Logan bent down and removed the balaclava that masked the man’s features, then swore. “This is one of Leopold’s guards. I warned him he’d been infiltrated. If you’d gone with the king …”
“What if he’d gotten near the children?” She couldn’t stop her voice from shaking.
Logan grabbed Kat’s hand and pulled her to him. Kat huddled against Logan’s chest, unable to stop trembling. Please let this be a nightmare. Please let me wake up. Please let my babies be all right.
Logan looked as if he wanted to say something, but he sighed and tapped his phone.
“Meet me at the back entrance. We’re going to Plan B.” A Russian curse sounded above them. “Sergei.”
They hurried out the stairwell and around the corner.
“I’m late,” Kat said. “I need to call my kids.”
“You mean our kids?”
Kat nodded, a feeling of dread spreading inside her. “Yes. Our kids.”
“You have one minute.” He slipped a small metal tool into a locked maintenance closet door, closed them in and handed the phone over. She fumbled so many times he finally took the cell back.
“What’s the number?”
Kat told him, then waited as he held the phone to his ear for a long time.
He hit a button and waited again.
“What’s going on?”
Logan frowned. “It just keeps ringing. Do you have an answering machine?”
Her heart stopped. “Yes, but Paulina should have picked up by now. She’s the babysitter and she wasn’t planning on taking the kids out today.”
“Well, the machine didn’t answer and neither did anyone else.”
THE THRONE ROOM WAS EMPTY.
It wouldn’t be for long.
The double doors whispered open and cautious footsteps crossed the marble floors toward the spot where the duke stood admiring the way the gold-plated walls glistened.
He ignored the simpering fool behind him and continued his perusal.
After the redecoration in the wake of the recent massacre, this was now a room befitting his future plans for Bellevaux. No longer would it simply be a tourist destination wallowing in a glorious past. Countries would be courting Bellevaux’s resources for the first time in a half century.
Rare earth metals were prized on the black market for weapon development. All he needed to take his place in Bellevaux’s history were the right partners. The man who could parlay the metals into money had landed in his lap. His greater dilemma—a princess with a royal bloodline accepted by the people. Leopold’s daughter was perfect, no matter how common. Once he had an heir off her, the American cowgirl could be disposed of. Everything was falling into place. As long as he maintained control.
“We have a problem, Your Grace.”
The Duke of Sarbonne turned. “Did I grant you permission to speak, Niko?”
His advisor swallowed. “I beg your pardon.”
“Very well.” The duke nodded. “I’m beginning to believe our friends in America are not as competent as they claimed. Too many mistakes. Too long to gather information. Perhaps they have no stomach for what is required.”
“There is news,” Niko’s voice rushed out. “The princess has children. One is rumored to be a boy.”
The duke stilled.
“Your Grace?”
“Leave me,” he snapped.
“As you wish.” Niko bowed, his entire body shaking.
The doors whispered shut. The duke placed his hands behind his back and studied the exquisite tapestry from the Middle Ages depicting his ancestor in ruthless battle as that duke defeated his brother and seized the crown of Bellevaux. The sword the man had used hung prominently behind the throne now. Luminal would probably still reveal the ancient blood of those fools who sought to challenge.
Modern-day warfare required a different manner of weapon, but the duke intended the present outcome to be no less lethal. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket.
“I assume you’ve heard about the … complications?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Or should I say Your Majesty.”
“Soon.” He liked the way the title sounded. Before too long, the entire country would embrace him as such. “Eliminate them, but the princess must live.”
“Your Grace—”
“I told you, Victor, I need a princess. Take care of her illegitimate litter and you’ll have all the rare earth metals you can mine.”
“Then it will be done … Your Majesty.”
“Victor, I’m not finished. Any mistakes, and I will be … disappointed.” Sarbonne smiled at the memory of his morning’s activities. “A state which has proved … most unhealthy … for others in the past.”
Chapter Two
Logan pulled Kat around to the service elevator and punched the basement button. He didn’t want to meet anyone else. One bullet wound near his shoulder was enough for now. Good thing it wasn’t bad. He couldn’t deal with first aid until later, so the cloth napkin he’d stolen off a breakfast tray would have to suffice for a bandage.
Logan’s mind spun at the strange new truths shoved at him over the last few minutes. Kat was a princess. He was a father. No one was answering the phone where his children were supposed to be.
He had children.
Twins.
If he’d only known he could have sent a security team for them. He’d spent hours watching Kat sleep while horrible things could have been happening to his kids. The realization made him shake. He’d faced terrorists in Afghanistan and Iran, double agents who wanted him dead, and that didn’t come close to his fear at the responsibility for two innocent lives. Lives he should have been protecting all this time.
The service elevator doors slid open and Logan pressed Kat behind him. He peered into the hallway, looking for Sergei, or rogue gunmen. Maids and kitchen staff bustled toward two large sets of swinging doors.
“This way,” Logan said.
They followed a waiter and wove through the chaotic kitchen, then out through a delivery door.
Stepping into the bright winter sun behind the hotel, Logan’s tension eased a fraction as a familiar black SUV with its window slightly down screeched to a stop in front of them.
Kat pulled back, her glimpse of the driver’s stern visage and eye patch obviously scaring her.
“It’s okay. Rafe’s one of my best men.”
The certainty in his words niggled at Logan’s gut. He’d believed Daniel to be his closest friend and ally. Despite his trust, Logan had to keep his guard up.
He bundled Kat into the backseat and slid in beside her, his Glock on his lap. The darkened windows hid their identity, and he gave their surroundings a quick scan. Nothing tripped his alert wire. “Get us out of here fast, Rafe. Evasive maneuvers and keep your gun ready. I’m running red.”
Logan met Rafe’s intent gaze in the rearview mirror, but his right-hand man didn’t hesitate or question how badly Logan was wounded.
Rafe pulled out, constantly checking the special mirrors set up to accommodate the temporary patch over his left eye. “Where to?”
Kat