Page 13 of Protecting his Secrets

Randall relaxed a fraction. “I agree, Mr Sanders. But the king still feels responsible, as he does for anyone who is covered by the monarchy. And one more thing. We do not wish for you to keep this quiet if you do not wish to. We are happy for you to write about what happened in any way you want to.”

Malachi knew this and loved the king even more for his generosity, but he couldn’t show it completely. After all, no one knew his alter ego. “Then, thank you. I accept His Majesty’s offer.”

Randall beamed at him and stood. “Thank you so much, Mr Sanders. I’ll leave my card next to Commissioner Thomas’s, and when you are feeling up to it, please get in contact to arrange the visit. I look forward to seeing you then.”

The door opened, and his mother and grandmother entered. “Oh, who’s this?” Sally said, a visible twinkle in her eyes. She knew exactly who it was.

Randall held out his hand to the older lady. “Randall Metcalfe, at your service, Mrs Hopkins. Mrs Sanders. It’s lovely to meet you both. I won’t take up any more of your time, though.” He turned back to Malachi. “I echo the Commissioner’s words, Mr Sanders. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to get in touch.”

“Thank you, Mr Metcalfe.”

When Randall left, Malachi exhaled long and loud. “Well, that was interesting,” he muttered.

“What did he want?” Emily asked, bustling around to ensure Malachi’s covers were where they needed to be, something she had always done whenever he was ill as a child.

“Well, Commissioner Thomas wanted to ask what I remembered and then told me what information they had about last night, and Mr Metcalfe wanted to offer me a behind-the-scenes tour of Windsor Castle whenever I was up to it.”

Emily narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “They want you to keep quiet about what happened.”

Malachi shook his head and wished he hadn’t. He closed his eyes and rested his head back. “Not at all. They gave me permission to write about it all.”

“Seriously?” Emily said, and Malachi met her gaze and nodded. “Huh.”

Sally chuckled. “They’re the good guys, remember, Emily? They have their bad eggs, but most of them are good.” His grandmother loved the royal family as much as Malachi did.

Emily sighed and patted Malachi’s arm. “Get some rest, sweetie. I’m sure the doctors and nurses will be bustling in again soon. You might as well get as much rest as you can.”

He didn’t even argue with her, almost instantly feeling himself drifting away. But what kept floating around in his head was the image of a certain bodyguard who was apparently even willing to save someone he hated. Who would’ve thought? He’d have to remember to thank him when he next saw him. If it hadn’t been for him, who knows what could’ve happened to Malachi. He shivered at the thought, and then his mind slid into the depths of sleep.

But even in his sleep, he couldn’t escape the dreams of a faceless man leaning over him, and it was only when he woke himself or the nurses woke him that he was free of the nightmares that would undoubtedly dog his sleeping moments for the foreseeable future. Not that he slept much, anyway.

After waking for what had to be the tenth time—blessedly to an empty room, after his mum and grandma had left to go home earlier—he decided to take the king up on his offer of help. Seeing a therapist might be the only way to get over what had happened—or could’ve happened.

****

Chapter 5

Nick

Nick stared at Brett, mouth tightening. “Not a chance.”

Brett raised his eyebrows. “I don’t remember asking your opinion, Nick. I gave you an order.”

Nick stood, threading his fingers through his hair as he paced between the chairs. He stopped and glared at Brett. “You’re seriously giving me that order when you know how I feel about him? Seriously?” He gritted his teeth.

“You are the best person for the job.” Brett crossed his arms over his chest.

“How do you work that out?” Nick snorted. “I’m more likely to strangle the guy.”

“You’re obsessed with him, Nick. You’ll watch him like a hawk, and for good reason. You already know a lot about him. You will know if he does something unusual, or if he looks like he’s not being truthful about something. You know him better than anyone. I can’t think of anyone else who is as well versed in Malachi Sanders.”

Nick tried not to feel embarrassed about his obviously not-so-secret obsession with the offensive reporter. He stared at his feet, his fingers gripping his hips, and he exhaled. “Fine.”

“I’m not doing this to be an ass, Nick. You will see through any charming acts he puts on becauseyou know him.”

He couldn’t disagree, and he hated that fact. “When?”

“He’s arriving on Friday.”

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