Protecting Her Royal Baby

by Beth Cornelison

  “I thought you looked familiar,” one of the medics said with a wry look. “Didn’t we take you in a few days ago after a car accident? You were in labor?”

  She gave him a sheepish grin. “That was me. And I went in last night after my house burned. For smoke inhalation.”

  The EMT’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Are you jinxed or is someone trying to kill you?”

  The medic’s partner chuckled, but the EMT’s comment sent a ripple of suspicion through Hunter. Could Chris have meant for her to eat shrimp and have an anaphylactic reaction? Why would he have mentioned the shrimp so specifically unless there was some message behind it?

  The little color that had been in Brianna’s face leeched out, as well, telling him her thoughts had traveled a similar path.

  “Just an unlucky streak, I think,” she mumbled.

  “Well, if bad luck comes in threes like they say, hopefully you’re done now,” the first EMT said. He rocked back on his heels and tipped his head. “You sure you want to pass on the hospital?”

  She glanced at Hunter, then nodded.

  He brushed a wisp of hair back from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “I’ll keep an eye on her, take her in if needed.”

  When the medics had packed up and left his apartment, Hunter cleared the rest of their dinner from the table and joined Brianna, who was brooding in his living room.

  After a moment of heavy silence, she voiced the question on both of their minds. “Why would Chris say shrimp was my favorite if I’m allergic to it?”

  * * *

  Hunter leaned his head back on the plump sofa cushion and closed his eyes. “Beats me. Is it possible that he wanted to hurt you?”

  Tension rippled through Brianna. The possibility that Chris, someone she’d created a baby with, would try to hurt her shook her to the core. “Wh-why would he do that?”

  Hunter blew out a frustrated breath and scrubbed his face with both hands. “Maybe he sees you or your knowledge of his whereabouts as a threat. Maybe he sees Ben as a threat to his claim on the throne or his power in his homeland. Maybe—”

  “No. I can’t believe that.” Fatigue and stress drubbed her, pounding inside her. Denials screamed in her head. “I had an intimate relationship with him. I can’t believe he’d try to hurt me.”

  Hunter sighed. “Bri, you can’t rule out the possibility that Chris is behind the attempts on your life. The fire, the people who shot at your car and trashed your house. Maybe something happened between you before you split up that made him think you would betray him.”

  “I’d never—”

  He caught her hand in his. “I know you wouldn’t. But if he thinks you’re a liability somehow...”

  She shook her head. How did she explain the certainty that weighted her chest that Chris cared for her, even if they had ended their relationship? A memory lurked at the edges of her thoughts, just beyond her grasp. Gritting her teeth and battling the throbbing in her skull, she tried to call a clearer image to mind, but the message Chris had sent her replayed instead. “On the video, he said to think about that night.” She paused to drag a breath into her aching lungs. “He said we’d made plans to be together...and be a family. If that were true—” another wheezy breath “—why weren’t we together? If we were together and planning a future, why wouldn’t Aunt Robyn have known?”

  “Good question.”

  She turned on the couch to face him. The debate over Chris’s loyalty added bite to the nausea swirling in her gut. She still trembled from the adrenaline and shock of nearly suffocating. She could tell her cheeks were still slightly swollen, and her voice was weak and raspy. “Hunter, Chris doesn’t know I have amnesia. He mentioned the shrimp and scallops...thinking I knew about my allergy.”

  Hunter sat straighter, considering this angle. “You’re right. So assuming he knew about your allergy, and that you’d know about your allergy...”

  “What if it was a warning?” Her heart thumped as she warmed to the theory. “I’d know he was lying about the foods and...maybe he was trying to tell me to look at the rest of his message in the same light.”

  “Go on.”

  “I don’t think we were planning a future together...even though I was having his baby.”

  “And if you weren’t, then that makes two lies in the video.”

  She scowled at his terminology again. “I don’t know what his intentions were for Ben, but—” She pressed a hand to her stomach as her nausea grew. A further reaction to the shrimp? To the EpiPen? Or just old-fashioned stress? She swallowed hard and finished her thought. “What if he was telling me not to believe him about a meeting in New Orleans? Maybe the lies about the shrimp and our future plans were to tip me off something was wrong...to warn me away.”

  Hunter nodded, clearly turning the notion over in his mind. “Could be. We’ve already decided the video was filmed in front of a fake cityscape backdrop. The whole message could have been given under duress.”

  Duress. The word sent shivers through her and made her sour stomach churn harder. “What if he’s being held by the militants? What if the video was their attempt to lure me into a trap? An attempt to get Ben?”

  Hunter drew and released a measured breath. “I’d say that’s a safe assumption.”

  Brianna stilled. “But if Chris is being held by the militants, he could be—”

  Bile surged into her throat before she could finish her sentence. She bolted off the couch and barely made it to the sink before what little supper she’d eaten came back up.

  Hunter was behind her in an instant, fixing her a cool, damp cloth and hosing the sick down the drain.

  Brianna rinsed her mouth out and wiped her face with the cool cloth. “Thank you.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “This conversation can wait until you’re feeling better. I think we’re in agreement that going to New Orleans is out. We need to figure more out on this end, get you well, work on your memory, before we bring Chris into the equation.”

  “But he’s Ben’s father! We have to do something. If the militants have him, they’ll kill him!” She grabbed Hunter’s arms as another wave of nausea swelled in her. “We have to call the police or...or something!”

  He speared her hair with his fingers, his frown wary. “Didn’t Chris say not to involve the police because of the sensitive nature of the—”

  Brianna spun away, back to the sink, and dry heaved.

  Hunter stroked a hand down her back and helped hold her hair back from her face. In any other circumstance, she’d have been humiliated getting sick like this in his kitchen sink. But the situation was too dire to worry about her reaction to the EpiPen, bad news and a food allergy.

  She wiped her face again and turned back to Hunter. He studied her with concern etched in deep creases around his eyes. He braced a hand under her elbow, which she welcomed, since she was trembling from shock and the extra adrenaline in her veins.

  He led her back to the couch, and she dropped heavily onto the cushions. After three straight days of abuse of all forms, her body ached all over, and she was so weak she could barely move. She was in no condition to take care of Ben alone, much less chase after leads to where Chris might be being held. If he was being held captive as they presumed. If he weren’t already dead. A groan rose in her throat.

  “Bri?” Hunter put a hand under her arm again. “You need to go back to the sink?”

  She rocked her head from side to side. “I feel so helpless. Chris needs us. I know he does. But I can’t even stand by myself without my knees buckling.”

  Hunter brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, Bri. I’m going to look out for you. As long as you need me.”

  She angled her face toward him and simply stared into his dark blue eyes for long moments. A sense of peace and security
pushed aside the quiver of fear that had clutched her most of the past three days. “Why?”

  Hunter blinked. “Why what?”

  “Why are you with me? Why are you doing this for me?”

  His cheek tugged up in a confused, lopsided grin. “I need a reason? Maybe I just want to help you.” His wry grin faded, and his eyes softened, sending curls of warmth through her. “Because I care about you, Brianna. You and Ben. Maybe I was just being nice the day we met, but...now there’s more to it.” He swallowed hard, and she watched his Adam’s apple work in his throat. “I’d have thought that was obvious.”

  She reached for his cheek, ran her fingers over the rough texture of his stubble and savored the feeling of his skin against hers. As much as she loved being near Hunter, treasured the way he made her feel, valued the help he provided, she couldn’t grow dependent upon him. He wouldn’t be around forever. Hunter’s not the marrying kind, his mother had said.

  An oddly familiar feeling whispered inside her, taking shape and growing more resolute. She’d had to learn independence the hard way. Because of her parents’ untimely deaths? Despite Aunt Robyn taking custody of her, she sensed her teen years had been filled with lonely days, harsh lessons of learning to take care of herself. A nagging inclination that disappointment and abandonment had been frequent and familiar to her weighted her chest. An image flashed in her mind’s eye. Quickly, and then it was gone. Chris. On a beach. Walking away from her.

  The sharp, sudden sting in her heart stole her breath. Chris had abandoned her. Broken her heart. The certainty of it shook her to the core. Had he known about her pregnancy when he’d walked away that day on the beach? Had she known who he was, what he was that day?

  When she looked to her future, she saw herself raising her son alone, dealing with whatever decrees were passed down from Meridan concerning her son’s right, his obligations, to the throne. Unless she could keep Ben’s paternity secret.

  When the immediate danger to Ben had passed, when she regained her memory and located Chris, she felt sure Hunter would leave, as well. He cared about her, sure. But he’d been pretty clear that he was sticking around only to protect her. He felt an obligation to her because of her vulnerability and current needs, and Brianna refused to be anyone’s burden or obligation. As soon as she could, before she grew too attached, too dependent on Hunter, she had to let him go.

  * * *

  Early next morning, Hunter and Brianna were just getting to sleep after a long night with a fussy baby, when Hunter’s cell phone rang.

  “Hey, man,” Grant said, “are you going to be at the Henderson site today?”

  “Wasn’t planning on it. I’m taking a few personal days to help Brianna and her baby.” He glanced at his watch. Six-thirty a.m. He’d had maybe five cumulative hours of sleep in the past two days. “You heard about the fire at her house, right?”

  “Yeah, Dad mentioned it. Are you all right?”

  “A little smoke inhalation. Sleep deprivation thanks to a cranky baby last night. Nothing major.”

  Grant chuckled. “You have my sympathy on the sleep deprivation. You remember the zombie I was last year when Kaylee was born?”

  Hunter grunted. “Yeah.” Sitting up on the couch, he muffled a yawn and scrubbed a hand over his face. “So...what’s going on at the Henderson site?”

  “What’s not going on? We got the wrong shipment of faucets, and the owners changed their minds about the wallpaper for the front bathroom. The cabinet guy is behind schedule and can’t install the kitchen cabinets until next week, which means the floors have to be delayed.”

  Hunter grumbled a curse under his breath. “I’ve been out for three days, and everything has gone to hell. What happened to Miller? He was supposed to pinch-hit for me.”

  “I haven’t seen Miller in days.” Grant hummed in thought. “I’d handle the Henderson mess myself, but I have a meeting with the state inspector over at the Brinkman building all morning. Can’t you get away for a few hours? I need you to soothe ruffled feathers before this gets out of hand.”

  Hunter winced and shoved off the couch. He stumbled to the kitchen. Coffee. He needed coffee in the worst way. “Grant, I can’t. It’s not safe for me to leave Brianna and the baby alone.”

  “Not safe?”

  “Long story.” He put the carafe in the sink to fill with water, then reached down to pet Sorsha, who rubbed at his ankles, requesting her breakfast. “If there were a way—”

  “Take them out to my place. Nancy, the nanny I hired to help with my girls, has training in first aid, child care and security issues. Nancy will make sure nothing happens to them.”

  “I don’t know.” Hunter rubbed his eyes and weighed Grant’s offer. His brother’s house was secluded out on the fringes of town. That isolation was good in terms of hiding Ben and Brianna, but not so good for emergency response time in case something happened. But the more he thought about the remoteness of his brother’s country home, the more he liked the idea. Not just for today, while Hunter checked on problems at the Henderson site, but for the long-term. His house was bigger than Hunter’s apartment, better suited for taking care of a baby—especially with Nancy around to assist.

  He poured water in the coffeepot, measured out the grounds and started a pot of strong java brewing.

  The downside of going to Grant’s was if the people hunting Brianna did track her to Grant’s house, Grant’s family would be in the line of fire. Hunter’s gut swooped at the thought of anything happening to his brother or his nieces because of danger he’d brought to them.

  “Thanks, but...I can’t risk it. I don’t want to put you and the girls at risk.” Hunter sighed and padded back to the living room, now worried whether they’d left any kind of bread-crumb trail to his place.

  “Is the situation that bad?” Grant asked, concern heavy in his tone. Their family had endured a similar threat earlier in the year when a crime family targeted their brother Connor and his wife, Darby. Grant’s wife, Tracy, had been a casualty of that danger, an innocent bystander caught in the cross fire.

  “Afraid so. There’ve already been a couple of attempts on Brianna’s life.”

  “Why? Who is she? What’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s...complicated.”

  Sorsha meowed loudly, reminding him she still needed to be fed. Over the phone, he heard Grant huff his frustration, but Hunter’s thoughts shifted to more pressing issues. Could the Meridanian rebels trace Brianna here? He’d been so preoccupied by the fire, Brianna’s memory loss, taking care of Ben...

  He grumbled a curse, and his head gave a throb of fatigue. Think!

  “Hunter, what’s wrong? You can trust me. Let me help!”

  “I’m just trying to backtrack and decide if we’ve done anything that could lead the rebels here, to my apartment.”

  “Rebels?” Grant’s tone was stunned. “What kind of rebels?”

  Hunter groaned. “Forget I said that.” He returned to the kitchen to pour food in Sorsha’s bowl. How had they paid for the baby things yesterday? Brianna had used her credit card. Not good, but no link to him.

  “Do the police know what’s going on?” Grant asked. “Can they assign someone to watch your place?”

  “Sort of.” He returned the cat food to the counter and checked the coffee’s progress. “Not the whole story. Like I said, it’s—”

  “Complicated. Yeah, I got that. But if someone’s trying to kill her...”

  Rumpled and weary-looking, Brianna walked into the kitchen, pulling his attention away from what Grant was saying. Brianna flashed him a groggy smile, then gave the coffeepot a longing glance. As haggard as she looked, she still sent his libido haywire. He fought the impulse to pull her close for a good-morning kiss, to comb his fingers through the tangle of her bed-head hair and jolt her awake with a naught
y tweak on her bottom as she bent to greet Sorsha.

  “Hunter, you there?” Grant’s voice drew him back to his phone call.

  “Look, I’ll find a way to get to the Henderson site today, but—” Hunter stopped short as a disturbing thought smacked him from the blue. Numbly, he lowered his phone from his ear and stared at it as he followed the thought through. Cell phone. Tracking. Chris’s video.

  He raised a horrified, disgusted look to Brianna. “Ah, hell.”

  “What?” Brianna paled in alarm, her body bristling.

  “Hunter, what is it?” Grant asked.

  “We’ve been using her cell phone. At the hospital and—” Another equally upsetting realization hit him. “Crap! I told the hospital I was her husband. They can link me to her! It’s only a matter of time before they show up at my door.”

  Brianna gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her knees buckled, and he hurried to wrap her in a supportive embrace.

  “So I repeat...bring her to my place.” Grant’s voice took on a commanding tone, a decisiveness and authority Hunter knew well from their childhood. Grant had always shown his younger brother a calm leadership and wise counsel. “Take the battery out of her phone and yours so they can’t trace them. Buy a disposable phone.”

  Hunter squeezed Brianna tighter when she shivered and cussed himself for not thinking about the cell phone GPS sooner, about the implications of having given his name at the hospital. “What about your girls? We can’t stay here, but we can’t bring the danger out to Peyton and Kaylee, either. We’ll...go to a hotel or something.”

  He leaned back to meet Brianna’s eyes, and she nodded her agreement.

  “No,” Grant said. “If one Mansfield brother is good protection, then two Mansfield brothers are better protection. Mom and Dad have been talking about taking the girls to Disney World. I think now is the perfect time. You come stay here, and I’ll help guard Brianna while you’re at work.”

  “Grant, I can’t ask you to—”

  “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”