Saving the Princess

by Helena Newbury

  “I’ll have our intelligence services investigate,” said Aleksander. “And I’ll ensure any mention of Garmania stays out of the press.”

  “I’m sure they were just a couple of extremists,” said the Princess. “Nothing to do with Garmania itself.” We could all hear the emotion in her voice. She needed that to be the case. I wondered again if she’d lost someone in the war.

  “You’re probably right, Your Highness,” said Aleksander. “But we have to be certain.”

  The Princess nodded and ended the call. At the same time, Director Gibson knocked on the door and then tentatively opened it. “Your Highness?” he asked. “We’ve organized a convoy to take you to the airport.”

  The Princess nodded and her entourage filed out. She turned and looked up at me. “Will you be coming with us?”

  By now, we were alone. I opened my mouth. Hesitated, the yes already on my tongue. I’d do anything just to spend another few minutes with this woman.

  But that was crazy. Maybe she’d wanted me to kiss her but she was royalty, for God’s sake. For a few hours, our paths had crossed. Now it was time for both of us to get back to reality. She had the FBI to protect her, now. She didn’t need a dumb grunt. Hell, I wasn’t even a soldier anymore. I’d been damn lucky to make it through that morning without a flashback: if I’d frozen up at any point, she’d have been dead.

  And the longer I spent with her, the more chance she’d ask questions. She was too damn easy to talk to. And I couldn’t relive what happened or let her see what a wreck I was inside. Not when she was so perfect.

  “No,” I said at last. I gazed down at her, trying to drink in as much of her as possible so I could remember her forever. “You’re in good hands, now.”

  She tilted her head to one side for a second and her eyes were hurt. What did I do wrong? The urge to reach down and lay my big paw on her cheek and tell her nothing and pull her in and kiss those sweet lips was almost more than I could take—

  But then she gave a quick little nod. “Well, then I suppose this is goodbye.” She drew in her breath. “Thank you, Mr. Buchanan. I won’t forget you.”

  I’d never heard my name said that way, with respect. And the sound of that upper-class accent sliding over all the hard consonants, like smooth glass coating the pebbles in a creek...it was addictive. But I just nodded.

  She held out her hand towards me and I went to shake it. But she was holding it palm down, not palm sideways. A hazy memory from old movies filled my mind….

  I took a half step back and bent at the waist in what I hoped was a bow. I brought one big hand up under hers: God, her fingers were so slender and cool, next to mine. And then I pressed my lips to the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and so smooth...For a second I stayed there, my hand pressing into hers, my lips hot against her, my heart racing. I couldn’t let go.

  I was goddamn crazy for this woman.

  I forced myself to straighten up. Halfway there, we locked eyes and I froze. I could see the need in her, the reflection of that pull I was feeling. I could hear her breathing quickening, matching mine. All I had to do was tug on her hand and pull her in for a real kiss—

  She’s a goddamn princess!

  I straightened fully and looked away. Immediately, she looked away too. And then she was hurrying out the door.

  All the FBI agents were occupied organizing the convoy so I wandered to an upstairs window to watch. Three big black SUVs were standing by the curbside. This is it, then. Goodbye. I’d only known her a handful of hours but the idea of not being there to protect her was chewing away at me. Even though she was with the FBI now. Even though the danger was probably passed. I still had that itch between my shoulder blades. Something about this wasn’t right.

  Or maybe I just didn’t want to let her go.

  The Princess’s entourage were getting into the center car while FBI agents got into the front and rear ones. See? Lots of protection. I did the right thing.

  They got the Princess to climb in last, so she was exposed as little as possible. Smart. They know their stuff. I did the right thing.

  She had to bundle up the skirts of the huge dress like a bride on the way to her wedding. Her pale skin gleamed in the dim interior of the car, her chestnut hair shone—

  I did the right thing.

  An FBI agent slammed the door and—

  Suddenly, I was running. Jumping down the stairs. Grabbing my kit bag. I burst out through the doors, ran over to the Princess’s car and jumped in beside her. “I’ll come with you as far as the airport,” I told her breathlessly.

  A delighted smile spread across her face, so wide I could see her fighting to control it. She looked down at her knees for a second, then back to me. “Very well, Mr. Buchanan.”

  I looked around for the first time. The back of the car was huge, with three seats facing backward and three facing forward. The Princess sat directly across from me, with her two guards next to her. Emerik was giving Jakov another of those long, venomous stares. What was it between those two? Sitting next to me was Caroline...and in the final seat was FBI Director Gibson. I was surprised that he’d come along but it gave me even more respect for the guy.

  The convoy moved off. For the first few minutes, I just soaked up how beautiful she looked. With the door closed, the tinted windows made it even dimmer inside and her pale skin and the cream dress seemed to shine. I felt...lucky, just to be near her.

  But by the time we reached the highway, the silence had become uncomfortable. I realized the entourage were used to this: they’d sit there quietly while the Princess chatted away to some prime minister or president. Now I was that guest, sitting right across from the Princess, and they were all waiting for me to say something. I felt my neck getting hot. Goddamn it, I’m no good at this stuff. The Princess gave me a desperate look—

  “Your English is real good,” I muttered.

  She beamed, relieved. “English is actually our official language.”

  I blinked. They spoke English in Lakovia?

  “It’s a funny story,” said the Princess. “About three hundred years ago—”

  Movement just outside the window caught my eye. A red SUV was pulling alongside us, its window open. I caught a glimpse of a black-clad figure and the gleam of a gun barrel—

  “Get down!” I yelled. I lunged forward, hooked the Princess around the waist and threw us to the floor, my body covering hers, as bullets ripped through the car.

  8

  Kristina

  My face was pressed into the floor: all I could see was clean, charcoal-gray carpet, still with that new-car smell, and polished leather shoes. Then there was a deafening sound I remembered from the war, like a thousand firecrackers being set off right inside my eardrums. The windows didn’t break, they exploded, thousands of little pebbles of safety glass tinkling as they cascaded down.

  But they didn’t hit me. A huge, warm body was pressed to every inch of me, coming up over my head and reaching back past my feet. I could feel the hard bulges of his biceps as they pressed my arms to the floor. I could feel his hot breath on the top of my head and the beat of his heart as his chest pressed into my back.

  I was utterly terrified. But it was the safest I’d ever felt.

  When I was a child, the President of Italy bought me a teddy bear. A huge, ludicrous thing, much bigger than me - it was almost five feet tall and incredibly soft. I named it Barnaby and used to curl up in its lap and fall asleep cuddling it. But what I used to dream about, what I used to try to simulate, by wrapping its paws around me, was it cuddling me. Even before the war, my mother never really seemed to do that.

  When I was ten, I came home one day to find that my mother had thrown Barnaby away. He was childish, she said. It was time to grow up. And of course I had to be brave and not cry because I was a princess. But I’d lost that feeling of someone wrapping me up and holding me close and I’d been missing it ever since.

  Until now.

  I squeezed my eyes closed
and, despite the danger we were in, there was a part of me that just wanted Garrett to keep holding me that way.

  There was an explosion that I realized must be a tire bursting. I felt us swerve and then suddenly the car was rotating in a way it wasn’t supposed to. My legs tipped up, my head down and the road noise dropped away completely. My stomach lurched and my fingers clawed at the carpet. All four wheels must be off the ground: we were flipping.

  The ceiling became the floor and then we landed hard on our roof. Garrett fell first and then gave a soft grunt as I fell onto his chest. The car skidded along on its roof, orange sparks flying. I was lying face up on top of Garrett. Above me, I could see the others still strapped into their seats. Oh God! They didn’t get down on the floor! What if they—A drop of something warm and wet hit my cheek. Blood! One of them’s bleeding! But it was too dim and everything was rattling around too much to tell who.

  The movement of the car slowed. Stopped. We came to rest, rocking slightly.

  “Who’s hurt?” I said, my voice tight with panic. “Caroline? Emerik? Jakov? Mr. Buchanan?”

  One by one, they called that they were okay. Everyone was panting and shaken and trying to figure out how to get out of their seats while still buckled in upside down. Beneath me, Garrett gently eased my head to one side so that he could look around.

  Then I remembered there was one more person in the car. “Director Gibson?!”

  Nothing.

  Garrett tried. “Gibson?”

  Silence. Then, “I’m—”—a pained intake of breath—”I’m okay. Bleeding but okay.”

  I let out my breath. Everyone was alive. Then I started to think about what had just happened and a cold sweat broke out right across my body. It isn’t over. They tried to kill me again.

  Garrett suddenly stiffened beneath me. “We have to move,” he snapped.

  I looked around in panic. Was the car on fire?

  Then I saw what he’d seen, in the car’s wing mirror. Four men, dressed in black and carrying assault rifles, were approaching the car.

  9

  Garrett

  I wrenched on the door release and then shouldered the door open. Lifting the Princess off me was easy—she was just a little thing. I eased her up while I slid my body from under hers.

  I emerged into a nightmare. The highway was blocked by crashing cars, both in front of us and behind. The other two FBI cars were wrecks, peppered with bullet holes. One was on fire. I didn’t have to check them to know no one inside survived. Thick black smoke was being whipped up by the wind and rolling across the highway. It kept blocking my view of the guys advancing on us. Each time it cleared, they were closer.

  By now, Emerik and Jakov were out and were helping Director Gibson. I reached for the Princess, but she insisted on pushing Caroline out first. Then she emerged and the sight of her: so perfect, so beautiful amongst all the smoke and fire and twisted metal, made my chest close up. She just looked so painfully vulnerable: I wanted to pull her to me and spirit her the hell away from all this.

  And I wanted to kill the guys who were putting her at risk. I got everyone to hunker down behind the car. Then I ran around to the driver’s seat. The driver was dead, but I found a handgun in a holster under his jacket.

  When I ran back to the others, Director Gibson was taking out his cell phone. He’d gone very pale and was bleeding heavily from a long gash down one side of his face. He nodded at the gun. “Have you even fired one of those things, since you left the marines?”

  The answer was no. But my hands seemed to have a life of their own, checking the magazine, chambering the first round, making sure the safety was off. The training was taking over. I can do this. I can do this.

  Or at least, I could. Before the desert. I looked at the Princess. Please. For her sake: don’t have a flashback.

  “Call for backup,” I grunted to Gibson.

  “Doing it,” he said. And started issuing orders over the phone. Emerik and Jakov had guns out, too: I was right, they’d only been forced to disarm for the flight. With four of us, we might just be able to hold them off until help arrived. With a foreign VIP and an FBI director under fire, half the agents in California must be racing towards us.

  At that second, the first bullets ricocheted off the car. I instinctively grabbed hold of the Princess and shielded her body with mine. She gave a yelp of fear and pulled Caroline tight to her, making sure she was protected, too. The guards stood and returned fire, one at either end of the car. Those two might not get on, but together they were formidable.

  Gibson ended his call. “Three minutes,” he told me breathlessly.

  I stood and returned fire while the guards reloaded. More bullets picked away at the car. The gunmen were close enough now to make out faces and I spotted the pale guy with the slicked-back hair giving orders. I watched as they spread out, trying to encircle us. I was sure, now: these guys had military training.

  We weren’t going to last three minutes.

  “We have to get out of here,” I muttered. But I couldn’t see anywhere to run.

  I heard Emerik curse. Jakov was running towards the assassins, firing, trying to push them back. Goddammit! The kid was brave but he was going to get himself killed.

  Even as I thought it, the gunmen returned fire and he had to hunker down behind a crashed minivan. Now he was trapped, out in the open. And the gunmen would be on him any second. Idiot!

  I growled and charged out into the open, firing wildly. I grabbed Jakov by the collar and hauled him along the ground and back to safety. “Stay together!” I snapped. He nodded, chastened.

  There was a scream from Caroline. I looked round and froze.

  I’d thought there were only four gunmen, but I’d missed the fifth. While I’d been rescuing Jakov, he’d silently circled around and sneaked in from the side. Now he’d grabbed the Princess, one arm around her waist and the other holding a gun to her head.

  I stopped firing. I felt as if someone had his hands around my throat and was choking me. I knew I couldn’t point my gun at him before he killed her. He’d got the drop on all of us.

  I saw his finger tighten on the trigger. My heart leapt up into my mouth: I’ve never felt fear like it. “Don’t,” I said desperately, as if that would stop him.

  And then the Princess did something incredibly quick with her hand, like a cobra striking. She jabbed him under the arm and he let out a cry of pain and dropped his gun. Immediately, the Princess pulled away from him and ducked.

  Emerik, Jakov, Gibson and I all raised our guns and fired. The guy staggered back and crumpled to the ground.

  We all hunkered against the car again as the gunmen started shooting. They’d crept even closer while we’d been distracted. But all I could do was stare in disbelief at the Princess. I’d thought she was vulnerable, defenseless. What was that?!

  She stared back at me, defiant. And just a tiny bit proud. I shook my head: I’d get her to explain later. Right now, we had to get out of there before we were overrun. I looked around again but this time, I thought to look down. The highway rose to form an overpass just ahead. Below us was a grassy embankment that sloped down to a construction site. “There!” I yelled, pointing.

  But then I looked at the Princess and a chill went through me. No way could she run in that huge dress.

  She caught my look and looked down at herself. “Wait,” she said quickly.

  I stood again and fired at the gunmen. They were dangerously close, now. Behind me, I could hear the sound of fabric being frantically ripped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emerik glance down and his eyes widen. Then he quickly focused on the gunmen, his face red. What the hell?

  “Okay.” The Princess’s voice. I ducked back behind the car and—

  The skirt was gone, thousands of dollars of silk and netting reduced to a long snake of cloth that now lay in the dirt. Below the waist, the Princess was now just in—

  I had a glimpse of long, shapely thighs and elegantly curving hip
s. White panties—

  I tore my gaze away. A second later, one white high-heeled pump was tossed onto the asphalt. Then another. “Ready,” she said.

  I nodded, still keeping my eyes averted. “Emerik first, then you, then Caroline, Gibson, Jakov. I’ll go last. Go!”

  Emerik wasn’t the fastest and he was panting a little by the time he reached the barrier, but he vaulted it and slid down the embankment. The Princess was next, bare legs flashing as she sprinted to safety. By the time it was my turn, the assassins were almost on top of me. I ran for the barrier and had to dive headfirst as a hail of bullets chewed up the asphalt. Then I was bouncing and rolling down the grassy slope, to come to rest at the Princess’s feet.

  I lay there for a second, panting. I couldn’t help but look: those amazing, long legs were a foot from my face. Gorgeously shaped, athletic but feminine. Goddamn, I wanted to run my hands all over them. And then at the top, those simple white panties, pure and innocent—

  Emerik grabbed hold of my hand and jerked me to my feet, his eyes burning with rage. I felt my neck go hot. What is he, her dad? The old guy seemed to be one part bodyguard, one part butler and one part moral guardian.

  I pushed it out of my mind and looked around. The construction site seemed to be deserted. Five huge concrete pipes, each one easily six feet wide, were poking out of the side of the embankment, leading off into darkness. In there! The gunmen wouldn’t know which pipe we’d gone into. And long before they had time to search them all, backup would be there.

  I picked a pipe at random and got everyone inside. We passed a pile of sacks of concrete, left inside the mouth of the pipe to keep it out of the rain. I got everybody past the pipe’s first turn, so they were out of sight, and hunkered down in the shadows at the corner to keep watch.