But to share what she’d seen wouldn’t risk just her life. That other man from the explosion might have only survived because no one knew for certain that he had. If he didn’t trust his royal friends, why should she?
Chapter Five
The red-headed woman moved within the small circle of the scope. He adjusted the lens, so he could see her up close. The wind ruffled her hair, tousling the strands, so that the deep brown shone through the auburn. It was her.
It had to be her….
Even though she was slim, her arms strained against the thin sleeves of her blouse as she lifted boxes into the back of the rusted SUV. She was running—just as he’d suspected she would.
Sebastian uttered a ragged sigh of frustration. While he was convinced she was the witness, he didn’t know how to convince her to trust him. His promises of money and protection had only seemed to make her more leery and fearful of him.
Not that she didn’t have reason to fear him. He could be the things she’d accused him of: ruthless, violent…
God, just looking through the scope brought back memories—horrible memories of hours spent watching and waiting for that perfect shot. The shot that terminated his target.
That sounded as impersonal and detached as he’d been, several hundred feet away from the life he’d taken. Was he taking hers now because he’d caused her to pack up and leave her home?
His military missions had had to be impersonal because he’d just been carrying out orders—orders that had served the greater good. Believing that was the only way he managed to sleep at night…when he actually managed to sleep.
The greater good was the very reason he was being so persistent now, why he couldn’t leave her alone no matter how much she wanted him to. More was at stake than just her life—and her safety. All of them were in danger, including the child he believed she had but had yet to catch sight of…
Despite his years of training to control his physical reactions, his heart leaped—kicking against his ribs—as a nightmarish thought occurred to him. Was the child all right? Or was someone using him or her to keep the witness from sharing what she’d seen?
The woman swung the back door of the Suburban closed, then opened the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel. Alone. That booster chair in the backseat remained empty—hauntingly so.
“Where is your child, Mama?” Sebastian murmured as he jumped into his own vehicle.
He had parked on a little ridge a safe distance from the ranch, out of her sight but so that she was within his. While he hadn’t carried his sniper rifle—or his Kate, as the long-range Remington was sometimes called—in years, he occasionally carried the scope from it with him. That was the one thing he had liked about his years in the military, watching the world from a distance.
Before he pulled shut his driver’s door, he noticed the starburst of sunlight refracting off another lens. He wasn’t the only one watching from a distance. While he’d been watching the woman, someone else had been watching him from some scrubby trees on a hill in the badlands. Probably the men from the van…
He lifted his scope to point it toward the badlands where he’d noticed the starburst, but the window of the open driver’s door exploded, shards of glass flying into the grass in which he’d parked. He reached for the door, but it shuddered as something hit again and embedded itself deep in the armrest inches from where his hand had been—where his heart might have been had he leaned farther out of the vehicle to use his scope.
Damn it! He was taking fire! His heart racing with adrenaline, he slammed the idling engine into Drive and tore down the ridge, putting it between him and the shooter. Taking away the shot…
Who the hell had been shooting at him? The men in the van? He was almost certain they’d had a gun. So had the woman, but she’d been back at the ranch, packing up her stuff. Could she have sent someone out to the badlands to fire at him and scare him off so she could get away?
No matter who’d shot at him, they would discover that Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh did not scare easily. He pressed harder on the accelerator so that the Hummer hurtled over the rough terrain, putting distance between him and the shooter and closing in on the distance between him and the woman. Dust swirled up from the dirt trail and through the broken driver’s window, filling the Hummer like smoke.
He needed to call the sheriff and Antoine, and tell them he’d taken fire. But they would want him to head to the sheriff’s office or the resort. And he was only going wherever the woman was going. She would not escape without telling him what she’d seen, without telling him where Amir was.
“Where the hell
are
you going?” he asked aloud, as she turned off the ranch drive and headed back toward town. Away from the badlands. If she’d sent the shooter there, she wasn’t going to meet him.
Was she going to town to meet with the sheriff? Sebastian doubted that. It was more likely that she was off to meet with whoever might have her child. Maybe she’d sent her baby away to keep him safe and now she was off to join him.
And the baby’s father?
Something twisted in his gut. It couldn’t be jealousy. He had already determined that she was not his type, at least not the type of woman a prince was supposed to marry. She was beautiful. And vulnerable. And stubborn. And strong. But he wasn’t attracted to her. He only felt responsible for her safety or current lack thereof.
So he followed her, at a safe distance that would make it hard for her to spot him but not to escape him. He had to be close. Close enough to come to her aid should she need it. And of course she did; she was just too stubborn to admit it and too scared to trust him.
“Where am I going?” a deep voice emanated from that damn speaker. “Why would you ask me such a question? I am here, at the resort. You are the one off on your own despite the fact that nearly anyone could have been bribed or bought to kill us.”
He could not tell Antoine about the shooting. Not yet.
“Not everyone can be bought or bribed,” Sebastian corrected his brother. He had tried both to get the woman to disclose what she’d seen. Perhaps he should have used intimidation.
“You have failed to bring the witness around?” Antoine surmised.
Just then the rusted SUV turned through the gates of the drive to Wind River Ranch and Resort. Was she coming to him?
“Perhaps I have not failed…” he murmured, more to himself than to his brother.
Relief flooded him that she was going to do the right thing. Because she had chosen to seek him out here at the resort, she had not sent a shooter after him, either. Apparently she had not realized that he’d been up on that ridge. So someone else had been following him….
He shook his head, clearing those concerns from his mind. He would deal with that later. Now, with her here, he would finally learn what had happened to Amir.
But before he could turn into the resort behind her, another vehicle cut him off—careening into the drive ahead of him. A white van, like so many of the others filling the front parking lot of the resort—except for the crumpled driver’s side.
It was definitely the one he had forced off the road. Whoever they were—and he was really starting to doubt it was reporters—they had found her again. And perhaps they had never lost him…
H
ER PULSE RACED
as Jessica drove past the media vans parked at the grand entrance of the stone-and-cedar lodge. While security and sheriff’s deputies kept the reporters, camera crews and picketing protestors out of the resort, they hovered around the entrance like vultures waiting for an injured animal to die.
For too long, Jessica had felt like that injured animal. But she was not going to helplessly wait for death.
She had to run…no matter how much leaving the ranch hurt her. Ducking her head low as she passed the vans and people, Jessica steered around the expansive building. With its impressive length and odd peaks and glittering windows, the lodge resembled a crown, so it was no mystery why the royals had chosen the luxurious resort for their summit meeting in the United States.
She maneuvered down the driveway that dropped off steeply at the side of the lodge to the back lot where the employees parked. There were no empty spots near the walkout basement side of the resort. There were barely any empty spots at all. The lot was full.
All the staff had been called in to work extra hours due to the royals extended stay. Despite the calluses and cracked skin on her hands, she could have used the extra hours because she could have definitely used the extra money.
But she hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near this media frenzy—and those cameras that broadcast nationally. She didn’t want to be here now. Nerves danced in her stomach and sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, making her blouse stick to the vinyl seat. Even her palms grew damp, so much so that they slipped on the steering wheel as she pulled into a spot she made on the grass near the rear of the lot.
“I don’t want to do this,” she murmured, dread filling her at the thought of getting out of the SUV. It looked as though all the reporters waited at the front, but who was to say that one or two hadn’t decided to stake out the back and interview the employees?
They had done that before, but Jessica had been careful to duck her head low so that they couldn’t film her face. And she’d refused to answer any of their questions.
Maybe she should have asked Helen to retrieve her check instead of having her sit with Samantha. But what would it matter now if someone got a shot of her? By the time the footage aired, she and Samantha would be out of Wind River County. And they would never be able to return for fear that he might be here, waiting for them.
Urgency compelled her to throw open the door. The rusted hinges creaked in protest of the sudden movement, though. Or maybe in warning.
But she needed the money for gas and a place to stay until she could find another job. She doubted she would be lucky enough to find a friend as good as Helen again.
She blinked against the sting of tears at the thought of all she had to leave behind. Then she hurried toward the building, nearly jogging across the lot.
Tires squealed against asphalt, startling her into almost tripping and falling against the bumper of the white van that stopped in front of her. The driver’s side was crumpled, but as she rounded the front, the sliding door on the passenger’s side opened. And a burly man leaned out, his long arms reaching for her.
Earlier she’d wanted to draw no attention to her arrival at the resort. But now she opened her mouth and screamed, hoping someone would hear her and help her before it was too late.
S
EBASTIAN’S BLOOD
chilled as a scream pierced the warm air blowing through his driver’s window. After the van had cut him off pulling into the resort, he’d lost it for a moment in the front lot when a car had backed up and blocked his pursuit. Just those few seconds of waiting for the car to get out of his way had given the men enough time to get to her.
He slammed the Hummer into Park behind the van but jumped out before it came to a complete stop. Its front bumper came to rest against the rear one of the already battered van.
More screams and grunts and curses rang out as two people struggled on the passenger’s side of the van. One was a man, clad in suit pants and a button-down, striped shirt that wrinkled as his heavy muscles shifted beneath it. His dark hair was slicked back, probably with sweat as beads of it glistened on his furrowed forehead. He looked vaguely familiar, as if Sebastian had recently seen him.
Perhaps at the press conference…
But he obviously wasn’t a reporter. He had to be one of the men hired to kill Sebastian and the other royals as well as the witness. Had he been the one who’d just fired at him?
The man struggled with the red-haired woman. She kicked, her legs swinging as the brute wrapped his arms around her, dragging her through the open sliding door into the cargo area of the van. But she put up a desperate fight, wriggling and clawing at him.
“Let me go!” she yelled.
“Let her go!” Sebastian shouted, echoing her order as he jumped into the fray.
The man did take one arm off her—to reach for his gun. Sebastian had his tucked into the small of his back. But could he risk the shot with the woman being used almost as a human shield, clutched tight in front of the man?
He had not fired a gun in years—too many years for him to trust his marksmanship was what it had once been. Legendary.
She reached out as far as she could with her arms pinned at her sides. Her hands extended toward Sebastian in supplication. Her dark eyes were wide, her gaze imploring him to provide the help he had promised her.
Sebastian could not fail to protect her. He would never be able to live with himself. At least when his father had failed his mother, the former bodyguard to the princess hadn’t had to live with that failure.
But then Sebastian might not have to live with his failure, either. For the driver shouted something in what sounded like Russian. And then the man with the gun squeezed the trigger.
Chapter Six
Gunshots rang in Jessica’s ears, momentarily deafening her. She flinched, but she couldn’t close her eyes. Fear and horror gripped her too tightly, almost paralyzing her. Not only was she afraid for herself but also for the man who was trying to keep his word to her.
That he would protect her.
But he might die trying. The bullet had missed him, as if the man holding her hadn’t really been trying to hit him. Just to scare him off. Apparently Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh didn’t scare easily because he leaped forward, reaching for the man’s gun. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him as he grappled for it.
Why hadn’t he tried to disarm her when she’d threatened him? He didn’t seem at all concerned about this gun going off.
But it did, deafening Jessica again. She screamed, but she couldn’t even hear her own voice—just a roaring in her ears. She focused on the prince, studying his handsome face for blood—or pain. Had he been hit?
If so, it wasn’t enough to slow him down. He reached for the man again, but before he could close his hands around the guy’s wrist, the direction of the gun shifted.
“Back away!” the man yelled at the prince.
Cold metal pressed against Jessica’s temple, chilling her skin. But she suppressed a shiver, afraid to move for fear that the gun would go off.
If it did, what would happen to her daughter? Would Helen keep her and raise her as her own? Or would the little girl’s father track her down and claim custody? She couldn’t die and leave her baby at the mercy of that monster.
“Back away,” she implored her would-be protector, her gaze locked with his.
She had a feeling that this was a man who never backed away from any fight. But he lifted his hands and stepped back from the van.
“Don’t hurt her,” he ordered, but his words were more threat than command.
As if automatically obeying, the man shifted the gun away from her temple. Then he yelled at his partner behind the wheel, “Drive, damn it.”
The van lurched back, into the vehicle the prince had been driving. Metal crunched against metal as tires and brakes burned. The impact threw her abductor off balance, and he fell to his side.
But the prince didn’t move any farther away. As unafraid as he’d been of the gun, he was also unafraid of getting caught in a crash. The van lurched forward now, striking a parked car and rocking it back into the one behind it.
Her abductor rolled toward the open door. If she didn’t escape now, she might not have another chance. Shaking off the paralysis of fear, she struggled against the arm around her waist that locked her arms against her sides. She managed to wriggle out of his grasp and through the open sliding door of the still-moving vehicle.
She dropped onto her knees on the asphalt. The prince reached for her, to help her up. But the other man was there, his free hand tangling in her hair as he pointed the gun at the prince again. She kicked out and wriggled, but he dragged her back toward the van.
The earlier shots must have drawn attention from the resort because men were running across the parking lot. “Drive!” the man yelled again as he shoved her through the open door.
The prince grabbed the heavyset man, holding him back from jumping inside the van. Would the driver take off without him? The vehicle slammed into reverse, rubber squealing against the asphalt as it connected with the Hummer again with enough force to push it back a little.
As if he was afraid the driver would leave without him, the man attacked, slamming his gun against the prince’s jaw. The prince staggered back but didn’t fall. She rolled across the scratchy carpet and toward the open door. But the man was there, shoving her back as he jumped inside with her. He didn’t come alone—the prince followed him, leaping into the van, too.
The man turned with his gun, directing it at Sebastian’s handsome face. The van lurched as it squeezed between the vehicles it had been crashing into, knocking the heavyset man off balance.
Sebastian reached past him and locked his hand around Jessica’s wrist. As the driver accelerated, the prince leaned back, falling out the door and tugging Jessica out with him. He landed with his back against the pavement, and Jessica cradled in his arms. Her breath rushed out of her lungs as the impact jarred her from head to toe.
She stared down into his face. His blue eyes were open and staring up into hers. But yet there was something about that almost-vacant stare that chilled her more than when the cold gun barrel had pressed against her temple.
“Are you all right?” Jessica asked as alarm gripped her—even as the van continued out of the parking lot.
Had his head struck the asphalt? Or had he been shot? As they’d fallen, she’d heard more gunfire—her ears rang with it as her heart raced with fear.
For his safety now.
“S
EBASTIAN
,
WHAT THE HELL
happened? Are you all right?”
His brother’s deep voice roused him enough to break the connection with the beautiful woman he held as tightly as her would-be abductor had. Her soft body clasped against his, her breasts pushing into his chest, her hips thrust against his, her legs between his thighs.
He groaned, his body tensing in reaction to her closeness.
Tucking a gun into his suit jacket, Antoine asked, “Can you move?”
He could but didn’t want to—not when it meant that she might move, too. She did anyway, shifting against him to glance toward his brother. Shock widened her eyes.
Ignoring his twin, Sebastian asked her, “Are you all right?”
Her gaze moved from his face to his brother’s and back. “I—I think so.”
“Your eyes are not deceiving you,” Sebastian assured her. “This is my identical twin, Prince Antoine Cavanaugh.” As occasionally happened, they had coincidentally dressed in similar dark suits and blue shirts.
“I believe we can forgo introductions right now,” Antoine snapped. “Tell me what the hell happened.”
Sebastian shook his head again. Maybe he had struck it, because he couldn’t think clearly, not with the woman in his arms. Her hair felt like silk brushing across his jaw and her summer fresh scent filled his lungs as he drew in a deep breath. She smelled like flowers and rain-fresh breezes. He blew out a breath, trying to clear his head.
“Send a security team after that van,” he said. He should have ordered that immediately, but his first concern had been
her.
Making certain she was all right. But he hadn’t even been able to do that after landing so hard on the pavement.
“Already done,” Antoine informed him, reaching down to offer him a hand up. “Brenner took off after it.”
Sebastian didn’t want to move yet. And not just because he wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t broken any bones. After almost losing her to the men in the van, he wanted to hang on to her awhile longer.
“As quickly as they were speeding away, I doubt they will be apprehended,” Antoine warned him.
“Probably not,” Sebastian agreed. He should have shot the man. He’d had the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, where the barrel now scraped against his spine. But he hadn’t wanted to risk her safety by putting her in the middle of flying bullets. But bullets had flown. Why hadn’t the men tried harder to hit him?
The shots back on the ridge had been closer even though the distance had been greater. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember if he’d seen a long-range rifle in the back of the van. But he hadn’t….
“Can you move?” Antoine asked after Sebastian had ignored his proffered hand.
“Not yet.”
“You are hurt,” she spoke again, quickly shifting her slight weight off his body until she knelt beside him. Her small but strong hands skimmed down his sides, as if checking for injuries.
Too macho to admit the impact had knocked the wind out of him, he shook his head and sat up. “I’m fine.”
Antoine grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. “You’re lucky you were not killed, brother.”
His twin had his attention now, with the gruffness in his voice that couldn’t quite hide his emotion. Sebastian could not imagine what Antoine had thought when he’d heard the shots and then found him lying on the ground. Actually, regrettably, he could imagine because they shared some gruesome memories.
“I am fine,” he assured his brother again. He would tell him about the earlier shots—later.
Antoine stared at him for a moment before nodding in acceptance of his claim.
Sebastian turned to the woman, reaching for her arms to help her up. She flinched but perhaps in pain and not just fear this time. “Are you really all right?” he asked her.
“Perhaps I should have not forestalled the introductions,” Antoine murmured. “Who is she, brother? The witness?”
It was about damn time Sebastian found out for certain. So he swung her up in his arms and headed toward the resort, shoving past the reporters and security personnel that the gunfire had drawn to the scene. Instead of fighting him, the woman turned her face and buried it against his neck, her breath warming his skin and his blood.
F
OR THE SECOND TIME
in years, a man held Jessica in his arms. But his grasp was neither painful nor so tight that she probably wouldn’t have been able to struggle free. But yet he was still threatening, even after he had risked his life for hers.
Or had he only risked his life to learn what she’d seen that night. Either way, he had saved her from the men and the throng of reporters gathered outside the resort.
“You will not lie to me again,” he warned her as he kicked a door closed behind them, locking her inside one of the luxurious suites in the resort. Alone with him. He loosened his grasp, dropping the arm from beneath her legs, so that she slid down his muscular body.
Her skin heated and tingled at the sensation. She lifted her palms to his chest—and pushed—so that there was finally some space between them. But still she couldn’t breathe, her lungs full and aching as his gaze held her as tightly as his arms had.
“You will tell me the truth about that night,” he demanded, as he continued to stare at her. Even with his golden brown hair tousled and his dark suit wrinkled and torn, he looked regal. Imperious.
And to him, she—in her worn and ragged clothing—must look like a vagrant. In a short while, she and Samantha would be homeless. Unless she told him what he wanted to know and accepted his reward. She needed the money, but she couldn’t take it. But could she tell him what he wanted to know? Didn’t she owe him after he’d saved her?
“What did you see?” Prince Sebastian asked.
Stalling for time, she replied, “You keep assuming that I’m the witness.”
“I’m not the only one making such an assumption,” he pointed out. “Those men who tried to abduct you also believe you are the witness.”
After what she’d heard in the van, she doubted those men worked for whoever was trying to kill the royals. No, she suspected that they worked for someone far more dangerous—at least to her.
D
MITRI HELD THE PHONE
away from his ear as Russian curses burst from it. When they wound down, he lifted it to his face again.
“I am sorry,” he apologized. “The prince is tougher than you figured.”
“Or maybe you are just much weaker than I figured,” the boss replied.
Pride and most of his muscles stinging, Dmitri almost uttered a curse of his own, but he bit it back. It didn’t matter how far away the boss was, there were consequences to getting him mad. Painful consequences. “Prince Sebastian keeps getting in the way.”
“This will be the last time he gets in the way.”
“You want us to kill him?” Dmitri asked, eagerness easing the sting of his pride. He had wanted to in the parking lot; he had actually fired at him a couple of times. But the prince’s reflexes were quick. And no matter what the boss believed, the royal was strong.
“You proceed with the next part of the plan,” the boss ordered. “I will personally take care of Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh.”
“You are here?” Dmitri asked, glancing outside the van. The driver had parked in the middle of nowhere—far from the road where sirens wailed as police cars approached the resort.
“I will be soon. And when I get there, Prince Sebastian will no longer be in the way. He will be dead.”
Dmitri clicked off the phone and shuddered. The boss did not make idle threats. Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh was already as good as dead.