by Amelia Autin
But that wasn’t the worst thing he could imagine. That wasn’t what caused his eyes to burn as he stared sightlessly into the distance over the top of her head. That wasn’t what caused the ache that shuddered desolately through him. He’d been abandoned before, and he’d survived. He was tough—he could take it. But she wasn’t.
She was completely vulnerable. The trust in her eyes when he’d knelt at her feet and she’d let him see all of her was his undoing. She loved him—how much he was afraid to know. She would give herself to him and never count the cost until it was too late. But he would. He would rather die than let anything happen to her—because of him.
He’d let his control slip twice now, and that was two times too many. It would be like dying to give her up, but he needed to end it. Now. Somehow. Not just the physical side of things, although that would be hard enough. No, he needed to end everything. The sharing. The emotional bonding over which he seemed to have no control. The way her smile had twisted itself into his heart. The way she looked at him as if he were her world.
That all had to stop before it was too late. If it wasn’t already too late. He had to find a way to cut himself out of her heart, even if it meant leaving his heart bleeding on the floor. He had to do it. For her sake, and his own.
Chapter 12
Trace deliberately took a corner much too fast, then swung the steering wheel sharply to the right and brought his car to a dead stop beside the curb. Then waited, his eyes on the rearview mirror.
There! There it was again, that dark sedan he’d spotted a few miles back. It turned the corner quickly, too, then drove right past him as if it wasn’t following him. But in the few seconds as the car passed him he saw the two men in the front seat exchanging glances when they realized he’d spotted their tail. He quickly memorized the make and model of the car and the license plate number, then jotted the info in the little notebook he carried in his pocket as soon as the other car was far enough away.
He cursed under his breath. The same car had been following them the week before as the princess drove to school in her Lexus SUV—he was sure of it now. The university had been closed for Thanksgiving week, but the princess had left two research books in her office at the university that she needed to work on the textbook she was writing, so they’d gone there last Monday to fetch them. He’d only tagged the car once, noting it in his subconscious as he was trained to do, but the vehicle had turned off several blocks away from the faculty parking lot where the princess usually parked, so he’d dismissed it as a tail. But now...
They weren’t following her, they were following me.
He turned cold at the thought. If that was true, the princess was in far more danger than anyone realized, especially him. His thoughts flew to memories more than two years old, and a bloody scene in a hospital parking lot. Two men dead in the front seat of their pickup truck, his then-partner, Keira, sprawled on the ground bleeding out, a bullet that had come within inches of her heart lodged in her shoulder.
Michael Vishenko, the New World Militia, and the Russian mob all had reason to want revenge on the four of them—Ryan Callahan, Keira and Cody Walker, and...himself. They’d been extremely careful for the first year after the arrests of Vishenko and the others, but as one conviction after another had piled up with no attempts to silence them, they’d...well, not exactly grown careless, but they hadn’t been quite so sharply watchful. At least he hadn’t. He couldn’t answer for the other three.
We’ll never be safe as long as we live. Wasn’t that what Keira had told him her husband had said when she asked him to be Alyssa’s godfather? Wasn’t that one of the reasons they’d picked him as a godfather, because they knew he understood the danger they all lived under, because he’d watch over Alyssa with the same fierce protectiveness they felt toward their daughter should anything happen to them?
For a few precious months he’d let himself forget about the price on his head. He’d let himself forget he was a target, and always would be. He should have remembered they were still out there...watching...and waiting for their chance to exact revenge. Anyone close to him shared that danger.
He had no proof the New World Militia or the Russian Brotherhood was tailing him—not yet, anyway. But he had a license plate number now, and that was a start.
* * *
Trace stood in Cody Walker’s office the next day. He’d compared notes with the Jones brothers the night before, making damned sure it wasn’t the princess who was being followed. Both men had been emphatic there was no tail on the princess when they were guarding her—and they assured him he’d have been the first to know if they’d had even a whiff of a suspicion. That confirmed his assumption he was the one who was being followed, not her.
So he’d immediately requested the interview with Walker, knowing it shouldn’t be put off. He was frustrated because he hadn’t been able to trace the license plate on the car he’d spotted following him the day before to Michael Vishenko, the New World Militia, or the Russian mob, but it was the only thing that made sense.
He was still being tailed. He hadn’t seen them, but he knew they were there. And now it was time to let his boss know what he knew, because he wasn’t the only one involved. If he was under surveillance, then it seemed likely Callahan and the Walkers were, too.
But when he entered Walker’s office he found it difficult to begin because he had no proof, just instincts, and he paced back and forth in front of the big desk, struggling for the right words. Then he realized the right words weren’t necessary, not with Walker, and he said abruptly, “I’m being followed.”
Walker glanced at him sharply, but Trace didn’t see it. He’d come to a halt in front of one of the pictures on Walker’s wall—a large, blown up reproduction of Walker’s cabin in the woods of the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming. Remembering. Fairly certain what had happened in Wyoming more than two years ago was the reason he was being followed now. It was the only working theory he could come up with.
“You’re sure.”
From the tone of Walker’s voice Trace knew it wasn’t really a question, but he answered it anyway. “I’m damn sure they’re back there, if that’s what you mean. It could be someone scoping out the princess, but I doubt it—Keira’s brothers are adamant the princess isn’t being followed when they’re on duty, and the tail is there on me even when I’m not with her.”
Walker cursed under his breath. “That’s a complication I hadn’t counted on.”
“Yeah.” Trace turned from the picture to stare at his boss. “Anyone following you? Keira?”
“Not that either of us have noticed, but...” Trace nodded. But. That was the operative word. “How long has it been going on?” Walker asked him.
Trace thought about it for a minute. “A week, maybe?” he said finally. “Two weeks? Hell, who knows?” he added, making a gesture of frustration with one hand. He hated admitting it to Walker, because it meant he hadn’t really been doing his job protecting the princess. Had he let his emotions distract him, throw him off guard? How had he missed them? Those thoughts galled him, but he wasn’t about to make excuses for himself, except to say, “Whoever they are, they’re damn good at keeping to the shadows, better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Better even than Callahan.”
Walker’s eyes widened, and Trace laughed without humor. “Yeah. Go figure. It’s not a constant thing, that much I can tell you. Sometimes they’re there, but not always. I got the first twitch yesterday, but once that sank in I realized I’d seen the same car last week.” He paused, then added honestly, “For all I know it could have started before then. Maybe even months ago. You know how it is. Nothing you can put your finger on, just a gut reaction, like when you found out you were being tailed. Like when you knew your truck had been tampered with.”
Agents of Michael Vishenko within the New World Militia had rigged Walker’s truck with gelign
ite—turn the key, step on the gas, and boom!—was how Walker had referred to it, trying to make light of the situation. The bomb in his truck hadn’t exploded because Walker’s sixth sense had warned him something was wrong even before he knew exactly what. That’s when he’d noticed the thin film of dust missing from the hood of the truck, dust that should have been there. He’d been quick to warn Ryan Callahan, too. Callahan was the sheriff of Black Rock, Wyoming, and Trace had been guarding him at the time. It was very possible Walker had saved both their lives because Callahan’s official sheriff’s SUV in Black Rock had also been rigged that night with the same type of explosives as Walker’s truck in Denver.
Callahan and Walker had been targets of Michael Vishenko and the revived New World Militia, as had Trace and Nick D’Arcy, along with two federal prosecutors who were—unfortunately—now dead.
Six names had been on Vishenko’s personal hit list to avenge his father, David Pennington. But Vishenko had only succeeded in eliminating two of them, and not even the two he most wanted dead. That would be Callahan and Walker, who together had killed David Pennington more than eight years ago while saving the woman who was now Callahan’s wife.
David Pennington was long dead. Michael Vishenko was now behind bars, and unless his conviction was overturned that’s where he would stay for the rest of his natural life. But he still had ties to the Russian Bratva through his uncle, Aleksandrov Vishenko. And although the New World Militia had been badly crippled by the prosecutions over the past two years and the loss of Vishenko’s fortune, it was still in existence. So the threat to all of them was real.
Now Walker said one word. “Proof?”
“Nada. I got a license plate number yesterday, but it doesn’t lead anywhere.” He tore the page from his notebook and tossed it onto Walker’s desk. “Maybe Keira would have more success than I did. She always could track down the damnedest things no one else could. It’s worth a shot anyway.”
Walker steepled his fingers and held them against his lips, nodding absently. “So what do you want to do?”
Trace had known when he walked in here what he was going to ask for. It was the perfect opportunity, the perfect out. And it happened to be the truth, so he wouldn’t have to disclose anything about the princess and him in order to be taken off the case. “I know I signed up for the whole nine yards, but I think you’re going to have to replace me on the team guarding the princess. If someone’s gunning for me, she could very easily get caught in the crossfire. And that is not going to happen, not if I have anything to say about it.”
At Walker’s grimace Trace said, “State was wrong—it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. But they don’t need me to spy on her. She’s not involved in the politics of Zakhar in any way. Hell, she’s not even in the line of succession. Keira’s brothers haven’t overheard a single word worth reporting to the State Department in four months, and neither have I. So that part of the assignment is a total bust.”
“It won’t be easy finding someone to replace you at a moment’s notice.”
“Let State deal with it. You don’t have to sacrifice someone from the agency, do you? They asked for me in the first place because I’m fluent in Zakharan, but the Jones brothers can understand it pretty well so that’s no longer a prime concern...”
“I’ll see what I can do. When do you want off?”
“Tomorrow too soon?” Trace laughed wryly at his boss’s expression. “Just kidding. But if she’s in danger because of me, the sooner the better. The fall term ends two and a half weeks from now, and the princess is planning to return to Zakhar for Christmas break. Could you arrange it so that someone else takes over when she returns? Earlier if you can swing it. It’s hard enough guarding her as a target because of who she is. But if I have to guard her against my enemies as well...”
“You’re right,” Walker said. “Damn!” He slammed his fist on his desk. “I don’t mind replacing you on that team. In fact, a case came up just the other day that’s right up your alley, and I had to assign it to someone else because you weren’t available. It’ll be great having you back with the agency. But if what you suspect is true, if you’re in danger, that means Callahan, Keira, and I are, too.”
“And Alyssa,” Trace said in a soft but deadly voice.
Alyssa’s father’s face turned hard and cold. “And Alyssa,” he agreed in a voice even softer than Trace’s. And even more deadly.
* * *
Two and a half weeks, Trace told himself as he walked out of Walker’s office and headed for the elevator. At the most. That’s all I have left.
It was devastating knowing that once he was off the assignment he’d never see the princess again. But he’d done the right thing. For her. Love isn’t about what I want, what I need. This is what’s best for her.
So why did it feel as if every instinct was screaming at him, “Don’t do it!” He knew the princess was waiting for him to tell her he loved her. For the past four days he’d sensed her patiently waiting. She knew he loved her. How could she not? he asked himself. You all but told her at the cabin last Sunday. Every time their eyes met, every warm, confiding smile she gave him, told him more than the words she didn’t say that she knew he loved her as she loved him. Unconditionally.
He’d badly miscalculated her. Them. The damnable situation they found themselves in. Almost two months ago he’d told himself he could show her how lovable she was and then let her down so gently her heart wouldn’t be broken when they parted at the end of the school year. Two months...and a lifetime ago. Cocky bastard, weren’t you? he told himself. Then in his head he heard the princess saying fiercely, “Do not use that word,” and he amended his self-criticism from bastard to SOB.
But it really made no difference, not in his assessment of himself, or the situation. Time was no longer on his side, and he loved her enough to give her up now instead of later. Being noble? he jeered at himself, but...Yeah, he replied, understanding for the first time how Ryan Callahan could have walked away from Mandy Edwards rather than put her in jeopardy. In Callahan’s world a man didn’t place the woman he loved in the line of fire. Trace hadn’t realized it before, but Callahan’s world was also his. He wasn’t going to risk seeing his princess in a pool of her own blood, the way Cody had with Keira.
The only problem was, the princess would never understand. Would never agree with him. She was just stubborn enough to refuse to let him leave quietly, not if she knew the truth. Which left him with only two options—walking away without a word, or lying to her.
How could he walk away from her without a word? Just disappear from her life? Let her think he was dead? Or worse, that she meant so little to him he couldn’t be bothered to at least tell her goodbye?
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.
But lying to her? God, it went against the grain for him, almost as much as just walking away. She trusted him. Could he make her believe he didn’t love her? Could he be that good an actor? Maybe. If he didn’t have to look into her eyes when he lied.
The damnable thing was, he’d done exactly what he’d set out to do two months ago—he’d freed his princess to believe in love...just in time to break her heart.
* * *
“I’ll be off this assignment by the end of the year,” Trace told Alec and Liam later that night. He’d asked them to join him in the guest house living room after the princess was in bed for the express purpose of sharing this news with them.
The two brothers exchanged startled glances, then Liam said, “Because of the tail on you.” A statement, not a question.
“Yeah. I didn’t tell you last night when I asked if anyone was following the princess when you’re guarding her. But I have reason to believe I might be the target, not her. There was a case—”
“The case where Keira was shot?” Alec broke in. “That one?”
Trace w
as glad he wasn’t going to have to go into detail because he wouldn’t have given them the specifics even if they’d asked. It was still a highly secret case, with Need to know stamped all over it. “Yeah. What do you know about it?”
Alec shrugged. “Not a hell of a lot. Keira clammed up when we asked her. Said she couldn’t talk about it, and Walker said the same thing. Pissed us off royally at the time. Keira’s our baby sister, and knowing she almost died, well...we understood the necessity for the secrecy surrounding that case in theory, but in practice it wasn’t easy accepting it. We didn’t like not knowing. Neither did our older brothers, Shane and Niall. We wanted to be sure nothing and no one was going to hurt Keira again.” His eyes hardened. “Even if we had to take matters into our own hands.” Alec paused, and the hard look about his eyes faded somewhat. “But that was a long time ago. Are you sure it’s the same organization?”
Trace shook his head. “No. Not sure at all. But I discussed it with Walker today, and he agrees it’s a strong possibility. Better safe than sorry, so he’s going to talk to the State Department about replacing me on this team no later than the end of the year. Sooner, if possible.”
“Does the princess know?” This from Liam.
“Not yet but she will, as soon as I have a definite date. I want to tell her myself, so please don’t let on to her that you know.” He thought for a moment. “Might be a good idea to tell her first thing tomorrow it’s possible she’s being followed. We don’t know if it’s true, and you should tell her that, too—we don’t want to alarm her unnecessarily. We just want to put her on her guard, especially since she’s driving herself. I’ve taught her a few defensive driving techniques I hope she’ll never need to use, but if she wants to practice them, let her. Just don’t say anything about me.”
Liam looked as if he was going to ask something, but he glanced at his brother who shook his head slightly. And Trace figured he knew what Liam and Alec were both thinking but wouldn’t ask. How will the princess take the news?