Читать книгу Christmas Conspiracy - Robin Perini, Robin Perini - Страница 7

Logan Carmichael catapulted into the fiery barn, sparks and large embers singeing his leather bomber jacket and burning through his jeans. He could barely see through the black smoke billowing from his right, but its heat scorched his lungs. Desperation clawed his insides as he raced toward the woman who had broken his heart three years ago. Now that he’d finally found her, he wouldn’t lose her again. Not this way.

“Kat!” He grabbed her bare arm. “What are you doing? The barn won’t last much longer.”

She spun around, her eyes frantic at first, then widening in shocked recognition. “We’ve got to save the horses,” she yelled over the roar of the fire and the shrill sounds of the frantic animals.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

“We can still rescue them.” She tugged against his hold. “Take your shirt off and cover their eyes. If they can’t see the fire, you can lead them out safely. Please, Logan.”

The inferno exploded through the roof on the far side. More sparks rained down. It wouldn’t take long to engulf the entire building.

Barely visible through the thickening haze, two horses whinnied in fear. Logan cursed. They were running out of time. “I’ll do whatever you say if it gets you out of here.”

Kat twisted away and dove into the first stall. She stripped down to her tank top, then tied her plaid flannel shirt around the filly’s head. Offering words of encouragement between hacking coughs, Kat backed out of the stall, hauling the terrified mare with her.

Logan took the reins and shoved Kat toward the barn door. Heat seared his hands and face the closer he got to the fire. He fought with the huge animal every step. “Call for help. I’ll get them both out.”

For the first time since he’d met Kat three years ago, she didn’t argue. He stripped off his jacket and shirt, then went back for the second horse, while she ran to the open door. When he glanced up, he could barely make out the blue winter skies through the smoke-filled opening. The fire was moving fast.

Just before she reached the barn door, it slammed shut.

She skidded to a halt, then tugged at the door. It didn’t budge. “It’s locked!” Kat shouted over the roar of flames. “We’re trapped!”

She pounded on the wood, screaming for help, then dissolved into fits of coughing as the toxic smoke swirled thicker.

Logan knew no one would come. This fire was no accident. That was clear the moment the door closed. Someone wanted them to burn.

“Cover your mouth with your bandana and come with me,” he shouted across the large room. He used his black T-shirt to filter the sooty air and squinted through the roiling flames that licked the back and side of the wooden structure. They couldn’t risk going out the front now, anyway. No telling who waited.

Logan cursed King Leopold as he threw his jacket on and pulled the two horses to the intact side of the barn. He tied them off. The conniving ruler had obviously kept more than a few secrets from Logan when he hired him to find Kat for the second time. This one might cost them their lives.

The blindfolded horses reared, then stomped down, panic-stricken, but Logan couldn’t calm the animals now. Kat would have to take care of them. Fortunately, she had a mesmerizing effect on animals, because the two were crazed right now. The fire had engulfed the front of the barn in the past few minutes. He didn’t have long to break through the side of the structure and get Kat and the horses out before the place collapsed or became one giant inferno.

He grabbed a sledgehammer from a stack of tools in the corner and swung the heavy mallet against the siding. Wooden boards shattered and a small hole yielded daylight. Fresh air streamed into the foggy barn. Again and again, he cracked the old beams, then kicked them free until the resulting gap was big enough for Kat and the horses to pass through. The large cool rush of air fed the fire. Flames licked closer and hotter. The horses screamed in fear as burning rafters and boards toppled and crashed closer and closer.

“Kat, the barn is going! We have to leave now!”

Coughing violently, Kat grabbed the two horses and dragged them toward the opening. At the last minute, she yanked off their blindfolds and the animals bolted through the ragged gap to freedom.

Logan had just reached for her when, with an ominous creaking sound, the metal roof directly above Kat’s head gave way and a heavy sheet fell.

“Watch out!” Logan dropped the sledgehammer and leaped at her.

Kat ducked, but the metal slammed her head and knocked her to the ground. Logan lifted the hot corrugated sheet and shoved it aside.

She lay still. Far too still.

Logan scooped her into his arms and held her close against his chest as he carried her to the opening that he could barely see through his blurred vision. He tried to convince himself that his eyes only watered from the heat and smoke, and not from the sheer terror he felt at the limp form of the woman cradled in his arms.

She couldn’t be dead, but she would be if they didn’t escape. The fire was nearly on them now. He yanked his Glock free and almost rushed outside, but an odd sound made him hesitate at the last instant. Was that an engine? Was the person who trapped them leaving, thinking they were dead? Or had the killer seen the horses escape and moved closer?

Another rafter fell, just missing Logan and Kat, and setting the area next to them on fire. No choice. They had to leave or die. He hauled Kat over his shoulder, then palmed the gun and edged through the opening.

He didn’t see anyone, but every instinct screamed imminent danger. A grove of oak stood a few hundred yards away. They’d provide cover. If he could get her there.

Just as he rushed out of the barn with her in his arms, a bullet thwacked into the wood over his head.

Hell.

Around the corner of the barn, a man in a black mask took aim from the window of a beat-up red truck. Mud covered the plate.

Logan turned sideways to shield Kat and fired in one fluid motion. The bullet ripped into the man’s shoulder.

He swore and his gun dropped to the ground outside the truck.

Logan quickly set Kat down away from the barn and headed for the vehicle, his gun in hand. “Get out of the truck!” Logan yelled over the roar of the blaze behind him. “Face in the dirt. Now!”

The masked man’s eyes squinted at the Bowie glinting on the dashboard, then at the gun lying in the dirt. Logan could see the cogs rolling in the shooter’s mind, gauging the layout between them. Logan’s finger tensed against the trigger, but they both knew it wasn’t a clean shot.

With a quick move, the guy dove away from the window, out of Logan’s line of sight, and slammed the truck in gear. Within seconds, Texas dust kicked up as the tires spun out.

Logan took a few more shots, but the truck had gone too far for the handgun to be accurate. Heat seared Logan’s back. He glanced behind him at the burning barn, redirecting the remaining adrenaline from his anger, and carried Kat to the stand of oak trees.

He sank in the grass and dirt and knelt next to her. Her head lolled to the side. The light hit her face. Her lips were tinged blue. Despite the heat pouring at them from the burning barn, everything inside him froze. “No.”

In seconds, he’d slanted her head back and forced breath into her lungs. Once. Twice.

She remained still.

He clasped her face in his hands. “Don’t do this, Kat! Stay with me.”

The fire and shooter had almost got them. He wouldn’t lose her now. He slammed two more breaths into her, willing them to be enough, then clutched her to him, rocking her against his body. “Come on. Breathe, dammit.”

Suddenly, she sucked in a deep breath, shuddered and started coughing.

“Kat?” He cupped her cheek, his touch tender, his hand trembling.

Her eyes fluttered. “Look after them,” she whispered. “Promise….”

“The horses are out, Kat. You saved them. You’re going to be fine.”

She opened her lips as if to say more, then groaned and her head fell back.

He sent up a prayer and felt for her pulse. The regular thud restarted his heart.

She was breathing more regularly, but beneath the soot, her face had gone pale as cream. He gently touched the goose egg on her head, and his gut twisted. She could’ve been killed. How had this happened? Logan looked around the deserted Daughtery ranch where she worked. Why hadn’t anyone shown up for a burning barn?

Well, one thing was for sure. He and Kat couldn’t stay here in case their attacker had friends to finish what he’d started.

“Kat, honey, wake up.”

Logan willed her to regain consciousness. Her chest rose and fell, but those icy baby blues remained closed. She’d been out too long. He needed help.

He sent a code through his unit’s pagers to have the doc and a full security team meet him at the rendezvous hotel. He wished he could take her to a hospital, but he couldn’t risk the exposure. If she didn’t wake up soon, though, he’d have no choice.

Quickly, he swept the car for bombs, grabbed the attacker’s gun for evidence, then lifted Kat high in his arms. Her softness settled against him. Memories of holding her assailed his mind. He hugged her close before carefully placing her in the truck.

As he pulled out of the ranch, Logan tugged his cell phone from his pocket and tapped out a number.

“Yes,” a harsh growl answered through the earpiece.

“Sergei, get His Majesty on the phone,” Logan said, his own voice raspy, but his tone brooking no argument from the flunky on the other end of the call. “Now!”

A few whispers sounded in the background.

“You dare command me, Mr. Carmichael?”

Logan could imagine the tic near King Leopold’s eye. The man’s obvious tell showed his anger, but he had nothing on Logan’s current fury. He should’ve known the ruler of Bellevaux was up to something when King Leopold ordered Katherine Nelson brought to him. The assignment didn’t make any more sense now than when he’d instructed Logan to find her three years ago, then the king had abruptly ordered Logan to drop the investigation after he’d sent in the preliminary report.

“You better start talking, Your Majesty. You lied to me. There’s nothing simple about this job, and Katherine Nelson isn’t coming near you without an explanation.”

“Your contract is with me. I sign your paycheck. Therefore, your loyalty is mine.”

“You’re not getting this. An innocent woman was nearly burned alive this morning and then shot at. You held out on me.”

“Someone tried to kill her?” The king gasped. “Nothing can happen to her, Carmichael. If she dies, all is lost.”

“She’s not going to die,” Logan snapped. “But if I’m to protect her, you have to let me in on your big secret. What’s your interest in her? Why does someone want her dead?”

The king let out a frustrated sigh. “What I’m about to tell you goes no further than us. No one in your company or your government must learn of this. Do I have your guarantee?”

Logan tamped down his urge to reach through the phone and choke Leopold. Logan’s international security firm had handled dozens of highly sensitive issues for the family in the five years since he’d left the CIA. “You’ve never doubted my word before.”

“You promised to protect my dead son,” the king said flatly. “His assassination is on your head.”

Logan stilled at the truth.

Prince Stefan had died in the throne room bombing. The M.O. had matched Logan’s top operative and good friend, Daniel Adams. Rumors of terrorists’ payoffs and betrayal still raced through the intelligence community.

For Logan, it was personal. Prince Stefan had been more than an assignment. He’d been Logan’s friend, too. He didn’t know what to believe. Logan found Daniel’s complicity impossible to grasp, but the mounting evidence had been hard to ignore.

If the accusations were true, Logan was ultimately responsible. He’d personally sent Daniel to Bellevaux, undercover, to infiltrate the king’s ranks and find the ruler’s enemies.

“You have my word I’ll keep Kat safe,” Logan said, softly. “Your trust in me is not misplaced.”

“Very well.” The king took a deep breath. “With Stefan dead, I need to designate an heir by Christmas. If I do not choose someone with a royal bloodline, my country loses its sovereignty and will be divided between Germany and France.”

Awareness of what the king was about to say hit Logan like a fist to the gut. His dream of a second chance with Kat destroyed before he acknowledged wanting it. “You don’t mean that Kat is—”

“Katherine Nelson is my daughter,” the ruler of Bellevaux said. “She is the sole surviving heir to the throne.”

Logan’s hand reached over and caressed Kat’s smooth cheek. She was still beautiful, but now out of reach. He had only one job. Protect her. With two attempts on her life in the last half hour, Kat might be the sole heir, but someone didn’t intend for her to survive for long.

THE PILLOWS WERE SOFT, the blanket plush and thick—nothing like the cheap, scratchy wool throw on her bed at home. Kat ran her fingers over the mink-soft cover. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She’d been having the weirdest dream. She had to wake up, though. Something was wrong. She just couldn’t remember what. She groaned, hating the headache that made her dread opening her eyes. Everything within her rejected the idea of letting in the light.

Her head throbbed, and her throat was raw. She raised her hand to her forehead, then slid her fingers over and pressed them against the bandage covering her left temple. She winced as she probed the injury. She tried to move her other hand, but something weighed it down.

Kat forced her eyes open, blinking painfully as light speared into her skull. A quick glance revealed an IV pole hanging beside her, hooked to her arm. Panic hit. Was she in a hospital? She couldn’t afford one. How long had she been out? Where were her children?

She struggled to a seated position and tried to make sense of the room spinning around her. This looked more like a hotel than a hospital.

What was going on?

She couldn’t think clearly. Something important. She had to remember. Her thoughts scattered. She felt drugged. Whatever medication was in that IV had to go. She pulled at the bandages until she freed herself from the tube and the needle.

A voice filtered in from the next room.

“Rafe, I want you and Hunter on this one. I need people who know the players and the stakes.”

It couldn’t be. The voice from three years ago. A voice that made her shiver with longing—and hurt. She’d thought never again to see the man who’d nearly stolen her heart. Logan Carmichael.

His velvet tones had whispered in her ear in the dark. She’d shuddered under his touch, then she’d run, overwhelmed by what she’d felt for him. When she’d finally tried to reach him, she’d been turned away. Life, she’d learned all too well, gave no second chances.

“You still have surveillance on the king and his entourage?” Logan listened, then let out a low curse. “The fool. I’ll be ready.”

Logan’s voice was so cold, so deadly. Kat shook her head to clear it, then groaned. Why was she here in a hotel? She’d been at her weekend job. She’d been dreaming about Logan. Crazy dreams. Dangerous dreams about horses … and fire.

Memories flashed. The fire! She gasped for air. “Logan!”

She struggled to her feet and the room swirled around her.

Someone had locked them in the barn.

Someone had tried to kill them.

Logan dashed into the room, catching her as she fell against the nearby bureau. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She clung to him, hating the way the room spun in crazy circles. “I don’t know what we’re doing here, but I have to leave. Now. Oh, God, how long have I been out?”

“A couple hours. You’ve been sedated.”

“I have to go home.” The twins. They’d be upset. It had to be at least noon. And Paulina, the babysitter. Kat was so late. She tried to push past Logan. “I have responsibilities.”

Logan placed her back on the bed, and pressed her shoulders into the down pillow. He hovered over her. “You were severely dehydrated, suffering from exhaustion, thrashing and crying out in your sleep. I couldn’t take a chance that you’d hurt yourself.”

She stared into his face, struggling to keep it in focus, stunned he wasn’t a dream. She’d had enough over the past three years to wonder. She blinked. He was real. He’d changed. Oh, his brown hair was still cut short, a tad longer than a military cut, and he’d lost some weight, but more than that. His hazel eyes were stressed and tired in his lean face, but she also saw something in them she didn’t expect. Concern? Worry? For her?

Feeling woozy, unable to help herself, she let her hand hover over the scar marring his cheek, a scar that hadn’t been there three years ago. She wanted to touch him, but she couldn’t let herself. She had more than her own wishes to think about now. “I need to go home. You have to take me there.”

He clasped her hand in his. “Kat, it’s going to have to wait.”

“Not happening, Logan. I need to leave and there’s something I have to tell you on the way. You’re not going to li—”

The bedroom door slammed open.

“What do you think you’re doing, Carmichael? You will not touch her.”

A distinguished man, his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, and dressed in a suit that must have cost two years’ salary, strode in. He acted as if he owned the world, and two hulking figures trailed behind him like mindless minions.

Logan turned, shielding her from view. Kat shoved at him to move aside but he planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you trying to get her killed?” Logan’s soft voice dripped ice from every word. “I told you not to come here. What if you were followed?”

One of the burly bodyguards pushed to the fore. “You will not speak to His Majesty in that tone.”

Without moving, Logan stared the man down. “Back off, Sergei. I’m in no mood to play protocol games. I said I’d arrange the meet.”

“And no one commands the King of Bellevaux,” the ruler snapped, his accent deepening. “My business cannot wait. I have less than two weeks to ensure my daughter doesn’t embarrass me or her country.”

Kat leaned against the bed, the king’s words swirling in her mind. Okay, the sedative might still be wreaking havoc in her system, but the royal invasion had been doing a fine job of clearing her head until that bizarre comment. Who was this guy’s daughter?

Logan’s voice turned lower and deadlier. “And I’m responsible for making sure Kat stays alive, which you don’t seem to care about since you kept her true identity from me until it was almost too late.”

The king’s face reddened. “You found her. I’m here to claim her. Now step away from my daughter!”

“Excuse me? I’m not an object, and I am definitely not your daughter.” Kat peered around Logan and tumbled over the side of the bed, landing in a heap. He knelt to help her, but she shoved him aside and stood, fighting the dizziness. “Logan, what’s going on? Who is this joker?” she asked, praying her head would stop pounding.

Her ex-lover turned, and she gasped at the tension in his jaw making his scar stand out in relief. Logan let out a stream of air. “He’s your father. King Leopold of Bellevaux. You are Princess Katherine, his only heir.”

No. This couldn’t be happening.

“That’s why you showed up out of nowhere this morning? For him?”

The truth flickered in Logan’s guilty gaze.

A fledgling hope that he’d come for her after all this time went up in flames as hot and deadly as the barn fire. More and more of the sedative’s effect faded. She turned away from Logan to stare at the stranger who was supposedly her father. King Leopold. Impossible. She felt no bond with him.

The man, wearing Armani, looked her up and down as if he were studying a filly to purchase. “Good cheekbones. Passable figure. Maybe we can gloss over the cowgirl foolishness. I think we can make something of her. Bring her,” he said to the man at his side and turned his back. “We’ll begin her training on the plane.”

“Now hold on a minute—”

Sergei started toward her and Kat stepped back, looking for an escape. “I’m not going anywhere, and you can’t make me.”

“I can do exactly that,” the monarch said, his expression dangerous. “I am your father. And your king.”

Kat’s knees quaked, but somehow she remained upright. “No. My father is dead. Mom told me—”

“Your mother lied.” King Leopold raised his chin and narrowed his gaze, looking down on her. “You will come with me now and fulfill your duty. You will be announced as my successor in two weeks. As the future Queen of Bellevaux, there are naturally security concerns, so it’s best we get you to the palace immediately.”

Kat could barely breathe. “Security concerns?” Her mind whirled as the morning’s events became clearer in her mind. “Like people coming after me, trying to kill me because I might be a stupid princess?”

Logan’s words finally made sense. Kat turned on the king. “We were locked in that burning barn because of you?”

“You will be the next queen.”

“No way. I gave up tiaras for cowboy boots when I was six. Find someone else to play dress up.” Kat shoved Logan aside and stalked to her scuffed boots, propped against an elegant mahogany dresser. “I’m not putting my children’s lives in danger for anyone.”

“Children?” Both Logan and the king shouted at her.

Kat whirled around. “Yes. My children. And I need to get to them now. If a killer came after me, he could go after them, too.”

Kat grabbed her Ropers and stuffed one foot in, then the other. She ignored her shaking hands. She had to get to Lanie and Hayden. She needed to see her kids, hug them, hold them, make sure they were okay. They were her family. Her only family.

Her eyes stung. She didn’t need some father who didn’t bother coming around until she was full grown, bringing danger into her life. She didn’t need anyone.

She chanced a glance at Logan. His expression had turned stone still. She wouldn’t have been able to recognize how badly her words had shocked him if she hadn’t watched his index finger scratching against his thumb. She recognized the sign. She’d seen it the last time while she’d hidden from him. He’d come to her house right after she’d run. He’d cursed the empty building, then left. Kat had wanted to move, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself hope.

A few months later she’d learned the hard way that she’d been right. Logan didn’t really want her.

The king interrupted her thoughts.

“Your offspring. Do you have a son?” A small smile tilted his lips.

She didn’t like the predatory gleam in his eye. “What does it matter? This facade is over. Go back where you came from, and leave me and mine alone.”

She stalked to the door, grateful the sedative had worn off so she didn’t resemble a drunk on a Friday night bar crawl.

“Stop her,” the king ordered his flunky.

Sergei lunged at Kat. She stumbled away from him.

Logan stepped between them, cutting the man off. “I don’t think so.”

“You dare—”

“I dare a lot,” Logan said. “Move away. Now.”

Sergei didn’t stop coming. Kat braced herself. She’d fight. For her kids. With a single swipe Logan laid the man on the ground with a Taekwondo move. Logan pressed his arm against the man’s windpipe. “Don’t think about crossing me. You won’t win.”

Sergei’s eyes bugged out. He coughed and nodded his head.

Kat had never seen Logan this way. He was swift and deadly. She had no doubt he could maim or kill Sergei if he wanted to. The muscles in Logan’s arms tensed as he pressed against Sergei’s neck once more, then let him go with a warning glare.

“You’ve made your point,” the king announced. “Which is why I didn’t fire you when my son was murdered on your watch.”

Kat gasped.

“Yes, young woman. Both of your half brothers were assassinated. Now do you see why you need protection?”

Kat’s body went numb. “Logan?” She looked toward him, wanting nothing more than reassurance, but seeing none in his gaze.

“I’m sorry. You do need protection. This morning proves it.”

She couldn’t listen any longer. “We have to get my kids now.”

“As my heir, you are coming with me,” King Leopold commanded, his face and voice stubborn. “Logan, retrieve the children and meet me at the plane. We’ll leave for Bellevaux at the earliest opportunity.”

“No!” She’d fought too hard to take control of her life—for her and her children. She raced across the suite, yanked the door open and bolted down the hall.

“Kat!” Logan bolted after her, jamming the door to the suite. A spew of curses rose as Sergei and his men slammed against the wood. She didn’t know how long it would hold.

Kat threw open the door to the stairwell. She had to get away. She’d go home, grab the twins and disappear. Someway, somehow. She’d never let her children around the man who claimed to be her father.

Heavy footsteps pounded after her, getting closer and closer. Within two flights Logan caught her by the arm and pulled her against him.

She shoved at his chest. “Let me go.”

He pressed her to the wall. “Calm down. I just want to talk for one second. We need a quick plan.”

She stilled. “We?”

“Yeah,” he said, touching her cheek. “We.”

“I’m not going with the king.”

“We’ll work something out, but you need to listen to me.”

She gritted her teeth. “Why should I trust you? You drugged me.”

“I didn’t know about your children. If I had, I would have done things differently. I would have taken you to get them first.” Logan dropped his forehead against hers. “Please, Kat. I won’t let anything happen to you or them. I promise.”

She took a deep breath. “You’ll get me out of here?”

Logan lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’ll find a safe place for you and your kids.”

The truth of his words hung in the air between them.

She finally nodded. She needed help.

He kept his Glock ready. “Let’s go. We have to keep moving.”

They raced down the stairs. “If the king finds us, you won’t just hand over my kids?”

Logan stiffened beside her. “How could you ask me that?”

“I knew you for one week three years ago and you said you were a rancher, but you work for a king now.”

“I am a rancher. One who’s done some jobs for King Leopold over the years,” Logan conceded. At the next level, he checked the small window to the hallway, before moving on. “I own a private investigation and security firm.”

Kat’s breaths came harder, but a flicker of hope glimmered. “Can you take us where I don’t have to worry about him coming after us?” She grabbed his wool sweater. “I won’t take any chances. Not with my children.”

“I understand needing to protect your family, Kat.” He helped her round the next level. “We’ll have to make preparations. How old are your kids?”

Kat hesitated. She’d never thought to face this moment. Not after he’d had his ranch hands turn her away. “They’re two and a half,” she whispered softly, not wanting to meet his gaze, but knowing she had no choice.

Comprehension flashed across his face, and he tightened his grip on her arm. “They’re mine?”

“I tried to tell—”

Above them, a door slammed open, and he cursed. “Save it. We need to get you out of here.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs before she could argue. She’d tried to tell him when she’d found out. He was the one who hadn’t wanted her.

When they reached the second to the last landing, a masked figure, pistol in hand, rammed through the door beside them. He aimed directly at Kat.

Logan tackled her and twisted his body to shield her. Both men’s guns went off.

Logan sucked in a sharp breath. “Stay back,” he snapped.

Faster than she could comprehend, he twisted his legs into a scissor lock around the assailant’s knees and ankles and tripped him. The man tumbled down the stairs and slammed into the wall headfirst. Logan raced to follow, then stopped.

“Damn,” he muttered.

The attacker stared sightlessly back, his neck at an unnatural angle.

Logan bent down and removed the balaclava that masked the man’s features, then swore. “This is one of Leopold’s guards. I warned him he’d been infiltrated. If you’d gone with the king …”

“What if he’d gotten near the children?” She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking.

Logan grabbed Kat’s hand and pulled her to him. Kat huddled against Logan’s chest, unable to stop trembling. Please let this be a nightmare. Please let me wake up. Please let my babies be all right.

Logan looked as if he wanted to say something, but he sighed and tapped his phone.

“Meet me at the back entrance. We’re going to Plan B.” A Russian curse sounded above them. “Sergei.”

They hurried out the stairwell and around the corner.

“I’m late,” Kat said. “I need to call my kids.”

“You mean our kids?”

Kat nodded, a feeling of dread spreading inside her. “Yes. Our kids.”

“You have one minute.” He slipped a small metal tool into a locked maintenance closet door, closed them in and handed the phone over. She fumbled so many times he finally took the cell back.

“What’s the number?”

Kat told him, then waited as he held the phone to his ear for a long time.

He hit a button and waited again.

“What’s going on?”

Logan frowned. “It just keeps ringing. Do you have an answering machine?”

Her heart stopped. “Yes, but Paulina should have picked up by now. She’s the babysitter and she wasn’t planning on taking the kids out today.”

“Well, the machine didn’t answer and neither did anyone else.”

THE THRONE ROOM WAS EMPTY.

It wouldn’t be for long.

The double doors whispered open and cautious footsteps crossed the marble floors toward the spot where the duke stood admiring the way the gold-plated walls glistened.

He ignored the simpering fool behind him and continued his perusal.

After the redecoration in the wake of the recent massacre, this was now a room befitting his future plans for Bellevaux. No longer would it simply be a tourist destination wallowing in a glorious past. Countries would be courting Bellevaux’s resources for the first time in a half century.

Rare earth metals were prized on the black market for weapon development. All he needed to take his place in Bellevaux’s history were the right partners. The man who could parlay the metals into money had landed in his lap. His greater dilemma—a princess with a royal bloodline accepted by the people. Leopold’s daughter was perfect, no matter how common. Once he had an heir off her, the American cowgirl could be disposed of. Everything was falling into place. As long as he maintained control.

“We have a problem, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Sarbonne turned. “Did I grant you permission to speak, Niko?”

His advisor swallowed. “I beg your pardon.”

“Very well.” The duke nodded. “I’m beginning to believe our friends in America are not as competent as they claimed. Too many mistakes. Too long to gather information. Perhaps they have no stomach for what is required.”

“There is news,” Niko’s voice rushed out. “The princess has children. One is rumored to be a boy.”

The duke stilled.

“Your Grace?”

“Leave me,” he snapped.

“As you wish.” Niko bowed, his entire body shaking.

The doors whispered shut. The duke placed his hands behind his back and studied the exquisite tapestry from the Middle Ages depicting his ancestor in ruthless battle as that duke defeated his brother and seized the crown of Bellevaux. The sword the man had used hung prominently behind the throne now. Luminal would probably still reveal the ancient blood of those fools who sought to challenge.

Modern-day warfare required a different manner of weapon, but the duke intended the present outcome to be no less lethal. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket.

“I assume you’ve heard about the … complications?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Or should I say Your Majesty.”

“Soon.” He liked the way the title sounded. Before too long, the entire country would embrace him as such. “Eliminate them, but the princess must live.”

“Your Grace—”

“I told you, Victor, I need a princess. Take care of her illegitimate litter and you’ll have all the rare earth metals you can mine.”

“Then it will be done … Your Majesty.”

“Victor, I’m not finished. Any mistakes, and I will be … disappointed.” Sarbonne smiled at the memory of his morning’s activities. “A state which has proved … most unhealthy … for others in the past.”