The Princess

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “I know,” I say, realizing that that’s what I need to say to him. “I know we will. I really need you. You know that, right?”

  He cups my head and kisses me, a deep stroke of tongue before he says, “Remember that. You need to remember that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we need to be alone. We need to sleep. We need to finally talk, really talk.” He strokes my cheek. “Go do what you need to do. Let’s get out of here sooner than later.”

  I want to push for more, but he’s right. We need to get out of this hospital. And so I nod and step back from him, our fingers catching, and slowly parting, but I say nothing else. He says nothing else. We don’t need to say more. What we need is to be alone. We’re new. We’re unsteady and the world around us is even more unsteady, and we have to steady it together.

  I force myself to turn away, and rejoin Mia, and the two of us fall into step together, and round a corner that leads us toward an elevator. A few minutes later, we’re sitting in a desolate cafeteria at a tiny table, with coffee in front of us, her keen eyes on my face. “He really matters to you.”

  “He really does. And that’s why I’m going to get right to the point. Grayson’s right. Eric is swimming in shark-infested waters, and while Grayson feels he needs to be with him to protect him, I believe that any risk or backlash against you or Grayson is what will send Eric over the edge.”

  “Define over the edge.”

  “He’ll protect you and Grayson at all costs. He needs room to breathe. If Grayson’s by his side, he won’t breathe. He’ll feel the pressure to end this before Grayson gets in too deep. And I mean, end it however he has to end it.”

  She sits back, looking as if she were punched in the chest before she leans forward. “However he has to end it?”

  “Yes. However, he has to end it.”

  She lifts a hand. “I’m not going to try to define what you might be implying. The bottom line is that Grayson loves Eric like a brother. He doesn’t want Eric to feel alone. He won’t leave his side.”

  “Eric doesn’t feel alone. He knows he has Grayson. He speaks of him as blood, family. A brother. He can’t lose him. That’s what Grayson needs to understand. Eric can’t lose him. He can’t be a part of taking him down in some way. And you need to understand how dangerous this is, Mia. They tried to kill me and we don’t know who they even are. Now his father was poisoned. Eric has every reason to believe that danger is a living, breathing monster, ready to attack at any moment. He won’t sit back and let Grayson get hurt.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get Grayson out of here. Even if it’s just for now. I know Grayson feels that he needs to be here but now, now is not the time. He’s putting himself on the wrong radars and that’s putting Eric on edge. Please. I beg of you. Pull him back.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” she proclaims solemnly.

  “Try. Please.”

  “I will. Yes. Of course, I will. I want everyone safe. I want everyone past whatever this is, but I know him. Give him a few minutes with Eric to feel good about where Eric is mentally right now, and then I’ll get him out of here, somehow, someway.” She tilts her head and studies me. “In the meantime, let’s talk about you. They tried to kill you. Your world is shaken to the core. How are you?”

  “I’m okay if Eric and my mother are okay. That’s the bottom line for me.”

  “You were attacked. You’re going to have to slow down and think about you at some point or the reality of it is going to sideswipe you. You’re going to have to deal emotionally with your attack, but for now, I get it. You’ve banked it. You’ve put it in a place and buried it because you care about other people. Because it’s survival.”

  “I feel fine. I do. I’m fine.”

  She gives me a keen look. “Are you convincing you or me?”

  “I’m fine,” I repeat firmly, and I am. I have to be.

  “How’s your mother handling things? Is she coming here?”

  “God, no. We’re not letting her come here if we can help it, and she’s not a friend to Eric. He doesn’t need that right now.”

  “Is that a problem for you two?”

  “No, it’s not. My mother needs to open her eyes and see that Eric is the one helping her, not the opposite.”

  “Sounds like we need to sit down with wine rather than coffee.”

  “Well, wine would be good, but I can’t afford to be anything but sharp right now. Please. Get Grayson out of here.”

  “Okay. I’ll go, but I need to ask you something. I need you to be honest.” She leans in closer again and lowers her voice. “Did Eric do this?”

  I hate that she’s asking me this again. I hate that her doubt reflects Grayson’s doubt. It hits me then that maybe, just maybe, Grayson’s shift in position on Eric, is him seeing Eric and what’s happened today with too much reflection on their youth. “I already answered that question. No.” My tone is firm and absolute. “No, he did not do this.”

  “That was a fast and sure answer.”

  “And an honest one.”

  “I like real and honest.” Her eyes soften the way her voice did moments before. “You’re good for him. He’s different with you, not so shut off and reserved. That’s how I’ll get Grayson to step back. Eric has you and you’re his Mia.” She stands up. “You coming back with me?”

  “I’m going to get Eric a coffee and then I’ll be there.”

  She nods and when I stand she hugs me. “You’re family now, too. If you need me, I’m here for you.” With that, she’s gone, hurrying toward the cafeteria exit, and disappearing into the hallway.

  I walk to the register and pay for another cup off coffee. With my cup and an empty cup in hand, I head toward the coffee bar and and prepare a fresh cup for me and a new cup for Eric, doctoring his the way I’ve already noted he prefers. I’ve just finished up, both hot coffees in hand, when I turn to find a tall, muscular man with a salt and pepper beard standing in front of me, or more like towering over me. I jolt to a halt, all but toe to toe with him. His lips curve, a hint of evil in that barely-there smirk. “It’s way past time that you and I have a talk, Harper.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Eric

  Grayson, Davis, and I are standing in the waiting room when Grayson’s phone rings. He grabs his phone from his pocket and glances at the caller ID. “It’s our friendly investor who stabbed us in the back over the NFL deal.” He hits the decline button. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

  The NFL deal that represents the dream Grayson and I have shared for years: owning part of a team. It’s our pet project together and yet I haven’t thought about it in twenty-four hours. “I promised you that I’ll handle it tomorrow,” I say. “I will. We won’t lose this deal. You have my word.”

  Grayson’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “We’re a good team. I can carry some of the weight right now.”

  Davis chooses then to chime in. “I need to speak to Eric. Alone.”

  Grayson arches an amused brow. “At least you plot against me behind my back, openly and honestly.” He chuckles, a man confident enough to know when to step away and fear nothing. And with that, he simply walks away and leaves me with Davis.

  “I don’t want this hell I’m living to stain the firm,” I say, the minute he’s out of hearing range. “I need you to distance him from me right now.”

  “NFL,” he says. “We’re negotiating the purchase of an NFL team. You’re negotiating the purchase of an NFL team. That’s un-fucking-believable. It’s damn near a wet dream. You did this, Eric. You made it happen. I can only do so much in these circumstances, but that said, I’ll do everything I can.”

  “I’m not coming to the office. That’ll bring the press to the doorstep of the company.”

  “We’re going to get press. We get lots of bad press. Many times and many ways, outside of this situation. Don’t assume our weakness. We have alwa
ys managed to come out on top just fine.”

  “This is different.”

  “The difference is that you’re acting like a little bitch, running scared.”

  My jaw sets hard. “Don’t push me, Davis.”

  “Don’t make me. I say own the fuck out of this. Don’t walk away. Don’t stay away. That makes you, and us, look like there’s something to hide. And we don’t even know if this is an issue yet. There’s no charge. There’s no problem.”

  “There’s a fucking assassin on the loose. That’s a problem. They went after my woman. They went after my father. What happens when they go after Grayson? I don’t need him to be on the radar of the wrong people.”

  He blanches. “An assassin?”

  “Yes, Davis. I don’t have time to give you the details right now, but I need Grayson and Mia out of this.”

  “Do I want to know the details?”

  “No. Don’t ask.”

  A muscle in his jaw tics. He wants to push for more but seems to think better of it, at least for now. “I’ll find a way to get them out of the city without them connecting the dots to you, but that means I need to use the NFL deal to make it happen. You have to step back.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “If Grayson thinks there’s a targeted meeting for that project, and that he’s handling it for you, he’ll go.”

  He’s right. The NFL deal is the only way to get Grayson out of here. “I can make that happen. I’ll make a few calls. You press him to take over. Tell him you think I’m too distracted. Be an asshole. You’re good at it.”

  He smirks. “Yes, friend. I’ll be an asshole, just for you.”

  Mia joins us then. “Where’s Grayson?”

  “Where’s Harper?” I counter.

  “She’s grabbing you coffee and—”

  “She’s alone?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Safety in numbers, Mia,” I say, and I’m already walking. Fuck. I have a bad feeling right now. Why did I let her and Mia go anywhere without protection? Why did I discount an ICU floor as a danger zone? My heart thunders in my ears, numbers pounding at my mind, calculating the odds that Harper is in danger, but the numbers aren’t what sets me off. It’s a gut instinct that tells me she’s in trouble.

  I start to jog toward the cafeteria.

  ***

  Harper

  In the seconds after the bearded man steps in front of me, time seems to stand still. What is seconds, maybe a minute, tick by like an hour. Adrenaline pumps through me and I want to run. I want to scream.

  Is he here to kill me?

  Is he the assassin that put Eric’s father in the hospital?

  I force myself to inhale deeply and reach deep to a lesson that my father taught me about calming myself and making rational decisions. I ground myself by focusing on the mundane details around me, rather than my death. The first thought I have is that the cafeteria smells of pizza. The man in front of me like coffee, the way I smell when I sit in a Starbucks for hours to catch up on work. These random observations work, as they always did in my professional life. My pulse steadies. My gaze sharpens on the man.

  “Who are you?”

  “Let’s sit down and talk,” he replies, and it’s not a question. It’s an order.

  Now that he’s spoken again, I’m hyper-focused on him, just him, and I drink in every detail I can. The fine lines by his eyes aging him to early forties. His beard neatly trimmed. His cheekbones high, a scar across the right side of his face. His eyes a teal blue. He towers over me a good twelve inches. He’s in a black designer leather jacket, wearing black jeans. I don’t know what’s on his feet because I’m not looking down and giving him the chance to come at me. Voices sound to the left, and the tension in my spine eases ever so slightly. He can’t kill me here. And would an assassin walk up to me like this?

  No.

  That’s illogical.

  Isn’t it?

  “Who are you and what do you want?” I ask, wishing like hell the coffee cups in my hands didn’t have lids on them.

  “Excuse me,” a female voice says to my left. “Do you mind if I grab a napkin?”

  I’m standing in front of the condiments and supply area. It’s a good public place to be but I can’t block the path to others using the area. I step slightly to the right, in front of the creamer, giving the woman room to grab her napkin, but I don’t look at her. I’m not leaving our public location. I’m not giving him a chance to grab me.

  The woman moves closer and she messes with the napkins and doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave. It’s odd and I have this sense that she’s listening in, that she’s intentionally crowding us but I’m pretty okay with that right about now.

  The man steps with me, maintaining a position that is far too close to me and directly in my path. “Who are you and what do you want?” I repeat softly. “Answer now or I’ll start screaming.”

  “Is that the typical way you respond to people who wish to speak to you? Screaming?”

  “You have ten seconds,” I say. “Ten. Nine—”

  “Detective Wright,” he says. “Consultant for the FBI.”

  I don’t even know what that means but I’m pretty sure it means he’s a liar. “Badge,” I order.

  “Consultant,” he repeats, and reaches in his pocket to offer me a card. “That’s all you get.” My hands are full and he holds it up for me to eye.

  “It looks real, but anyone can make a business card.”

  “Call it in,” he says. “But do it after we talk because we’re stripped of our privacy.” He reaches down and takes my cups, walking to the trash and dumping them. He returns and hands me the card. “Do you know what you’re in the middle of, Harper?”

  Harper.

  The way he uses my first name bothers me. Don’t FBI agents usually use your surname? “If you’re in a rush to talk to me in private,” I say, that very idea setting off warnings, “don’t waste time speaking in code.”

  “Everything is not what it seems and if you don’t open your eyes, and see with them, your stepfather won’t be the only one in the hospital.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s a fact and a warning. Open your eyes. Look beyond the obvious. Your time is up.”

  Male voices sound and one of them is Eric’s. “Eric!” I call out, and the man in front of me growls low, guttural. He grabs my arm and pulls me to him. “Bitch, you should have waited to hear me out. You should have let me help you. You should have fucking listened to me. Now there’s a price to pay.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Harper

  “There’s a price to pay,” the bearded man rasps at me again.

  “Let her go,” a female voice hisses, grabbing his arm. The same female who’d crowded me by the supplies. “We have to go,” she adds urgently.

  The bearded man, the FBI consultant, if I believe his lie, hesitates, but he releases me and then cuts right toward a stairwell. Eric is running toward me, but he’s too far to catch the man. The woman darts past me and I reach for her arm but fail. I charge after her. I have to catch her. We have to have answers. We have to end this. I make it all of three steps before Eric grabs my arm and turns me to face him. “What the hell are you doing? Stay here.” He’s barely spoken the words before he’s launching himself forward.

  I don’t stay. I spy Savage and I need him to know where to go to help Eric and now Eric’s around a corner. I start running and reach a turn, rounding the corner just as Eric enters the stairwell, but I make it no further. Savage grabs my arms. “Stop.” He turns me to face him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Does Eric have a gun?” I demand. “Tell me he has a gun.”

  “He’s got a gun. Talk to me. What just happened?”

  “That man told me—”

  Eric bursts through the stairwell door. “No one is there. They must have exited a flight up.” He eyes Savage. “Get someone lo
oking for them.”

  Savage grabs his phone and makes a call while Eric crosses the space between us with lightning speed and pulls me to him. “What the hell happened?”

  “This man came up to me and he claimed to be FBI. Or a consultant for the FBI. He gave me a card and I’m paraphrasing here but he warned me that I needed to open my eyes. That everything isn’t how it seems and if I didn’t figure that out, people would die.”

  Eric scowls. “Holy fuck, why did I let you come to the coffee shop alone?”

  “You didn’t. I went with Mia and—”

  He kisses me, his hand coming down on my head and his tongue licks into my mouth, the taste of fear on his lips. “You go nowhere without me until this is over. Do you understand? Nowhere without me.” His voice is low, rough, guttural. “Nowhere, Harper. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I breathe out. “Yes, of course. You don’t go anywhere without me either, understand?”

  “We stay together,” he agrees.

  “No one has seen them,” Savage interjects, “but we’re looking. What the hell are we dealing with here?”

  Eric’s arm wraps my shoulder, his big body sheltering mine as he turns to face Savage. “Tell him everything. Tell us both everything. Start from the beginning. Pretend I know nothing at all.”

  I relay every detail I remember about the encounter, down to the color of the man’s beard, and Savage is the one scowling when I finish. “FBI? No. We’re connected to the FBI. Unless this is a rogue agent, and I doubt he’d have a partner if he was, he wasn’t FBI.”

  Which isn’t a surprise to me. I knew he wasn’t FBI, and as I stand here now, I’m not rattled the way I was after the warehouse, but I don’t take the time to truly analyze that. “He gave me this.” I hand Savage the card.