His Undercover Princess (Tempt Me) (13 page)

She stuck to the shadows but came near enough to the balcony overlooking the garden to get a look at the children’s choir singing the folk song that was the unofficial Elskov anthem. It was a love song about star-crossed lovers who were separated by distance and a bitter family feud but who managed to sneak off and make a home on a barren island. Their love turned the island into a paradise, and that paradise become Elskov. Children sang it in school. Adults raised their glasses in pubs as they sang it together. Often at weddings, newlyweds walked out of the church to an instrumental version.

Pursing her lips together, she closed her eyes and for a moment allowed herself to imagine walking out of the national cathedral with Dom as a violinist played the song. It was a pretty dream that ripped apart her insides. It couldn’t have happened, and now it never would. Swallowing past the emotion, she opened her eyes and began to turn to—

An arm locked around her waist, jerking her back into the shadows, and a hand clamped tight over her mouth.

“You shouldn’t be out wandering around, Your Highness,” Walther whispered against her ear, evil clinging to his every word. “I see we’re going to have to get you through the day using the power of chemistry. I have just the right drug to make you the perfect, pliant princess for the Kronig coronation ceremony.” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled. “Of course, with any luck it will have worn off by the time I have you tonight. I like it when women try to fight back.”

Good, because that’s exactly what he was about to get. Recalling Dom’s advice in the training room, she stomped down as hard as she could on Walther’s instep. His hold on her loosened just enough that she could throw her head back and smash the back of her skull against his nose. The sound of bone cracking bounced across the high ceiling, and something wet sprayed the back of her neck.

“Bitch,” Walther said, his voice quiet and weirdly muffled because of his broken nose but no less dangerous for it. “You’ll pay for that.”

His hand went from her mouth to her throat, his fingers curling around her windpipe and squeezing hard enough to make black spots appear in her vision. She clawed at his iron hold but couldn’t break loose. He kept his feet out of striking distance and kept her tucked close against him so she couldn’t get in another head butt or other defensive hit. She tried to scream for help, but only a strangled whisper came out as her limbs grew heavy and her ears rang.

“Don’t worry, little princess, you won’t die…yet.” He dragged her back toward an open door that led to the king’s former chambers. “But you are about to learn an important lesson.”

The Hulk twins appeared in her peripheral vision.

Oh, shit.

One replaced Walther, picking her up with a beefy arm while ensuring her silence with a hand over her mouth. Elle kicked. She punched. She gave it everything she had, but it wasn’t enough.

Chapter Fifteen

Dom adjusted the comm unit disguised as an iPod earbud in his ear and approached the castle’s servants’ entrance. With his conservati
ve suit and plastic ID badge identifying him as part of the sound crew, he was able to slip into the flow of additional help brought in for the Kronig. Their agent on guard duty waved him inside without checking Dom’s black duffel, which was filled with guns and ammo.

Sticking with the crowd, he made his way through the twists and turns toward the gardens where the Kronig would be starting in an hour.

“Sir,” the major’s voice crackled in his ear. “The princess is on the loose.”

He slipped into the supply closet and shut the door behind him. “What in the hell do you mean?”

“Just got the report. She ditched her guards. Whereabouts unknown.”

The whole world slid from under Dom’s feet, but it was just like her. The woman excelled at disrupting plans—good to see her talent worked against the bad guys, too. He couldn’t help the proud grin that curled his lips upward.

“Get all eyes on this. I need a location, stat.”

Knowing running around the castle like a madman wouldn’t help, he unzipped his duffel and took out the shoulder holster. They had fifty agents in the castle at that moment. At least one would spot her, and if not, the major had already hacked into the castle’s security feed and was feeding it into his facial recognition program. They’d have her location within a minute.

He tucked a nine-millimeter into the holster, pocketed extra ammo, and double-checked the five throwing knives secured in his suit jacket. Everything was in place. Now he needed a location.

“What the fuck, Bendtsen,” he said into the comm unit as he squashed the empty duffel into a ball and shoved it behind a stack of toilet paper rolls. “I need that location.”

“We’ve got eyes on her,” the major said.

I’m coming for you, Elle.

“Location?” He was halfway out the supply closet door before the word was out of his mouth.

“East wing, second floor, near the balcony overlooking the inner garden where the Kronig will be held.”

She was close. He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I’m patching you in with the agent in place,” the major said.

There was a loud static buzz, and then a second voice joined Bendtsen’s.

“They’re on the move, sir.”

Fear grabbed hold of Dom’s throat and squeezed. “Who’s they?”

“Henriksen has her.”

The head of the Fjende, a snake and sadist in his own right. Things had just gone from bad to way fucking worse. “Is she hurt?”

“The target has her by the throat, and she’s struggling.”

Dom withdrew his gun as he approached the landing. “Do you have a clear shot?”

“Negative, but the mezzanine is deserted except for the princess and Henriksen,” the agent said. “Shit. The guards just came out of the king’s chamber. They’re taking her inside.”

Adrenaline surging through him, Dom sprinted up the last few stairs and burst through the door opening up to the mezzanine, right in time to see the door to the king’s chamber click shut.

The agent, wearing a butler’s uniform, joined him.

“The king’s chamber is a camera-free zone,” the major said through the comm unit. “We don’t know what’s waiting inside. It could be a trap.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dom said. “I’m going in.”

…

Elle screamed against the palm slapped over her mouth and clawed at the iron band of an arm around her waist.

Walther checked his watch. “As amusing as this is
to watch, we don’t have time for it—anyway, no one can hear you in here.” He opened up a black pouch sitting on the desk and withdrew a needle and a glass bottle filled with a blue liquid. “Don’t worry, this won’t turn you into a doll.” He filled the syringe. “No, this makes you nice and calm, the perfect, pliant little princess.”

The guard moved his hand from over her mouth to the top of her head and yanked it to the side, exposing her neck for his boss. Adrenaline rushed through her, making every nerve stand up and scream.
Not again.
If she had any hope of getting away from Walther, of not becoming his puppet queen and royal incubator, she had to avoid being drugged. The Kronig might be her last chance to defy him in a public setting where he couldn’t harm her, and she couldn’t do that if he got that needle in her.

“You don’t have to do that.” Desperation made her voice shake.

His smile was anything but kind as he held up the needle, tapping against it to remove any air bubbles. “You’re saying you’ll cooperate without the narcotic?”

She nodded, desperate not to lose even this sliver of a chance.

“Hmm.” He cocked his head and gave her a considering look before screwing up his lips and shaking his head. “Nope. I don’t believe you.”

The other Hulk twin clamped his massive hands down on her and held her still. The needle pricked her neck, and a river of fire surged through her veins. Drawing on every last bit of strength she had, Elle swung her arms upward, connecting with Walther’s arm.

“Bitch,” he yelled as the half-full needle fell to the floor.

She inhaled a sharp breath, but before she could exhale euphoria settled over her, wrapping the world in cotton-candy gauze. It was like she was floating outside her body, watching Walther’s face turn splotchy and red with fury when he realized the syringe had broken and all the liquid had leaked out. The vicious slap he delivered across her face was a mere love tap. None of it mattered.

The door flew open, and Dom rushed through. Her Dom. She loved him so much, and he’d come for her. A lightness, practically blinding in its brightness, filled her, but it wasn’t right. She knew the man firing a gun with deadly accuracy into the Hulk twins wasn’t Dom.

Dom was dead.

Realization pierced the soft haze around her. She’d wanted him so badly that her mind had produced him, a cruel joke for a woman who still had choices but couldn’t make the one she wanted most of all—to choose Dom.

Walther grabbed her hair, jerking her to a standing position so she was in front of him, a gun pressed to her temple. The imaginary Dom hesitated, his finger on the trigger of the gun in his hand. Her pulse barely registered an uptick. Still, seeing him and it not being him was more than she could bear. She didn’t bother to hold back the tears. What did it matter? She’d lost everything when she’d lost Dom.

“Put the fucking gun down or I’ll kill her,” Walther said.

Both imaginary Dom and the stranger with him squatted slowly and put their guns on the floor.

“You’re out of options, Henriksen,” imaginary Dom said as he stood back up. “We’ve already rounded up the other Fjende leaders. Put the gun down, and you’ll walk away alive.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Walther said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to stay right where you are, and in about ten seconds my men will be here and you’ll be swinging from a rope by sunset.”

“Elle,” imaginary Dom said, his voice like a salve to her wounds. “Look at me.”

She didn’t have the strength not to pretend it was the real Dom, so she did. “I love you.”

He smiled, but there was sadness in it. “Drop.”

She didn’t hesitate. She fell back on what she’d learned during their training sessions and let her knees go loose. In the same instant, a silver knife whistled over her head. A wild scream echoed in the room, and Walther fell the ground, the gun limp in his hand. The knife buried to the hilt in what used to be his right eye. The imaginary Dom rushed over, kicked the gun away, and gathered her in his arms and carried her to the other side of the room. Not letting go of her, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Men dressed in fatigues stormed into the room, guns at the ready.

“Call the doctor. I don’t know what they gave her, but she’s out of it,” imaginary Dom told them.

They gave her a few quick glances but followed orders, leaving her alone with the man who couldn’t be here. God, he smelled like the real thing. He felt like the real thing. If she’d had even a few more drops of that drug, she would have believed he was the real thing. She buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him as if she could force a ghost to stay. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.” He brushed a stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, his actions a soft kindness in comparison to the hard hurt of his words. Then he settled her down on the bed, laying her head on the pillow with utmost gentleness, his blue eyes shiny. “I can’t be your future, so I have to be your past.”

“I love you.” It came out as a quiet whimper as the agony of losing him again ripped through the gossamer, drugged haze around her, leaving her shredded and miserable. “Don’t leave me alone again.”

He leaned down and took her face in his hands. His lips brushed against hers, a mere hint at the emotion swamping them both. The kiss wasn’t a promise; it was a good-bye.

…

Mission accomplished. Now he needed to get the hell out of here before he couldn’t. One foot in front of the other. It was Dom’s turn to run. He pushed against the flow of people rushing toward the ki
ng’s chamber, including a doctor carrying a black bag. He tapped the comm unit in his ear. “Status report.”

“I’m on my way to the queen’s chamber now,” said Major Bendtsen. “The Fjende leaders are either in custody or dead.”

“Alton?” He hurried down the stairs and toward the back entrance.

“Dead,” the major said.

With the leadership decimated, the Fjende would crumble into dust. He’d make sure of it. They’d never threaten Elle again. “The media?”

“We’re going to spin it as a failed assassination attempt on the princess prior to the Kronig. No one has any idea she’s ever been gone.”

“Good. I’ll need you to make sure it stays that way.” Simple and close enough to the truth to make the lie authentic. The major had chosen the cover story well, but his job wasn’t done. Not even close. “She’s going to need you, Major. Be the adviser she can count on. We stick to the original plan. I disappear, and you act as the queen’s right hand as long as she needs you.”

He stepped out the door and into the bright sunlight. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky anymore. It was as if even Mother Nature was glad Elle was home.

“Sir, where are you going?”

“I’ll find out when I get there.” It would be a place where he could keep an eye on Elle and finish the job of putting the Fjende completely out of commission. He had to leave, but she’d never be alone again, not really. “Radio the pilot at the airfield and let him know to be ready to take off.”

Dom crossed the lot to the black sedan he’d driven in from the airport, opened the door, and slid behind the wheel.

“You’re not staying for the Kronig?” the major asked. “It’s all you’ve cared about for the past ten years.”

It had been until Princess Eloise turned out to be Elle. He’d tear the world apart for her, but it turned out the best thing he could do for her was rip out his own heart. In a few hours she’d be Elskov’s queen, and queens didn’t marry for love, unless you counted the love of country. They most definitely didn’t marry commoners who weren’t even citizens. She’d said she loved him. That was the one choice she couldn’t make as queen.

“Good-bye, Major, it’s been a pleasure.” He turned the key in the ignition. “Watch over her.”

Without waiting for a response, Dom yanked the comm unit out of his ear and dropped it out the car’s window before pulling away and driving until the castle was only a dot in his rearview mirror.

…

Whatever shot the doctor had given Elle had done the trick. Twenty minutes later she was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows and very nearly 100 percent herself. At least enough so that she’d kicked out everyone except Major
Bendtsen.

He stood at attention at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back looking every bit like the career military officer he was. Control. Determination. Power. No wonder Dom had picked him as his right-hand man. He was a force to be reckoned with…but so was she. And there was no way the man who’d rescued her could be anyone other than Dom. She’d woken up from the drugged haze knowing it with as much certainty as she knew the earth was round. Even though she already knew the answer, she had to ask. “Is he alive? Was that really Dom?”

The major hesitated for only a half second before his dark green eyes locked with hers. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She sank back against the pillows and let out a relieved sigh. “How? I saw the chalet come down.”

“It’s a good thing his backup plans have backups.” A rare grin from the major.

“Where is he now?” Because it sure as hell wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Not after everything they’d been through.

“He’s at the airport. He thought it best if he headed up the search for any remaining Fjende who may have fled Elskov.”

Before she had a chance to question him further, the door opened and a man entered. His hair was gone, his body bent with age and pain, but there was no mistaking the blue eyes, because they were the same distinctive shade as her own.

He hesitated at the door for a moment before crossing over to what used to be his bed. The tip of his silver cane tapped against the stone floor with each step, each one emphasizing how much the man before her was a shadow of his former self. Thin. Pale. Broken. It was like looking into a carnival mirror reflection of the man her father had been. It broke her heart.

Slowly, he eased himself down until he sat next to her on the bed, the mattress barely dipping under his weight. “Look at you, Eloise. Your mother would be so proud.”

Knowing he was alive was one thing—seeing him quite another. She didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him close. She kinda wanted to do both. “How could you?”

Tears in his eyes, he took her hand in his frail, thin one. “At first it was because I thought it was the best way to keep you safe until you were ready to come back home and do what needed to be done for Elskov. Then my body began to reject the transplants I needed after the assassination attempt. One by one, they started to shut down. What kind of father would make his child watch him die twice?”