Page 94 of Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra)

“Rafe’s gone. He left me. Everybody leaves me,” I said, in between sobs.

She handed me the tissue box next to my bed. I couldn’t blow my nose, but I could wipe away the tears and the snot.

“He blames himself, you know.”

I tried to put the tissues in the trash can, but missed. “What? Why?”

“Both Rafe and Marco blame themselves. Marco had promised to watch over you, and Rafe said he’d never let anything happen to you. You should have seen them after they brought you in. They were both a mess.”

“What happened?” The last thing I remembered was being put in the trunk. Everything after that was a total blur.

And if we had lived anywhere else, Whitney wouldn’t have known, but by now every single person in our town had probably told and retold this story and had started adding embellishments to it. “After they dropped me off at the hospital, they got a phone call from the sheriff. Your 911 call got through, but they couldn’t hear anything. They managed to triangulate the location of your cell phone, and they found Laddie and your broken phone and your truck. Rafe and Marco raced out of here, but your kidnappers had a couple of hours’ head start.”

Little Marco yawned, drawing her attention for a minute, and she smiled a serene, motherly smile. “Anyway, they completely broke every imaginable traffic law, calling the rest of the security team to come with them. Police tried to pull them over for speeding, but they didn’t stop. They called the local stations to tell them what they were doing, and somehow those police officers let them keep going. They caught up to your kidnappers halfway through Missouri, which adds crossing state lines to the charges. Marco got ahead of them and swerved, forcing them to stop. The other bodyguards used their guns to force the kidnappers out of the car while every highway patrolman and sheriff’s department from here to Missouri pulled up behind them. Sheriff Stidd says Rafe was the one who got you out of the trunk and put you in an ambulance. They initially stopped at a hospital in Missouri, where they figured out your injuries weren’t life-threatening, and he insisted you be brought here, close to home so your family could visit you. He rode with you all the way here. He stayed to make sure you would be fine, and then he left. He cleared out of your guesthouse, and his guards checked out of the B&B. They’re just gone.”

“What about Royal Productions?” Had I just unemployed the entire town with whatever I said during my delirium? “Did he shut that down too?”

“No. Amanda says he paid two years’ worth of rent on the B&B because of the short notice, the lease on the building is paid through five years, and he has managers in place at work to run things. He didn’t close anything down. He’s just not here.”

“And John-Paul is locked up? They have him?” I wondered if she noticed how shaky my voice was.

“Whoever that man is who took you, he’s not getting out of prison for a very, very long time. Kidnapping is a Class A felony in both Iowa and Missouri, and both states plan to prosecute. The FBI is also getting involved, from what it sounds like, and they are investigating his background.”

I nodded at the news and somehow managed to start crying again. I’d have thought my dehydration diagnosis would have prevented it.

“Are you going to tell me why somebody would kidnap you?” She asked the question gently, probably expecting me not to tell her.

After swearing her to secrecy, I told her the entire messy, sordid story. She had a pitying, shocked look on her face, but it felt good to share it with her. As it did every time I told the story, my soul got lighter. As if I was giving away part of the burden to my friend. I expected her pity, but instead she said, “I am so proud of you. You are such a strong woman. I am honored to call you my friend.”

As my eyes teared up, Baby Marco started to actually cry. “It’s feeding time,” she said. “I’m going home in the morning, but we’ll come back and visit you.”

“Don’t,” I told her. “I’ll be home soon. I’ll come see you then.”

“Thank you for trusting me. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through, but know that I am always here for you.” She put one hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, and then she told me to get better before going back to her own room.

It wasn’t Rafe’s fault. It was my fault. He had told me to stay home, but after our vacation in Monterra, John-Paul had seemed so far away. So meaningless and unimportant. I’d never thought he would show up and do what he did. I should have stayed at the farmhouse. I shouldn’t have put myself or Laddie in danger.

Maybe he left because I’d been so stupid.

I wished I could call him. But I didn’t have a phone.

Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t have even known what to say to him.

I stayed in the hospital for another three days. The longer I stayed in the bed, the madder I got.

Mad about John-Paul hurting me and kidnapping me, mad about what he had done to Laddie, mad about the nightmares that plagued my sleep.

But I was mostly mad at Rafe for abandoning me. How could he say he loved me and then fly off like nothing had ever happened between us? You didn’t treat someone you loved that way. You stayed by their side when they were in the hospital. You gave them support and helped them.

My nose started to heal, the pain in my head went away, my wounds scabbed over, and my bruises started to fade.

The pain that Rafe had shoved into my heart did not go away. It only multiplied.

When I finally checked out and discovered that Rafe had paid for all of my hospital bills, I wasn’t grateful. It just made me angrier.

I went home and continued to heal. Life returned to normal, except now I felt like I was walking around with a sucking chest wound, unable to breathe. I went back to school, ignoring the stares and whispers on campus. Apparently my kidnapping had been all over the news, and my red hair and height made me instantly recognizable. When I worked my shifts at the diner, the townspeople were again handling me with kid gloves, like I might break if somebody said the wrong thing.

Even Max had stopped telling me jokes.

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