by Julie Miller
It wasn’t her finest moment, but Ellie had to press a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle as Cade grabbed Jerome by his shirtfront and shoved him up against the cabin wall. She felt justified in seeing the bully roughed up a bit.
“Have you seen your partner Lenny lately?”
Cade had snagged Jerome by the throat. “Not since last night.”
“I sent him out to keep an eye on Sonny,” Cade said. “Sonny found him first. Lenny’s dead.” That sober reminder of what she’d seen knocked the laughter out of Ellie and the fight out of Jerome. “Sonny’s here to clean up Rademacher’s mess. With Lenny gone, that means you and me.”
Jerome paused to consider the threat. He even scanned the woods surrounding the cabin. When his darting gaze came her way, she hunkered down so she wouldn’t be spotted.
Cade shook him by the throat again. “Now I will tie you up and leave you out here for target practice if you don’t tell me where Rademacher is.”
Jerome nodded, caving beneath the threat of an unseen hit man gunning for him. “They took Sonny’s truck into Goshen. He said he was going to find a guy to patch him up and get some clean clothes.”
Cade was the one glancing over his shoulder now. “I just saw Sonny’s truck at his cabin. Nobody was home.”
She saw the panic flush Jerome’s face. Felt it inside herself, catching her breath and speeding up her heart. That meant Winston and Sonny were around here somewhere. Hiding. Watching.
Cade knew it, too. “Ellie?”
She hadn’t expected him to call to her. He’d made her promise to stay hidden. Should she go to him? Or stay put?
The hair on her neck beneath her braid prickled, as if some unseen watcher’s gaze had just lit on that spot. She rubbed her nape and turned around, silently cursing her vivid imagination. No one. Just miles of oaks and pines and maples.
Breathing deeply to force her pulse rate to a more moderate level, Ellie turned back around to resume her watch.
And looked right into the barrel of Winston Rademacher’s gun.
The scream that erupted from her lungs died in her throat as he brushed the gun against her temple.
“I need your help, Miss Standish.” He urged her out of her hiding place with the clear directions of his gun. “If you’ll be so kind as to come with me.”
He still wore the same brown suit from yesterday, but had rigged up a sling from the sleeve of his once-crisp white shirt. Bloodstains and wounded shoulders didn’t matter. He still had the gun. And he had the cold, heartless eyes of a man who wasn’t averse to using it.
Ellie obeyed his command and headed for the cabin. The sleeves of the shirt she wore had stretched to comical lengths. Earlier she had rolled them up. Now she pushed them up past her elbows, out of the way.
Rademacher poked the gun into her ribs. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
She lifted both hands into the air, walking ahead of him in the universal posture of surrender. Cade released Jerome, who collapsed on his weak ankle, but for once didn’t whine about his pain. Instead, he started crawling, amazingly fast for a short, stocky man who smoked too much. He was more afraid of Sonny showing up than of Winston’s actual presence.
Cade, on the other hand, turned and braced for a fight, showing no fear. His indigo gaze swept over her, fiery and full of promise. When it landed on Rademacher, Ellie looked away, unable to stand the cruel intensity of those eyes.
Rademacher didn’t seem to understand the deadly intent of Cade’s expression. He laughed as Jerome disappeared around the front of the cabin. His laughter was a cold, mirthless sound that matched his eyes. When he looked at Cade, the laughter stopped. “Drop your weapon.”
Cade refused. “Let her go.”
A trigger was cocked beside her ear. Ellie jumped at the sound, but remained deceptively calm. “Your weapon, or her life,” Rademacher said.
“No!” Ellie begged. That would leave Cade completely unprotected. “Sonny’s here somewhere.”
“Shut up.” She clamped her mouth shut at the impatient order.
But she couldn’t stifle the protest in her throat as Cade bent his knees and set his gun on the ground. With the toe of his black boot, he kicked it into the mud puddle at Rademacher’s feet.
Winston’s mouth thinned into a grim line as dirty water splashed onto his polished leather loafers. He picked up each foot and flicked the mess off each toe. By the time he stood squarely on both feet again, Ellie had an idea.
“I had planned to use Mr. Smython as a scapegoat,” Winston was saying, “but you’ve foiled that plan, as well, for me, haven’t you. But I’m sure you’ll do nicely in that role, Sinjun. After all, your family’s used to scandal. Mr. Costa will find Smython.
“I want you to call King Easton and confess to the kidnapping plot. Your involvement has been well documented. I’m sure you can convince him that your loyalties changed when presented with a large sum of money. Like father, like son, you might say.” He nudged Ellie with the gun. “If you’re not convincing, I’ll kill her.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Ellie begged Cade to be a patriot, not a traitor. Not even for her. “Easton believes in you. So do I.”
“That’s so touching I might spit up.” Winston sighed impatiently and inclined his head toward the SUV. “Now, Sinjun, there’s a phone on the front seat. Go call Easton. Make your confession convincing or I’ll put a bullet through her head.”
“You hurt her and you’re a dead man.” The power behind Cade’s vow chilled her to the bone.
Winston didn’t flinch. “As are you. The only way Costa will release the hit on you is if I give him the word. I made the same arrangement for Miss Standish’s contract. If I’m dead, there will be no one who can save her.”
Cade looked at her then. Really looked at her. That intense indigo gaze softened with something like tenderness. It was an apology.
“No.”
But he ignored her protest and opened the door to the SUV. He pulled out the phone and punched in a number, all the while keeping Ellie in his protective sight.
That was it! If he could communicate with her with just his eyes, she could do the same. She shifted her eyes to the left, toward Rademacher, twice. Three times.
He turned the phone toward his mouth as someone had picked up. “Cadence St. John here. I need to speak with King Easton.”
Winston’s focus shifted slightly as he listened for the appropriate confession in Cade’s words. Ellie stepped on one of her shoestrings and pulled it loose.
“Do you mind if I bend down and tie my shoe?” she asked. Winston’s eyes narrowed to tiny squints, as if her interruption irritated him. “You wouldn’t want me to trip, would you?”
He considered her request for a moment. Maybe he thought he’d found some kind of soul mate who couldn’t tolerate having anything out of place. “Do it.”
Ellie knelt and tightened the laces on her right shoe. But that wasn’t her real goal. Blood, cobwebs, grass stains, mud—bring it on. After the past three days, a little grime meant nothing to her.
But it made a world of difference to Winston Rademacher.
Faster than he could eke out the question, Ellie had scooped up a handful of mud and water.
“What are you do—?”
She tossed the slimy mess right in his face and dove for the ground. Cade lunged forward, leaping like a jaguar upon its prey. Winston’s gun fired. Ellie screamed.
The struggle was brutal and brief. Apparently Cade’s knife was quicker than Winston’s gun.
“Cade!”
Cade snatched up Ellie in his arms and squeezed her tightly. “You damn fool,” he reprimanded her, thanked her, praised her, loved her. He rolled into the mud, carrying her with him, running his hands along every inch of her he could reach, checking for any sign of injury. “He would have shot you. You took a foolish chance.”
She folded her arms around his neck and kissed him into silence. “I knew you’d save me.”
&nb
sp; The gurgling sound of a dying man intruded. “Touching.”
Instinctively Cade shoved Ellie behind him and crawled over to Winston’s supine body. Cade knew his knife had hit home, severing a vital artery in the man’s thoracic cavity. Too damn stubborn to be dead already, the bastard would die of blood loss in a matter of seconds.
Cade watched the blood trickling from the corner of Winston’s mouth. The stain it made on his collar must be driving him nuts. Good. Cade leaned in closer. “Prince Markus hired you to kidnap the princess, didn’t he.”
Winston’s squinty eyes fluttered closed.
Cade pushed. “Prince Markus is behind this, isn’t he? You’re going to die, dammit. Tell me the truth.”
Winston’s eyes popped open one last time. His bloody lips curled into a gruesome smile. “Go to hell.”
“I’ll see you there.”
Winston Rademacher’s eyes closed for the last time.
Cade felt Ellie’s face buried in the center of his back, hiding herself from the grim conversation he’d just shared.
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
Cade nodded. So were his chances of proving that Markus Carradigne was guilty.
He turned and gathered Ellie into his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. There was one part of the mission he hadn’t failed yet. “Costa’s out there somewhere. Let’s get you home.”
He rose to his feet and reached for Ellie’s hand.
A bullet slammed into his left shoulder and knocked him to the ground.
“Cade!”
He heard Ellie scream and knew he’d been hit. His shoulder was on fire. He saw her crawling toward him. “No! Get back!” He desperately searched to get his bearings, to find his gun. To find any kind of weapon. “It’s Costa.”
His legs tangled with Rademacher’s as he rolled over to find cover. Rademacher had a gun. Cade folded his body to change direction without sitting up and exposing himself to more gunfire. “Stay down, Ellie,” he warned her, hoping she had sense enough to stayed covered behind the SUV.
He spotted Rademacher’s gun beside the front tire. He reached for it. A black boot stepped on his hand and crushed his knuckles into the gravel.
Cade swore in frustration, ignoring the pain. He couldn’t help Ellie. He had to save Ellie.
He looked up into the tanned face framed by snowy-white hair.
Tony Costa smiled. “I hate the ones that get away,” he said, slurring his words.
With his sniper’s rifle hung over his shoulder, Costa pulled the pistol from his belt and pointed it at Cade’s heart.
Two loud reports of a gun fired at close range rang in his ears. Cade lurched at each explosion, but to his astonishment, he hadn’t been hit.
Two bright-red circles expanded on the front of Tony Costa’s shirt and he crumpled to the ground. Dead.
Cade looked up and saw the shooter.
Pride in this woman’s unwavering determination warred with the sorrow crying in his heart. Ellie still stood, feet braced wide, both hands on his gun, ready to fire again. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Ellie?”
“Costa should have helped me when he had the chance.”
Cade went to her. He pried the gun from her unresisting fingers and curled his good arm around her shoulders. He didn’t know what else to do but hold her as she buried her nose against his chest and cried. He offered his strength to her shaking figure and prayed that God would forgive him for ever getting her involved in this. Forgive him for forcing his job on her. Forgive him for loving her when he had no right to.
Cade heard the footsteps. He sheltered Ellie with his body and raised his gun to protect her with his life.
Then he recognized the brown-haired man with the military haircut and piercing hazel eyes. Devon Montcalm. Captain of the Royal Guard.
Four men who wore the same black suits and armament secured the area. Devon holstered his sidearm and walked over to them. “I see we missed most of the action.”
A fifth man rounded the corner of the cabin with Jerome, who was handcuffed and uncharacteristically quiet. Uncharacteristic, but not unexpected, given the size of the rifle trained on him.
It was over.
Cade knew he’d failed his mission. He couldn’t prove that Prince Markus had put Rademacher up to planning the kidnapping. He knew it in his gut, but he couldn’t prove it. He’d failed.
But he’d kept Ellie alive.
For that one thing, he should be grateful.
Still, as Devon’s men swarmed around them, checking dead bodies, tending his wound, treating Ellie for shock, Cade knew a sense of loss, every bit as profound as the night he’d walked into his father’s study and found him dead.
He was going to lose Ellie.
In the outside world he had no place in her life. And she had no need to be a part of his. Not when this was his world.
He had to do the right thing here. He’d sworn to always do right by Ellie.
Several minutes later Cade was sitting in the back seat of Devon’s SUV, holding Ellie in his arms. Holding her for the last time.
Devon climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. He looked at Cade in the rearview mirror. “Anything we need to know?” he asked.
“I need to talk to King Easton.” He squeezed Ellie tightly, almost unable to speak when she snuggled against his chest. Do the right thing. “But I need to get Ellie home first.”
KING EASTON watched Nick Standish swallow his little sister up in a bear-size hug. “Thank God you’re home. Thank God you’re safe.”
Nick’s children, Josie and Jakob, hugged their aunt. Amelia—Nick’s wife and Easton’s granddaughter—hugged her. Then the rest of the family—his eldest granddaughter, CeCe, and her husband, Shane; the newlyweds, Lucia and Harrison; and even Lady Charlotte Carradigne—swarmed around his personal secretary, hugging and talking and crying and hugging some more.
Easton’s gaze drifted past the welcoming crowd to the man standing alone in the archway leading from his office. Cade St. John has always looked a bit rough around the edges. But this evening he needed a shave. His shirt was torn, his face was scratched, his left shoulder was packed in gauze and adhesive tape.
There was a heavy weight on the young man’s broad shoulders tonight, Easton thought. And a heavier sadness dulled his dark-blue eyes. His eyes had always reminded him of Bretford St. John, laughing, full of life. Cade was a bit of a rogue like his father. His heart was just as big, his emotions ran just as deep. He’d borne the brunt of his father’s shame, the grief of his father’s loss for too long. He’d like to see Cade happy for a change. Maybe he needed to quit volunteering for hazardous-duty missions. He needed to quit risking death and start living his life.
Cade’s eyes sparked with a sudden, intense light. A wise old observer of people, Easton followed the young man’s hungry gaze and lit upon Ellie. Nick had tucked her beneath his arm in a gesture of love and protection. But while the circle of conversation buzzed around her, her gaze was on Cade. From the midst of her family and friends, she sought out the one person who stood all alone.
Easton grinned. He might lose his ever-efficient secretary, after all.
Easton frowned. Commander St. John turned and walked out of the Carradigne home—alone—while Ellie watched him leave with glistening eyes.
Had he demanded too much from his loyal commander and faithful secretary?
He’d listened to Cade’s debriefing and accepted the young man’s claim that Prince Markus was behind the kidnapping plot. Unfortunately the proof had died under Cade’s knife when Winston Rademacher had refused to implicate his protégé.
They couldn’t file criminal charges against anyone but Jerome Smython. But Cade’s word was good enough for Easton to pen a formal announcement.
He would never name Markus as his heir.
And somehow he vowed to find a way to bring that boy to justice and finally make him accountable for his actions.
With that un
pleasant business decided, Easton decided to assert his prerogative as king and take care of something more personal. “If you’ll forgive me, I’d like to borrow Ellie for a few minutes.”
“Your Highness,” Nick protested, “she’s just come home.”
Easton waved aside his concern. “Don’t worry, I’m not putting her to work so soon. This is something personal.”
He held out his hand and waited for Ellie to link her arm through his. Though she shied away from the personal contact with her employer, Easton would have none of it. He patted her hand and held it in place. “Walk with me out on the terrace.”
On the terrace overlooking Central Park, Ellie breathed in the surprisingly fresh air and turned to face him. Concern creased her forehead. “Are you all right?” She inspected Easton closely. “You look tired. I could fix you some tea.”
“Tea…” He’d started to say that tea would be lovely, but he caught himself before giving in to his own selfish wants. Tonight, he owed her. “Tea is unnecessary. If I look tired, it’s because I’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. It was a welcome, intimate gesture she wouldn’t have had the courage to try four days ago. Bully for Cade St. John, Easton thought.
He’d had an idea last week, but hadn’t really fleshed it out. So he made up a plan as he went along. He was this young lady’s ruler, after all. She had to listen to him.
“As you know, I planned to meet with some of my other grandchildren here in America. My second son’s children, specifically. I was about to depart for Wyoming before you were kidnapped. Now we can make the trip together.” He leaned against the railing and looked at the lights of the park, trying to sound as uncalculating as possible for a conniving old control freak like him. “Of course, that means packing up the entourage and traveling again. I think it’s about time I get to know James’s boys.”
“We’re leaving New York?” There was something like outright panic behind that soft-spoken question. Ellie had planned to go with King Easton on his trip, but that was before the events of the past few days…before Cade.