“That’s tough. You’re close, yes?”
“She’s my best friend.” She looked at him then, recalling his own similar words spoken a few moments earlier. She didn’t know which of them had it worse: Nick because there was no way to see Alec again; or her with a sister half a world away but who, for all intents and purposes, was dead to her. “I miss her.”
“Are you planning to go back home and visit her soon? Is she coming to see you?”
Ah. This is where it got tricky and she searched her mind for the best way to answer. “It’s complicated.”
“Vague yet truthful,” he said, laughing softly beside her. “I can live with it.” Nick rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, a movement she was coming to expect from him. It was soothing, reminding them both that they were connected in this strange new friendship with off-limits potential. “I’ll help you if I can. If you’re—”
Isabel cut him off, refusing to go down that road. Nick couldn’t help her, she wouldn’t drag anyone else into the mess she’d made of her life.
“No.” She took a deep breath and gentled her voice, hoping that her gratitude for him asking was getting through her words. “Thank you but that’s a non-starter.”
She felt the sharp, decisive nod of his head and was never so grateful to see the Red Cross check-in point straight ahead. The bus came to an abrupt, rocky stop and they rose to their feet. Isabel turned to him and gave him her game plan.
“We won’t check in for a new assignment today because you’d have to give a name and show ID and if anyone gets a good look at your face, the jig will be up. Just follow close to me and keep your sunglasses on for at least a little while. Sound good?”
“I’ll follow your lead,” he said as he slid his sunglasses in place and tugged his baseball cap lower on his head.
She led the way off the bus, skirting around the short line forming at the table, taking advantage of the semi-chaos of volunteers and tired aid workers to slip through the gates and enter the area where the refugee camp was set up.
As usual the sound hit her first, the constant low rumble of people all crammed into a limited space and trying to maintain some semblance of a normal life. Tents erected everywhere housed medical staff, food, resources, the arduous task of reuniting families who were separated or delivering the bad news that a loved one was not going to arrive today or any other day.
Isabel turned, intending to direct Nick to follow her, but she froze in place when she saw the look on his face, ashen with shock, rigid with anger. He removed his sunglasses and the surprise there quickly gave way to pain, compassion.
“Oh my God. Somebody has to help these people.”
Chapter Seven
No one should ever have to live like this.
Nick had traveled all over the world. He’d been in five-star hotels and in the poorest of villages sitting in the shadows of the mountain he intended to conquer. People lived at all levels of technology and hygiene and he’d learned to respect cultural differences and preference. But he’d never seen anyone live in the filth and decay of despair.
Large tents were everywhere, housing the necessary resources and staffed with able but exhausted people of varied nationalities. They bustled around, tending to the lines and lines of refugees who desperately needed their help. He was exhausted watching them, his outrage moving him through the crowd as Isabel pointed out all the relevant facts and brought him up to speed on the circumstances.
“Isabel, how many families live in the smaller tents?” His eyes scanned the field, his mental calculations not adding up to the correct numbers.
“It’s supposed to be one family per tent but they ran out and extended families are sharing. I understand they are taking turns and sleeping in shifts.” She smiled and nodded at an aid worker that passed by carrying a basket of blankets. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”
“That doesn’t even cover it.” He stopped, his brain barely taking in everything. “My report is worthless. There is no way what they described and what I see is the same thing. There is so much that we can do here. Money, skilled personnel, the infrastructure to support the organizations already present.” He looked at her, shame bringing a hot flush to his skin. “I cannot believe the selfishness of my own advisors. We live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world and they would begrudge these people the basics of human survival? It’s disgusting.”
“Come with me. I think there’s something else you need to see.”
Nick let her lead him, her small hand wrapped around his bicep as she wove her way through the crowd and headed down a side path created by the positioning of the larger tents around it. As they progressed the noise of the main area lessened a bit and he shook his head slightly against the low ringing in his ears. Wherever they were going it was purposefully set apart from the noise and chaos of the main area.
She headed for another large tent, stopping just outside where five or six large freestanding corkboards were lined up and covered with printouts. He removed his sunglasses, scanning over row after row of children’s faces staring out from the papers. They were varying ages but they all looked out at him with eyes wide with fear. It reached inside him and wrenched something loose and he felt every inch of its progress as it painfully tore through his chest and clogged his throat with emotion. Under each image was written a name, an age and a province in the war-torn country they used to call home.
Isabel appeared beside him, her arm brushing his own as she reached out to tenderly touch several of the tiny printed faces. He leaned into her touch, using her as a touchstone as he let the emotional earthquake of this place hit him where it hurt.
“These are all the displaced children. They wait here hoping that a family member will come and claim them.”
Nick glanced around, noticing the men and women solemnly reviewing each and every picture, their faces covered in varying degrees of hope. The worst were the ones that got to the end and he watched as it slid away and was replaced with bone-deep sadness.
“I do most of my volunteer work here,” Isabel murmured.
“What do you do?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
He let her lead him again, this time past the boards and over to the tent opening. He stepped inside and the burble of children’s voices filled his ears. Cots were set up around the perimeter, the middle of the tent set up as a play area of sorts. Some toys and a few books filled a couple of plastic containers while young children, no older than five years old, sat together.
An aid worker folding towels on an empty couch nodded to Isabel as they ventured further inside the tent. She cast him a curious glance and then dismissed him when Isabel explained that he was with her.
The children, sensing a visitor, turned as they approached and gave a collective shout of excitement. Several of them rose to their feet, toddling over to Isabel with their arms lifted up to her in the universal sign of “pick me up.”
She fell to her knees in the midst of them, scooping as many of them up in her arms as she could, pressing kisses against their small heads as she greeted them with words of soothing nonsense. It wasn’t in their native tongue but they understood love when they heard it. Nick watched her with the kids, the way her face lit up with joy when they smiled at her, the way she refused to let the ever-present sadness in her eyes intrude on the moment.
If he was determined not to fall for Isabel, to keep her and her secrets at arm’s length, he was failing miserably. She was amazing. He stood by stupidly, unsure about what he should do when several of the kids made their way over to him. They were clean, wearing clothes in various stages of disrepair and age. Most of them didn’t have shoes and they all wore the same searching expression that overwhelmed him and made him want to turn away because he knew he didn’t have the answer they wanted. He was not the father, uncle, or brother they were looking for but he wished he could be.
“What do I do?” These kids had been through so much and he didn’t want to be t
he guy who made it worse.
Isabel looked up at him from her nest of children. “They’re just kids. They’re scared and alone and they just want to be held and for one minute to feel safe.” A tear rolled down her left cheek as a smaller girl grabbed her face between chubby hands and planted kisses on her skin, wiping away the wetness with her sweet show of affection. “Help them feel safe for a little while.”
He could do that. Hell, if he was supposed to do that for an entire country of people he better be able to handle a few children. Nick reached out toward the little girl nearest to him and she launched herself toward him, tackling his leg in a bear hug that rocked him off his feet a little bit. Isabel laughed.
“She’s stronger than she looks,” he said, easing down onto the ground. “You’ll come rescue me when I need help, right?”
“You’re a big guy. I’m not worried,” she replied, not bothering to stifle her giggle when the kids all piled on top of him, toppling him onto his back.
They used him like a jungle gym, climbing onto his back for pony rides, hanging off his arms as he lifted them like human weights. They took his sunglasses and his hat and he lost track of how many sloppy, sweet kisses he received. They were fascinated with his beard and his blue eyes, and soaked in every ounce of attention he gave them. He was equally engrossed with them, almost missing the photographer lurking outside the opening of the tent.
Almost.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. The other aid worker went over to Isabel and leaned down to whisper in her ear. She might have been speaking to Isabel but she never took her eyes off him and from the gleam of recognition in them, he knew the cat was out of the bag.
Isabel swiveled her head around to him, not even bothering to check out the apparent intruder.
“Time to go,” he said and she nodded, standing up as quickly as she could with small children wrapped around her body. Nick looked around for his hat and glasses, retrieving them from their current caretakers and placing them back on. A quick glance toward the opening and he noted that the photographer was gone. Isabel noticed it as well.
“I don’t see anyone there now,” she whispered when she sidled up beside him. “False alarm?”
“Or he went to call his editor and maybe call in reinforcements.” He knew what his gut was telling him. Nick had dealt with enough paparazzi in his life to know when one recognized him and this one knew exactly who he was. He’d bet money on it. They only had a little while before this place was swarming with the press. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Chris, waiting out the two rings it took for his friend to pick up. “Hey. I need a car at the entrance to the refugee camp as soon as you can get it here.”
“Are you kidding me?” Chris asked. “Tell me you’re not in trouble.”
The unspoken “I don’t want to have to tell your mother” was left unsaid.
“Not yet. I was spotted by a photographer. I’ve got five minutes. Tops.” He lowered his voice, noting that the aid worker had been joined by a couple more. It was almost a party now. “I’ve got Isabel with me.”
“You’re fucking killing me here.”
“Die after you get a car here. Catch you in a few.”
He tapped the screen and ended the call, his mind whirring with how he should do this. If the press got too crazy it could create total chaos in the middle of these people, a potentially dangerous situation if the paparazzi became overzealous.
“We’ve got to get away from these kids. I don’t want them caught in the middle if this gets nuts.”
“You’re right.” Isabel nodded, her eyes searching the area for signs of the guy with the camera. “What are the chances that we won’t get our photo taken?”
“Slim and none.” He examined her face, sensing more than concern for the kids in her tone. It was second nature to reach up and cup her cheek, striving to soothe her with his touch. She leaned into his caress the tiniest bit and he surmised that she didn’t even realize it because she didn’t immediately pull away. “Is that a problem for you?” When she hesitated he reminded her of their earlier conversation. “I don’t need to have all the answers, just no lies.”
She stared at him, eyes huge. He hoped she never played poker in the Callanos casinos because she’d lose every time. Her voice was low but clear when she finally spoke.
“It’s a problem.”
Not for the first time he wondered what he was getting into with this woman and what the hell she was running from. Not the time and not the place. But soon. Hopefully she would confide in him soon.
“Okay.” He dropped his hand and looked around, noting the exits available. As it should be in an area containing children, there was only one way in and one way out. “We have to get to the main entrance to catch our ride.” He removed his hat and placed it on her head. “You wear this and these.”
Isabel took his sunglasses from him, eyeing him warily as she placed them on her face and adjusted the hat over her hair.
“It’s like you’ve done this before,” she said as she followed him to the entrance.
“Once or twice…or twenty.” Nick peered out of the tent. No sign of the paparazzi but he knew it didn’t mean shit. He was out of sight and likely summoning reinforcements.
“I’m sorry,” Isabel said from behind him and he turned to look at her. She was freaking out, it was written all over her face, from the scrunched up eyebrows to the tight line of her usually full mouth.
“I’m not.” He smiled at her, reaching out and running the tip of his finger down her nose, letting it linger in a slow stroke across her lips. Her reaction wiped all traces of worry and replaced it with a hesitant hunger that he wished they had time to explore and test the boundaries of this friendship. Later. Soon. “I needed to come here. Thank you for showing me the truth.”
“You’re welcome.”
He held his hand out, watching her as she lifted her own and placed it in his open palm. As usual, their touch was electric, the weaving of their fingers together as natural as breathing. Their breaths caught simultaneously and when he tugged her closer, she didn’t resist. Her body was warm against his own, teasing him to draw her in closer, but they had to go.
“You ready to make a run for it?”
She nodded.
“Don’t let go of my hand.”
Chapter Eight
She didn’t see the paparazzi anywhere.
But she was clearly not the expert in this area so when Nick tightened his grip on her hand and told her in a clipped, low tone to “duck your head and keep the glasses on” she did as she was told. She could not be photographed, especially not with the world’s most eligible bachelor. It would circle the globe in a flash and the authorities and her ex-husband would know where she was. That could not happen. She’d risked too much, given up too much. Venturing out anywhere with Nick was a recipe for disaster and was just another indicator that this thing with him was crazy.
“To the right. There’s three of them,” Nick murmured and her head whipped up to scan the crowd. He was good at spotting them. They were trying to blend in but the cameras slung across their chests were hard to ignore. “I’m going to let them see me so they’ll focus on me.”
“Nick, wait.” She didn’t want him to put himself out there like a sacrificial lamb when he’d gone to such pains to make this trip on the sly.
“It’s no big deal. It was crazy to think I’d get to be here without it leaking. I’ll figure out a way to make it work for me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Less talking and more moving.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and removed his ringing phone, putting it to his ear. He listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “We’re on our way.” Nick put the phone away and turned to look at her, his slight grin making her think he was enjoying this. “You ready for the 100 yard dash?”
“Are we really going to run?” she asked, seeing the press move a little closer and raise the cameras to their
faces.
“No. Just keep up with me and don’t say anything no matter what they do. Got it?”
“Yep.”
He turned from her, his grip firm on her own as he pulled her against his side. She leaned into him, wrapping her free hand around his forearm, ensuring that they would not get separated. Her heart raced and she immediately went back to the night she’d left the United States, always looking over her shoulder, constantly worried she would be recognized, stopped. Imprisoned.
Nick zigged through the crowd that was beginning to realize something was up. The press zagged, cutting across the span of people, their cameras whirring and flashes streaking the area with its false lightening. That was when the shouting started as well, the cries of “Prince Nicholas!”, “Look over here!”, “Why are you here?” and the inevitable “Who is the woman?” following them as they made their way quickly toward the main gate.
Isabel stumbled, tripping over one of the refugee’s belongings and if Nick had not been holding on to her she would have face-planted, but he pulled her close, let go of her hand, and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Once we hit the gate there will be nothing to block them from us so you need to run. Got it?”
She nodded, ready to go and have this drama over with.
“Here we go,” Nick said and looked down to her, his grin prompting a laugh of her own.
“You’re crazy.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person to say that.” He turned away, lowering his shoulders as if to ram his way into the car waiting for them at the entrance. It was a black, unmarked sedan that screamed “royal ride” but since the princely cat was out of the bag, it didn’t matter.
The shouting got louder as they sped up, heavy footsteps joining the voices as they pursued the two of them. The workers at the check-in table looked up in alarm, half-rising out of their seats and adding their own yells to the chaos as they passed by. A man in a black suit jumped out of the passenger seat of the car and opened the back door. Nick sped up and, pushing her in front of him as they neared the car, pressed her head down and shoved her inside.
The Prince's Runaway Lover (Men of the Zodiac) Page 7