Darius would never forget the call he’d received from his brother five years ago. A drunk driver had run a red light, killing Jacqueline instantly. In a way, she’d been far luckier than her husband. His head injury had robbed him of ten years of his life leading up to the accident. The last thing he remembered was one of the fights he’d had with his wife when she’d stormed out of the house, threatening to never come back. While she had returned a few hours later, as she’d always done, in his mind, she’d abandoned him. Now, Phil thought his children were fifteen years younger than they were. Paranoia had also set in. He rarely left the trailer he insisted on living in on the outskirts of Brookford, a small town dwarfed by the Smoky Blue Mountains in Tennessee. The townspeople knew well enough by now not to disturb the old man who would rant and rave and threaten anyone who stepped on his small half-acre of property. The only reason he hadn’t been arrested for making threats was Levi was the town’s police chief. Barrie, a midwife, and Levi would check on their father, making certain he had food and supplies and hadn’t hidden any shotgun shells he could use to hurt someone. They still hadn’t figured out where he was getting the damn things every few months, but at least they’d managed to find most, if not all, of his hiding spots. They would just convince the old man he’d done some target practice recently whenever he discovered his new ammo missing. Yeah, they were conning him, but whatever worked.
“Hey, sis. What’d you make for dinner?” Once or twice a week, Barrie and Levi had dinner together. With both their busy jobs, they sometimes sat down for the meal later than most people did. Barrie loved to cook, and Levi liked to reap the benefits of letting her use the spacious kitchen that had come with the house he’d purchased a few years ago.
“Momma’s beef stew.”
That was all she had to say to get Darius’s stomach grumbling. Their mother had been an accomplished cook and left behind a well-used box filled with all her favorite comfort-food recipes handwritten on index cards. Barrie treasured the box and its contents, often recreating their mother’s culinary masterpieces.
“One of these days I’m going to convince you to make a pot of that and ship it overnight to me.” He paused. “How’s Dad doing?”
“Ornery as ever,” Levi responded. “I was out there yesterday because a few teenagers wanted to see who was brave enough to poke the bear. Thank God I confiscated Dad’s new stash of shells the day before. He scared the crap out of those kids with an empty shotgun. I doubt they’ll try to take him on again. I think two of them pissed their pants when he circled around and snuck up on them.”
“Who called it in?” Darius couldn’t see the kids calling 9-1-1. That was the type of stuff you kept under your hat in their neck of the woods—messing with the local loon. Not that Phil Knight, a former lumberjack, had always been crazy and paranoid, but after the past five years, that was how he’d be remembered by many people when he passed away.
“No one had to. I was on the phone with him when the Russians invaded.”
“Oh, jeez.” This time it had been the Russians in their father’s mind. The last time it had been the North Koreans, and before that it had been the Viet Cong, not that Phil had fought any of them during his four years in the Army after enlisting at eighteen. As far as his kids knew, the man had served all his time stateside.
“Yup. I hightailed it over there with two of my deputies. You think these stupid kids would learn.” They wouldn’t, and both brothers knew it, so Levi changed the subject. “So, are you back in the Sunshine State?”
“Yeah, got back a couple of days ago but had to deal with a debriefing and stuff.” Darius’s brother and sister had learned and accepted long ago there were many things about his work in the SEALs and Trident Security that he couldn’t discuss with them. While sometimes their curiosity got the better of them, and they asked questions he wasn’t always able to answer, they were used to him saying “no comment.” “Listen, I’ve got something to tell you . . . I’m . . . uh . . . getting married.”
Levi’s shocked “holy shit” was barely audible over Barrie’s squeal of excitement. “O.M.G.! Get out of here! I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. What’s her name? Where’s she from? What does she do? How did you meet her? When do we get to meet her?”
Chuckling, Darius shook his head. Barrie had always had a habit of rattling off a string of questions without waiting for an answer to any of them until she ran out of things to ask. Once there was a break in the interrogation, Darius responded, “Her name is Tahira. She’s from a small country in North Africa called Timasur, and she’s a . . . um . . . a princess.” Damn, that sounded so weird, even to him.
There was silence over the phone, and Darius pulled it from his ear to check the screen and see if he’d gotten disconnected. Nope. They were still there. “Guys, say something.”
A roar of laughter came from Levi. “Good joke, big brother. A princess? Right, like you could ever hook a princess. Maybe in a fairy tale.”
“Darius, damn it! I was all ready to start planning a wedding. That was mean.”
Darius sighed loudly. He should have expected their reaction, but then again, how many men from Tennessee called their family to say they were marrying into royalty. Not many at all. “I’m telling you the truth. You can Google her. The palace will be announcing the engagement in a few days, so I wanted to give you both a heads up. I’ve got my computer geek trying to lay some groundwork to keep the media vultures away from Dad, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to prevent anyone from making the connection. As soon as the news is released, it won’t be long before it’s all over town. Someone will see dollar signs and contact the press with info on me and my family.”
“You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?” Levi asked, the disbelief in his tone had been cut in half.
“Yeah, I am. I’ve been on her security detail a few times, and we kind of hit it off.”
Barrie finally found her voice again. “You really are serious. Holy shit! Does this mean you’re going to be a prince? Will we have to bow or curtsey or something when we see you? Oh my God! Are we going to meet a king or queen? I’ll have to go shopping! What should I wear when I meet them? Oh, and where will the wedding be? In . . . what’s the name of her country again?”
When his sister finally took a deep breath, Darius did his best to answer all her questions. Ten minutes later, he finally disconnected the call, only to have the phone ring almost immediately. Seeing it was Cain Foster, he swiped the screen. “Knight.”
“We’ve got company—three media vans just pulled up. One of them is CNN and another is the BBC.”
“What? The press release hasn’t gone out yet. What the hell do they want?” From his pocket, he pulled out a comm unit that was connected to both the TS team and the royal guards and stuck it into his ear. He could listen in on everyone doing their jobs.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to need a little backup. There are more coming.” Foster must have opened the door to the vehicle he and Morrison had been sitting in outside the front gate because Darius suddenly heard a bunch of people shouting questions. “This is just the tip of the iceberg, brother.”
Darius looked up as Jabari Bastide, the new head of Tahira’s detail, stuck his head into the library. “Where is Her Royal Highness? The press is at the gate.”
Disconnecting the call, Darius strode toward the doorway. “I know. She was talking to her mother on the phone in the office a little while ago. I’m not sure where she went from there. If you want to handle things out there, I’ll look for Tahira and keep her inside.”
If the man took offense to Darius speaking so informally about the princess, he didn’t show it. Darius was going to have to remember when a situation called for him to refer to her as Her Royal Highness or, at least, Princess Tahira. In such a short time, he’d gotten used to just calling her by her given name.
“No, my men have already joined your teammates. Princess Tahira is my responsibility, and I just checked th
e office—she’s not there.”
A flash of sadness and guilt appeared in the man’s dark eyes, and Darius felt bad for him. The reason he’d been promoted was because his two teammates and friends had been murdered protecting their charge, while Bastide had been sleeping on the cruise ship. He took his new position even more seriously than his old one and would lay down his life for the princess, of that Darius was sure. As bratty as she used to be, over the past few years, as she’d matured, Tahira had won the respect and loyalty of her guards. She now knew about their family members and inquired about them often, which made the men like her even more.
“Okay. If you want to check upstairs, I’ll see if she’s still down here somewhere.” With twenty-nine rooms in the three-level, main house, it would take a few moments to find her. Darius hoped she hadn’t gone outside. He didn’t think she was in any danger, but he still wanted to make sure she was safely out of view from any telescopic camera lenses.
Bastide nodded, then turned on his heel and hurried toward the foyer to take the stairs. Darius double checked the office on his way past it and found it empty. So were several other rooms. Finally, he found her in the kitchen, reading a fashion magazine and drinking a cup of tea. Tension he hadn’t realized had crept into his neck and shoulders released at the sight of her. “There you are.”
Startled, she looked up at him. “Darius.” Her mouth turned downward as she studied his face. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. Hang on.” He tapped his earpiece. “Bastide, Her Royal Highness is safe in the kitchen.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Safe? Darius, what—”
Tahira’s started to stand, fear blazing in her eyes, and he held up a hand, trying to calm her. “It’s okay, Tahira. The press just showed up at the gate. Apparently, word got out about our engagement.”
Her mouth gaped. “B-but Sebak was not supposed to release the statement until the day after tomorrow.”
Stepping over to her, Darius pulled her into his arms. She was shivering, and he doubted it was because she was cold. “I’m not sure what’s going on and why they’re here, but you’re safe, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you. The press won’t get anywhere close to you.”
Behind him, he heard Bastide enter the room, but Darius didn’t release Tahira. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly didn’t want to entrust her safety to anyone else. Bastide had asserted she was his responsibility, but ever since that relatively chaste kiss they’d shared, Darius wanted to claim Tahira as his in a completely different way. One word seemed to resonate through his mind—mine.
25
Tahira paced back and forth in front of the windows overlooking the Tampa Riverwalk, with her arms clasped around her torso. Dr. Trudy Dunbar’s office had a gorgeous view that unfortunately didn’t alleviate the nervousness rolling around in Tahira’s gut. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the psychologist who was sitting in a chair next to a couch. This was the moment she’d feared—talking to someone other than Darius about her assault. Patient/doctor confidentiality made it a little easier—Dunbar could lose her license if she repeated anything they discussed behind closed doors. Ian and Darius also trusted her, which helped Tahira trust her as well.
She’d been appalled and embarrassed when Darius had told her Ian had figured things out, but then the head of Trident Security had stopped by to let her know her secret was safe with him—he wouldn’t even tell his wife. Ian had become like a big brother to Tahira, and from their private conversation, she knew he didn’t think any less of her for what had happened. In fact, she was certain if her rapist was still alive, he would suffer a long, torturous death at the hands of the retired Navy SEAL. Ian had ensured her that any help she needed to get past the rape, he and Darius would make sure she got it.
After leaving the estate two hours ago, Darius’s teammates and Tahira’s guards had played an intricate game of cat and mouse with the press. They’d driven all around Tampa, leading a parade of vans with satellite dishes on the roofs, and changed vehicles twice, while Lindsey wore a wig, impersonating the royal princess. Tahira had donned her own wig—one with short, medium-brown hair, makeup to cover the bruises on her face, and large sunglasses. Once the coast had been clear, she and Darius had slipped out the back of the house, hurried to the estate’s dock on the bay, and boarded a boat Tristan McCabe had waiting for them. The man ferried them across the bay where an SUV was parked for them. With all the subterfuge, the press had no idea Tahira was now talking to her new psychologist, and she was grateful.
“I was raped.” There . . . she’d said it, and in doing so, it made it all too real. Tahira covered her face with her hands for a moment. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she gulped several times, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen. She blinked back a few tears, then circled around the desk and took a seat on the couch.
“Take a deep breath, Tahira. That’s it. One more.” Dr. Dunbar’s voice was soothing, filled with empathy and understanding. Once Tahira’s shoulders relaxed, the doctor continued. “I can only imagine how you must have felt. Your presence here means that you want to move forward. I’ll be here to help you get through this, and we’ll take it one step at a time. When you’re ready, please tell me what you remembered.”
Tahira was glad she felt comfortable enough with the other woman to talk to her. She couldn’t keep it all inside. She’d been raped, and even if she was afraid of it becoming public knowledge, she wouldn’t downplay what had happened to her with the people trying to help her. “I—I do not remember as much when I am awake—I was drugged at the time—but when I am asleep, the nightmares come. I see and feel bits and pieces, but my body’s response to them is what I fear.”
“What do you fear?”
Tahira realized what she’d said could be misinterpreted. “I mean, I am afraid I might die while reliving what happened. My breathing and heart rate become out of control. I have heard people can die of fright, and it scares me. That and my screams might have someone finding out I was . . . I was raped.”
It was still difficult to say out loud. Darius had been trying to convince her there was nothing to be ashamed of, but Tahira felt conflicted. As a woman who’d been sexually violated, she knew it was not her fault and she shouldn’t feel guilty. But as a daughter of the king of Timasur, a country where a woman’s lack of virginity on her wedding night was considered by many to be a crime worse than murder, she couldn’t let anyone else learn of her assault. More than two centuries ago, Timasur had been another country altogether, and Tahira could’ve been stoned to death if her secret had been discovered, even with her royal status.
The two women spent the rest of the hour-long appointment discussing what had happened—what Tahira did remember and what she didn’t but had learned from Darius. Dr. Dunbar also taught Tahira some relaxation techniques for when she felt a panic attack coming on, assuring her it was very rare to die from fright.
When a soft ding sounded from a small table next to Dr. Dunbar, she took off her reading glasses and looked at Tahira. “I’d like to see you three times a week to start with, if that’s okay with you. As you work your way through this, we’ll drop that down to twice or once a week.”
Tahira nodded. “Yes, that is fine. I—I appreciate what you are doing for me.”
The psychologist smiled at her. “I’m just listening. You’re doing all the work.”
After they scheduled her next few appointments, Tahira exited the office to find Darius sitting in the waiting room, reading something on his smart phone. When he heard her, he jumped to his feet, concern filling his handsome face. “How’d it go?”
“It went well. I like her—she is very nice.”
The tension in his features eased. “Good, I’m glad. Are we all set?”
She smiled and handed him the business card Dunbar had given her. “Yes—these are my next few appointments.”
As he led her to the elevators, Tahira was shocked when h
e slid his hand down to hers, entwining their fingers. When she looked up at him, he seemed to be just as startled by what he’d done. Before he could have any regrets and pull away from her, she squeezed his hand. “Thank you for bringing me here, Darius. I hope Dr. Dunbar will be able to help me.”
He hit the call button for the elevator with his free hand, then turned and cupped her chin. His penetrating gaze sent a shiver down her spine. “I hope so too, Princess.”
The doors to the car opened, and they stepped inside. Tahira was disappointed when Darius released her hand to push the button for the lobby. She immediately missed the warmth and safety she felt whenever he touched her. She wished she could see his aura, but after a brief flare of red had surrounded him, he’d shut down, causing it to disappear. How was she supposed to know if what she was starting to feel for him was reciprocated if she couldn’t see his aura? She was in uncharted territory here. It had never bothered her before when she couldn’t see someone’s colors, but then, again, it had never happened with someone she was attracted to. Somehow, she had to figure out if what she felt was one-sided or not because she hoped like hell it wasn’t.
26
After turning into the driveway of the estate, Darius kept going and pulled into the open garage and hit the remote to shut the overhead door. The press was back at the gate in full force. He hadn’t wanted to return by boat, giving away their ruse in case they needed to use that route again. Let the damn bottom feeders stew and wonder about how they’d been tricked.
Forty Days & One Knight: Trident Security Omega Team Book 2 Page 16