under her pillow six months ago. Maybe they didn’t want to kidnap her. Maybe they wanted to kill her as that note had threatened.
She braced one hand against the dashboard again and wrapped her other around the roll bar in the roof. She implored him, “Please, hurry.”
Not that she needed to urge him to speed; he was probably already traveling too fast on dangerously curved, narrow roads.
“I’ll protect you,” he assured her.
She believed he meant it, but she wasn’t necessarily convinced that he could. “I thought you were going to kill me when that vehicle was heading straight toward us...” And he hadn’t backed down.
That was what his men had said about him; that he had never retreated from a fight—in battle or in the barracks. When he and Aaron Timmer had taken over as royal bodyguards, they had brought in their own men as backup. And she had quizzed all those men about their blond superior.
“I had it under control,” he said. “You shouldn’t have been scared.”
She was afraid but not for herself; she was concerned for the child she carried.
And she was scared for the safety of the baby’s father, as well.
* * *
S HE SHOULD NOT have trusted him. Whit had had no right to make her promises or offer her assurances that he had no idea if he would be able to carry out.
But he hated that her usually honey-toned complexion had gone pale with fear, her voice trembling with it. Her earlier scream echoed yet inside his head.
He didn’t want her scared but he wanted her hurt even less. He had to protect her.
How? By taking her back to St. Pierre? He’d also promised that he wouldn’t do that. But did he have a choice?
His shoulder was throbbing. His gun was out of bullets. He needed backup—backup he could trust: Aaron or Charlotte or any of the ex-military security guards he’d brought on board at the palace.
What had those armed men wanted with her? Were they working for Prince Linus’s dad, or whoever the corrupt U.S. Marshal had been working for who had tried to find out where Josie was?
Were they intent on carrying out a kidnapping for ransom or a murder for hire?
Finally they neared the airport, and he slowed down to pull the Jeep off the road. Gabby reached across the console and grasped his arm. “Where are we going?”
Whit needed backup. But he didn’t want her at the mercy of her father’s royal commands. “We’ll figure it out when we get inside. We’re getting on whatever plane is taking off first.”
He didn’t give a damn where it was going. He just needed to get them the hell out of this place. After the earlier shooting, the airport should have been swarming with police. But he noticed no marked cars. No yellow caution tape...
Why hadn’t the police come? Had they been called? Was there even a police force or military presence in this primitive country?
Gabby had a question of her own. “What about the royal jet?”
“We’re not getting on it.”
But the moment they stepped from the Jeep, men surrounded them. They weren’t dressed in police or military uniforms but expensive suits. And like the men who’d stormed the compound, these guys, with jackets bulging over shoulder holsters, were armed.
And vaguely familiar. They had been royal bodyguards. But he and Aaron had relegated them to perimeter palace guards when they’d taken over as co-heads of security for the king.
“Hey, Bruno. Cosmo,” he awkwardly greeted the couple of guys whose names he hoped he correctly remembered. These men had been loyal to the king and to the former head of security, Zeke Rogers. Whit hadn’t trusted that they would be as loyal to him and Aaron. It had actually been his call to move them out of the palace. Did they know that? Did they hold a grudge because of it?
“You kept us waiting,” the one named Bruno remarked, his beady eyes narrowed even more with suspicion—especially as he studied the princess.
Did he suspect she was an imposter? Charlotte?
Or was he
She braced one hand against the dashboard again and wrapped her other around the roll bar in the roof. She implored him, “Please, hurry.”
Not that she needed to urge him to speed; he was probably already traveling too fast on dangerously curved, narrow roads.
“I’ll protect you,” he assured her.
She believed he meant it, but she wasn’t necessarily convinced that he could. “I thought you were going to kill me when that vehicle was heading straight toward us...” And he hadn’t backed down.
That was what his men had said about him; that he had never retreated from a fight—in battle or in the barracks. When he and Aaron Timmer had taken over as royal bodyguards, they had brought in their own men as backup. And she had quizzed all those men about their blond superior.
“I had it under control,” he said. “You shouldn’t have been scared.”
She was afraid but not for herself; she was concerned for the child she carried.
And she was scared for the safety of the baby’s father, as well.
* * *
S HE SHOULD NOT have trusted him. Whit had had no right to make her promises or offer her assurances that he had no idea if he would be able to carry out.
But he hated that her usually honey-toned complexion had gone pale with fear, her voice trembling with it. Her earlier scream echoed yet inside his head.
He didn’t want her scared but he wanted her hurt even less. He had to protect her.
How? By taking her back to St. Pierre? He’d also promised that he wouldn’t do that. But did he have a choice?
His shoulder was throbbing. His gun was out of bullets. He needed backup—backup he could trust: Aaron or Charlotte or any of the ex-military security guards he’d brought on board at the palace.
What had those armed men wanted with her? Were they working for Prince Linus’s dad, or whoever the corrupt U.S. Marshal had been working for who had tried to find out where Josie was?
Were they intent on carrying out a kidnapping for ransom or a murder for hire?
Finally they neared the airport, and he slowed down to pull the Jeep off the road. Gabby reached across the console and grasped his arm. “Where are we going?”
Whit needed backup. But he didn’t want her at the mercy of her father’s royal commands. “We’ll figure it out when we get inside. We’re getting on whatever plane is taking off first.”
He didn’t give a damn where it was going. He just needed to get them the hell out of this place. After the earlier shooting, the airport should have been swarming with police. But he noticed no marked cars. No yellow caution tape...
Why hadn’t the police come? Had they been called? Was there even a police force or military presence in this primitive country?
Gabby had a question of her own. “What about the royal jet?”
“We’re not getting on it.”
But the moment they stepped from the Jeep, men surrounded them. They weren’t dressed in police or military uniforms but expensive suits. And like the men who’d stormed the compound, these guys, with jackets bulging over shoulder holsters, were armed.
And vaguely familiar. They had been royal bodyguards. But he and Aaron had relegated them to perimeter palace guards when they’d taken over as co-heads of security for the king.
“Hey, Bruno. Cosmo,” he awkwardly greeted the couple of guys whose names he hoped he correctly remembered. These men had been loyal to the king and to the former head of security, Zeke Rogers. Whit hadn’t trusted that they would be as loyal to him and Aaron. It had actually been his call to move them out of the palace. Did they know that? Did they hold a grudge because of it?
“You kept us waiting,” the one named Bruno remarked, his beady eyes narrowed even more with suspicion—especially as he studied the princess.
Did he suspect she was an imposter? Charlotte?
Or was he
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