No, she wasn’t a client. She was a beautiful woman who was clearly hurt and needed a doctor at a hospital. However, it looked like I would have to give in to her wishes. “All right, which way is your friend’s place? I’ll take you there, speak to her, make sure she gets you a doctor, and then I’m out of here.”
“Just when we were getting along so well.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem that my lines are working on you, so I feel like I struck out.”
“God, man. Be persistent.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I wanted to smile again. She was gorgeous with all that midnight-dark hair. And those startling eyes had a way of grabbing a man…where it counted. “Oh, I’m persistent.” I slid my gaze over her, and I wanted to smack myself.
Focus, Kannon, she’s hurt. That fact didn’t stop me from recognizing that she was also gorgeous, but I knew that was mostly the adrenaline talking. Fight. Flight. Or fuck. And at the moment, we were solidly in fuck territory. It didn’t help that her pouty mouth kept taunting me.
I cleared my throat and turned my attention to the road as I started my engine.
Her voice was soft next to me. “Kannon, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, London. I still think it’s an odd name.”
“Well, what kind of name is Kannon anyway? Let me guess, you spell it fancy with a K instead of a C?”
I coughed a laugh. “You sure are right.”
“Of course, I am.”
We were still laughing when the bright headlights of a car joined us on the road.
“Well, the good news is, someone else would have come along eventually.” I angled my head toward the headlights. “You can rest assured that you wouldn’t have ended up alone there all night.”
“This is me, resting assured.”
She glanced back at the car as I eased out onto the road. I cleared my throat. “What are you going to do with your friend?”
Her voice was distant, distracted as she glanced back. “Mostly lay low and catch up. I haven’t seen her for a bit.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re telling me, you came all the way to Paris during Fashion Week and you’re not going to catch a show?”
“Nope. It might surprise you to know that I happen to like quiet and subdued.”
Something about her diamond stud earrings and the Diamonds by the Yard wrapped around her wrist told me that was inaccurate. But hell, her plans didn’t matter to me.
Except there was something in her tone. Something that told me there was more to what she was saying. Something my curiosity wouldn’t let die. “And what do you do?”
There was a bit of hesitation before she said, “I’m a photographer. Sometimes a photojournalist.”
I glanced over to her. Her tone said it wasn’t exactly a lie, but there was something she was leaving out about her job.
None of your business. Just take her to wherever she’s going and be done with her.
The headlights were coming up on us quickly, and I frowned. I increased my speed a little, but the other car didn’t fall back. They only increased their speed to match.
I glanced at her. “London?”
She turned her head. “Hm? Yes, Kannon?”
“How much trouble are you in?”
Her eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”
“That car, it’s following us.” I slowed my pace, and it lunged forward. “And what are the chances that the car that ran you off the road earlier only did it by accident?”
She shook her head. “There’s no reason anyone would want to run me off the road. It was just a hit and run.”
And then I heard it…the ping off my rear bumper. The car lurched forward. London didn’t scream, but she immediately ducked and cowered. “Oh fuck.”
That fight or flight impulse went immediately to fight. “London, I need you to reach into the glove compartment and get my gun for me.”
“What the fuck? Why do you have a gun?”
“Because I run a security company. My car is bulletproof, but someone is shooting at us.”
Another ping. She ducked again, and I swerved. The car could take several hits, but the tires…the tires weren’t bulletproof. We’d be incapacitated and sitting ducks if they hit one of them.
Another ping.
And then another car appeared out from behind the one that was following us.
Fuck me. “They’ve got a friend.”
That car veered around to the side. A shooter was aiming at my car and fired, but nothing.
“London, stay down right there where you are. Hand me my gun.”
She reached into the glove compartment and handed it to me, her hands quick as if she’d handled one before but wasn’t a fan of them. “What are you going to do?”
“Generally when someone shoots at you, you shoot back.”
“What? What in the world?”
With my gun in my palm and a couple of taps of the buttons, my seat leaned back just enough that I was out of the direct line of fire, and I hit one of the special modification buttons I’d put into the car, forcibly dropping the windows. They slid down, and I aimed and fired into the other car. It swerved and careened, but the driver was unable to control the vehicle because he was very, very dead. The car tumbled and rolled and pitched into the line of trees with a loud crash and plenty of smoke.
London stared at me. “What the hell?”
“Stay down. We still have another one to deal with.”
The other car swerved, coming up to our side.
I hit the button again, rolling the windows up, and then we were jostled with a loud scraping bang. My fucking car.
This time, London did scream. “Kannon!”
“Try to stay calm and breathe, in through your nose, out through your mouth, and count your breaths.”
“What? You’re trying to be a Zen master when people are shooting at us?”
Another bang, and I held on to the wheel tightly. “Down, love.”
“I’m not your—”
I reached over and shoved her head down. With my free hand, I hit the button, turned around, and then fired. Two pops, easily. Crack. Crack. The first one missed, the second one hit part of the wheels at least, because the car screeched and careened. The driver was fighting for the wheel. I immediately slammed on the brakes, screeched us around, and aimed for the car.
I threw the BMW into park, and London screamed, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m going to ask him some questions.”
“He has a gun.”
I held up my hand. “So do I. Stay here and stay down.”
“What if something happens to you?”
“If something happens to me that means that motherfucker in there is a professional. And you are dead anyway.”
That was me, the caretaker that soothed nerves.
Gun in hand, I slowly approached the other car. I reached the driver’s side. The window was shattered, and the driver was gasping for breath. White male. Dark hair. Dark eyes. “Who are you? Why are you shooting at us?”
He spat. “Fuck you.”
He had an accent similar to hers. British, but grittier. South London, maybe? “Talk.”
“And I said, fuck you.”
“Okay, we can do this the hard way.” I bent to open the door, but he hit the gas, tires screeching as he peeled off. I recognized why he didn’t shoot me then. His gun had fallen out of his hand and he couldn’t reach it.
I scowled as I watched the car become smaller and smaller on the road. I jogged back to my vehicle. “Okay, he’s gone. Do you want to tell me who he is? Do you want to tell me why some British tossers are after you?” London didn’t answer though. “London?”
My heart rate kicked up. No. No. No. No. I reached for her. She still had a pulse. Then I grabbed my pen light from the console. I checked her eyes. Christ, she’d passed out. It was highly likely she had a concussion.
You should have checked for that before, you idiot.
/> Fuck. There would be no getting her to her friend’s. There would be no getting answers tonight. I didn’t really have many options She was hurt, and those idiots who were just shooting at us might come back. I had no choice but to take her with me. Whoever she was, clearly, she needed help. No way was I leaving her here.
Chapter 5
London
One room. One bed. One major problem.
* * *
Bright lights shone behind my eyelids, and I groaned, refusing to open my eyes and face the truth. Whatever that may be. Because if I opened my eyes and remembered what had happened the day or night or week before, then I’d have to deal with it. And frankly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.
“Good, you’re awake.”
I groaned again as I forced myself to open my eyes, the blinding light hitting my retinas so fiercely that I lowered my lids again and turned over, trying not to vomit.
“What happened?”
“Come on, let me see your face.”
The growly voice seemed far too loud for whatever room we were in. I knew it was male, but I had no idea who the hell it belonged to. To make matters worse I didn’t know where I was to begin with.
That probably should’ve caused a bit of concern, but for the moment, I just needed my head to stop pounding and for whoever was growling to move away.
“London, open your damn eyes.” The tone was sharp.
That forced my eyes open quickly. I immediately narrowed them at the man in front of me. He had tousled blond hair, striking blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw covered in a few-days-old beard that pegged him as a long-lost Hemsworth brother. His gaze narrowed in a match to mine.
“You don’t need to shout,” I snapped as I tried to lever myself up. I moved far too quickly, though, because nausea swept over me, and my stomach pitched. I would have moaned if I hadn’t thought I’d embarrass myself and vomit.
“Feel better, London?” he asked, the sarcasm in his tone making me want to punch him. Slowly, my memories returned in a scrapbook patchwork of the night before. I remembered just who I was looking at now.
For starters, he was far better-looking than my hazy memory gave him credit for. Either that or I had some sort of concussion and my vision couldn’t be trusted. But I remembered the way he’d hooked me to his back last night then climbed us out of the ravine. I remembered the rock-hard feel of his muscles. And God, his damn smell.
And worse, I remembered wanting to nuzzle into it.
Given the memory of just how strong he was, I’d likely hurt myself if I hit him. I opened my eyes again and assessed the man sitting next to me on the tiny bed. He was built, broad and tall, given how far his legs extended. His thick muscle was more than apparent under his relaxed-fit long-sleeve T-shirt. I had basically been rescued by Thor. Excellent.
The fact that my mouth watered had nothing to do with the head injury I’d sustained the night before. He was…stunning. I would never admit it, but drooling was definitely a possibility.
“Why are you on my bed?”
He snorted. “It’s our bed, baby. You’d better get accustomed to sharing.”
I ran the word our through my head. Then blinked. Had he slept next to me? “Excuse me?” I asked, looking around and groaning again at the pain in my head.
“I need to check you for a concussion.” With strong fingers, he lifted my chin and shined a light into my eyes.
My world spun, and nausea rose as my mind replayed everything that had happened. I needed to focus. I forced a deep breath, trying to regain some of my meager control. I hated feeling like I couldn’t grasp hold of my life. Like I was spinning and there was nothing I could do to fix it.
Focus, London. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” He mumbled a few things to himself that I couldn’t understand but nodded as he looked at me. As if checking out my eyes had reaffirmed any previous diagnosis he had made when I was passed out.
“No, of course I remember what happened last night. I just don’t understand how I ended up in bed. With you.”
His smirk was slow but held a note of worry. “You passed out after we got shot at. I didn’t have any other choice, so I brought you here. This is my hotel room. Looks like you’ll be fine though.”
His hotel room? Hell. And why did he sound vaguely annoyed by the idea?
“How do you know I’m fine?”
“Because I checked you over. Your ankle is a little swollen. You may have a slight concussion and definitely some bumps and bruises, but you’re no worse for wear. Nothing broken. Nothing that indicates internal bleeding. I’d like to have a doctor look you over though.”
The violation slid over me like an oil slick, and I pushed at him.
“How did you manage that while I was passed out?” I asked, my voice going into a higher octave with each word.
“Nothing like that. Jesus Christ.” He calmly pushed to his feet as if to give me space. “I had to do a quick check before I moved you from the roadside to here. I didn’t want to do any more damage than necessary.” He also slowed the cadence of his voice to something level and calming. Like he was used to dealing with hysterical people. “Every other room in the hotel and the surrounding hotels is booked. The room my company booked for me is it. It’s one nobody can trace, but there’s only one bed. I would have put you with my associate, Sparrow, but her room is tiny and only has a twin and I figured someone should watch you. I put you to bed after I made sure you were okay. And you are. You’re going to be fine.”
“I don’t understand.” Even trying to think about what had happened last night sent the hairs on my arms to attention.
He eased into the chair near the foot of the bed. “I gather you’re confused. And I know this scenario has to be stressful. I’m only here to help.”
He was doing it again. The gravel in his voice more of a low purr than actual words. “You don’t have to talk to me like that. I’m not a child. And I’m not going to bolt or do anything stupid.” I raised my chin, something I had learned to do at a young age. I’d had to learn the art of showing disdain and yet looking regal at the same time early on.
I hated that look. Aunt Rebecca had taught it to me long ago. Sometimes it was the only way to get rid of people who saw too much or wanted too much. She’d been the only one I could rely on when I lost my parents, and I did my best to remember what she’d taught me.
“I don’t think you are. We don’t know who was out there chasing you, and we’re in fucking France, not your home or mine. So while we figure out what the hell we’re going to do, you’re going to stay here in my room, the one place where I can keep you safe.”
“Who are you?” I asked, wondering how the hell I had ended up in this situation.
I’d left home wanting room to breathe. None of this was anything I had bargained for. I just needed time for my brothers to work out how to fix this arcane rule. I had to believe they would because I wasn’t about to open my uterus for business, no matter what. Children should be brought into the world for love, not necessity or a crown.
For now I needed to stay off everybody’s radar. Kannon had done the right thing. He’d protected me. Kept me safe.
Jesus Christ, I had been shot at. Just the memory made my heart race, and I pressed my palm over my chest, trying to calm the rising panic. I was safe for now and needed to think. I had more important things to worry about.
Namely, how the hell I was going to get out of this situation and who Kannon was exactly.
Could I trust him? He’d kept me safe for the night. I hoped to hell I could put my faith in him, but hell, besides his name, I knew nothing about the man. I didn’t even know his last name.
“I’m a security specialist. A consultant.”
I frowned. “Vague terminology for someone who knows how to handle a gun.”
“It’s my job to protect people. I’m here for Paris Fashion Week,” he said. “I ran into you when I closed out that job.”
“I’
m grateful you did.” I whispered the words.
His brow furrowed. “Were you here for the shows? Who knew you were going to be here?”
“I—no one. Just Rian. My family. I wasn’t really here for the shows.”
“Not one show? It’s the hottest ticket in Paris.”
“I know, but we just wanted girl time.”
He lifted a brow that told me he didn’t exactly believe me. “Girl time. Right. What is it you do, London?”
I frowned at him. What was with this tone? He sounded suspicious. Worse, he sounded like Wilder. That calm countenance. The simple question then the quiet calm as he waited for a response. It was infuriating.
I’d once asked Wilder why he did that. And he’d told me that the quieter you were, the more suspicious people tended to talk. Their own discomfort made them eager to spill. Just what the hell did Kannon suspect me of?
I was done with that tone. He might have saved my life, but I didn’t know him, and I didn’t need to tell him my life story. “It’s none of your business.”
“I got shot at with you in my car. That makes it my business.”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”
“Well, it seems like I’m going to be protecting you anyway, princess.”
“My name is London,” I gritted out. “Call me London.”
“Shouldn’t I call you Princess London?”
I lifted my chin. “You know who I am.”
“Of course, I know who you are. Your face is splashed on all the tabloids. Last night I wasn’t certain. But in the clear morning light, I knew exactly who was in my bed, Goldilocks. You’re even more famous than the London royals.” His smirk made his eyes go smoky, not that I noticed. “Nice coincidence on the name.”
I flipped him off. He’d already made fun of my name twice now. He didn’t get a third chance.
“Hey, that’s not what a princess should do. Is that your royal finger?”
“Okay, I’m done. I need to go. I need to make sure everyone knows that I’m safe.”
“We can make that happen.”
“You keep saying ‘we.’ Who do you mean by we?”
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