Page 80 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

It’s chilly tonight, and I suck the end of my fag. The smoke warms my lungs, at least. I tug the sleeve of my coat and check the time.

My watch blinks up at me. 18:13. In two minutes exactly, the guards will change shifts. I’ll have approximately thirty seconds to make it in unnoticed.

I lean across the railing and scan the area. It’s mostly empty, minus a drunken couple staggering across the bridge. The man’s footsteps stomp clumsily above me, and the woman laughs shrilly.

I touch the gun at my hip. It’s loaded and ready. I don’t want to use it, but sometimes you don’t have a choice in the matter. I’d rather not show up empty-handed.

I check my watch again. 18:14. Okay. Time to move. I flick my lit smoke into the river.

Fuck you, Thames.

Just as I’m pivoting to head in, I hear a squawk. “Ben!”

I jerk around and grab my pistol in the same motion. It’s halfway out of the holster when I come nose-to-nose with Rory.

Well. Nose-to-chest. The girl is at least a foot shorter than me. Amazing how something so small could be so much trouble.

“Bloody hell, Rory,” I hiss. She has no idea how close she came to eating my lead. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you do this alone,” she explains frantically. “And I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering your phone, so—”

I lift my palm and lower it slowly to gesture her to be quiet. Inside voices. She swallows her words. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?” I chastise quietly.

Those emerald-green eyes shimmer in the moonlight. She shakes her head. “I’ve been running ever since I left the states. I’m not running from this. If Roland’s in trouble, we’re going to help him. Together.”

Admittedly, my heart softens at her words. I do feel better now that she’s here, the pins and needles suddenly swept away by her whirlwind presence. I can’t tell her that, though. Instead, I press my lips together and demand, “Follow me. And be quiet.”

“Aye, aye,” she salutes. I turn and head down the walkway parallel to the river. She follows me like a puppy. “What are you going to do?” she asks. “Are we breaking in? How are we going to get through the entrance—aren’t there guards everywhere—?”

I cut her short and stop underneath the bridge. “We’re using a key.” I pluck my key card out of my pocket and swipe it on the hidden sensor. Sure enough, it hasn’t been deactivated yet. The light goes green and the door hisses open.

Rory’s mouth falls open with surprise. “Dumb luck.”

I motion her in. “I’m full of it. After you.”

43

Roland

The fireplace crackles and burns. I perch on the edge of a footstool and toss a pillow cover into the fire. Immediately, the fireplace bursts into a ball of orange and smoke. The fabric burns quickly, and just like that, the fire tames once more, coughing up a puff of gray in its wake.

I destroyed everything I could get my hands on. Now, my beast is spent. For the moment. And my rational brain has kicked in.

There has to be a way out of here. There has to.

No more temper tantrums. It’s time to get to work. With my hair tied back in a ribbon to keep it from singeing, I’ve spent the better part of the night playing with fire. Literally. If I set off the fire alarm, I’ve decided, someone will have to bust open the door and come get me.

Or I burn alive. There’s that.

It scares me how little that thought bothers me.

Without Rory and Ben, nothing else matters. Not the crown. Not this prison of a palace. Nothing.

I chuck off another pillow cover and watch it burn. Just then, a noise outside my door catches my attention. I hear footsteps and then… a familiar voice.

Could that be—? It sounds like Ben. His voice is a low mumble, and I can barely make it out, but it sounds like he’s asking someone for the time. My skin buzzes, and I leap to my feet.

I nearly call out for him. Help, I’m trapped in my own room and I can’t get out! Sounds like a bloody infomercial. The moment I open my mouth, however, I hear a brief struggle followed by a soft thud.

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