I nodded, still keeping my eyes averted. “Emerik first, then you, then Caroline, Gibson, Jakov. I’ll go last. Go!”

Emerik wasn’t the fastest and he was panting a little by the time he reached the barrier, but he vaulted it and slid down the embankment. The Princess was next, bare legs flashing as she sprinted to safety. By the time it was my turn, the assassins were almost on top of me. I ran for the barrier and had to dive headfirst as a hail of bullets chewed up the asphalt. Then I was bouncing and rolling down the grassy slope, to come to rest at the Princess’s feet.

I lay there for a second, panting. I couldn’t help but look: those amazing, long legs were a foot from my face. Gorgeously shaped, athletic but feminine. Goddamn , I wanted to run my hands all over them. And then at the top, those simple white panties, pure and innocent—

Emerik grabbed hold of my hand and jerked me to my feet, his eyes burning with rage. I felt my neck go hot. What is he, her dad? The old guy seemed to be one part bodyguard, one part butler and one part moral guardian.

I pushed it out of my mind and looked around. The construction site seemed to be deserted. Five huge concrete pipes, each one easily six feet wide, were poking out of the side of the embankment, leading off into darkness. In there! The gunmen wouldn’t know which pipe we’d gone into. And long before they had time to search them all, backup would be there.

I picked a pipe at random and got everyone inside. We passed a pile of sacks of concrete, left inside the mouth of the pipe to keep it out of the rain. I got everybody past the pipe’s first turn, so they were out of sight, and hunkered down in the shadows at the corner to keep watch.

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 looked 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.”