by Kat Mizera
I got up around six and left Casey a note telling her I was going to the gym, and then texted Sandor, asking if he wanted to meet me. Ironically, he was already there and I joined him a little while later.
“About time.” He grinned at me, holding out his hand, which I smacked as I got on the treadmill next to him.
“Sorry. It was hard to tear myself away from the woman in my bed.”
He chuckled. “I probably wouldn’t want to get out of bed either.”
“Perhaps when this is all over, it’ll be your turn to start looking for the right woman.”
He shrugged. “Not on my radar at the moment.”
“You sure you don’t want to be King?” I teased him. “You’d have all kinds of women crawling out of the woodwork.”
He literally shuddered, giving me a look of such horror we both burst out laughing. “No, thanks. I’d rather be single.”
“Are you sure?” For the first time in many years I wondered what he wanted going forward. His life had been centered around protecting me, and when the shit had hit the fan, protecting my son. In a few hours, that might not be necessary anymore and it was possible he wanted something else out of life now.
“Am I sure what?” he asked. “That I don’t want to be king? Uh, yeah, ten thousand percent sure.”
“Then what do you want?”
He cocked his head even as he jogged on the treadmill. “Is this a trick question?”
“Not at all. It was a given that you were going to be my bodyguard and partner-in-crime for life. I sent you away to protect my son eleven years ago and that may not be necessary anymore so—”
“What are you talking about? Whether you’re king, a member of Parliament or merely the kept husband of a big-ass rock star, your son—and any other children you have—will always need protection. That’s my job, Erik. It’s what I always wanted. Maybe not specifically protecting your children, but no one coerced me to train as a bodyguard to the royal family when I was eighteen, and no one would have to now. Luke is as much mine as yours after all these years, so there will never be a time I don’t protect him.”
“But do you want more? Perhaps to head security at the palace or to move back into your position as bodyguard to the King, assuming that happens.”
“I’ll go where you need me most, but my choice would be to protect your children. Luke and Leni, the twins if they come to live with you and Casey, even Sasha if necessary—that’s truly what I want.”
“I might need you in another capacity during the transition.”
He smiled. “Like I said, I’ll go where you need me most.”
“I don’t know if I say this enough, but thank you for being the man you are. Both to me and to the people I love.”
“You and your family are the people I love.”
We’d pulled out all the stops for this press conference. There were affiliates there from all over the world, every major television and newspaper, local celebrities and politicians. No one was quite sure what was going on, but my father had merely said he had a major announcement regarding the Limaji line of succession and the murder of his brother and nephews. Ace hadn’t left my side since we’d come downstairs and awaited the start of the press conference because there was tension in the room in addition to excitement and anticipation.
“I’m about to put all of us in danger,” my father said with a deep sigh. “But I can’t imagine it’s any worse than the danger we’ve already been in. I want all of you to be on alert, watching for anything out of the ordinary. I’m sure Anwar knows his monarchy is at risk so just be prepared for anything.”
“Joe sent some of his most trusted associates,” I said. “We’ve got this.”
“I sure hope so.” Dad met my eyes. “Are you ready for your destiny, son?”
There was that word again.
Destiny.
It had come up over and over the last couple of weeks and I was beginning to believe it was a lot more than just a word or a random concept. It had started to define everything in my life, from Casey to my son to my position in the royal family. So I slowly nodded. “I think I was born ready.”
One of the hotel managers stuck their head in the room. “Everyone is here, Mr. Baxter. It’s time to begin.”
I grinned, wondering if that was the last time anyone would call me that, and reached for Casey’s hand. “Let’s roll.”
35
Casey
When Erik stepped into the room, everyone was silent. It was a heady feeling watching him command their presence without doing anything. His air of authority was unmistakable, but since no one was expecting a dead man, they weren’t looking for Prince Tariq al-Hassani, so the people in attendance weren’t sure who he was or what he was about to say. Technically, since Uncle Ben had called the press conference—everyone was there to see what else he had to say after his bombshell in Limaj just yesterday. He smiled at Erik, winked at me, and then walked up to the podium.
“Good afternoon.” He spoke without hesitation. “Thank you for coming. Although I’m sure this will come as a shock to everyone, please hear me out before you start asking questions. Time is of the essence, and I have a lot of information to cover.” He paused, looked around the room at the people he loved and then turned back to the press. “The beginning of this story will be told by General Martin Sarrano, a decorated officer of the Limaji military for his entire career, who’s going to give us new details of the deaths of King Isak, Queen Klara, Princes Yusef, Rafael and Vardan, Princess Miriam and her husband, Harold, and the handful of dedicated security officers who sacrificed their lives that day.”
Liz pushed General Sarrano close to the stage and helped him stand up. The room was quiet as journalists made notes and photographers took pictures. He told his story without emotion, in a quiet, almost monotone voice, only the slight shaking of his hands belying the sadness radiating through him. As he came to the end of his story, he held up his hand to keep the questions at bay. “Not long after those events took place, one of the greatest young leaders I’ve ever known, Prince Tariq al-Hassani, was in a vehicle that went over a mountainside in Limaj. Though he was badly hurt, with a broken spine and many other serious injuries, he was not killed as reported. In fact, he’s been living here in Monte Carlo for the last decade, waiting for the right time to make his presence known. And today is that time.”
As expected, the room went crazy as flashbulbs went off and journalists began firing questions at him in a dozen different languages. General Sarrano sank back into his wheelchair as Uncle Ben once again took the podium. “I promise we’ll answer all of your questions but I think it would be best to let Erik speak for and answer them himself.”
Erik leaned over to brush his lips across my cheek and briefly glanced at his notes before heading to the podium. He didn’t really need them—he was going to knock this out of the park no matter what he said, but I loved how humble he was even at a time like this. He exuded confidence but not arrogance, a distinction I loved about him. It was laughable to me now, in retrospect, how I’d once thought him stuffy and full of himself. That was so far from the truth.
He got to the podium and the room exploded in questions again as people realized he really was Prince Tariq al-Hassani. There was excitement in the air and while I was aware that pictures were being taken of me as well, I pretended I didn’t notice because I was far more interested in the man at the podium than myself. I was used to having my picture taken and it only impacted me if the kids were involved, but they weren’t here so it was mostly second nature. I’d spoken to Toli Petrov yesterday, warning him that Sasha might fall on the media’s radar because of me, so he was prepared to keep both her and his children out of sight for a couple of days.
I caught Sandor’s eyes as Erik started to speak and he winked, which helped calm my nerves a little. I wasn’t nervous for myself, but for Erik, because this so important to him and for our future. For Luke’s future.
“I realize we�
��ve provided a great deal of information today, none of which has been corroborated by you, but we have all the proof and it’s being delivered to Parliament in Limaj as we speak. In the meantime, I’d like to take questions instead of making a speech because I’m not sure I can easily explain what I’ve been through in the last decade or so.” He pointed to a well-known journalist from the United Kingdom. “Phillip, go ahead.”
“Your Highness, it’s good to see you.” The man smiled. “What are your plans for your cousin King Anwar?”
“It has nothing to do with me,” he responded. “Once we’ve presented the documentation to Parliament, it will be up to them to decide whether or not to remove him.”
“So you’re saying he killed his own father?” someone else called out.
“He absolutely did.”
More questions came but I stopped listening as something caught my eye. A man who looked vaguely familiar was moving through the crowd, getting closer to the stage. Two large men flanked him, almost like bodyguards, and I frowned, watching as he edged forward. Ace was to the left of the stage, watching the room while staying within a few feet of Uncle Ben, and Xander was on the right, staying close to Liz and General Sarrano.
I tried to get Sandor’s attention, but he was focused on Erik, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Recognition filtered through my subconscious all at once and my stomach seized in panic.
Anwar.
Anwar was here.
“Sandor!” I called his name, but it had gotten loud again as reporters began shooting one question after the other at Erik.
“Would you consider ruling if King Anwar is removed from the throne?” one of them asked.
“Never!” Anwar pushed forward and I saw the flash of black metal in his hand.
“Erik!” I screamed his name and threw myself in his direction as the sound of an explosion ricocheted through the room. I landed hard on my side, taking Erik down at the same time, and pain shot through my abdomen. This bodyguard business was tough on your body.
“Casey!” Erik wrapped his arms around me as he rolled over and covered my body with his.
There was chaos as more shots rang out, Ace and Xander jumping into action. I heard screaming and what I thought were gunshots, but my head felt weird, and I wondered if I’d hit it when I threw myself on Erik.
“Erik?” My voice was lost in the commotion.
“It’s almost over, baby,” he was whispering. “They got him. I think Anwar is dead. Everything’s okay.”
“Erik…” There was a strange ringing in my ears, like I was underwater or something.
“Baby, what…” His voice trailed off as he slowly lifted himself off of me. His shirt was covered in blood and I winced.
“You were hit,” I whispered.
“Casey?” There was confusion in his eyes. “Honey, I wasn’t hit. Where’s all the blood coming from?”
I was suddenly so sleepy. “I don’t feel so great,” I said softly.
“Casey! Oh my god, no. Jesus Christ, we need a doctor! Someone, get a doctor…” Then there was nothing.
36
Erik
I scooped Casey up in my arms, still screaming for a doctor.
“What happened?” Sandor had pulled off his jacket and was using it to try to stop the bleeding. As I looked down at the floor, the amount of blood was mind-boggling and my eyes flew to her pale face.
“Oh my god.” Liz’s eyes were wide but she was on a walkie-talkie now, speaking briskly in French, calling for an ambulance.
At some point, Sandor took Casey from me, carrying her to the stretcher that arrived. Someone pushed me into the ambulance with her and I sat there helplessly, holding her hand as medics worked desperately to get her breathing again, to stop the bleeding, to keep her alive. I’d never seen anyone turn that color of white, her skin almost translucent as the medics worked on her. There was no sign of life in my beautiful Casey, her body completely still as they performed CPR.
“Please, baby,” I whispered, holding her fingers close to my mouth. “Don’t give up now. We’ve waited so long to be together. Please, you have to be strong. There are so many people who love and need you. Your children…me, please don’t leave me.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, but tears came without warning and I leaned against the side of the ambulance helplessly when she was whisked inside.
“Erik.” Sandor reached for me, pulling me into the hospital.
“She can’t die,” I whispered. “She can’t fucking die.”
“They’re going to help her,” he said firmly.
Liz and my father came running in, Ace and Xander behind them.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Sandor said, pushing me into the first men’s room we passed.
I peeled off my shirt, tie, and jacket, stuffing them into the nearest trash bin. I washed my hands and wiped at the blood that had soaked through my shirt and onto my torso. I was covered in her blood and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I held on to the edge of the sink with both hands, closing my eyes and breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth.
“It’s going to be okay,” Sandor said. “She’s going to be fine.”
“You can’t know that,” I said.
“Erik!” Liz’s voice carried through the door. “The doctor needs to talk to you.”
“Fuck. I don’t even have a goddamn shirt on.” I whirled on my heel and walked into the hallway, looking around, oblivious to my naked torso and anything else.
“Your Highness.” The doctor inclined his head.
“How is she?”
“They’re prepping her for surgery. I won’t know the extent of the damage until we get inside. The bullet went straight through, but I don’t know what it hit on the way.”
“Do whatever you have to,” I said. “Please. She’s everything to me.”
“We’ll do our best, Your Highness.” He walked quickly in the other direction and I sank into the nearest chair.
“Here.” Xander handed me a simple black T-shirt. “I always carry an extra in my bag.”
“Thanks.” I absently pulled it over my head and then just sat there. Unable to move. Unable to think. Completely overwhelmed with shock and pain and gut-wrenching worry. “What happened?” I finally asked.
“Anwar,” Ace said quietly. “He was there and Casey spotted him before anyone else.”
“Is he dead?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“How did we miss him? He had to have an entourage, didn’t he? Didn’t he pass through customs?”
“He wasn’t a fugitive,” Dad reminded me gently. “No one had any reason to detain him. In fact, since Monte Carlo authorities had no idea what I was going to say, it made sense that he would join the royal family for a big announcement.”
“He was in jeans and a baseball cap,” Liz added. “No one recognized him right away, which I’m sure was intentional on his part. No one was looking for him.”
“That’s what we fucking pay you for!” I hissed at Xander. “To recognize the bad guys! What the fuck were you doing?”
Xander didn’t respond and I pushed to my feet, too angry to sit still anymore.
“It’s not his fault,” Dad said, coming up behind me. “It’s no one’s fault and all of our faults. We knew the danger of outing him.”
He was right, and though I hated it, it was too late to assign blame. Besides, the bastard was dead. “Any sign of Omar?”
“He’s dead too. He was with Anwar.”
Good.
“Where’s the general?”
“We left him at the hotel with Jesper and a guard.”
“Is the evidence safe?”
“The CIA has authenticated the video and they have copies of everything. Anwar could have killed every single one of us but the evidence is solid so it wouldn’t matter.”
“Good.” I whirled around to stare at my father. “What the fuck was she thinking? Why would she throw herself in front of me like that?�
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He cocked his head slightly, squinting a little as he said, “Because she loves you, of course. Casey has always loved you, more than anything other than her children. She would gladly die for you, Erik.”
“But I don’t want her to,” I protested as I practically choked on my answer. “I don’t fucking want her to! I’m the one who’s supposed to be dead, not her!”
“I know, son. I know.” He pulled me into a hug and I sobbed into his shoulder like a child. I was pretty sure I’d never cried like this, at least not since I was a small child, but I cried now, unabashedly, as I realized I might never see her smile again, or hear her voice, or make love with her. If Casey died, I would surely die with her. And the irony of that didn’t escape me at all.
We sat for a long time, watching the clock as the hours ticked by. Security at the hospital had kept the media out but our group alone filled the private waiting room. Ace, Liz and Sandor were on the phone constantly, keeping up with what was happening in the aftermath of the shootout. News of King Anwar’s death was all over the airwaves and we were eventually set upon by a tidal wave of lawyers, detectives, and agents from Interpol to the CIA and beyond. I lost track of the people coming in and out, while Sandor and my father deflected as much as they could.
There had been a hundred witnesses, so there was no question that Anwar had been about to shoot me, but there was always paperwork and red tape, official forms to be filled out, and a hundred details I honestly didn’t give a single fuck about. All I cared about was Casey and I hadn’t had an update in four hours.