Princess in Peril

by Rachelle Mccalla

  The other man held up a photograph. “Also, we’ve intercepted this. Not sure exactly where it was taken. Someone’s cell phone camera. It will likely go viral.”

  Levi squinted at the grainy image. There was no mistaking the face in question, though Levi had himself been mistaken for the man a few days before. “Prince Alexander? Isabelle’s brother?”

  The man nodded. “You’ll note he appears injured.” He pointed to reddish streaks on the man’s face. “That would be consistent with surviving the attack.”

  For a moment, Levi considered forwarding the photograph to Isabelle. She’d want to know right away if her brother was alive.

  Just then a man came to the door. “We’re ready.”

  “Coming.” The picture could wait. With Spiteri at large, Valli’s testimony was more important than ever. If he could give them information that would give them the authority to capture Spiteri, all the better. Until Spiteri was behind bars, Levi wouldn’t rest—because Isabelle wouldn’t be safe until Spiteri had been put away for good.

  All too soon, Isabelle suspected where they were heading. The Adirondacks. She felt a churning in her gut. No! They couldn’t be headed to Tyrone Spiteri’s place, could they?

  But why else would Samantha have a gun? If Samantha was on her side, wouldn’t she have simply explained to Isabelle the change in plans? The only possible reason she hadn’t was because she couldn’t—because she knew Isabelle wouldn’t consent to going along then.

  One thing was certain: Isabelle couldn’t let them reach Spiteri’s country estate. Something told her she’d never get out of there alive.

  She thought about her phone, which was still in her purse. Was there any way she could call for help? But it would take too long to explain the situation to the state police, even if they were aware of the situation in Lydia.

  No, she needed someone who’d understand right away what was needed. Someone she could be certain would follow through on her cry for help.

  She needed Levi.

  “I thought we were stopping for the facilities,” Isabelle said in an innocent voice.

  “He was lying,” Samantha snarled beside her.

  “But I really need to use the facilities.” Play dumb, play dumb.

  “You went before we left,” Samantha reminded her, but she didn’t sound quite so convinced herself. Isabelle had seen the woman drinking coffee earlier. She might not be the only one who would appreciate a pit stop.

  “You can come with and bring your gun,” Isabelle offered. “I promise not to run away.”

  Samantha’s lips pressed together in a thin line. She was considering it.

  “Fine. Let’s pull over at the next available stop.” Samantha turned the barrel of the gun toward Isabelle. “But you’re not leaving my sight.”

  Fortunately the restroom had several stalls. Samantha insisted on taking the stall right next to Isabelle’s. She had her gun out of sight but had made it clear she could use it on a second’s notice.

  Isabelle pulled her phone from her purse. As far as she knew, Samantha was unaware she had it. Fortunately, she’d insisted on entering Levi’s new number for the phone that replaced the one the soldiers had taken when he’d been captured at the Embassy.

  Knowing she’d have only seconds to compose her plea for help, she typed quickly. help sam is dirt

  “Let’s go!” Samantha shouted.

  Isabelle flushed and sent the message. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do. She’d meant to say Sam was dirty, but she didn’t have time to add the “Y” or any further explanation—like where she suspected they might be headed. But Levi needed to know he couldn’t trust Samantha. Beyond that, he was on his own to find her—if he could.

  Now she’d just have to pray Levi saw the message soon.

  Valli was talking in circles. Levi wondered what the man was trying to do—other than irritating his interrogators, of which he was doing a fine job. It was almost as though the man was stalling. But what could he possibly stand to gain that was more important to him at this point than cooperating for a reduced sentence?

  “What do you know about Tyrone Spiteri’s involvement in the plot to kill the royal family?” Levi asked, deciding to take a step back and broaden the line of questioning.

  “Spiteri wasn’t involved in the plot to kill the royal family.”

  Levi froze. He’d read the emails Isabelle had translated. Spiteri had wanted the royal family dead. And Valli had instructed the generals to make sure that happened—even to the point of having Alfred kill Isabelle if the missiles didn’t take care of it.

  Was Valli stupid enough to lie under oath? No, he was a weasel and a rat, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “But Spiteri was poised to benefit if the royal family died.”

  “To a point.”

  Levi wanted to reach across and shake Stephanos Valli’s head. The man was being painfully obtuse. “Spiteri was poised to benefit if every member of the royal family died, with the exception of Princess Isabelle.”

  “Yes.”

  “So the plot to kill the royal family wasn’t engineered by Spiteri, although he was aware of it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Spiteri wanted Isabelle alive.”

  “Yes.”

  That explained why the men who’d been after them hadn’t simply shot them on sight. Spiteri had instructed them to bring Isabelle to him. Levi’s stomach plummeted. “Where is Tyrone Spiteri now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The man gave him a look that sent chills up Levi’s spine. Where was Spiteri? What was he doing? And what would he do if he got his hands on Isabelle?

  Something vibrated softly near his leg. It took Levi a moment to pull his thoughts from the line of questioning and realize the unfamiliar sensation was caused by his new phone.

  He pulled it out.

  One new message.

  Levi clicked view.

  help sam is dirt

  Fear shot through to his heart. It took him a moment to recognize the number. Isabelle’s phone? Was she not getting along with Samantha? Or was something bigger going on?

  Spiteri was talking more about the generals. Levi would have loved to stay to hear it, but he feared he might not have time. “Excuse me.” He ducked out of the room, phone still in hand and punched in her number.

  His finger froze above the send button. There was that still, small voice nudging him to stop.

  But why? It didn’t make any sense. He needed to call Isabelle and make sure she was okay. His finger wavered above the button.

  Then he snapped his phone closed. Right. If she was in trouble and he called her, he might get her in more trouble. All someone would need to do was look at her phone and they’d find she’d sent him a message. And if she really did need help—if Samantha really was dirt, as the message implied—then giving away what she’d done would ruin the only advantage she had.

  Instead, Levi opened the phone and called his father. “Has Isabelle’s car reached the safe house yet?”

  “No. Samantha called earlier to report they were delayed in traffic.”

  “Has Spiteri been located?”

  “No one can seem to find him.” Nicolas Grenaldo paused. “Is everything all right?”

  “How well do we know Samantha Klein?”

  “She’s worked for us for years.”

  “Yeah, and Alfred was Isabelle’s bodyguard for four years.” Levi hurried toward the door. He needed to move quickly. Isabelle was in trouble. And Tyrone Spiteri was still at large. “I need a helicopter and armed men. Call the state police.”

  “Why?”

  “Spiteri has Isabelle.”

  “You’re kidding. Where?”

  Levi paused at the street. It was raining. He thought about hailing a cab, but traffic was heavy and the Sanctuary Offices were less than a mile away. He broke into a run, as everything Isabelle had told him about Tyrone’s previous assault on her hit him like the rain that fell from the gray sk
y. “The Adirondacks. He has a summer home there. A two-hour drive from Dartmouth, near a riding stable. Find it for me. Thanks.”

  He snapped his phone closed and picked up his pace to a dead sprint. Isabelle hated Spiteri. She feared him. And for good reason.

  Levi couldn’t let Spiteri win.

  Two armed guards met the SUV by the garage. Samantha darted from the car through the rain to where Spiteri stood under the garage awning and threw herself into his arms. Isabelle watched in horror as her former fiancé exchanged a passionate kiss with the woman who’d been holding a gun on her the whole trip. If possible, it made her feel even more betrayed. And it did not bode well for the result of this visit.

  “All right, out of the car,” Samantha barked, holding open the front passenger door.

  The guard exited with his hands in the air. “I’m just a paid guard, Samantha. I’m not on anybody’s side.”

  “I’d love to believe you, but I’ve seen you act honorably too many times before. And I can’t risk you turning hero.” She pointed the gun at him.

  Isabelle winced.

  “Tie him up,” Samantha shouted impatiently, as though the other men standing by were supposed to have read her mind.

  The next guard’s exit was much the same. When the two burly guards were bound, Samantha gestured with the gun again, and Isabelle lowered her shaky legs from the backseat, giving the bound-and-gagged guards a wistful look. It would have been nice to just be bound and gagged.

  She was pretty sure her visit wouldn’t be so pleasant.

  Samantha fell in behind her and prodded her forward with the gun.

  Tyrone Spiteri smiled down at her. He had a way of smiling that was not at all friendly. “So, Princess, we meet again. When are you going to accept that the two of us were meant to be together? Each time I have to come find you, I just get more upset.” The smile turned into a fierce growl. “You don’t want to make me upset.”

  He led her inside the estate. Isabelle recognized the Arts and Crafts style architecture and the white-painted woodwork that she’d found so cheerful and comforting on previous visits. Now it held only ugly memories.

  “Sit.” Tyrone pointed to a chair and sat in the one opposite it. Samantha kept the gun trained on her as she perched on the arm of Tyrone’s chair.

  Isabelle looked around the room, hoping to spot some means of escape, but none presented themselves. Besides, she’d have to get past plenty of armed men to get away. But they were on the first floor, and she knew the way to the front door. Maybe …

  “You have rejected my offer before.” Tyrone’s words jerked her thoughts away from escape. “That was stupid. Now I am in a bad mood and I will not be so nice to you.” He’d always had a rough accent. She’d found it exotic when she’d first met him, but now it only made the man sound that much more sinister.

  “Here is the deal—you marry me and bear my child, or I will kill your family.”

  FOURTEEN

  “We only have four men,” Joe informed Levi as he entered the front doors, shaking off the rain, out of breath from his sprint to the building.

  “Why?”

  “Dad was thinking about what you said—about the possibility that Samantha might have turned. We both agreed we only wanted men we were sure we could trust.”

  Levi weighed their options. Trust or manpower? Which would be more important? He wasn’t sure what he was up against, but he knew he was tired of being betrayed. “But the state police are going to meet us there, right?”

  “Dad’s going to get in touch with them next.”

  Levi knew they wouldn’t be able to do anything to Spiteri without the police on their side. If Sanctuary agents stormed the place and captured Spiteri themselves, the agents could be accused of breaking and entering, even kidnapping, and Spiteri could end up going free on a technicality. They couldn’t risk that.

  “We need them on our side—”

  “We’ll have them in place by the time we arrive.”

  “Okay, fine. Do we have the location of Spiteri’s estate?”

  “Yes. Dad’s getting us satellite images. We’ll have to plan our attack while we’re in the air.”

  “Let’s get moving.” Levi hurried down the hallway as he spoke.

  “Aren’t you going to change out of your suit?”

  Levi thought about all the enemies he’d fought while in his tuxedo and with Isabelle in an evening gown, no less. “Are you kidding? This is casual for me.”

  “My family is already dead.”

  Tyrone threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t a very comforting sort of laugh.

  Isabelle shivered.

  “Do you really expect me to think that you believe that? We both know no bodies were ever identified.”

  Aware of the possibility that Tyrone might be able to help her locate her loved ones, Isabelle decided to play for all she could get. What did she have to lose? If nothing else, she’d be killing time. “But none of them have ever come forward. So what makes you think they’re alive?”

  “Your brother is in North Africa. Your sister is in Milan.”

  “And my parents?”

  Tyrone shrugged. “They are in the care of General Lucca.”

  Isabelle’s mind swirled. Was it even possible? Could her family have survived the blasts? Much as she wanted to believe it was true, she knew better than to trust Tyrone. She tempered her hope.

  “Do you have proof of that?”

  “You have my word.”

  Isabelle knew how much Tyrone’s word was worth, but she decided not to mention that. No sense angering him further. “If I agree to your terms, you’ll help reunite us?”

  “I will do everything in my power.”

  His words sent chills chasing through her veins. The man had power, she’d learned that much. Where he got it from or at what cost, she couldn’t say.

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “Then I will take what I want, and things will not go so pleasantly for you.”

  Isabelle swallowed. Things weren’t going to be pleasant either way. Might as well make the guy think she was trying to cooperate. “What is your plan?”

  “First things first. To discover if you are able to bear my child. If not, I will have to negotiate a deal with your sister.”

  “Are you sure you want to marry me? I thought you and Samantha—”

  “What happens between me and any other woman is none of your concern!”

  “But if we’re married—”

  He completely disregarded her protests. “First, we will see if you can conceive. I will give you three months, starting now.” Spiteri rose from his seat.

  No! Isabelle had to keep him talking. “The Lydian laws of succession state that in order to be crowned king or queen, an individual must be a legitimate descendent. That means the parents have to be married before the child is conceived.”

  “I do not believe that is what that means.”

  Isabelle had to force herself not to roll her eyes. The man was so used to getting his way, he thought he could change the meaning of words and laws. It didn’t surprise her too much. “You can ask Parliament what they think it means. I’ll wait.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Spiteri didn’t call Parliament. Instead, he crossed the room to Isabelle and grabbed her roughly by one wrist. “Parliament doesn’t know when anyone was conceived. If we make a baby, then I will marry you. It would look bad if I had to leave you for your sister so soon after we marry.” As he spoke, he pulled her toward the stairs.

  Isabelle knew what was up there. The bedroom where he’d assaulted her before. She wondered if the eye-gouging defensive maneuver would work a second time.

  “Samantha!” Spiteri called over his shoulder. “Bring the gun! I want to make sure the princess doesn’t go back on our agreement.”

  Though she hadn’t agreed to anything, she figured that was probably a moot point in Tyrone’s eyes. If she was going to escape, she’d have to act fas
t.

  Tyrone had tight hold on her wrist, pulling her behind him as they ascended the open curving stairway with its paisley carpet runner. Samantha stayed one step behind, the point of her gun jabbing at Isabelle’s ribs.

  As they topped the final step to the balcony space whose white-painted balusters overlooked the chandelier over the two-story entrance, Samantha must have caught her toe on the rim of the stair or something because she stumbled forward and the gun fell from her hands.

  “Oh!”

  Samantha’s gasp of surprise startled Spiteri, who glanced back and slightly loosened his hold on Isabelle’s wrist.

  Jerking her arm backward, Isabelle pulled away from Tyrone, in the same motion kicking the gun farther down the stairs. She lunged for the railing, hoping to jump over and maybe even take Samantha out as she went.

  Tyrone’s thick hands were on her immediately, his grip excruciatingly tight on her shoulders. “You little wench!” He jerked her backward.

  Isabelle fought hard, but she was no match for his greater size. Within seconds Samantha had retrieved the gun, and Isabelle stilled her fighting.

  “You will cooperate,” Tyrone nearly shouted, “or I will kill your family!”

  “You don’t dare kill my sister,” Isabelle reminded him. “And you don’t dare kill me, either, so what’s the point of having Samantha carry that gun? She knows you’ll turn it on her if she shoots me.” Isabelle added the last bit for Samantha’s benefit. She already knew the ambitious blonde wasn’t stupid. Perhaps there was some way to use her assertiveness against Tyrone.

  “If I have to kill you and your sister, I will just use Valli as my puppet.”

  “Valli has been asked to step down as ambassador. He will never be crowned.”

  “No matter. Stephanos Valli has two younger brothers.” Tyrone stopped at the top of the stairs and ran his fingers under Isabelle’s chin. “I don’t care how I come to rule, but I will come to rule. I liked this plan best, but if you’re going to be too difficult, I will kill you. It is as simple as that.”

  For a fleeting moment, Isabelle considered letting him kill her. It was the only way she could put a stop to his plans.