The Princess

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “I left the guy he hired holding his balls in pain and came back here but this is war. We can’t even think about having a child, let alone a real life together until they stop coming at us. And they won’t, which is why I’m going after them. The way I should have a long time ago. The way they came at my mother.” Anger and bitterness vibrate through his words and I’m suddenly rocked by the secrets I’ve kept from him about his mother. Things I’ve already decided I have to tell him but not now, when those things could be triggers. Not until this is over so I focus on just that. How this ends.

  “What are we going to do?” I ask, steeling myself for an answer that I’m certain I won’t like but I’m not sure I can reject. Not now. Not after his father sent someone to hurt him, maybe even kill him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Harper

  “We?” he asks.

  “We,” I confirm. “I’ve told you. I’m with you and that man, that man that is your father, is also my mother’s husband.” My fingers close around his shirt. “I don’t want anyone to die but I want this ended. I want him ended and there has to be a way that doesn’t include murder. So—I ask again. What are we going to do?”

  His phone buzzes with a text. “We have people waiting on us downstairs, so right now, we’re going downstairs to deal with the houseful of people waiting on us. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  I want to push for more but he’s already snagged my hand and is guiding me forward. I’m right behind Eric when he starts down the stairs and when he seems to be pulling ahead of me, he abruptly stops walking and faces me, and then his hand is under my hair and he’s pulling his mouth to mine. A kiss that is just lips to lips, no tongue, and as we linger there, there is so much to this kiss. There is hunger, pain, torment, and possessiveness. He’s telling me that he’s not letting me go, and that’s everything to me right now. Our lips part and for several beats we linger there, breathing together until he strokes my hair and then laces the fingers of one hand with mine.

  That’s how we walk down the stairs and when we reach the living room, we find Savage and Blake at the fireplace, flames licking at the glass cover.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” Savage says, as we join them. “I came back bearing gifts. Or one gift.” He motions to Blake. “I brought the hacker extraordinaire. I tried to put a bow on him, but he refused.”

  “He’s not fucking joking,” Blake grumbles. “He tried to put a bow on me because he’s a crazy person.”

  Savage’s phone buzzes with a message and he glances down at it. “Duty calls. Too bad it’s not a woman.” He eyes Blake, and they exchange a look before Savage heads for the door while Blake focuses on me.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m alive,” I say. “I’m not bleeding. I’d say that makes me pretty okay. Thank you and your team for all you’ve done.”

  “Thank me when I make it count,” he says eyeing Eric. “I want to dissect a few dots I’ve connected, but first things first. You think your father tried to kill you tonight?”

  Eric’s jaw tenses. “I just covered this. No. I don’t.”

  “Savage told me you did,” Blake argues. “That was your gut instinct right after it happened.”

  “And I’m telling you,” Eric states, “it’s not now. My father isn’t stupid enough to send someone that beneath my skill level to kill me. He knows who I am. He knows what I am.” His cellphone rings and he pulls it from his pocket. “Speak of the devil himself.” His lips press together. “My father.” He declines the call.

  “You’re not going to take it?” I ask.

  “Let him wonder what I’m doing right now.”

  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” I say. “If he wasn’t trying to kill you, then why attack you tonight?” I ask. “It makes no sense. That puts us on guard. It keeps me, and us, here. You’d think that they would want me back in Denver with you by my side. That’s how they get to me and blame you.”

  “They don’t believe I’ll let you go back to Denver,” he replies. “Now, they have to do this here. They wanted to be sure I was spooked enough to hold onto you here.”

  “But how do they get to me or you here?” I challenge, holding out my hands. “We’re well insulated.”

  “Baiting me,” I say. “Somehow, someway, he plans to bait me into doing something that backfires.”

  “Let them try,” Blake says. “We’ll be there to turn it around on them.”

  “In other words,” Eric replies. “You’re not here to tell me that you figured out what’s really going on here, are you?”

  “Not yet but we need to talk about the unions, and the possibility of them being connected to the Kingstons.”

  “The unions?” I ask. “You think this relates to them?”

  “I do,” Blake says. “I can’t prove it yet, but I have enough for me to start pointing my research that direction. And believe me, the union’s involvement is not good news.”

  “No, it’s not,” Eric says, pulling me closer, as if he’s suddenly concerned about me standing right here.

  I glance at Eric. “What do you two know that I don’t know?”

  “The unions are still connected to the mob,” Eric says. “You piss them off, you die. You steal from them, you suffer before you die. We don’t want them coming after you.”

  Realization hits me and I can feel the color drain from my face. “The money in the account in my name. It could be mob money. It could look like I stole from the mob.”

  “We handled that,” Blake assures me. “There’s no connection to you.”

  “That we know of,” I say. “We don’t know much, it seems to me, right now.”

  Eric turns me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. “No one is going to hurt you, princess. They’ll have to come through me and that won’t go well for them.”

  “I’m not going to cower in fear,” I say, thinking of what the Kingstons did to his mother, to him, what they could do to my mother. “I’m sick of this family, I’m ready to fight.“

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Harper

  I hold onto Eric, but not out of fear. No more fear. My mind is chasing Blake’s theory about what’s really going on. “It makes sense,” I say, facing Eric and Blake. “The union being involved makes sense. Isaac tried to get me to take over the union negotiations last week, right before my attack.” I eye Eric. “That meeting you interrupted. That was set-up because of Isaac thrusting a project on me out of nowhere.”

  “Which, “Eric says, “I agree, fits with them trying to connect you to the union.”

  “But what could they be doing with the union that involves the kind of cash we know they’re moving around?” I ask, looking between both men. “Is it payoffs, and moving the cash around in my name, and even Gigi’s, to make us look guilty in case the government catches on?”

  “I doubt this is about the government,” Eric says. “It’s more likely about crossing someone they shouldn’t have crossed. Gigi’s not innocent. I don’t believe that for a minute.”

  I set aside the argument about Gigi and hug myself with a really bad thought, and a question I don’t want to ask, but it has to be asked. “My mother,” I say, looking between Eric and Blake. “Is she innocent?”

  “Your mother didn’t play a part in your attack,” Eric promises me. “I wouldn’t hide that from you.”

  “Like your father didn’t have you attacked tonight?”

  His jaw tenses. “My father and I are not the same as you and your mother. And Adam was there when she met with Gigi. I told you what he overheard that conversation.”

  “I concur on all points,” Blake interjects.

  “What about bank accounts in her name?” I ask. “Is she the next fall guy?”

  “She has no bank accounts in her name alone,” Blake says. “And I’m of the opinion that she’s too close to your stepfather to become a target. He wouldn’t be insulated from the police.”

 
; “That means we stay the target,” I say. “I’m some fall guy for something with the union and maybe the mob, and we don’t even know what to stop it from happening. This is insanity.”

  “We don’t have any proof that the union or the mob is involved,” Blake says. “I’m speculating.”

  “But you have enough to connect the dots to the union that’s working with the mob,” I remind him. “You said that. The mob. Does anyone survive the mob if they get angry?”

  “Easy, sweetheart,” Eric says. “This is all speculation.”

  “You were attacked tonight, Eric. I was attacked. In two different cities. We need to speculate into facts quickly before someone ends up dead, like us.” I face Eric. “Number one,” I press. “What’s your number one thought right now, in this moment, about why you were attacked? Let the savant in you work. First thing that comes to your mind, now.”

  “Isaac was scared when he came to your house to see me. Really fucking scared. The kind of scared you are when you’ve fucked over the mob. And you don’t fuck over the mob, or anyone powerful, without a plan to cover your ass.”

  “We were that plan,” I say, following where he’s leading.

  “Yes, but they can’t kill you now,” he says. “Not when I’m protecting you. My father didn’t come here to kill you. He knows that emotional stress used to set off the savant in me, and become debilitating. I think he came here to trigger me which used to be a lot easier. If he made me breakdown, and need intervention, I’m an easy mark to blame for all their sins. Hell, he might have even hoped I’d kill the guy he sent after me.”

  “And you could have,” Blake says. “He was a former cop, turned PI, with no military background. A poor match for you.”

  “Exactly,” he says. “He doesn’t know that I’m not the same person I was before working with in the military. He doesn’t know he can’t set me off anymore, but I believe he was trying.”

  “Okay then,” I say. “Where does that leave us? When do you actually deal with him and what he did tonight?”

  "He needs to simmer,” Eric replies. “Waiting makes him nervous, and a nervous man in trouble makes nervous moves.”

  “And we’re watching,” Blake says, giving me a wink. “And we’re badasses.” He lifts his chin at Eric. “Not as badass as your savant right here, but badass enough.” He eyes Eric. “Can you walk me out?”

  Eric nods and kisses me. “I’ll be right back.” He starts to move away and I catch his arm.

  “Can I use your phone? I need to check my messages, in case they’re helpful.”

  Blake interjects, “Mia brought you a phone that I set-up for you with your regular phone number. It should be in one of the bags she delivered.”

  I’m surprised and pleased. “Oh. Great. Thank you.”

  “I told you,” he says, giving a wink. “I’m a badass.”

  Eric’s lips curve with the exchange, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s troubled and with good reason. His father’s a bastard.

  He and Blake start walking away, and I watch their departure, my gaze locked on Eric. He’s all loose-legged swagger and confidence, a machine to many, perhaps to the military, who trained the savant in him, but he’s also human. Nothing changes that fact. And humans get hurt. It’s not a good thought, and the instant the two of them disappear, I hunt down my bags, load up with as many as I can carry, and head toward Eric’s bedroom. It takes me two trips to get them all where I want them, inside the master bathroom but once I’m there, I eye the closet in the back of the room and decide that’s my spot. I move everything there and sit down on the floor of the giant square room. I start digging until I find the iPhone box. I open it and find it’s barely charged. It dies the minute I try to use it. Impatient for my messages, I’m thankful there’s a charger and even a plug in the closet. I set the phone up to charge and then start pulling out the contents of the bags.

  I find a bag of toiletries and another with a gown and robe. Another with jeans and T-shirts and even a couple of dresses, all with insane price tags that I know Eric covered for me. I don’t want his money. I don’t want him to ever think I care about that part of his life. I care about him. God, I really do. I glance down and find that my phone has now come to life and it shows no missed calls, but that might be because it’s new. Or no one cared enough to call me after my attack.

  No one being my mother, but of course, she may not even know about it.

  Do I tell her?

  I check my messages and find a call not from her, but from my stepfather. I suck in air and let it out. Why is he calling me? I punch the message and let it play on speaker: Listen to me, Harper. I’m here in the city for you. If anything happens to you, your mother will never forgive me and I love her too much to see her suffer you as a loss. Eric is not a good person. He’s dangerous and anything you think you know about what’s going on, you don’t. Come to my hotel. The Ritz, room 1101. Find a way. I’ll be here for twenty-four hours. Come sooner than later. I worry for you every moment you’re with him. The call goes dead and I look up to find Eric leaning against the doorway, his sleeves rolled up, his tattoos exposed. He’s wholly male, and he’s lethal in every possible way. Of that, I have no doubt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Harper

  Eric’s still standing in the doorway of the closet, staring at me while I’m on the floor, my phone in my hand, that message his father left me is in the air between us. I stand up and while Eric still leans on the doorframe, his body seemingly relaxes, his stance just as relaxed, and his blue eyes are sharp, hard. Intelligent. No. Genius. “What do you want to say to me?” he asks.

  “That I hate the Kingston family.” His eyes flicker ever so slightly, a hint of torment in their depths as I add, “That I was wrong when I said you’re one of them.” I cross to stand in front of him, the earthy male scent of him teasing my nostrils and somehow it already represents strength and honesty to me. He straightens, towering over me, and neither of us touch each other, but I want to touch him, and I want him to touch me. I think he wants to touch me, too, but he senses my unease, and he’s reacting to it. “You were wrong,” I continue, “when you said you were one of them. You aren’t one of them. You aren’t your father.”

  “I heard every word of that message.”

  “I know. And what he said means nothing to me. I’m with you. I’ve always been with you.” I offer him the phone. “If you want to you can listen to it again.”

  He doesn’t immediately take it. He simply stares at me. Seconds tick by and I look down at his watch—black leather, a black face, red hands—and I can almost hear the tick before my gaze lifts to Eric’s again. And suddenly he’s pulling me to him, his hand sliding under my hair, settling on my neck and then I’m flat against his hard body, our legs aligned, our hips melded together and I can feel the thick pulse of his erection.

  “Did you believe what he said to you?”

  That he has to ask this cuts me and my jaw hardens. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” I try to shove away from him but he holds onto me, an unmoving wall that confines me. I don’t want to feel confined anymore and that’s what this family has done to me. “Let go, Eric.”

  “Never,” he murmurs, dragging my mouth to his. “That’s what you don’t understand. I’m not letting go.”

  “You did let go. And now, asking that question was pushing me away, which is the same thing.”

  “Just say what I want to hear,” he orders.

  “I told you that I didn’t believe what he said to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes. That’s what I want to hear. Why didn’t you believe him?”

  “Because I know you, beyond time and reason. Because I know them because of time and reason. And you should believe me for the same reasons.”

  “I do believe you,” he says, no hesitation. “I’m just making sure you do, too.”

  “I
don’t know what that means.”

  “You should,” he says, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue pressing past my lips, the answer I seek, the understanding I need, in this kiss. I sense this. I know this. He’s telling me something I don’t understand but I want to. I lean into him, meeting him stroke for stroke, my hand on his chest, over his thundering heart. Thundering with this moment, because of me, but I’m not sure if that’s arousal or anger.

  Anger.

  He’s angry, but as his hand slides up my back, and he molds my chest to his chest, I know that anger isn’t at me. He’s angry at his father. He’s furious at him and somehow, someway, I know that he isn’t punishing me with his kisses, but rather escaping that message. He didn’t listen to it again because, despite his bravado about being a different person now, his father does get to him.

  Knowing this, understanding now that he couldn’t listen to that message again without taking the edge off, I’m without any reserve or inhibitions. Everything but this man falls away. I don’t just kiss him, I devour him, my hands sliding all over his body and in a haze of lust, we’re naked, and he’s pressing inside me, my back against the wall, his thick cock thrusting, pumping. He devours me in every possible way, but he isn’t alone. I’m right there with him, living the moment, feeling the passion. My hands cling to his arms. His hands caress my breasts, his eyes raking over my puckered nipples.

  Thrust.

  Pump.

  Fuck.

  If we were making love earlier, we’re fucking now, and it’s what we both need.

  It’s wild, hard, and fast, and it’s not long before my sex is spasming around his thick cock and he’s quaking as he fills me, that condom he claimed we needed nowhere to be found. When it’s over, when we’re both sated and clinging to each other, Eric lifts me off the wall and walks us into the bathroom. He sets me on the white tile of the counter next to an egg-shaped tub and discreetly presses a towel between my legs that I barely register, but he does.