The Playboy Prince (25 page)

When he turned his back to reveal a hidden safe, Hannah scrubbed her lips with the back of her hand. “I’ve already given payment for payment.”

“The lives of the Royal Family.” He spun the dial as Hannah’s heart began to drum. “Five million dollars to assassinate the Bissets. Five million dollars to give me a full plate of revenge and the sweet dessert of power. Do you think it so much?” His eyes glittered as he turned back to her with a large case. “My dear child, you could have asked ten times as much. For over ten years I’ve plotted, and twice very nearly succeeded in killing a member of the Royal Family. Now, for the paltry sum of five million dollars, you have disposed of them all for me.”

*   *   *

“That’s it,” Reeve announced as Deboque’s voice came over the receiver. “Move in. Slowly.”

Bennett’s hand closed over his brother-in-law’s. “I board with you.”

“It’s out of the question.”

“I board with you,” Bennett repeated in a hard, icy voice. Moment by moment, he had listened and sweated as Hannah stood alone with Deboque. As Deboque put his hands on her. As Deboque prepared to pay her for the murder of everything and everyone he loved. “Give me a weapon, Reeve, or I go unarmed.”

“My orders are to keep you here.”

“If it were Brie?” Bennett’s eyes were hot and reckless. “If it were Brie, would you stay behind and let others protect her?”

Reeve looked down at the hand closed over his. It was strong and capable. And young. Then he looked into the eyes that were darker than his wife’s but that held the same passions. Rising, he took a. 45 automatic from the arsenal.

*   *   *

They would move now, Hannah thought and struggled to keep her voice impassive. “Do you tell me this now so I can regret?” She laughed and walked to the desk. “Five million will do me nicely. I plan to invest and to live quietly in Rio for the next few years.”

He kept his eyes on hers as he unlocked the case. The money was there, but would be for his own uses. “You have no desire to continue in my employment?”

“Unfortunately, that would be risky for both of us after the events of tonight.”

“Yes.” His thoughts exactly. But he opened the lid so that she would at least have the pleasure of seeing the money before he killed her.

“Lovely.” Clinging to the role, Hannah stepped forward and lifted a thick stack of crisp hundreds. “Do you know how sensual new money smells?” She fanned the stack.

“Indeed.” He slid the top drawer of his desk open. Inside was an elegant pearl-handled revolver. He thought it just to kill her with style. He closed his fingers over it when the first shots were heard from above.

Hannah swung toward the door, hoping he would take excitement for alarm. “What game is this?” she demanded. She slammed the lid on the case, and taking the money headed for the door. Her hand closed over the knob.

“Remain still.” Deboque warned. The gun was in his hand now and pointed at her heart. A fine film of sweat pearled over his brow as the sound of running feet pounded over their heads. He held the trigger lightly, but didn’t press home. Whatever trouble was on deck, he didn’t want to draw it down to him. “The case, Hannah.”

“A double cross?” Her eyes narrowed as she calculated how much time she dared stall him. “Yes, you would easily have paid me ten times this if you never intended to pay me at all.”

“The case.” He started toward her, slowly. Fear was blossoming inside him, not of death, not of defeat, but of prison. He would never survive behind bars again.

Hannah waited until he was two feet away, then with both hands on the handle, swung the heavy case at his gun arm.

*   *   *

Deboque’s men, whether in loyalty or fear, fought madly. Gunfire exploded back and forth from the two boats. A spray of bullets from a machine gun smashed in the wood above Bennett’s head and sent splinters raining down his back. He watched a man fall over the rail of the yacht and into the water below.

Already the firing from Deboque’s side was coming more sporadically, but time was speeding by. And Hannah was still with Deboque. Alive, Bennett told himself as he aimed and fired. She was alive. He’d know if it was otherwise because his heart would have stopped. But there was an urgency churning in him, more than the wild night and the scent of blood. Moving with it, he worked his way to stern and slipped into the water.

The night was rent with shooting and the shouts of men. He saw a man dive from Deboque’s yacht and swim frantically toward a shore that was ten miles off. His hand brushed a body that floated facedown. ISS or the enemy, he didn’t know. While the fighting raged, he swam silently around the yacht.

Because it was nearly over, Reeve signaled for his men to close in. It was then he noticed that Bennett was no longer beside him.

“The prince.” His throat went dry with panic. “Where is Prince Bennett?”

“There.” One of the men spotted Bennett just before he disappeared around the stern of Deboque’s yacht.

“In the name of God,” Reeve breathed. “Move in fast. Prepare to board.”

There was no one on the starboard side as Bennett dragged himself on deck. There was the occasional blast and rip of bullets, but the shouting had died. He’d spent an hour during that long, endless day below deck studying Hannah’s diagram of Deboque’s yacht. He went to find her.

*   *   *

She’d managed to knock the gun across the room, but he was faster and stronger than he appeared. Even as she
dove after it, Deboque was on top of her. One hand closed over her throat, shutting off her air. Hannah freed one arm and brought her fist into his windpipe. Then both of them were gasping. She reached forward and her fingers scrabbled over the handle of the gun. She swore in both pain and fury as he dragged her back by the hair. For thirty grim and exhausting seconds, they struggled on the cabin floor. Her blouse tore at the seam. Beneath, bruises were already forming. She bloodied his mouth but was frustrated, unable to land a disabling injury.

Wrapped like lovers they rolled toward the gun again. She reached again, nearly grasping it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fist coming and dodged. The blow was glancing, but strong enough to send her reeling. Then she was looking into the barrel of his gun.

She’d prepared herself to die. Struggling for breath, she braced. If she could do nothing else, she could fulfill her vow to spit in his eyes. “I’m an ISS agent. The Bissets are safe, and you’ve nowhere to run.”

She saw the fury come into his eyes. She smiled at him and waited for the bullet.

When Bennett broke into the room, he saw Deboque crouched over Hannah, pointing a gun at her head. It happened in flashes, so quick that immediately afterward he couldn’t be sure who had fired first.

Deboque’s head swung around. Their eyes met. As the gun swiveled from Hannah’s head toward Bennett’s, she screamed and swung out. Two triggers were pressed. Two bullets exploded.

Bennett felt one whiz by him, so close that his skin shuddered and heated from it. He saw the blood bloom on Deboque’s chest an instant before he crumpled onto Hannah.

She started shaking then. All the years of training dissolved as she lay trembling under the dead man. She’d prepared for her own death. That was duty. But she’d seen the bullet smash into the wood less than an inch from Bennett’s face.

Even when he came to her, pushing what had been Deboque aside and gathering her close, the trembling didn’t pass. “It’s over, Hannah.” He cradled her, rocked her, pressed kisses to her hair. “It’s over now.” Instead of the satisfaction, even the glory he’d expected to feel there was only relief. She was safe. And he was going to see that she stayed that way.

“You might have been killed. Damn you, Bennett, you were supposed to be home.”

“Yes.” He glanced up as Reeve rushed into the room. “We’ll both go there soon.”

There were tears on her cheeks. Brushing them aside, Hannah struggled to stand. She faced Reeve, but had to draw several breaths. “I’m ready to make my report.”

“The hell with that.” Bennett swept her into his arms. “I’m taking her home.”

She’d slept around the clock. It wasn’t until over twenty-four hours had passed that Hannah realized that Dr. Franco, the Bissets’ personal physician, had given her a sedative.

She’d woken rested and resentful. And though she’d hated to admit it, aching.

The doctor had fussed for another full day, murmuring over her bumps and bruises in his kind but implacable tones. Because his orders to keep her in bed had come from His Royal Highness, neither doctor nor patient had a choice but to obey.

She complained. Even though visitors came often, she fidgeted at the inactivity. Word was delivered through Reeve from ISS headquarters, word that should have delighted her. Deboque’s operation had crumbled. She’d been given her promotion. Hannah sulked in bed and wished for escape.

It was Eve who ultimately provided it on the night of the Christmas Ball.

“You’re awake. Wonderful.”

“Of course I’m awake.” Cranky from two days in bed, Hannah shifted. The fact that her ribs were still sore to the touch only made it worse. “I’m going crazy.”

“I’m sure you are.” Smiling, Eve sat on the edge of the bed. “And I’m not going to embarrass you by going on again about how grateful we all are for everything you did. What I’m going to do is give you Dr. Franco’s latest orders.”

“Oh, spare me.”

“Which are, to get up, get dressed and dance until dawn.”

“What?” Hannah pushed herself up, wincing only a little. “I can get up? Do you mean it?”

“Absolutely. Now here.” Rising, she lifted Hannah’s robe. “Put this on. My hairdresser’s expected any
minute and she’s going to do her magic on you first.”

“Magic.” With a sigh, Hannah lifted a hand to her hair. “More like a miracle at this point. Eve, as much as I want to get up and be doing, I don’t think the ball is the best idea.”

“It’s the perfect idea.” After helping Hannah into her robe, she leaned over to smell the clutch of gardenias by the bedside. “From Bennett?”

“Yes.” Hannah gave in enough to touch the waxy leaves with her fingertips. “He brought them this morning. I haven’t seen a great deal of him.” Shaking off the mood, she tied the belt of the robe. “I know how busy you’ve all been, with the press conferences and public statements to clear up the entire mess.”

Eve lifted a brow. She decided against telling Hannah that Bennett hadn’t moved from her bedside throughout the first night. There was enough romance in her for her to want them to discover each other for themselves.

“Speaking of messes, you should see the east wing. Mostly glass. It’ll take the maids weeks to get it all. Hannah.” On a long breath, Eve took both her shoulders. “I’m going to embarrass you. I know it was an assignment, but whatever reasons brought you to us, you’ve given us peace. There’s nothing I can say or do that can repay that. My child . . .” She smiled a little. “Marissa and this one are safe. I know what Deboque had planned to do.”

“It’s over now, Eve.”

“Yes.” Solemn, Eve kissed both of Hannah’s cheeks. “I owe you my life, and the lives of all of my loved ones. If there’s anything I can ever do, and I speak as your friend and as the wife of the heir of Cordina, you have only to ask.”

“Put it behind you, and me. Eve, I’ve never been able to make and keep friends. I’d like to feel that’s changed.”

Eve studied the woman she was just beginning to know. “I have two sisters, the one I was born with and the one I was given by Alexander.” She held out a hand. “I’d like to have three.”

“Your Highness.” One of the young maids hovered at the doorway. “I beg your pardon, but Madame
Frissoutte is here.”

“Wonderful.” Eve hooked her arm through Hannah’s. “Prepare to be transformed.”

*   *   *

It was a transformation, Hannah thought as she studied herself in the glass. Her hair, curled wild as a gypsy’s down her back, was caught away from her face with two glittering combs. The dress sparkled and shimmered as it draped from her throat to her ankles. She was clever enough with makeup to have covered the bruises on her arms and face.

All she needed were glass slippers, she thought with a half laugh. More illusion. But if this was to be her last night with Bennett, she would take it. There would be no regret when the clock struck twelve.

There was already music in the ballroom. Hannah slipped in, as was her habit, and absorbed the brilliance. Mirrors were polished to reflect the glitter and glamour of gowns and jewels. Chandeliers shone like stars. It was all shimmering silver and icy blue with draping garlands and shiny balls. On a tree that towered to twenty feet were a thousand crystal angels that caught the light.

He’d been watching for her. Waiting. When he saw her the breath simply left his body. The couple he’d been chatting with fell silent, brows lifting as he walked away without a word.

He caught both her hands even as she dipped into a curtsy. “My God, Hannah.” For the first time in his life his tongue tied itself into knots. “You’re exquisite.”

“It’s Eve’s doing.” He wore dress whites, with the insignia of his rank and a sword at his side. However many ways she remembered him, and she knew there would be many, she would never forget how he looked just now. “Everything is so beautiful.”

“It is now.” His hand slipped around her waist as he swirled her into the waltz.

*   *   *

It was magic, she thought. The music, the lights, the mirrors. For hours they danced together, spinning around and around the room, leaving the food and the wine for others. When he circled her out to the terrace, she didn’t object. There were still a few minutes until midnight.

Drawing away, she went to the rail to look out at Cordina. Lights glowed in festive colors for the holiday. The breeze held a springtime warmth and scent.

“Do you ever tire of looking at it?”

“No.” He stood beside her. “I think it means even more now.”

She understood, but wanted to keep even Deboque’s ghost at bay. “In England, it would be cold, sleeting. There might be snow by morning, or we’d have gray, heavy skies. All the fires would be lit and the rum warmed. The cooks would have all the puddings and turkeys cooking so that you’d smell Christmas everywhere.”