Max and the Prince (14 page)

Max shook him a little. “Stop it, Lucien.”

Lucien stared at Max, focused in on blue eyes and the stern
expression, and the panic began to dissipate. “Sorry.”

Max shook him again. “And stop apologizing, we’ve already
had this conversation.”

Lucien deflated and Max collected him in a close hug. Lucien
pressed his face into Max’s neck and inhaled the scent of his lover. Everything
inside him quieted slowly. When he felt calmer, he pulled away but kept hold of
Max’s hand.

“What now?” he asked.

“Your hypothesis is a good one,” Max said. “I wanted to see
a pattern that made sense, because if anything, those notes were nonsexual.
You’re right, the stalker could be a father figure, not for sex, someone
looking after you. Whoever the stalker is, he or she is okay with you having a
love life, and I guess they were okay with Jamie being in your life despite his
connection to Lennox. Perhaps they didn’t even know about Lennox. They were
benevolent even, but when you’re in danger or upset, then the stalker ‘helps’
you by removing the problem.”

“Exactly.”

“Now let’s take it to Ross and see what we can come up with.
It might not be the tutor, but something about these letters has gnawed away at
me. Okay?”

Lucien nodded. “Okay.”

When they walked into the Manor House, Ross was up out of
his seat as soon as they entered the office.

“Tech guy came through. The email to that Tommy guy was sent
from a coffee shop. That’s the closest we can get.”

“But he has a specific place?”

“Anonymous account, and we can’t be certain who sent it—there’s
no surveillance from two years back. But it was a Costa Coffee in Gloucester.”

Lucien and Max looked at each other. His old tutor lived in
Gloucester, he’d taught in Gloucester.

“No,” Lucien said, his heart breaking.

Max pulled him close. “It might not be him, this might be
another loose end.”

Lucien shook his head and buried his face into Max’s neck.
“It’s him,” he said in a dead tone. “It has to be him.”

“There’s something else, Max,” Ross said. “Bryce Norman has
cancer and is receiving treatment at Gloucestershire Royal Hospital.”

“Okay,” Max said. He sounded so calm. He had to be, because
Lucien felt like his world had been rocked. “Do we have an address?”

Max moved a little and Lucien heard the rustle of papers.
“It’s all in there,” Ross said. “Lucien, I’m sorry.”

They stood for the longest time in the car park of St. Edburgh’s
hospice. Max had begun to walk in, but Lucien stopped him with a gentle touch
of his hand to Max’s arm. He wasn’t ready to go in and confront Bryce Norman.
And if they were right, then they needed to have the police involved, because
if Bryce was responsible for the attack on Kev and Lennox’s murder…

The consequences for those actions didn’t bear thinking
about. He wanted to remember Bryce as a clever man who loved Seb and didn’t
treat him like he had a terminal illness and who had been the only one to
understand Lucien's need to mourn. For a second, a very old grief hit Lucien
and he hung his head.

“We don’t have to do this,” Max said. His voice was little
more than a whisper.

“He’s only here one day a week.” Ross had found out that
Bryce had long since left his role at the university and was a volunteer at a
local hospice. But all of that didn’t make any difference in the grand scheme
of things. Was Bryce a killer? Was the man who taught him Shakespeare and
calculus someone who could smash a man’s face in with a brick or push another
into the pool unconscious, likely to drown?

“We could hand this over to the cops, let them deal with
it.”

“We don’t even know if Bryce has anything to do with this.”
Lucien started but stopped just as quickly. Getting the authorities involved on
what was little more than a gut instinct at the moment was overkill. He
straightened to his full height and pushed back his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

They walked in. The foyer was wide and airy with a small
desk to one side. A slim young woman stood from her seat behind the desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Lucien couldn’t find the words, but Max was there in an
instant, all polished politeness. “We’d like to talk to Bryce Norman and
understand he volunteers here on Tuesdays.”

She frowned a little and glanced at her screen. “I’ll call
through to the kitchens. If you’ll take a seat. Could I ask for your names?”

“Maxwell Connery and
Prince
Lucien Magrello.”

If the woman was startled at the use of the word ‘prince’ plus
the obvious emphasis, she didn’t show it, just rang through the details, then
turned back to her screen.

Lucien and Max sat. “He could run,” Lucien whispered.

“Don’t think that way.”

Lucien sat forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and
his fingers steepled under his chin. Seeing Bryce after all this time was both devastating
and sad. When Seb had died, Bryce left the family, taking another role at a UK university,
and cutting himself off from Lucien, not answering letters. As teenagers do, Lucien
had compartmentalized Bryce as a fond memory, but now it was potentially all
gone.

“He loved cooking,” Lucien said, still as quietly as he
could. “She called through to the kitchen? You think he volunteers in there?”

Max shook his head. Ross hadn’t been able to dig up anything
except for the fact that, other than the volunteering, Bryce pretty much kept
himself to himself. ”I don’t know, but we know he’s not a patient here. Yet.”

“I have to believe there is a reason for all of this,” he
said. “I don’t believe it can be Bryce.”

Max bumped shoulders with him. “For your sake I have to
believe that too.”

“Your Highness?” Bryce said from the doorway. Lucien
immediately jumped up and crossed to him. He didn’t know what to do, hug the
man or wait to talk or what. Max saved him again. He thrust a hand out, which
Bryce took.

“Maxwell Connery. Call me Max.”

Bryce shook his hand, still with a bemused expression. He
didn’t look like he recognized Max or had expected Lucien to visit. If anything,
he wasn’t showing any emotion at all. He looked thinner than Lucien remembered,
and his hair was white where it used to be brown.

“It’s so good to see you after all this time, Lucien, but whatever
are you doing here?” Bryce asked in a jovial tone.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Max asked.

Bryce nodded. “Of course. Can we use the conference room,
Maggie?”

Maggie rooted around in a drawer and passed over a key.
“Certainly.”

The three men turned from the foyer and down a corridor, Max
between Bryce and Lucien, his hands loose at his sides. Bryce unlocked the room
and gestured for Max to go in, Max gestured back, and to break the impasse,
Lucien went in first with Max close behind.

When all three were in, they all took chairs and Lucien
didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t very well jump in and ask if Bryce was
sending him letters or had killed someone. This kindly elderly man was looking
just as confused as Lucien felt.

“I think we made a mistake,” Lucien said. He looked at Max
with an urgency to just leave. Max, it seemed, wasn’t having any of it.

“We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Max—”

“Lucien.” Max’s tone was flat and Lucien subsided.

“Sure, but can I just ask, how is university, Lucien? Was it
everything you expected? You used to talk all the time about escaping your
family and being your own man.” The words tumbled from Bryce’s mouth, but more
in excitement than nerves. He was just pleased for his old student and Lucien
began to relax.

“I love it.”

Max interrupted. “You know he is at university?”

Bryce frowned. “He’s here in the UK, I mean, I assumed…” He
shrugged.

“He could just be visiting,” Max insisted.

“Max,” Lucien warned. “I always said I was coming to the UK
to study.” Lucien was beyond desperate to believe this. Seeing Bryce was a
reminder of all the nights he’d cried in his tutor’s hug and looked for reasons
why.
Why did Seb have to die? Why am I so alone? Why don’t my family care?

Max stood up and leaned casually against the wall. He glanced
at Lucien and the expression in his eyes was calm, but Lucien could see how Max
was holding himself, his arms crossed over his chest. He was in full-on
bodyguard mode. As Lucien remembered those nights where he cried as a teenager,
where Bryce was the only one in the whole damned drafty palace that cared
enough to check in on Lucien or to hold him when he cried, he decided he’d been
wrong: Bryce had nothing to do with this.

Bryce looked up at Max and was clearly puzzled.

“I know Lucien very well,” he said. And he was right, Bryce
did know him very well.

“So you volunteer here?”

“I assist the chef for lunches and spend time with some of
the patients. It’s my chance to give back in the hope that someday someone does
this for me.” He pressed his lips together and frowned sadly. “I’m not well
myself.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. “Cancer.”

Bryce shrugged. “At the moment I’m fine. The meds I’m on are
strong and my second bout of chemo was over a year ago.” He patted his head. “I
even have my hair back, although it’s grown back white.”

Lucien squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry, Bryce.”

“It is what it is,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s good to
see you one last time, and to see you with a
friend
.”

Lucien blushed. Even with Max standing like he did, was it
obvious there was more than client-bodyguard between the two of them?

“We’re close. You should sit back down, Max,” Lucien asked.

Max looked at him stonily, then something changed and he sat
next to Lucien.

“I apologize,” he said as he held out a hand for Bryce to
shake. “I’m Lucien’s bodyguard and I had reason to believe you may be a threat
to Lucien.”

Bryce looked puzzled. “Oh, I thought you were together. I
didn’t realize he was a bodyguard.” Then he smiled. “Although I sense something
else.”

Lucien smiled. “It’s certainly a curious way to meet.”

Bryce fake-punched his arm. “Better Max here than Teddy.
Imagine dating the old palace bodyguard.”

Lucien changed the subject. “So, tell me about your work
after you finished tutoring me and Seb, I know you stayed in the country a
while but then you moved to a university here.”

“I left the University when I was first diagnosed. I decided
there was more to life than academia, and although I would never be in full remission,
I had more than enough time to get things done, find the right place to come
when I’m close to dying, see friends, reconnect with family, usual last-minute things.”

“When were you diagnosed?” Max asked. “Exactly how long have
you known?”

“Max, you can’t ask that.” Lucien was horrified, but that
was a personal question and it was clear there was nothing sinister about
Bryce. He was just an ill old man who didn’t have much time left.

“It’s okay, Lucien, we’re not all brought up with the
manners of royalty.” Bryce huffed a laugh. “In answer to your young man, I
found out some five years ago but I’ve outlasted the statistics of survival.
They only gave me three years you know.”

“Was that what pushed you to kill Oscar Shiever and start
this making Prince Lucien safe murder spree?” Max said.

“Max, for God’s sake,” Lucien snapped.

“Murder? What letters?” Bryce looked shocked and genuinely
puzzled. Max was wrong. Bryce was a good man and Lucien
had
to believe
he was innocent. Emotion caught in Lucien’s throat.

“I missed you,” he said.

Bryce patted his knee. “You were always the odd one out,
Prince Lucien, always the one eager to be loved and wanting nothing of the way of
life your parents had. I don’t mean disrespect, but I am glad you’re away from
them and living your own life. I am glad that I can leave this life knowing
that you are safe and that you are in love.”

Lucien closed a hand over Bryce’s. “I often dream of Seb and—”

“We’re not in love,” Max interrupted with derision dripping
from his voice. “Where did you get that idea?”

Bryce frowned. “You said—”

“I didn’t say anything. I’m his bodyguard and that’s where
it ends. As soon as he’s done here and goes home, I’m no longer in his employ.”

Lucien had no words to say. He was past shocked, his
breathing tight, his heart snapping into two in his chest. Max had said he
loved him, Max had given him words.

“You’re going to throw him away?” Bryce asked. His tone had
changed a little, no longer benevolent and calm but with an edge of concern.
“But it’s clear you love him, and you are a strong man who can…”

Max leaned in and spoke conspiratorially. “You know what
it’s like: bodyguards often end up fucking clients.” He leaned back. “It’s a
perk of the job.”

“I think you’d better leave,” Bryce said. He shrugged off
Lucien’s hand. “I won’t have you disrespecting the prince in my company.”

Lucien had no words, his whole world was crumbling in front
of him. What was Max saying? And why did Bryce look less old and ill and more
focused?

“I can’t leave him in case he trips over and breaks a nail.”
Max laughed. The cruel sound slapped Lucien and he stumbled to stand.

“Max?”

Max rounded on him. “Jesus, kid, you dragged me halfway
across the country because you wanted to cross some old man off a list. Don’t
start in on the hurt lover routine.”

“I won’t have it,” Bryce said. Then he shouted it over the
buzz in Lucien’s ears. “I. Won’t. Have. It.”

Bryce grabbed the nearest thing, the mug full of coffee, and
he threw it at Max, who took the brunt of the hit to the side of his head.
Lucien stared in horror, at blood, at coffee, at Bryce like some kind of
demented demon shouting at Max and beating on him.

“He loves you, can’t you see that?” Bryce was shouting so
loud, and the woman from reception came to the door.

“Call 999,” Max shouted. He was stumbling back, taking every
single one of Bryce’s punches, absorbing every curse and moment of pain, and
Lucien realized what he was doing, pulling Bryce away from Lucien.

“No,” he said into the chaos. “No!” He stepped into the
melee and grabbed at the first thing he could reach—Bryce’s arm.

Bryce spun on his heel, remarkably agile for a man who
looked so old, and thrust a hand out, catching Lucien center chest and causing him
to stumble back to the table. Lucien couldn’t catch himself in time, and he
fell in a twist of limbs to the floor.

He heard a roar of anger, whether it was Max or Bryce, he
didn’t know, but hands yanked him up, then dropped him. Then Bryce was at his
side.

“Your Highness, I’m sorry, Lucien—”

Max yanked Bryce back and Bryce was fighting again.

“Stop! Please stop!” Lucien shouted over the noise. Just
like that, the fight left Bryce and he fell to his knees.

“I tried,” he said on a sob. “I just wanted you happy, and I
thought he loved you. He was keeping you safe, I watched him keep you safe, and
he smiled at you…”

Max crouched next to him.

“Talk to me, Bryce,” he said. This time his voice wasn’t
confrontational, more sympathetic. Blood ran down from his left temple onto his
cheek, but Lucien still couldn’t move from his spot. “Tell me about the man you
killed.”

“I wanted to remove Jamie. I tried, but he made Lucien
happy, Lucien cared, but that other man, he wasn’t needed, and if I could…” He peered
at Lucien through tears. “I had to stop him. Lucien, you understand. Right?”

“And what about Kev? The man at the pool?”

“He wasn’t any good for Lucien, laughing at him when he
didn’t win that last race, and he wasn’t interested, he had his little friend,
hell, any fool could see—” He sobbed louder.

“Did you kill Oscar Sheiver?”

“He was going to make those photos public, he was an evil
man.”

“You killed two men because of me? How could you do that?”
Lucien shouted.

Bryce began to shake, his face white. He stared at Lucien
but then turned to Max. “I’m leaving Lucien alone in this world. Who will look
out for him?”

“I will,” Max said.

Bryce raised his tear-stained gaze. “You will?”