Nailed Page 8

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. They were cross because he’d violated royal protocol. No one was supposed to touch the princess without first asking her permission. But what was he supposed to have done? Let her faceplant on the tarmac? It was his job to protect her, whether it was from Ndolan rebels, or an errant rock. A surge of protectiveness shot through him, heightened by his body’s lingering awareness of her. He cleared his throat and returned the attendants’ glare with a neutral expression.

  “There’s a Jeep waiting for you at the end of the tarmac. A representative from the symposium is waiting, along with the mayor of Makembi. They’re here to greet you and accompany you to your hotel. As your personal security expert, I’ll be with you at all times while you’re in Ndola.” In an effort to maintain tight security for the symposium, the UN had taken charge of assigning all guests with personal security officers instead of having guests bring their own, the princess included.

  She nodded, an elegant dip of her head, and then turned to her attendants. “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” She gestured toward the Jeep. “Shall we?”

  When they reached the Jeep, Callum pulled open the door to the boot, where he’d stashed important gear and equipment. Rifling through one of the heavy canvass duffel bags, he found what he was looking for and extended it toward the princess. “Please put this on, Your…Audrey.” He’d started to use the honorific, but caught himself just as her eyebrows had begun to knit together.

  “A bullet proof vest?” She frowned, her eyes raking over his chest, which he liked way more than was appropriate. “You’re not wearing one.”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Aye, but I’m not a princess.” He flashed her a half-smile, hoping his gentle teasing would prod her into putting the vest on.

  She opened and closed her mouth, as though undecided if she should argue or not. He kind of hoped she would. What would her voice, with that sexy accent and raspy tone, sound like if she got angry? Passionate?

  The fact that he was even thinking that, wondering that about her, made him clamp down on those thoughts—hard—and toss them in the mental trash heap. Clearly, it had been too long since he’d had a woman. After this assignment, he’d put in for leave and spend a week or two drinking and fucking his way through a foreign city. In the past, that had always done the trick and he’d be back on the job refreshed and sharper than ever.

  With a sigh, she took the vest and then stared at it as if it was going to bite her. “Fine.” She pulled the Velcro straps open, then slipped the vest over her head.

  “Why would you be reluctant to wear a vest?” he asked, watching her fingers work to secure it.

  “Because it can send a negative message, that I don’t feel safe in Ndola. And if I don’t feel safe, maybe others shouldn’t feel safe, either.”

  “Do you feel safe?” Before he could stop himself, he reached out and adjusted the straps of her vest, pulling them tighter. He focused on the feel of the material beneath his fingers, avoiding any thoughts about her creamy skin, the rounded tops of her breasts, the way she was looking up at him and biting her full bottom lip…

  Fuck.

  She smiled up at him, pink spots on the apples of her cheeks. “I do now.”

  He ducked his head and turned, pulling open the rear driver’s side door of the Jeep and gesturing her inside. She slipped in, immediately striking up a conversation with the mayor. Callum secured the boot and then circled around the Jeep, eyes scanning for anything suspicious. Satisfied all was well, he slipped into the front passenger’s side seat, and the mayor’s Jeep took off, joining the surging afternoon traffic.

  For what felt like the hundredth time, Audrey had to wrench her mind away from the man sitting in the Jeep’s front seat and force herself to pay attention to what Mr. Mondobo, Makembi’s mayor, and Judith Chen, one of the symposium’s organizers, were saying. They were thanking her for coming, looking forward to her talk, and pointing out landmarks as they passed them. City Hall, the Makembi Cathedral, the National Museum—those were the ones she’d been paying attention for, at least. She was positive there were others she’d missed. As the mayor talked about the early 20th century architecture in the city’s central square, she nodded politely as her eyes returned to Callum and the part of him she could see from where she sat in the backseat. The reddish blond hair curling around his ears, slightly damp with sweat. Impressively broad shoulders barely contained in his simple blue cotton T-shirt. The corded muscle of his forearm, which pulled her eyes down to the large, powerful hand resting on his thigh.

  As though he could sense his gaze on her, he turned in his seat and pulled down his sunglasses, revealing startlingly blue eyes. Despite the heat, their arctic intensity made her shiver. “We’ll be at the hotel in five minutes,” he said, his accent pulling and twisting his words into a melodic cadence. She nodded, trying not to stare at his face. In a different time, he could’ve been a sculptor’s muse, with his high cheekbones, square jaw, and straight, masculine nose. When she’d first seen him standing on the tarmac, her heart had nearly stopped. She’d known she’d been assigned a personal security guard, but she hadn’t been expecting over six feet of chiseled Scottish muscle with a smile that probably sent women tumbling to the ground at his feet.

  Simply put, Callum MacLeod was mouthwateringly gorgeous. Her body had reacted to him almost instantly, and given the way her nipples were rubbing against the inside of her bra, it hadn’t stopped. She could honestly say that she’d never responded to a man like that in all of her twenty-four years. Granted, it was entirely possible she’d never met a man like him. Not in the circles in which she traveled, anyway. The men she met were either interested in the prestige and fame that came from dating a princess (gross), or were overly paternalistic, treating her as some naive, innocent little girl (also gross). It was either kid gloves or social climbers, nothing else. Nothing real, with any kind of meaningful connection. Was it too much to want a man who treated her as a woman? As simply another person?

  Given that she was still a virgin at twenty-four, apparently it was.

  The Jeep turned a corner and she was jolted forward as the driver slammed on the brakes. The street was flooded with protesters all wearing white T-shirts and carrying purple placards. They marched and chanted, waving their signs. Audrey noticed that most of the protesters were women, and she leaned forward in her seat.

  “What do the signs say?” she asked the mayor. “What are they protesting?” Everything was in Bemba, a language she didn’t understand.

  “They’re marching for abortion rights,” he answered.

  Audrey simply nodded and sat back in her seat. Currently, abortion was illegal in Ndola, punishable by up to ten years in prison for both the doctor and the patient, which drove many women to seek illegal abortions, or to take matters into their own hands, doing things as drastic as drinking bleach or homemade poisons. It was a contentious issue in the country, which had Catholic roots, and Audrey wasn’t sure which side of the debate the mayor sat on. She was a humanitarian, not a politician or a diplomat, and she wasn’t here to debate him.

  “Good for them,” said Callum. Audrey found herself smiling and touched her fingers to her lips.

  “I agree,” said the mayor, nodding gravely.

  “Perhaps the focus should be on lowering the rate of unwanted pregnancy,” she said. “Better access to birth control and sexual education for both boys and girls has been proven to lower the rate of abortion.”

  The mayor nodded again. “It is difficult to change. We are a country steeped in tradition, both Catholic and African.”

  Several white police trucks arrived on the scene, grey uniformed officers hopping out and shouting orders at the crowd. Stuck in traffic as they were, they could only sit back and watch as the police confronted the crowd, and the crowd pushed back, continuing to march and chant. She saw Callum slip a phone out of his pocket and fire off a couple of quick text messages, the muscles in his neck visib
ly tight.

  After several minutes of shouted orders, the police fired tear gas into the crowd in an effort to get them to disperse. The organized chant dissolved into chaotic shouts.

  “We canna stay here,” said Callum. “I need to get you to safety. The roads are completely blocked up ahead.” Before she could say anything, Callum had stepped out of the Jeep and flung her door open. He reached forward, unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her hand, pulling her against the shelter of his body. She felt overwhelmed by him, but not in a negative way. His body was so much bigger than hers, but she trusted him not to swallow her up. It felt good to be in the shelter he provided. “Stay close and do as I say.” His voice had taken on a raw intensity that she didn’t know how to process. All she could do was nod, her blood buzzing at being so close to him.

  With her hand enveloped in his, he led her away from the protest, in the opposite direction. “Dinnae look back or attract attention to yourself, Princess,” he said, weaving them through the traffic jam. She ducked her head, her eyes glued to the ground as her heart pounded hard and fast in her chest. Sweat slicked her palms, and not from the heat. Horns honked, blaring against the rising shouts of the crowd. Several people ran toward the growing clash. A man pushed past her, slamming into her shoulder and sending her crashing into Callum. He slipped his arm around her waist, tucking her against him, using his broad frame to shelter her. There was a muffled pop from behind them, and her shoulders hunched in surprise. She glanced up at him, but didn’t look back.

  “More tear gas,” he answered, the muscles in his jaw tight.

  “What about the mayor? Ms. Chen?” she asked, her chest constricting with worry. Callum paused, his features tense, and glanced back in the direction of the Jeep. But then more police officers, rifles clutched in their hands, began making their way through the jagged lanes of stalled traffic, heading toward the protest—and toward them. Every muscle in Audrey’s body stiffened. She’d been to dangerous countries before, but she’d never found herself in a situation as potentially violent as this one. The sound of a gunshot cracked through the air.

  Callum shook his head. “You’re my priority. The mayor’s driver will look after them. I have to get you out of here.” His grip tightened around her waist and he guided them swiftly into an alley. She trusted him, easily and completely, which was odd given that she’d only just met him. But she knew he’d keep her safe. She couldn’t explain how she knew it, but she did. Without another word, he led her through a maze between apartment buildings, churches, stores, and restaurants. Smells and sounds assaulted her as the violent clash erupting behind them became fainter and fainter. People crouched in doorways, women hawking their wares, men shouting words at her she was glad she didn’t understand. One of the men began to follow them, but with nothing more than a stern glare from Callum, he faded back into one of the alleys. Callum’s muscled body was hot against hers, and her heart throbbed in her chest from the exertion, from the adrenaline, from the weight of the vest pressing down on her shoulders. Sweat trickled down over her temples and between her breasts.

  It never occurred to her to question him. To not trust him. Not even for a second.

  After what felt like miles, she heard it: the crashing of waves on the shore. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. The heat was oppressive, the vest heavy.

  “Take a rest, Your Highness,” Callum said gently, easing her away from him and steadying her against a stuccoed wall. She felt the loss of him instantly. He pressed a hand against the wall near her head, still sheltering her with his body.

  “Audrey,” she panted out.

  “Audrey,” he murmured, his accent rolling over the syllables of her name. “I dinnae mean to push you so hard.”

  She expelled a long, slow breath and shook her head. “It’s alright. I’m alright.” She lifted her hand to brush away an errant lock of hair that had escaped from her braid and was surprised to see that her fingers were trembling. She stared at them for a second and then dropped her hand to her side. Callum shifted closer, then lifted his free hand and tucked the strand behind her ear. His eyes widened, as though he just realized what he’d done. But his hand lingered on her cheek just the same.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  She laid her hand on top of his and shook her head. “Don’t be.”

  For a moment, neither of them moved, cocooned away from the world in an oceanside alley. His hand was warm on her face, making her skin tingle with awareness. Everything inside her felt like liquid gold, all shiny and molten. He’d barely touched her and she was melting for him. Maybe it was because she couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her like that, with a gentle protectiveness mixed with curiosity and desire. Or maybe it was because it was him. This man who was practically a stranger, yet who felt like anything but.

  “I feel—” she started at the same time as he said,

  “We should go.”

  With a reluctant nod, she dropped her hand and he backed away from her.

  “Sorry, what were you going to say?” he asked as he led them out of the shadowed alley and onto a small road. He slipped her hand back into his, and the knot of tension in her chest loosened.

  “I feel better,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either, because it wasn’t what she’d been about to say.

  I feel like I know you. But the moment was gone, and in truth, she was grateful to have some space to examine her exciting yet puzzling feelings about him.

  The Sunshine Bay hotel rose up before them, its peach stucco walls glowing in the sunshine. The windows sparkled, reflecting the ocean’s cresting waves. A fountain splashed happily in the courtyard, spurts of water arcing gracefully over the shimmering blue pool. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze. It felt a world away from the chaotic situation they’d just escaped from, and she was once again reminded of the enormous privilege she’d been born into. She’d done nothing to earn it, but strove to be somehow worthy of it.

  “How on earth did you do that?” she asked as he led her toward the hotel’s front doors. He’d let go of her hand, but had added his other hand to her lower back. Her hot skin tingled in response. He was breaking protocol by touching her without asking her permission first, and she loved it. It felt so…so normal to be touched by him. To be touched as though she weren’t a princess, but just a woman.

  “Do what?”

  “Find your way to the hotel through those back alleys?”

  He shrugged. “I knew that alleys connect nearly everything in Makembi, and that the hotel was about a mile and a half southeast from where we were stopped.”

  She glanced up at him. She wanted to ask him about his training, his experience, his background. She wanted to know so much more about him, but now wasn’t the time. Not when others were still potentially in danger. “Well, I’m impressed. And thank you, for keeping me safe. But I have a favor to ask you.”

  “Anything.”

  He answered so quickly, so sincerely that it startled her. “Now that we’re at the hotel, please make sure the mayor and Ms. Chen are safe.”

  He slipped a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a phone in a military-grade case. He tapped the screen a few times and then replaced it in his pocket. “Done. Someone else from the team will make sure they’re able to get out safely.”

  “You have a team?”

  “I work for a PMC. They have others here for the symposium too.”

  “I see.”

  He held open the hotel’s door for her and she stepped inside. The cool air rushed over her skin, leaving it feeling clammy. African-tinged jazz played in the elegant lobby, a few guests lounging in the plush seating area. Surrounded by marble and gold finishes, she felt grubby with her frizzy hair, sweat stained clothes and dusty boots. Several of her attendants rushed forward, making an unnecessary fuss over her. They’d taken a more direct route to the hotel while the mayor had attempted to give her a small tour. She tried to wave
them away, feeling self-conscious of the attention despite her grubby state. A suited man appeared and bowed.

  “We’re delighted to have you with us, Your Highness. Please, allow me the honor of showing you to your rooms.”

  She smiled and nodded at him, brushing away the ministrations of her attendants. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Mr. MacLeod was with me the entire time. I wasn’t in any danger.” It was truly how she’d felt. Not with Callum’s arm around her, leading her through those alleys as though he’d grown up here.

  He’d removed his sunglasses, once again unleashing his intense blue eyes. His gaze held hers for a second and he nodded, sending her a small smile.

  They all entered an elevator, which opened onto the top floor of the hotel. For both security and privacy, she’d reserved a suite for herself, and a series of rooms for her attendants—her stylist, her personal secretary, her hair and makeup artist, her communications strategist—one floor down. Before she could enter, Callum held up a hand and stepped out of the elevator and into her suite. With long strides, he swept through it, checking each room, opening each closet, peering into every corner.

  Floor to ceiling windows stretched before them, presenting a breathtaking view of the Indian Ocean. To the right was a generously sized kitchenette, while a living area with a large sofa, plush armchairs and heavy wood tables took up the center of the space. To the left were two bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms. Eventually, Callum nodded at her.

  “Everything appears as it should, Your Highness. I can also check the rooms below.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure that’s not necessary.” After a moment, she added, “And where will you be?” It was an innocent enough question, even if she didn’t feel completely innocent asking it.

  “Here, with you. If there’s nothing else you need?” He arched an eyebrow, and she shook her head again.

  “I’ll be in my room, then, Your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly before disappearing into the bedroom right beside hers.