Some Like It Deadly (17 page)

Noise imploded into the room on the rush of feet and then Richard was over her shouting. He had his hands pressed against her chest but she couldn’t make out the words.

Fuck that hurts.

Hurt worse, ten times worse, than her shoulder popping out of the socket. A hundred times worse than the bullet grazing her a month before.

Still
,
so much better than Richard being shot.

“Hurt?” she managed to spit the word out on a bubble of blood. She couldn’t breathe and it made it impossible to talk.

“Help is coming. You stay with me,” he ordered. “Dammit you do what I tell you this time. Why the hell did you do that?”

“You?” she fought again. “Hurt?”

“No, I’m not.” Another man joined Richard in her periphery and he added something to her chest. The pressure sucked at her, blackness dragging her down. “Dammit, Kate, why did you do it?”

“Had to protect...” And the world narrowed to two sharp pinpricks. She couldn’t breathe.

You’re okay.

That was worth a bullet or two.

* * *

Intermittent calls for doctors and nurses punctuated the silence in the private waiting room. He’d ridden to the hospital in the ambulance, and Armand’s security followed. It didn’t surprise him to find another half dozen in place at the hospital or that more filtered in as Armand arrived with Anna on his arm. They were dressed for a formal event, but his best friend ignored the bloodstains covering Richard’s chest and arms for a hard hug.

“You’re okay.” The shaken words might have sounded like a weakness in a lesser man, but Richard recognized the relief in his best friend’s voice and the fierceness in his grip. He gave the man a moment, then pulled back. Anna leaned in and gave him a hug, no words required.

“Kate?” she asked softly. As she pulled back, pink stained her white gloves. Some of the blood on him—Kate’s blood remained wet.

“She’s in surgery.” He focused on the cream colored wall behind her. The scene—the gun firing, Kate being hit by bullets meant for him—replayed in constant, shuttering clarity in his mind. Not once, but twice in as many months the woman he loved took a bullet for him.

Loved
.

Love.
The woman I love
.

He loved her and some part of him recognized it, but the rest of his mind hadn’t been ready to embrace the concept. She slotted so neatly into his life, the perfect complement from work to home and back again. The smoothness of the transition had been so damn seamless—even in her anger over his “absences” and his ducking of security, she belonged.

Why the hell didn’t I see it before?

“They need someone to make some decisions, I’ve been trying to reach her mother, but I haven’t gotten an answer yet.” He needed to think and he couldn’t past the roaring.
You?
Hurt?
The bubble of blood on her lips, the frantic worry kindling in her voice as the light faded in her eyes.
Had to protect...

She’d done it on purpose. No matter how many times he tried to analyze what happened, he’d seen her step right into the path of that bullet. A soldier, she’d been in the army—she didn’t stumble or make a mistake. The decision came in a split-second. She’d looked from the gun to him and then she was just there.

Scrubbing his face with his palms, he swallowed the scream working to break loose out of his throat.
No
,
she is not going to die...

“Richard, what can we do?” Anna’s hand was on his arm, her face a concerned mask. Of course she was concerned, Kate had worked with her. They’d been friends.
Are friends
,
dammit.
Are.

“I don’t have any ties to her that let me do it.” He’d been telling them about Kate. Telling them what he needed. “Can you call her mother? Her father? She has a brother in Germany.”
Beany baby.
I
couldn’t say Ben when I was little and it came out Bean.
They called him String Bean
,
but one day I called him Beany Baby and it stuck.
“His name is Benjamin. He’s in the army. Maybe call them? I can call them.” He touched his pockets, looking for his phone.

“I’ll do it, Richard. I’ll do it.” Anna squeezed his arm and turned away. She paused at Armand’s side and hissed. “Tell him. He needs to know. You
tell
him.”

He didn’t have his phone. No, he’d dropped it at the house when the man showed up at the door. He’d put a gun to Kate’s head and Richard had dropped everything.
You want to shoot me?
Fine.
Shoot me.

Fierce. His Kate had been so fierce. He hadn’t seen a glimmer of fear in her eyes until that moment.

Just like when they’d been shot at on the street, she’d focused all of her concern on him.

“Richard,” Armand’s hand was on his shoulder. “Come on, sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit. They need someone who can make decisions for Kate.” He was repeating himself.

“I know. Peterson is taking care of it. Come sit down.” Armand didn’t take no for an answer—he walked Richard over to the seat. No one came into the room. Anna had apparently taken her phone outside.

“Is Anna okay? She shouldn’t be alone.”

“She has her detail with her, she’ll be fine. Richard, I need you to focus.”

Of course she did. Armand protected the woman in his life. She didn’t take bullets for him, he wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t allow anyone close to him to get hurt, not if he could...

“
Miranda quit.
Just up and quit.
I’m supposed to be back in the office tomorrow and she called me on the way here to tell me she came into an inheritance and she’s off to do the world cruise and traveling she’s always wanted to do.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
”
He was sick to death of being stuck in his house and he’d finally gotten the all clear from the doctor.
He’d agreed to wait until Monday only because he wanted Armand’s babysitters off of him.

“
Anna’s assistant might be a good fit
,
you met her once—Kate Braddock?
”
Armand grinned.
“
Anna doesn’t need her as much with the scholarship off the ground
,
I
can talk to her see if she’d be interested.
”

“
If she is
,
it would save my life.
”

He turned slowly and stared at his best friend. A man he’d known since college—the prince who wanted to be like everyone else, but he’d never been ordinary. Powerful and intelligent, he’d grown only more so after his father died and he’d inherited the role of grand duke and head of his family.

Someone has to make decisions for Kate.

I
know.
Peterson is taking care of it.

Peterson
. The royal family’s security chief and Armand’s left hand man in the United States. Armand was ruthless, cunning, and possessed enough deviousness to get his way when he wanted it. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect the people he loved.

Paying off an assistant and installing a bodyguard right under Richard’s nose so that he’d be protected whether he liked it or not? Not even a stretch.

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yes.” Armand nodded once. “I did what I had to do, to keep you safe. You didn’t want a security detail, wouldn’t hear of it until after Kate got hurt. She was part of Anna’s—”

Richard bounded to his feet and paced away. Of course Kate was a bodyguard. She had the requisite skillset. She’d been military and she joked about how she kicked that Kuwaiti prince’s ass. She was always watching, observing and tracking the movements of people around them. When she walked into a room, she assessed it. She anticipated his needs and she made changes. They’d been subtle at first, but little by little she’d brought him to heel.

He’d joked about her managing him, but that’s
exactly
what she’d done. Managed him and the situation because Armand hired her to be his bodyguard. And his “sneaking” out and shedding his security—it had infuriated her.

“Richard.” An olive branch wrapped in an order tied to an obligation.

“Go to hell.” He did not want to hear the excuses or his bullshit about having to protect the people around him. As if his title gave him the right to make decisions about people, to put Kate into harm’s way.

“I’ve been there. I was there just a few months ago when they pulled you out of your car. They had to peel back the metal, Richard. I saw the car afterward. It’s a miracle you survived. I sat in this hospital and I prayed for hours that you would come through that surgery and once you were out, it was still touch and go. You lost a spleen and a kidney. Yes, I’m a bastard. I hired that woman and I told her that her only job was to keep you alive. I didn’t care how she did it, or what she had to do—”

Richard spun and slammed his fist right into Armand’s big, damn mouth. The prince staggered. Two of the security men started forward, but Armand waved them back.

“You told the woman I love that her only job was to take a bullet for me because
you
decided that. You didn’t have the right,
Your Highness.
”

“I had
every
right.” Armand’s eyes blazed and he got right in Richard’s face. “You are my
best
friend, my
brother.
You can be pissed at me all you like, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You’re
alive
because of that woman in there and I pray she survives so I can kiss her hand and thank her for saving you.”

“Saving me? You
damned
me, Armand. I fell in love with a lie! A lie you hired and paid because you have to be in control of everything. I’m your
best friend?
No—I’m you’re ex-friend and in the morning I won’t be your attorney anymore.” He pivoted to walk away.

Armand grabbed his arm. “You don’t want to do this right now. You’re upset and you’re not thinking clearly.”

That was a joke and it was on him. Richard laughed. “You know, I think I’m seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. Everybody lies to get what they want. My father, you—Kate. Everybody lies. I am sick to death of the lies. Now get your hand off me or you will need your security put your face back together.” He cut a cold look at him. Needed the cold. Needed to shut it all out. “Because I’m done.”

Armand released him and Richard strode away. He was at the door when Armand called, “Stay long enough to see her.”

“Why?” He turned and spread his arms wide. “Her job is done. Be sure you give her a bonus. That’s three bullets she took for our friendship, Your Highness. This...” He swept his hand over himself. “This is her blood. My consolation prize for being the idiot who fell in love with her. Congratulations. I’m alive.”

Turning around he stared into Anna’s tear-filled eyes. “Richard, don’t do this. Don’t walk away.”

“Your prince is that way. Good luck. You’re going to need it.” He ignored the flash of hurt in her eyes and cut around her. He had to get the hell out of that hospital and away from them and the lies.

I
love her.
I’m a fucking idiot.
I’m in love with a lie.

The truth should have set him free, but all that knowledge brought was more pain.

Chapter Thirteen

He made it as far as the curb of the emergency room exit when he realized he didn’t have his car. Glancing around the darkened parking lot, he swore and started for the street. He’d find a taxi.

“Mr. Prentiss?” Peterson’s voice cut through the darkness. “If you’ll give us one minute, we’ll have a car here for you.”

Richard stopped. He was covered in blood. If he made it to the curb, he’d probably end up with a police ride home. “Fine.”

The men who’d followed him out fanned around him in a semi-circle. Peterson came to stand next to him on the curb. “The man who fired the weapon was named Arthur Braun. His father invested heavily in your father’s confidence scheme and the family lost everything. They never recovered. Arthur, however, had other issues including a diagnosed clinical depression. He went off his meds over a year ago—right around the time the story broke about the Princess Alyxandretta.”

He tried not to listen, but the man kept right on speaking.

“The police have begun a thorough search of his apartment—a source informed me he had several news clippings regarding you, specifically in your capacity as attorney for the family, as well as other notable cases. They also found surveillance footage and a damaged vehicle in his garage. We’re assuming paint on it will match the color of your car.” Peterson paused when an SUV paralleled the curb right in front of him.

Jerking the handle, Richard slid in, but Peterson blocked him from closing the door.

“You are angry and feeling manipulated by the situation. That is your right.” The man’s tone might have been neutral, but his hard assessing gaze was not. “However, while Braun seems to have been working alone, there are two simple facts you need to be made aware of.”

The man apparently would not let him go until he’d said his piece. Richard stared at him and waited, because he sure as hell wasn’t explaining himself to another of the prince’s employees. “And they are?”

“Your life was under threat, and it is not unlikely that you won’t face similar threats in the future with your increased profile.” Peterson tapped the car door. “Miss Braddock quit more than a month ago. She called me and explained that her level of personal involved compromised her ability to protect you. She resigned as your personal protection and requested permission to tell you the truth.”

“Is that it?”
A
month ago.
The weekend after she’d been shot the first time. She’d been so opposed to personal involvement and then—

And then she’d come downstairs and he’d seen the choice shining in her eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Prentiss.” Cool disapproval hummed in the words. “Unless you want to know a status on Miss Braddock?”

He intended to say no, but instead said, “Is she going to be all right?”

“The first bullet punctured her lung. They had to reinflate it. The second nicked her bowel wall, but they assure me it is repairable. The surgery is complicated and could be a few hours. If at any time you want a prognosis, ask one of my men. They’ll call me.” Peterson backed up a step.

“Take care of her.” The adrenaline and anger had fled. He was exhausted. Closing the door at the man’s nod, he leaned back in the seat.

“Your house, Mr. Prentiss?” The driver asked in a tone as carefully neutral as the security chief’s.

His house. The bed he shared with Kate. The life he’d begun to construct around her with every intention of keeping her in it.

“No. The Beverly Wilshire. See if someone at the house can pack up some clothes for me and send them over. They should probably pack Kate’s things as well.”

“We’ll take care of it, sir. Do you want Miss Braddock’s things delivered to the hotel?”

“No. Peterson will know what to do with them.” Richard closed his eyes. He didn’t open them again until he was at the hotel. One of the men offered to book the room for him and another offered him a clean shirt. He stripped out of the bloodied clothes and passed them over.

Once in his room, he didn’t sleep. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He replayed every conversation, every act, and every single moment he’d shared with her.

She resigned as your personal protection.
Her level of personal involvement compromised her ability to protect you.

His mind wouldn’t shut up. Showering, he washed until the last of her blood was off him and, when sleep remained elusive, he cracked open the wet bar.

Three days later...

“Wake up.” Water splashed his face. The cold burned away the fog of sleep, but did nothing for the brutal hangover savaging his skull.

“Get out, Armand.” Richard buried his face in the pillow. His mouth tasted like ass and his head didn’t feel much better.

“You know, Richard, you’ve been a lot of things over the years, but you’ve never been a coward. Now get your stinking ass out of the bed and go take a shower. I’ll order up some breakfast.” Armand sounded disgusted. “And a maid.”

Glancing blearily around the room, Richard shrugged. “I didn’t let them in.”

“Clearly.”

“I don’t want you here.” He didn’t want to be awake. It had taken a hell of a lot of alcohol to send him into oblivion. Why the hell couldn’t Armand leave him there?

“That much is obvious and I gave you three days. Now get up and get in the shower.”

“Or what?” Richard rolled over to glare at him. “You’ll bring in a bodyguard to strong arm me in there?”

“No, I’ll bloody well do it myself. Stop being an idiot.” Armand picked up an empty bottle off the nightstand. “You drank an entire bottle of cabernet without a glass?”

“I ran out of whiskey.” And the wine made him think of Kate and then he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Stumbling out of the bed, he kicked another bottle away from him. “When I get out of the shower, I want you to be gone.”

“Well, I hope you’re prepared for disappointment.” Of course, Armand would do whatever the hell he wanted.

Ignoring him, Richard went into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and managed to make it to the toilet before throwing up most of the liquor cabinet. Thirty minutes under the pounding pulse of the water and a cursory brushing of his teeth helped, but the hangover was preferable to the other ache—the uglier one inside—so he held on to it.

His room had been freshened—the debris cleared away and a table with food set up in the center. Armand stood at the windows, gazing at the city below. “There’s coffee on the table and I kept the food order bland in case you needed to vomit again.”

The coffee was an attractive enough offer, so he poured himself a cup. His prescription medicine sat in the center of the table and he stared at it. He hadn’t asked for it from the house and the suits and clothes they’d sent over had only the most basic of toiletries.

“She asked me to make sure you had it, since you have a habit of forgetting them.” Armand took the carafe and poured himself a cup. “Sit down.”

“No.” Richard shook his head. “You don’t walk into my room and just start ordering me around—”

“Enough,” Armand snapped. “Sit down before you fall down. I am not here as a prince, but as your friend. I let you pour yourself into a bottle for three days. You’ve never been your father, Richard, and this is a terrible time to start emulating him.”

Shock turned him rigid and he sank down in the chair.

“Yes.” His oldest friend nodded. “I know all about your father. I’ve always known. I know he is currently suffering from liver failure and has been trying to make amends for the first time in his sorry existence.”

“You never said anything.” Richard stared down at the cup of coffee, shame and embarrassment playing cold accompaniment in his soul.

“I assumed if you wanted to talk about him, you’d bring it up. You didn’t, I left it alone. You built your own life.” Armand leaned forward and clasped his hands together, and their gazes locked. “You carry an enormous burden of guilt for being happy after what your father did. You work twice as hard as any man should need to or have to. But the one thing about you I have never doubted was your honor. I thought—for a while—that you needed wealth to prove your success where your father failed. But it was never about the money. You and your pro bono cases, and your causes, and your charities. You’re always trying to make up for what he did.”

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Of course Armand knew. In hindsight, Richard had allowed himself to be blinded to the reality of being a prince’s friend. “They did a background check when we became roommates.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve known since we met.”

“Yes.”

“But you told me who you were.” The weird, twisted sense of honor and brotherhood between them had been borne during that confidence sharing. A friendship that had sustained them both through some very dark times in Armand’s life and in Richard’s effort to build his own.

A single nod. “I hoped you would one day have enough trust to tell me, but when you didn’t, I respected your need for privacy.”

“Easy enough to do when you already had the answers.” He drained the coffee and poured himself another. The dull throb in his head couldn’t keep the memories away now. “How is she?”

“Recovering,” Armand answered immediately. “Her mother is here and her brother is flying in from Germany. She’ll be in the hospital for some time, and she’ll need several months to heal, but she’ll be fine.”

Relief made him weak and he bowed his head. He’d half-expected to hear she’d died—he’d run as hard from that idea as he had her lie. He wanted to know more—craved it—but he didn’t dare ask. They needed a clean break. “You’re compensating her for lost time, right? I mean she kind of lost two jobs in the same day.”

“She will be taken care of Richard. When have I ever not taken care of those people who are important to me?”

“Oh please.” Anger surfaced and he bobbed on it like a life raft, it was easier to cling to the fury than to the pain. “She’s someone who works for you.”

“No, she’s someone my brother loves. Which makes her my sister. I’ll treat her accordingly, even if my brother is behaving like a jackass.” Armand stood and dropped a passport on the table. “Go to Europe. Sebastian is in Florence. He’s expecting you. Spend some time on his yacht, rest, recover and then come back here and get to work.”

“You can’t just send me out of the country. I don’t work for you and I have cases.” His interest in the fight waned. Couldn’t Armand just leave him alone?

“No, I asked Daniel for some assistance and his attorney—Grange? He’s taken over the cases at Christine’s Center. All of your papers were filed and taken care of.”

Guilt stabbed Richard. In his need to get blind, roaring drunk, he’d let a lot of things slide.

“As for the foundation, well, your associates will have a true test of their mettle. Fortunately, everything is settled with the consortium deals. You don’t have to be there. Peterson’s men will get you to the airport. My jet is waiting for you. Take a month, figure out what you want to do, and come back.”

“And if I don’t? Go, that is?”

“Well, then you’ll find me here every day and I won’t leave.” His tone stiffened, and grew more formal. Oh, Armand was angry after all. “Anna is most cross with me about this entire situation. She blames me too. Perhaps you are both right, but I don’t care. I am hardly going to let you kill yourself, nor will I stand idly by while someone else tries to do it. You need time and I can respect that—”

“But only on your terms.” Richard dared him to disagree.

“In the world I live in? Yes. On my terms. But this isn’t just about you, Richard. Kate nearly died to make sure you stayed alive. She asked about you the moment she woke up. She called your name and she wanted to know that you were alive. She didn’t care about anything else.”

A fresh lance of guilt splintered his heart.

“We told her we’d moved you to keep you safe. She’ll buy that for a little while, she’s on a lot of drugs. So man up, grow some balls and figure out whether you really love her and can be the man for her. Be my friend again. We’ll wait.” He tapped the passport. “If you’re still here in the morning, expect a roommate.”

Armand made it to the door before Richard reached over to pick up the passport. “You’re getting married in a month.”

“I know. I really hope my best man is there.” The door closed behind him and Richard stared at the blue cover.
What the hell did he want?

Kate’s face flashed before his eyes and he sighed. Dropping the passport on the table, he scrubbed his hands against his face. Maybe Armand was right, he couldn’t think here. He hadn’t been thinking—he’d been drowning and the prince threw him a life line.

No
,
not the prince.
My friend.
My brother.

Picking up the prescription bottle, he stared at it. Dammit. That woman. From a hospital bed, she was trying to manage him. Walking to the door, he pulled it open and the security guard gave him a questioning look. “Yes, Mr. Prentiss?”

“I want to go to the hospital.”

* * *

“A prince! You have princes coming to visit you in the hospital. And these flowers? Have you ever seen so many? I can’t get over it, Katie. You told me you were working in security. I thought you meant rent-a-cop, instead you’re all Jane Bond.”

If her mother didn’t stop talking soon, Kate thought she might find another gun and finish the job Arthur Braun had started. Shirley Braddock meant well, but she babbled when she was nervous and the constant stream of visitors including a prince, a princess and the future princess had left her more than a tad disconcerted.

“Mom, its personal security and I don’t know if I’ll be doing it much longer.” Not after screwing her last job up so epically.

“Hmm, I’ve heard that one before, dear.” Her mother stroked her hair back. “I should go down to the gift shop and see if they have more of that freeze dried shampoo.”

“Waterless shampoo? Sure, that’d be great.” Anything to get a break from the chatter.

“Do you want anything else? A magazine? Crossword puzzle book? Book? I know, I’ll just pick you up one of everything.” She rose and kissed Kate’s forehead. “Be a dear and don’t pick on the nurses when they come in to check your vitals.”