Bulletproof Princess

by It Girls

  Chloe rushed outside. It was dark, except for some of the neon signs and the streetlights, shining down on the pavement and reflecting off the cars. She scanned up and down the line of limos parked at the curb. It was nearly impossible to tell them apart in the darkness. Finally, she spotted Emma's driver, Perry, leaning against the fender of Emma's gray Rolls. "There he is."

  Chloe rushed over. "Perry, where's Emma?" she asked on a gushed breath. Harrison stopped at her side.

  Perry set his magazine on the hood of the car. "She's gone to dinner. Is something wrong?"

  "With whom did she go?" Chloe asked, ignoring his question.

  "Give me your cell phone," Harrison told Chloe.

  She passed it over just as Frank touched her shoulder. "What's wrong, Princess?"

  "I need to find Emma, Frank." Panic threaded her voice.

  "She went to dinner with Brit Carouthers," Perry said.

  Chloe couldn't believe it. Emma was the one who'd warned everyone about him. Why would she agree to have dinner with him?

  "He came back ten minutes ago," Frank added. "Alone."

  "Find him, Frank," Chloe said, hearing Harrison speaking softly into her phone. "See where he left Emma."

  Chloe's stomach knotted. Her chest tightened, and she couldn't seem to drag in enough air. She and Emma had worked out the phone signal four years ago. It had never been used.

  Until tonight.

  Frank came back outside. A worried Lucas Perrini was with him, but it was Frank who had Chloe's answer. "She got ticked off at Carouthers at the restaurant and doubled his date auction bid for him to leave. She'd just been served dinner."

  "What restaurant?" Chloe asked.

  "Lagniappe." Lucas responded. "What's wrong, Princess?"

  Waves of fear washed over Chloe. "Emma is in trouble."

  "Carouthers is no good, like his brother," Lucas told Frank. "When he won her dinner date, I warned her not to leave the building with him."

  "Did they leave here alone?" Harrison asked.

  "No, Prince Erik and Chelsea Adair were with them," Frank said. "They were all in Ryan Greene's car. Ryan told the driver to drop him off at home and to take care of his friends for the night."

  "Ryan. Again. Erik. Again." Chloe turned to Harrison. "Call Lagniappe and see if she's still there."

  "I'm on with them now," Lucas said, his phone at his ear.

  Frank locked gazes with Chloe, clearly worried sick about his girl. "Miss Emma's hurt, isn't she, Princess?"

  "I don't know, Frank," Chloe admitted, fear filling her. "I just don't know."

  "She's not there," Lucas said. "The doorman thinks she left in a black limo."

  Chloe went numb with fear. "There are hundreds of black limos in this city. Whose was it? Did anyone hear where she was going? Was anyone with her?"

  Lucas asked the question, and they waited for the answers, but no one seemed to have any.

  "Frank," Chloe whispered. "Call Alan. Tell him to activate Emma's tracker."

  Frank nodded and stepped away to make the call. But when he returned to Chloe, his face was drawn and pasty white. "It's in the middle of the river, Princess. That's where the pin says she is right now."

  Chloe felt raw. As if the skin and flesh had been seared off her bones. "No. No, that can't be. It can't be, Frank."

  Harrison's cell phone rang. He answered, listened briefly, then said, "Got it. Thanks." He looked at Chloe. "The pin might be in the river, but Emma's not. Let's go, Chloe."

  Frank took off like a shot to the car and opened the back door. Chloe rushed to it, and to her surprise, Lucas followed her. "Where's Emma? Where are we going?"

  "I traced the location of the incoming call. It wasn't made from the river, Chloe. She did not drown, okay?"

  Okay. Okay. Emma had not been killed and her body had not been dumped in the river. Her Rose pin was in the river. That was all. Just the Rose pin. Chloe schooled her breathing, forced herself to calm down. "Where was she when she called?"

  Harrison winced. "The Meatpacking district."

  Chloe's lungs seemed to collapse. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. The Russian women. The Duke. "Frank, hurry!"

  *

  On the way, Lucas and Harrison pieced together what little they knew. According to the doorman, Emma left in a black limo.

  According to a female witness, Emma had left on foot.

  And, according to a guy sitting on the steps two doors down from Lagniappe drinking out of a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, she'd hailed a cab.

  More and more frantic at what could be happening to Emma, Chloe took the lead when they reached 14th Street.

  Harrison grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"

  She gritted her teeth, steeled herself to fight him. He'd definitely object. "Hollow Hill. I'm doing a room check."

  Harrison frowned. "You can't do that."

  "Hell, yes, I can." The sense of urgency in her doubled. Emma needed her now. Her stomach clutched. The hair on her neck stood on edge. "There's no added risk. Our cover is blown. They know us." She spared him a glance and sped up. "You know what? I don't want to hear any objections, Harrison."

  "Chloe, listen to me. You could be walking into a trap."

  "I'm going," Chloe insisted, striding down the sidewalk in that direction. "I know she's there. I feel it in my bones." Emma's pet expression had never felt so right.

  "Okay. Okay," he conceded. "We'll go in together."

  "Flash your badge," she said, heading up to the lobby door. "I'm not leaving until I inspect every damn room." She turned to Frank and Lucas. "Would you two please cover the front and rear exits?" At their nods, she and Harrison went into the lobby.

  The man behind the sleek desk was about Chloe's age, had black hair, a broad flat nose and a bored expression. He wore a steel-gray suit and a name tag. "Harvey Walker, Manager."

  The escort handler managing the hotel? There had to be a prostitution contingent at Special Reserves Escorts, after all. Chloe's skin crawled.

  "Good evening." Harrison flashed his badge.

  Harvey's boredom disappeared and wariness replaced it. "What do you need, sir?"

  "To search the premises."

  "Um, don't you need a search warrant for that?"

  "Your permission works, too," Harrison said, steady and calm, not frazzled.

  Harvey frowned. "I would need a warrant."

  "No problem." Harrison smiled, but it was frozen and didn't touch his eyes. He pulled out his cell. "Mr. Walker, before I make this call, I'm giving you a chance to reconsider. If you slow me down to get a warrant, you'd better be ready for a visit by every inspector in the city."

  Harvey stroked at a little scar on his left cheek, then nodded. "We always cooperate with authorities, sir."

  "And we always appreciate your cooperation," Harrison replied. "We'll start on the bottom floor and work our way up."

  "I'll have to notify the guests," Marcus insisted. "You can't just burst into their rooms. There are privacy issues."

  "Fine." Harrison pulled out his cell phone again. "Let me just get a couple dozen officers here to assist."

  "Wait." Harvey's face bleached white. "Perhaps housekeeping can help."

  "That sounds promising." Harrison clipped his phone.

  "Rosalita," Harvey said, announcing the housekeeper's arrival.

  Dressed in a gray housekeeping uniform, Rosalita left her cleaning cart parked against the wall and came to them. She looked worried, and Chloe smiled to put her at ease.

  Harvey issued her instructions on what to do, and she, Chloe, Harrison and Harvey began checking the rooms.

  By the third floor, Chloe was questioning her bones. By the fourth, she was certain she'd been dead wrong. On the sixth floor, she swore if they found nothing, she was going to ignore her intuition and doubt her judgment for the rest of her life.

  Rosalita knocked on the third door. "Housekeeping."

  No answer.

  She keyed the lock, shoved the door open�
� and screamed.

  Harrison shoved past her into the room. Chloe followed.

  Emma lay battered and unconscious on the floor.

  Beside her lay Jack.

  A man appeared outside the window, then drew back.

  "Get down!" Chloe jerked Harrison's sleeve, dropped belly down on the floor. He landed beside her with a thud.

  The glass shattered.

  She covered her head with her arms. A bullet had entered the wall, chest high where she'd been standing.

  Harrison pulled his weapon from his shoulder holster, slid on his stomach around the foot of the bed, working his way to the window. Rosalita had shoved Harvey into the bathroom; they stayed put. Chloe pulled her gun, positioned herself above Emma and Jack at the side of the bed and aimed at the window, her heart beating so hard it blocked out her hearing.

  Harrison was still crawling when a gun appeared, and then the arm of the man holding it.

  Chloe fired. The gun flew out of his hand and fell to the street below. "Disarmed," she said to Harrison.

  He jumped to his feet, looked out the window, stretched and scanned, but didn't fire his weapon. "He's gone."

  Chloe caught her breath. "I know him," she said. "I mean, I've seen him. He's targeted me before."

  Harrison looked at her, waited for her to explain.

  Jack had a pulse. Thank God. She moved to Emma. The pulse at her throat beat at Chloe's fingertip, but it was weak and thready. "Call 911. Hurry!"

  Harrison pulled out his phone and dialed 911. "Two ambulances. STAT." He turned to Chloe. "Who was the shooter?"

  "One of Marcus's men at the church— when he kidnapped me."

  Chloe sniffed. Was the mob still intent on killing her to tie up loose ends? Or were Marcus's partners in the white-slave trade venture after her now? Her and Emma?

  Either way, it appeared someone wanted them both dead.

  Chapter 8

  The doctor who had cared for Chloe and Emma for the past decade came out into the ICU waiting room.

  Chloe jumped to her feet. "Dr. Scoffield, are they okay?"

  He swiped a hand on his pale blue scrubs, and his weary eyes turned gentle. "Emma's arm is broken again, she has multiple contusions, lacerations and severe bruises. So far, we've found no evidence of internal bleeding or damage to her vital organs, but we're still running tests."

  "Her face?" Shaking like a wind-tossed leaf, Chloe swallowed hard. Emma had been so swollen and bloody…

  "Will heal completely, though I'm afraid the news won't be as positive about her arm." Sadness filled his eyes. "Between the old injuries and these, she's suffered irreparable damage, Chloe. It pains me to say that her time as a professional pianist is over."

  "Oh, no." Tears burned in Chloe's eyes. Emma had worked so hard to play again, after the car explosion injury in California. She'd had three surgeries and months of intense physical therapy, trying to correct and repair the damage. It had only been in the last few weeks that she'd dared to be hopeful about playing again. And now this.

  "This injury will be difficult for her to accept," Dr. Scoffield said slowly, giving them time to absorb the news. "But I'm afraid there's a more immediate challenge for Emma, Chloe, and it's significant."

  "What? Was she…?" She let the question hang, unable to make herself say raped.

  "No," he said. "She wasn't sexually assaulted." His expression, already grim, turned more solemn. "She's in a coma."

  Chloe gasped, felt Harrison stiffen beside her and Renee's arm circle her back. "A coma?" She'd thought Emma had passed out from the pain of the beating. But this news was staggering.

  "I'm afraid so," he said. "It's a deep coma, which means we have no idea how long it will be before she wakes up. It could be hours or days, or even…longer." He forced himself to add, "Her condition is critical, Chloe. Be prepared."

  Chloe couldn't respond. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

  Renee cleared her throat. "Can we see her?"

  "Not now, Renee. We're still working on her." He touched a consoling hand to her arm. "As soon as we can, okay?"

  She nodded, strain lining her face.

  Dr. Scoffield rubbed at the back of his neck. The stethoscope dangling from it swayed on his chest. "Have you notified her parents?"

  "They're on the way," Chloe said. "Her mother called a few minutes ago. Traffic is backed up. They've summoned a helicopter and should be here soon."

  "Good." He gave them an empathetic look.

  He hadn't mentioned Jack. Not once. Chloe could barely breathe. God, she couldn't lose him. Couldn't face life knowing he was no longer living it. They might not be together, but they could never be apart. Not so long as he had her heart. "What about Jack?" she asked, terrified of the answer.

  "No injuries," Dr. Scoffield said. "He was drugged, Chloe. We're not sure with what, but his vital signs are stable."

  Relief twisted inside her. "I need to see him."

  "As soon as he wakes up." Dr. Scoffield patted her shoulder. "I'd better get back."

  Chloe couldn't speak, didn't move, just watched the doctor walk back through the double doors and disappear.

  Renee and Harrison stood with her. "No injuries?" Chloe asked them, incredulous. "I know he didn't just stand there and let them brutalize Emma and inject him with some drug."

  Harrison whispered but his calm tone chilled her. "He might have ordered it, Chloe."

  Renee scoffed. "Uh, no. That's not possible."

  Hopeful, Chloe darted her gaze to Renee. "Harrison thinks Jack might be the Duke."

  Rene's eyes widened in shock. She stared at Harrison, who nodded, then frowned.

  "That's ridiculous," Renee said. "Jack works with the FBI."

  "It's possible," Harrison countered. "Although if he is affiliated with the FBI, his actions may well have honorable explanations."

  Renee turned to Chloe, whose mouth was open. FBI? "The assignment was supposed to be over. What were you two doing?" Renee flipped from frightened to furious to frightened again. "Never mind. Whatever it was, it ends now. This assignment is sealed. Drum-tight. What was Emma doing at Hollow Hill?"

  "I don't know," Chloe said. "She was supposed to be at dinner with Brit Carouthers, but she paid him off to get rid of him. He came back to Perrini's alone. She had dinner alone, then left. How she left is in dispute, but all reports cite she left alone."

  "What the hell was she doing dining with Brit Carouthers?"

  Chloe shrugged. "He won her at the date auction."

  Renee murmured, "Why didn't she buy him off at Perrini's?"

  "I don't know." Chloe wished she did. Had her anger at Brit triggered her beating? If he was like his brother, he wasn't above having someone beat her. Or had the Duke attacked her, retaliating? He knew she and Chloe had been at Hollow Hill. Her being there, could be a message to the Roses that he could and would take them down. Or was the beating by someone else, for some other reason entirely?

  "Do you know why Jack was there?" Renee asked.

  "No." That terrified her. Could Harrison be right about Jack? Chloe's heart didn't want to believe it, but she had to try to make judgments based on fact not emotion. "Why didn't you tell me Jack was FBI?"

  "I thought he would have told you. Perhaps he was ordered not to. Regardless, you're done with this assignment," Renee said. "That's a direct order, Chloe. No exceptions."

  Rubi walked out of the elevator and headed into the ICU waiting room. Figuring she'd either picked up the news on the police scanner, or received a call about Emma from Tatiana, Chloe stepped away so Renee could intercept her.

  "Are you okay?" Harrison asked Chloe.

  She walked over to a row of empty burgundy seats, sat down and stared sightlessly at the gray wall. "No, I'm not okay," she admitted. How the hell could she be okay? "I'm on the edge of hysteria about Emma and Jack, and I'm just as relieved that it wasn't me." She clasped her head with her hands. "Isn't that awful?" Blowing out a deep breath, she shook herself. "Oh, God, ignore me
. I know it's awful." Coward. Coward. Coward. "Worse, I'm so thankful that Renee issued me a direct order to drop the assignment— and I'm sickeningly ashamed of myself because I am." She laced her hands in her lap, squeezed, and looked at him. "So no, Harrison. I am not okay. I am far from okay."

  He sat down beside her. "Tell me all of it."

  At this point, he was the only person in the world she could talk to, because it seemed everyone else in her damn life had suddenly become a suspect. Including her brother. Striving for control, she didn't hesitate. "I should be determined to find out who did this to Emma and why— in spite of Renee's orders. Emma is one of my oldest friends, and I should be just as determined to prove the truth about Jack."

  "Because…"

  "I love him, Harrison. I've always loved him." Tears welled in Chloe's throat. "But… Oh, God, I'm such a coward."

  Harrison covered her hand. "You're not a coward."

  She shot him an angry look. Couldn't he see the truth right in front of his face? What kind of spy was he? "I am."

  "Chloe, you charged into Hollow Hill. A coward couldn't have been dragged in there at gunpoint."

  "But that was different." She sniffed. "We didn't know then. Now we know, and I just want to hide."

  "Listen, you've had a really bad shock. Seeing Emma beaten, Jack unconscious, a jerk shooting at you— hell, Chloe, any one of those things would knock a person to their knees, but all of them at once? Of course you're afraid. You'd lack sense if you weren't scared stiff. Give yourself some time to get your emotions off the roller coaster and lick your wounds. Everyone needs time to heal, including you."

  He wasn't placating her. "Okay. Okay, I will. Thanks."

  His cell phone rang. He answered it, then moved around the corner and then walked outside to talk. Chloe watched him through the long windows, moving in and out of the streaks of light spilling onto the concrete walkway from the street lamps.

  Emma's parents arrived, harried, worried, and Chloe hugged them, consoled them, tried to reassure them. When Ryan Greene and Erik walked in, she turned them over to Renee.

  Erik carried a bouquet of roses. Flowers weren't allowed in ICU, but Chloe didn't have the heart to tell him; his thinking of others was too rare.