The Bodyguard's Prince (The Royal Wedding Book 1)

by Caroline Lee

  No, don’t think of that right now.

  He slammed his fist into Rastorov’s throat, feeling something crunch and collapse under the blow.

  Still holding the gun in one hand, the gangster’s other hand dropped his pants’ waist and went to his throat and Alek saw his eyes widen in shock. They stood that way in a silent tableau for a moment, as Rastorov’s face turned purple. The man opened his mouth—to say something? To yell?—but no sound came out.

  Rastorov seemed to suddenly remember he was still holding the gun, and his free hand dropped to the weapon, fumbling to get it turned the right away around as he struggled to suck in air past his mangled airway.

  Well, to hell with that. Alek wasn’t about to let the man get another shot off, not when the last one had done so much damage. While Rastorov was still trying to fit his finger through the trigger guard, Alek spun and slammed his bare foot into the man’s chest.

  Rastorov stumbled backwards, tripped as his pants slid down his thighs, and fell against the thick laminate of the small kitchen’s countertop. Alek heard a sickening crunch and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  When Rastorov hit the floor, he flopped in an entirely un-lifelike manner. Alek stood staring at him, his fists still up and his energy still coiled, waiting for the man to move or make a noise.

  When long moments passed and neither happened, Alek took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow its frantic beat. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through his veins and he still hadn’t had the balls to turn and check on Toni.

  But before he did that, he needed to check on Rastorov, to see if the man was a further threat. He took a cautious step towards the man and nudged him with a toe. When Rastorov failed to respond, Alek pushed him over onto his side.

  There wasn’t much blood, but the blow to the back of the head had obviously caused some damage. Whether it was that fall, or the fact he hadn’t been able to suck in any air past his collapsed throat…Rastorov was dead.

  Alek stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, staring down at the man he’d unintentionally killed to protect the woman he loved. The man who’d hurt Toni, who would’ve done worse. The man who might’ve killed her. Alek stared, willing himself to feel something. But a numbness crept through his limbs, and he knew he was just avoiding turning, avoiding going to check on her.

  Terrified of what he might find.

  Her head hurt, but that wasn’t surprising. Blearily, Toni prodded at her temple, where the bullet had grazed her head. She hadn’t even seen the gun fire, but she sure had heard it, and then a split second later, felt the breeze of the bullet. She’d thought it had missed her—she’d still been twisting mid-air after her kick, after all—but then the pain had erupted from her head.

  She realized she was lying crookedly on the sofa, and poked the part of her head which hurt the most. Her hand came away sticky, but the pain hadn’t increased. Either it was at its absolute highest setting, and she couldn’t feel any more pain from the probing, or it hadn’t been that horrible to begin with. She examined her hand, relieved to see just blood and some gooey bits of hair, and nothing more important, like her brain bits.

  On the other side of the room, men were grunting. Grunting? She tried to focus. Oh, yeah… That man—what was his name? Oh, Rastorov. He was fighting Alek.

  Alek!

  Toni surged upright, her head wound forgotten. She’d stepped forward to take Rastorov’s attention away from Alek, because she knew she could handle it, could handle him, despite the gun. She hadn’t wanted Alek in danger, and taking the gun out of the equation had made things more even.

  More than even. She watched with pride as Alek landed a blow to Rastorov’s knee, knowing she’d taught him that kick. Of course, he caught a fist to his nose, and Toni winced when she heard that crunch. Hadn’t she taught him how to block a blow like that? Oh well, it wasn’t a threat, judging from the way he shook himself and dived back into the fray.

  A noise from the other side of the front door caught Toni’s attention. Men speaking? Who—?

  Oh shit, it was the other gangsters! Rastorov had sent Baldy and Bruiser outside, and there was one other out there too. They must’ve heard the gunshot, and wondered what was going on inside. Alek and Rastorov were matched for now, but if the others barged in, especially with their guns, and with her feeling this woozy and confused, there was no way she could stand against them.

  The door! Rastorov hadn’t locked it, but his command to stay outside was the only thing keeping his henchmen out there right now. She lurched towards it, praying she could get to it before the men decided to see what the problem was.

  When she reached the door, she could still hear the men’s voices on the other side. They weren’t being quiet, but she knew from her explorations the last few days that the door was reinforced and pretty thick.

  Unfortunately, the locks which had so completely stymied her during those explorations were on the other side of the door, keeping her and Alek in, rather than most apartments, where the lock was to keep others out. However, whoever had modified the door—and when had they done that, if Rastorov’s ridiculous demands had only become relevant after Wednesday, when Viktoria had asked for Alek’s support?—had left the typical lock intact too, probably assuming it wouldn’t matter.

  Now, while the fight raged behind her, and the men argued on the other side of the door, Toni held her breath and snicked the lock closed as quietly as she could. It wasn’t going to hold an army—maybe it wouldn’t even stop gunfire!—but it was better than nothing.

  She released the breath she’d been holding and let her forehead fall against the door, wincing as her wound came into contact with the cold metal. But it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it might’ve, and figured that was a good sign.

  From behind her she heard a sound between a crash and a thud, and turned to see Alek roll Rastorov over. The gangster flopped in a way which told her he was dead.

  She stared, still having trouble processing quickly.

  Alek won, she told herself silently. He won, and he’s safe. Right now, he stood, staring down at Rastorov’s body, breathing heavily. Her heart ached for him, knowing the barrage of emotions which must be slamming into him at that point—relief, guilt, disgust. She needed to comfort him, to hold him. To check on his nose, if nothing else.

  She stepped away from the door just as a pounding began. It didn’t make her turn—she’d just secured the door, for goodness’ sake!—but Alek flinched as if he’d been distracted. He took a deep breath, his shoulders expanding, clenched his hands into fists by his side, and turned to the sofa.

  When his eyes widened with shock, Toni realized he’d been searching for her. Had he been preparing himself for what he might find? A second later, his eyes found hers, standing there by the door, and a look of such intense relief flashed across his face, Toni wondered what he’d been dreading.

  She smiled, holding her arms open for him, and he practically flew across the room to her. Wrapping himself around her—careful of her head wound—he pressed her face against his shoulder, and inhaled deeply. She could feel him trembling, feel his heartbeat under her cheek. It was frantic, but her smile grew, because it meant he was safe.

  They were both safe.

  The pounding came from the other side of the door again, this time with cries of “Rastorov! What’s going on in there?”

  Toni pulled away far enough to lift her fingers to her lips, urging Alek not to say anything. Maybe without confirmation from Rastorov, or any further sounds, those goons would assume—what? That Alek had won? Toni decided she didn’t care, as long as they left.

  She gestured to Alek to stay still, then tiptoed back to the door, careful to keep her body aligned with the hinge side of the door, in case the men out there decided to try to blow off the lock. They didn’t, but she could hear more of their argument now.

  “Rastorov isn’t answering.”

  “Try calling him.”r />
  A moment later, from the other side of the room, a ringing came from the gangster’s pocket, which was now down around his ankle. Neither Toni nor Alek made a move for the phone, but stood stock-still.

  “I can hear it ringing,” someone said. “He’s not picking up.”

  “He’s dead then, or left.” That was Bruiser, she was pretty sure.

  “Left, how? You idiot. This is the only exit, we made sure of that.”

  “Then let’s bust in to help him.”

  “No way.” A third voice. “If he’s dead, the plan’s over. I’m heading out on whatever flight Jared got us. I ain’t gunna stick around and be picked up for kidnapping a prince.”

  A pause, then someone rumbled, “Yeah, me too.”

  There were footsteps away from the door. Toni tried to count, to make sure it was all three of them leaving, but couldn’t be sure.

  Still, she breathed a little easier as she moved back to Alek and into his arms.

  After a long moment, she felt him relax slightly. “You think they’re gone?” he whispered.

  She looked up into his eyes. “I hope so,” she whispered in return. “But I’m fine waiting right here for the police to come check things out.”

  Above a bruise already spreading to either side of his nose, his gorgeous grey eyes lit up. “Rastorov’s phone!”

  Nodding, a grin tugged her lips upwards. She pulled away from him to cross the room and fish the dead man’s phone out of his pocket, grimacing as she did so. Not because of the gore—she’d seen that before—or because of what he’d intended to do to her—he would’ve never been a match for her. No, she was just sorry Alek had been the one to face the monster. The man she loved had to dirty his hands—and his conscience—with Rastorov’s death.

  So her voice was grim as she explained the situation to the police. They didn’t believe her at first, explaining many people had called in over the last few days, claiming to have tips about the prince’s disappearance. She could understand their reluctance, but after she’d explained the situation, didn’t have patience for it. “Prince Alek is standing here—wounded, I might add—looking at a dead man. I don’t know where we are—no, I don’t. Of course I don’t, otherwise we would’ve called someo—listen. Just get here. I’m leaving this connection open.”

  She dropped the phone onto the table, and turned an exasperated look at Alek, who was standing with his hands on his hips, an amused smirk on his face, and blood all over.

  “What?” she snapped.

  His grin grew. “Organizing the shit out of everything again, huh, Dryden?”

  She flushed, and mumbled an excuse.

  “No, it was a compliment. You’re really good at taking charge. You’re a strong leader.”

  There was something about the way he said it which made it clear he was thinking of something else, but Toni didn’t have the energy to consider what he meant. Instead, she grabbed one of his hands.

  “I figure we’ve got fifteen minutes or so before the police figure out where we are, if they even believed me. They’ll have to break down the door, because I’m not unlocking it with those goons still out there, but I’m okay with that. In the meantime, let’s see what kind of medical supplies this place is stocked with.” She tugged him towards the bathroom. “Any apartment with a supply of condoms in the drawers must have some alcohol and bandages for your nose, and we can apply ice—”

  “My nose? My nose?” He pulled her to a stop and stared down incredulously for a moment. Then he shook his head, gave her a little push into the bathroom, and pulled the door closed behind them, blocking out the gruesome view of Rastorov’s body in the kitchen.

  Once ensconced, he began muttering under his breath, then lifted her with both hands around her waist. Swinging her up on the bathroom counter, he pulled open the bottom drawer with his toe and peered inside.

  “I can’t believe you’re worried about a little broken nose,” he muttered as he pulled the next one open, obviously not finding what he was looking for. “You were shot in the head, and you’re worried about my nose.”

  She was worried about a lot more than that. Reaching out, she touched his shoulder, pulling him upright and halting his search. “Are you going to be okay?”

  He made an exasperated, desperate sound. “It’s just a little broken nose, Toni!”

  “I mean…” She nodded—managing to hide her wince—at the now-closed door and the dead man on the other side of it. “Are you okay? With everything.”

  He blinked twice, then took a deep breath. As he let it out, she imagined she could feel some worry and tension leaving his body.

  “Yeah. I mean, I’ll probably have nightmares, but I understand now how the heroes in all those movies felt, you know? Someone I—well, you were threatened, and I couldn’t let him do that to you, and I—I…” He frowned slightly and looked down at her lap. “I’m okay with my decision. My actions.”

  She placed both hands on either shoulder and squeezed slightly. “You sure?”

  He nodded, then took another deep breath and looked up at her once more. “I had to do it, Toni. My God, look at you!” His hands went to the wound at her temple, but he didn’t touch it directly. “I thought—well, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t mean to kill him, but he meant to hurt us. Hurt you. I just hit him like you taught me to.”

  She smiled softly, proud of him for learning, but prouder that he was allowing himself to feel in the aftermath of such a trauma. “It was a perfect blow. You took him down before he could do you damage, and that’s the best thing. And it’s entirely possible it was the blow to his head which killed him—that’s not uncommon.”

  “Really?” Alek squinted thoughtfully.

  She nodded a little to vigorously, which caused pain to flare in her head once more. When she winced, Alek’s grey eyes flew open once more.

  “I can’t believe you’re sitting here listening to me talk about this when you’ve been shot! You need to quit worrying about me and my feelings and my stupid nose…”

  Toni was content to sit there while he went back to his search through the drawers, knowing his muttering meant he was going to be okay. “Have you ever had a broken nose before, Your Highness?” she teased.

  “Alek,” he corrected automatically, slamming one drawer closed and reaching for another. “And no, I haven’t, but I once broke Kristoff’s on accident.”

  She snorted, then winced when the movement—or maybe the sound—sent a stab of pain through her head. Perhaps she would let him minister to her first…

  “You broke Kristoff’s nose? That’s a story I’d love to hear.”

  “It was an accident.” Alek made a little triumphant noise as he held up a small first-aid container. “We were pretty young and he and Arne were playing knights. They needed a dragon, so, as the oldest, I got volunteered.” As he spoke, he gently swabbed at her injury, cleaning it with something which stung. “They had these wooden swords they were swinging around, so I held up a bigger one, and Kristoff ran into it, face-first.”

  She wasn’t sure if she could believe that innocent rendition of events, but appreciated the fact he was trying to distract her. Sitting there on that counter, holding him, staring at his eyes while he focused on making her feel better, Toni knew she had to tell him.

  “I love you,” she blurted.

  He froze, his hands still against her hair, his attention focused on her wound. For a long moment, he didn’t even breathe. Then, she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, and he inhaled softly.

  Slowly, his hands began to move again, poking and prodding at her scalp, doing something she couldn’t see. He was very carefully not looking at her face—not that she was even sure she could meet his eyes after that embarrassing confession—and his voice sounded too-nonchalant when he finally spoke.

  “Was that an ‘I love you’ as in ‘You’re my employer and I’ll throw myself in front of a lunatic with a loaded weapon for you’?”

 
“No!— Well, actually, yes,” Toni clarified, still staring at his throat. “It was more of a ‘I love you and I’ll do anything I can to protect you.’”

  He hummed, but kept his attention on her head, although his hands had stilled once more. “And you don’t think you feel that way because I’m your employer?”

  Her lips pulled down into a frown, and she finally glanced up at his face, the blood on his upper lip now dried. “I haven’t fallen in love with any of my other employers, Alek.”

  “It’s not because we’ve been spending so much time together? Or how well we mesh? Or how good we are in bed together? Or how much fun—”

  When the laughter burst out of her lips, interrupting him, he finally met her eyes. She was already reaching for her temple, the laughter causing her head to pound, but it had been worth it.

  When he just frowned at her, he looked just like the arrogant, aloof prince she’d met last year…only bloodier. “What’s so funny about that question? I want to be sure—”

  She smacked his chest. “Because that is what made me fall in love with you, you stupid man.” Twisting, she grabbed a washcloth and wet it, wiping at his nose and lip while she explained. “I have fun with you. I enjoy talking with you, I like the way you ask for and listen to my opinion. And not just in the last few days, either, but before. I’ve admired you for a long time, your devotion to your people. But since you let me see the real you, the man inside the prince, I’ve…” She swallowed, her attention on the washcloth.

  “You’ve fallen in love with me.” It hadn’t been a question, but he’d sounded more perplexed than arrogant.

  Toni found she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered.

  He took a deep breath—she loved the way his shoulders expanded in his t-shirt. “Toni, will you…will you marry me?”

  She closed her eyes to the sweet words, words she’d half-hoped for, half-dreaded. He was the partner she’d always dreamed of, but she couldn’t have him. Forcing herself to take a deep breath of her own, she opened her eyes and placed her palm on his now-clean cheek.