Unfaded Glory Page 9

  So did the crowd, but she asked for more. “Space please, ladies and gentlemen.”

  They responded to her calm, cool manner, and she fixed each person on the front lines of the mob with her best princess smile.

  When they’d all moved to a distance she was comfortable with, she spoke again. “I’m Princess Damara Petrakis of Castallegna. I know you all have questions, but we’ve been through quite an ordeal in the past few days. Of which I’d be happy to tell you all about at the press junket in Glory, Kansas. You can get details from our PR liaison, Sonja White.”

  “Is it true you’re fleeing an arranged marriage to a Russian gangster?” a voice asked.

  “Please, as I said, we’ll take all of your questions after we’ve had a chance to rest.” She leaned back against Byron, and his arms came around her so easily, so naturally, she’d swear it was a habit born of years rather than hours.

  They cut a path through the crowd, leaving Sonja to deal with the mess.

  “You handled that very well,” he told her.

  Damara was getting to where she liked praise from him better than chocolate. That simply wasn’t to be tolerated because she knew it wouldn’t last. This arrangement wasn’t permanent, and she had a feeling that before all of this was over, he’d hate her.

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s our car.” He pointed at a black car.

  “How do you know?”

  “Government plates.” He indicated the tags on the back.

  The door opened for them, and Byron made sure she was secured before he got into the car. Just like her other bodyguards.

  Exhaustion and relief swept over her. She hadn’t realized how tired she was, or that she’d been figuratively holding her breath, until the car was in motion. She sagged against him.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said we’d been through a lot in the past few days. I think every bone in my body hurts. Even my face.”

  “It’s about an hour to reach Glory. Then you can sleep for as long you want, Princess. But let me warn you, it’s nothing like Barcelona. There won’t be any room service.”

  “I don’t even care. The first thing I want to do is eat your McDonald’s. Then I want to sleep for a year. Maybe a bath.”

  “Do you have McDonald’s on Castallegna?”

  “No. They wanted to put in a few restaurants, but Abele said no when they wouldn’t pay him a ‘finder’s fee.’ But they made us their French fries and they were so good.”

  “The people will like that.”

  “What?”

  “A French-fry-eating princess.”

  “They will like the hero who saved the princess, too.”

  “As long as no one forgets this is just a role and I’m not a hero.”

  She wasn’t going to argue with him about it, so she said nothing. Her brain had latched on to the idea of a bath. Of sitting and soaking away the bad parts of the past few days but keeping the good.

  Only, thinking of Byron and water... She remembered what it was like when he allowed her to touch him freely. To enjoy him and, in turn, be enjoyed.

  She supposed having been intimate with the man she was to pretend to be in love with made it that much easier.

  “And in that vein, I think when we’re alone, we should keep touching to the minimum.”

  She realized she’d dropped her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Damara straightened. “But I don’t agree. Who knows how long we’ll have to use this ruse, and it’ll be hard to protect me if you’re sitting a mile away from me.”

  “This is my line in the sand, Damara. Don’t push me on this.”

  “Renner said—”

  “Renner is cordially invited to go play a hearty game of hide-and-go-fuck-himself, and he’s a quarter behind.”

  She had no idea what that meant, but she knew it wasn’t a good thing. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “No, and I told him that.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Maybe we can say that it wasn’t you. That you were the guy my fiancé sent to retrieve me. That we were already in love somehow.”

  He perked. “That might work.”

  His eagerness to embrace that scenario hurt more than it should have. He was right. Sleeping with him had been a mistake. She might not have done it if she’d known that night in Barcelona wasn’t their last. This was too hard. She was supposed to pretend to be intimate with a man she was already intimate with, but also had to pretend that intimacy meant nothing to her. It was too much, too complicated.

  “Yeah. It might.” She leaned against the car door and watched the scenery go by. Damara didn’t want to say anything else to him. She couldn’t, not without her throat constricting and all her stupid little-girl ideas getting crushed under his boot.

  Damara knew that’s what they were, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to hold on to them anyway.

  * * *

  SHE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND, but Byron didn’t expect her to. He just couldn’t have her touching him all the time, clinging to him, pretending to be his when she wasn’t.

  And never could be.

  He knew his rejection stung, but better to sting now than damage later. Because he wouldn’t stop with the soft touches, the way she burrowed into him. He’d move his hands up the back of her spine, or down to her hips; he’d cup her perfect breasts, kiss her full lips... And, silly girl that she was, she’d let him.

  Byron was already hard with want and she made him feel as if he was a kid again with no idea how to handle his own needs.

  There was part of him that had listened to everything she’d said and believed it. It was louder now than it had ever been. She said she was a woman in charge of her own destiny so he should take her up on everything she offered and not look back. Not look forward.

  Just look at now.

  Byron knew she deserved better than that.

  It was all worse now that he was coming back to Glory. He didn’t want to be here. The familiar sights as the car passed over the bridge and into Glory didn’t bring him the ease it might have brought some people coming home after all these years. Not Byron Hawkins. The last time he’d passed through Kansas City, he hadn’t even bothered to make the drive.

  Now the familiar sights and smells turned his stomach, knotted it up with knitting needles.

  The town had been decorated for Christmas, little wreaths and bells hung off light posts and everything that would stand still long enough to be draped in evergreen. Santa decals adorned a lot of the storefronts, along with fake snow and cozy winter scenes. Sweet Thing advertised a new kind of hot chocolate and “dipping biscuits,” whatever the hell those were. The Corner Pharmacy offered a Winter Wonderland Shake, probably some monstrosity of eggnog and cinnamon. The local theater showed scheduled performances of The Nutcracker on the old-fashioned marquee.

  The car stopped in front of a large Victorian on Broadway. He’d expected they would’ve decided to house them on base at Fort Glory. It would definitely be safer for Damara. And it would also make press access more difficult.

  * * *

  THE HOUSE HAD BEEN decorated, as well. There was a candle in every window and a large wreath hung on the door.

  He didn’t want to be here. There were too many ghosts, and his head was already full of them.

  A familiar face greeted him when the door of the car opened.

  Caleb Lewis. Somehow, he’d become one of Glory’s finest. He was in a police uniform.

  “What the hell is that, Lewis?” Byron laughed, nodding to the uniform. “It’s almost Christmas, not Halloween.”

  Caleb shrugged. “I don’t know, man. It just happened. I could say the same to you. I guess military school did wonders for you. I know it was great for my Friday nights.”

  “You
went, too?” He had a hard time imagining one of Glory’s golden boys in military school.

  He snorted. “Hell, no. But with you gone, I had more of a chance at getting a girl to say yes to a date with me.”

  Byron appreciated the easy camaraderie. The meaningless banter that welcomed him home without judgment. Caleb was one of those who’d never judged him, never slunk to his locker needing what he could provide and then talking about him behind his back.

  He’ll never be anything.

  He was just born bad.

  “So they put you on princess duty?” he asked, trying to rouse the shades from his mind.

  “I requested it. Figured you could use a friendly face.” Caleb shrugged it off.

  “Where’s your partner in crime? You and India were always attached at the hip.”

  “She’s actually my partner. She’s getting doughnuts from my sister’s shop. She decided the princess had to have doughnuts.” At Byron’s expression, he added, “Yeah, I don’t know. It’s a girl thing, I guess.”

  “We both know India’s not really a girl. Brimstone on wheels, maybe. But never just a girl.”

  Caleb grinned, but he didn’t say much else. He realized he hadn’t introduced Damara when he felt the weight of her presence at his back.

  “This is Princess Damara Petrakis of Castallegna.”

  “The Jewel of Castallegna.” Caleb smiled. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Glory.”

  “It is truly an honor. Thank you.”

  She was every bit the perfect princess, and Caleb was dutifully and predictably charmed.

  And Byron was pissed off.

  He didn’t want her to be so likable and gracious, and he definitely didn’t want Caleb to be charmed or charming. Jealousy he had no right to feel flared like a canker.

  “Let’s get her inside,” he grumbled.

  “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, Hawkins. There’s a couple of guys posted at various places on the property—it’ll be a revolving post. They’re camped out above the carriage house in back. Your people chose this house because of the underground tunnel that leads from the main house to the carriage house. Glory P.D. will be doing hourly drive-bys to make sure everything is as it should be. We’re not going to let anything happen to either of you.”

  “The princess has been trained in Krav Maga and can use any weapon you give her.”

  “That’s definitely sexy.” Caleb grinned. Just when Hawkins was seriously considering punching him in the face, he said, “India kicks my ass all the time.”

  “I knew you guys would end up together. She might be the only girl who ever told me no.” Hawkins smiled.

  “No, we’re just friends. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it when she’s tough.” Caleb turned to leave. “Fair warning. The house has been wired up with surveillance. So no running naked around the garden at night.”

  He got into his patrol car and drove away.

  “Is he a friend of yours?” Damara asked.

  “Yeah, I guess he is.” Byron had never thought about it before, but he supposed out of anyone in Glory, Caleb was his friend. He hated being back here, hated being home. But Caleb wasn’t so bad.

  And he guessed the people in Glory weren’t all awful, if taken on an individual basis. It was when they started going off in groups and committees that they were a problem.

  “No, what I mean is, can we trust him? If something happens, is he someone to seek out or avoid?”

  Byron thought about it for a moment. Caleb Lewis was one of those people you definitely wanted on your side. He’d heard that he’d enlisted in the army just so India wouldn’t be deployed alone. “Remember what I said? Don’t trust anyone but yourself.”

  “And remember what I said about needing help?”

  He did at that. “Yes, Princess. You can trust him.”

  “I love the house.”

  “You haven’t even been inside.”

  “No, and I don’t need to. I know I’ll love it. The architecture is lovely.” She looked down. “And the brick sidewalks.”

  She hurried up the walk.

  “Let me go inside first and do a security check before you get all Martha Stewart.”

  “Thank you for telling Officer Lewis that I could hold my own. I appreciate that.”

  She picked the strangest times to say the most unexpected things.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Yes, but no one else has ever seen that truth but you. So it’s important to me to thank you.”

  He watched her for a moment longer than necessary before going inside and giving the house a perfunctory scan.

  “You can come inside.”

  Two cell phones sat side by side on the counter. When one rang, Byron answered it.

  “You made yourself right with this yet?” Renner asked him.

  “No.”

  “Fine. I’m sending a file to the phone. It’s all the other candidates in the area. Choose one.”

  The line went dead.

  The thought of trusting Damara’s safety to someone else didn’t bring the relief he’d thought it would. He scrubbed his hand over his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Renner said he has some other candidates.”

  “Oh.” She walked up the stairs to explore the second floor.

  He supposed it was funny that he’d chosen that word to describe her actions—exploring. It was something she liked. Something she was damn good at, he thought, as memories of her “explorations” washed over him.

  For shit’s sake, it was only one night. Why couldn’t he forget it?

  He looked down at the phone and the blinking icon that indicated he had a text.

  Hawkins downloaded the file and quickly scrolled through every name on the list. None of them met with his approval. None of them could keep Damara safe.

  He clicked on Renner’s number and called him back.

  “Made a choice so quickly?”

  “You know damn well I didn’t. What the hell is this?” Did Renner want the mission to fail? That list couldn’t have been what he meant to send.

  “It’s what I said it was. It’s the list of those operatives available to take your place.”

  “None of them are good enough.”

  “I know that, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Point taken. I’ll do it. But this in-love act? How long do we have to keep it up?”

  “I don’t know. To keep her safe, you’re probably going to have to marry her.”

  “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Byron meant to sound forceful, but he sounded much higher-pitched and maybe even slightly crazy.

  “It’s the fastest way to citizenship. Otherwise, we’d have to put it through committees and votes, granting her asylum. It’s the only way.” Renner sighed. “Is it really such a task to be saddled with a beautiful, accomplished woman?”

  “I don’t want this, and I don’t want her,” he reiterated.

  “Then you’re the only one who doesn’t.”

  He heard a gasp and looked up to see Damara still on the stairs. She’d heard what he said.

  “Damara,” he began, but he knew there were no words that could soothe the hurt he’d just inflicted.

  She shook her head slowly, eyes wide and sorrowful. Her full lips set in a grim line. No, she mouthed and trudged slowly up the stairs.

  “Heard you, did she? Make your choice now. Either do this with full retirement benefits after this is over or come ride a desk.”

  “I said I’d do it,” he snarled.

  “Good. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  The line went dead again.

  He cursed. Why did he even care if she heard it? Then
maybe she’d stop looking at him as if he were some kind of hero. If he was honest with himself, he liked how she looked at him, even though he knew it was fleeting. It wouldn’t last. The sword of Damocles had fallen and sliced clean.

  Byron saw the other phone on the counter, and he supposed it was as good an excuse as any to follow her upstairs. She should have it on her person at all times.

  He picked it up and headed up the stairs.

  He found her in the master bedroom, sitting with a book, but he knew she wasn’t reading. She stared at the page blankly. It was upside down.

  Byron took it gently out of her hands and put it down next to her, then replaced it with the cell.

  “You need to keep this on you at all times.”

  “Thank you.”

  She didn’t look at him. She stared at the phone the same way she’d stared at the book.

  “Damara—” he tried again.

  “No.” She held up her hand. “We will not discuss it again. You will call your Mr. Renner. You will tell him what happened in Barcelona. He will tell Kulokav, and they will not want me any longer. My brother will disown me and force the Council to decree an end to my line of succession. Then I will find another way to help my people.” Her gaze flashed up to his face. “And we’ll be rid of each other.”

  “Damara, what’s stopping him from doing that anyway?”

  “I knew it was a risk when I ran. The original plan ensured that I’d have support in the world theater, and Castallegna is too small to risk trade sanctions. Or so he explained it to me. I didn’t know the man who saved me would be the one chosen for this duty. Or that it would be against your will. Go. Call him. I will find another way.”

  “There isn’t another way.”

  “You told me yourself not to trust anyone but me. So I do. And I will find another way.”

  There was something about the tone of her voice, the way she held herself, it made him cringe away from her like a roach running from the light. Yet it drew him closer, too. Her strength, her surety of self, he’d never known another woman like her. He couldn’t trust himself, but he couldn’t trust anyone else, either. He’d rather she be with the devil he knew. “You’re stuck with me now, anyway. I already told him I’d do it. There’s no one else.”