The Last in Line (The Royal Inheritance Series Book 1) (31 page)

A hand grabbed her shoulder.

She whirled around prepared to fight to the death for her daughter. How she would do that with Cassandra in her arms she didn’t know, but adrenaline overrode any higher reasoning.

Chase put up his hands; one of them held a gun. “Renee, it’s me.”

It took a moment for her brain to register that she wasn’t in danger.

“That’s right,” said Chase, seeing the madness begin to seep away. “It’s ok now, you’re safe. Here, let me get these bindings loose.” He holstered his gun and pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting the skinny ropes that bound Cassandra’s feet and hands. He talked as he worked. “I’ve carried a pocket knife with me since I was in Scouts. You’d be surprised at how often in the field I used it.”

His voice had an ameliorative effect. Renee began to understand that she wasn’t in danger.

“Chase, where’s Bretton?” she asked, when she came to her senses enough to speak.

Chase nodded his head over to a dark corner. “I’ll get to him in a minute. If he dies in the meantime, it’s not my problem.”

When he had cut Cassandra loose, he hugged her tight and buried his face in her hair. “You okay, kid? You had me worried for a minute. I thought you’d gone off to Euro Disney without me. Are you alright, Renee?”

Renee could only nod. Another thought had taken over her. While Chase was occupied with checking over Cassandra to make sure she wasn’t injured, Renee silently picked up the pocket knife Chase had laid aside and in a few quick steps had reached the dark corner where Bretton was quietly moaning, his hand pressed to his stomach. This man had kidnapped her daughter and herself, had threatened to kill them, and then tried to rape her in order to manipulate the line of inheritance. So much hatred burned in her for him. Cassandra’s face blurred with Agnes’s and she saw the Montshire brothers fall one by one to a Bretton’s hand. The Brettons had to be stopped and she would be the one to do it. She raised her hand. The light caught the knife blade and reflected the fear in Bretton’s eyes.

“Renee, no!”

She slashed downwards as hard as she could, but was deflected at the last moment. Chase slammed her wrist against the ground and her fingers released the knife.

“What are you doing?” he asked, breathless.

“Ending it.”

“But it’s over. You’re safe now.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Tears sprang to her eyes. She noticed that Chase held his arm. There was a gash in his coat sleeve. “Oh my God, I cut you!”

“It’s nothing to write home about; just a scratch. Most injuries in Afghanistan were friendly fire, you know.” He chuckled and then grimaced as he got up. Blood stained his sleeve.

“But what about him?” asked Renee, indicating Bretton.

“He’s not going anywhere. His other hand is zip tied to the post. But if you’d kindly not try to kill the prisoner, that would be much appreciated.”

Chase staggered over to sit by Cassandra. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, mopped his forehead, and then tied it around his arm. It instantly bloomed red. “The two of you will be the death of me,” he said, shaking his head, but there was laughter in his voice. Cassandra leaned against him.

“How did you find us?” asked Renee, still in a daze.

“Easy. Harry’s mobile belongs to the Met so I tracked it. Where is Harry, by the way?”

“In the closet.”

“Not surprising,” said Chase. “No, really. Where’s Harry and why did you have his phone?”

Renee was beyond the ability to blush, but she still felt guilty. “I hit him on the head with a vase, stole his phone, and locked him in the closet at the hotel. But Bretton said he’d kill Cassandra if I told anyone,” Renee added defensively. She reached over and stroked Cassandra’s hair, so thankful to see her safe.

“Poor bloke. He’s going to have another scar to make him even prettier.” His voice suddenly turned serious. “But where is John? How did Bretton get to the suite?”

“How did you know it was John’s turn to guard the suite?” asked Renee.

“I’ve been keeping tabs. Unofficially,” Chase admitted.

Renee’s voice trembled. “John’s dead. Bretton shot him.”

Chase hung his head. “Bretton will pay for that. Maybe a rendition program is just the thing. Our prison system is too soft for him.”

They sat for another moment, silent, regaining their equilibriums. Chase got up. “Alright, rest time is over. Let’s get you lot back to London. You’ve still got a coronation to get to in the morning.” He looked at his watch. “Good Lord, that’s in only a few hours. Right, I’ll call an ambulance for the prisoner and the cavalry to get you home.”

He pulled out his mobile and frowned. Several cracks ran down the screen and the whole image was scrambled. Chase swore an oath. “I must have fallen on it.” Renee reached into her boot and pulled out Harry’s phone, but it had run out of battery. He sighed.

Cassandra pointed at Bretton. “He’s got a phone!”

Chase’s eyes brightened and he went over to Bretton. “Hand it over.” Bretton moaned and Chase said, “Fine, I’ll get it myself.” He searched Bretton’s pockets and found it. It glowed to life, but then his brows furrowed together and he began walking around holding it aloft.

“No signal,” he said. Chase swore again. “This is not a problem. We will drive back to London. Come on.”

They shuffled out of the barn into a full blown snowstorm and tramped through the darkness and swirling snow, clinging to each other and stumbling over unseen rocks, bushes, and dips in the path on the way. Renee’s teeth chattered; she was almost soaked through. She held Cassandra tightly to her. Chase favored his arm, while trying to help them keep on their feet at the same time. Finally they reached his car. “It wasn’t easy driving up here without headlights, but I didn’t want to tip anybody off.”

Renee was looking forward to being warm again and resting with Cassandra in the back seat during the drive. She just wanted to put this whole nightmare behind them, get through the next day, and then sleep for a week. Once in the car she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Chase turned the key. The car rumbled to life for a second and then fell silent again. “What the—?” Chase got out, popped the hood and then came back around. His face was grim. “Bad news. The tank is empty and a tire is flat. I could swear I filled up yesterday.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I can hot wire Bretton’s vehicle. I haven’t done that since I was a young delinquent.”             

Renee and Cassandra reluctantly went back out into the cold and shivered the whole way back to the barn and Bretton’s van.

The van didn’t look right. It looked lopsided. The reason was soon apparent. The two right tires were deflated. Renee thought they must have driven over a piece of jagged metal; it had happened to her more than once on the freeways back home.

“I don’t believe this,” said Chase. “Why don’t you ladies go back into the barn and keep warm while I figure something out.”

Renee readily agreed. Anything to get out of the bone-chilling storm, but as she turned to go inside something caught her eye.

Footprints.

They were all around Bretton’s van and the outside of the barn. They looked fresh; the rapidly falling snow hadn’t filled them in yet. They were too small to belong to Chase and too large to be Cassandra’s. Nor did they match the distinctive imprint left by Renee’s cowboy boots. She stood in the doorway of the barn and scanned the darkness. In the far corner she could make out Bretton, still moaning quietly, tied to the post. Everything seemed normal, or as normal as it could be in the situation. She was reminded of the World War Two joke about the origins of the word snafu. This was a snafu if there ever was one, but even so, something didn’t feel right.

“Well, we’re out luck with the van since there’s no spare,” said Chase, walking back with them into the barn, brushing snow off their clothes. “Right, here’s what we’re going to do—you two wait in the barn and I will find the road and flag down a vehicle.”

“Chase”—she was going to suggest that she and Cassandra should go with him. He turned towards her to hear what she had to say when two things happened. The van’s motor backfired and Chase’s shoulder jerked back and he began to fall in an arc to the ground, his eyes wide and surprised. Renee didn’t understand how the motor could backfire since he hadn’t started it, nor how Chase could trip in such an odd manner, but a glimpse of bleached blonde hair caused her to whirl around.

Only adrenaline and the wild, animal instinct that she had been running on for the last several hours caused Renee to push Cassandra to the ground, just as another shot fired. A piece of the wooden barn door splintered behind them. A pair of white, furry snow boots appeared in Renee’s line of vision and she launched herself at them, tackling the person at the midsection. The person wore a thick parka and Renee couldn’t get a good grip. She attempted to slam the person’s wrist to the ground, but the butt of the gun clipped her behind the ear and she recoiled in pain, losing her hold. The person struck Renee again.

“Get inside!” shouted the person. It was a woman.

Renee looked up from her crouching position and realized with a shock that it was the woman she had glimpsed from Audrey’s car. Was she secret service? None of it made sense. The woman pushed Renee with her boot to get her moving and Renee scrambled into the barn to find Cassandra leaning over Chase, using her sweater to apply pressure to Chase’s shoulder.

“Move away from him,” the woman shouted at Cassandra and brandished her gun. Renee and Cassandra huddled against a wall while the woman rushed over to Chase and kicked away the gun from his hand that he had pulled out. Chase’s eyes focused and recognition seemed to glimmer in them at the same time something clicked in Renee’s own memory.

“Princess Althena?” said Renee in wonder.

Althena’s eyes flashed at the sound of her name.

“But you’re dead.”

“Yes, I am,” she said, gaily. “That’s just the way I like it. Being dead means freedom.”

“Your Highness…” said Chase, but his voice trailed off and the effort of lifting his head was too much and he lay back again.

“Don’t call me that. I’m just Tina now.”

“Why did you do it?” His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. Renee was desperate to go to him and apply pressure to the wound that was continuing to saturate the sweater with blood, but Althena/Tina kept her gun trained on her.

“Because I wanted out. And there was no way out,” said Tina.

“You did it? You blew up the Grand Reunion and your entire family?” Renee was horrified. Her mind raced to catch up to the idea that Princess Althena was alive and standing in front of her. And, apparently, she was even crazier than Bretton. “Why didn’t you just resign your title?”

“Resign? You can’t just resign like it’s a nine to five job. It’s a lifelong commitment that you are born into. Is that not the worst form of slavery, to be born without a choice, shackled to a mode of living that serves no useful function?” Althena laughed bitterly. “And it’s supported by the government! Millions and millions of pounds pumped into royal upkeep every year and what does the country get in return?—three loutish princes who embarrass the very country that supports them. It’s been like this for generations. The royal family is both public supported slavery and the worst kind of welfare. There was no way to leave without ending the whole thing.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Renee.

“You don’t know what a prison it is.”

“But you’re in a prison now!” cried Renee. “You’ll have to live the rest of your life on the run like a fugitive, always denying who you are, always hiding your face.”

“In a few years people will forget my face. They’ll see it and think I resemble someone that used to be on television. And I will have given a great gift to Britain without expecting anything in return.” Her voice became dreamy as if pleased with the noble picture she had created of herself.

Renee was disgusted. Her anger might get them killed, but odds were they were going to die anyhow. “It sounds like you’re running away to me. You’re a coward. You didn’t have the gumption to just walk away so you killed everyone instead.”

Althena smiled. “
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go
. Once I left the confines of the Palace and the royal schedule for university, I was able to meet people who showed me just how hypocritical the royal life was. To live awash in such privilege when so many are struggling just to make ends meet is immoral.”

“But the disappearance of the royal family didn’t alleviate anyone’s struggle. Is anyone doing better since the royal family was killed?”

Althena winced at the word “killed,” and Renee saw her chance.

“How could you murder your own mother and brothers? And all those innocent children!”

The blood drained from Tina’s face. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he—I mean that
I
felt that there needed to be a clean sweep. A fresh start without the crown landing on anyone like a virus.”

“It landed on me,” said Renee.

“Yes,” said Althena, agitated. “Yes, I didn’t count on that. I thought there would be no one left, or, at least, the heart would be gone from finding anyone to elevate. A little gas, some explosives…he promised it would be simple.” Althena began to pace.