Royal Rescue. Tammy Johnson
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be.
Self-preservation kicked in.
She grabbed the straps of her shoulder bag tightly in her hand and swung it with all her might toward his head. It made contact with a thud. He lost his footing, falling to one knee. His grip on her arm loosened. With a quick tug, she wrenched her arm away and ran.
She could hear him stumbling and then his feet crunching in the snow as he regained his balance. The sound grew more distant as she ran. She didn’t slow. She didn’t dare risk the time it would take to look over her shoulder to see how much of a lead she had.
Fear spurred her on. Her feet slipped on the icy sidewalk. If the chase continued out in the open he’d catch her easily. His legs were longer and he was doubtless well trained. He’d catch her, then he’d kill her.
The thought gave her a burst of speed. She’d shown up tonight with her escape plan in place. She’d learned from those who had protected her how important a quick getaway could be, and along the way she’d picked up a few tricks of her own.
She ducked between the evergreen bushes that lined the pathway separating the park and the courthouse. Hugging the stone wall as close as possible, she dropped the bright red baseball cap to the snow-covered ground and replaced it with a darker, woolen stocking cap from her pocket. Hopefully, the quick change would keep her from standing out. She turned the corner at the end of the block and darted between cars parked along the street. Carefully she weaved in and out of the few people on the sidewalk and slid into the diner on the corner.
The smell of fried foods hit her with the blast of warm air. Her stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since her last real meal. A quick glance out the large picture window showed no sign of the man, but he couldn’t be far behind.
She breathed a sigh of relief. She would be safe now. The small room was nearly filled with people. Elderly men sat along the fifties-style bar with steaming mugs in front of them. Thea dashed past booths of vinyl and Formica occupied by couples and families and headed to the women’s restroom at the back.
She was fairly certain he wouldn’t try to break in the bathroom door in front of everyone in the small diner. Once inside she locked the door and leaned against it just long enough to take a deep breath. More likely than not, if he followed her to the diner, he’d sit outside waiting for her. As if she would have a change of heart and just walk out and docilely do as he said.
He seemed the sort who was accustomed to people doing what he told them to do.
The tiny niggling of doubt flared its ugly head again. He really could be here to help her. She dismissed it. It didn’t matter. Many people had died trying to help her. She’d made a decision after what had happened last week at the safe house. The memory of those who had died trying to protect her would be something she carried with her forever. She would not be the cause of any more death. She had a chance to escape and she was going to take it.
The window above the toilet was the gateway to her future. It looked barely large enough for her to get through. The toilet bowl had no cover and the lid on the tank looked wobbly at best, but it was the window and freedom or the man and whatever plans he might have.
The strong odor of disinfectant assailed her as she stepped up onto the seat, balancing a foot on each side. Maneuvering onto the tank, she grabbed the windowsill as her support wobbled. Thea overadjusted and lost her precarious footing on the tank. Her chin came down hard on the ledge and she just managed to keep a foot from slipping into the bowl. But she was okay.
A few hard pushes on the window loosened the old paint enough to get it open, and she once again climbed up onto the tank. Knowing it would be a tight squeeze, she took off her jacket and dropped it and her bag through the window to the ground outside. She threw first one leg, then the other over the ledge and squirmed feetfirst through the small opening.
“Couldn’t get out the normal way?” a familiar male voice inquired from just behind her.
A flush coursed through her body as she realized the view she must be giving him, and she shimmied frantically to dislodge herself from her position. A sharp stinging sensation shot up her leg at the same time as the sound of tearing material. The more she pushed, the more it dug into her skin and the more her jeans ripped.
“I think you’re stuck on something.”
Thea snorted, a very unladylike sound.
She was at his mercy. His hands grasped her hips and pulled. After a few tugs and a little more wiggling, she was free. He lifted her body with ease. As little as she wanted to admit it, he was strong. Even stronger than she’d first imagined. The feel of him holding her briefly took her back to a place where she’d felt safe. It would be so easy to relax against him and let him protect her. Just as quickly the thought was gone and she was reminded that his strength was also a means to easily overpower her if he chose to. As her feet touched the ground, she turned to face him.
The humor that had been barely noticeable in his voice hadn’t yet reached his face; if anything he appeared more dangerous than he had before.
“Ever heard of a door?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I was attempting to give you the slip,” she said as she picked up her jacket from the ground.
“And how’s that working out for you?” This time she detected a soft hint of laughter in his voice.
“I think that’s painfully obvious.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he said, his lips tilting into a crooked grin. Then he turned and motioned with a swing of his arm for her to walk in front of him. “But hopefully, now you are ready to come with me.”
She ignored his motion and faced him, toe to toe.
“If you are here to kill me, just do it.” She quickly pushed her arms into her jacket and wrapped it tightly around her. “But don’t expect me to make it any easier for you.”
“I’m not here to kill you, Princess Dorthea.” He reached for her bag on the ground near his feet. He held it out between them, testing its weight and eyeing her suspiciously. “Are you carrying around the kitchen sink?”
“It’s a brick.” She grabbed for her bag, but he held it just out of her reach while removing her only means of protection. He then handed it back over to her.
“You won’t need the brick anymore. As I’ve already said, I’m here to rescue you.”
She snorted again. “Some rescue. I’m freezing and I’ve banged my chin.” She motioned where it had slammed against the windowsill. “I’ve ripped my jeans and who knows if I’ve torn skin, as well. If you were any good at your job, you could make my death quicker instead of slowly bruising me to death.”
He smiled and for the first time she really took the time to notice him as a man. Not just as a danger she needed to avoid. He was quite handsome in a rugged and ruthless sort of way.
“You are very right. If I were going to kill you, I’d have done it in a much more humane manner and much more quickly. I’d probably have shot you when you hit me in the head with your brick-loaded bag. Or perhaps a poison apple would be more your style?”
A lock of dark blond bangs fell across his forehead. Combined with the smile, it gave him a mischievous look. For a slight moment her heart warmed toward him. As a bitter north wind blew, bits of sleet began to pelt them, stinging her exposed skin before melting against her warmth.
Thea held herself in check to keep from smiling back at him. She felt a stab of guilt at the swollen gash on his forehead. A thin trickle of dried blood stained the side of his face. She shook off the feeling. There was still a chance, however small, that he meant to harm her.
“Let’s just pretend for a moment I might believe you.” She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and looked up into his eyes. “Why are you here? What has happened to my brother? And don’t give me that ‘I’m here to rescue you’ line again. I want the truth.”
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