Page 18 of Guarding the Princess
“Okay, Mother.”
She sighs. “Day after tomorrow. Be on that plane and we’ll deal with this as a family.”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight,alslking.”
I hang up, unable to wish her goodnight in return. I quit letting it bother me years ago that she only called meälslkingwhen I followed her demands. The pacing continues, the panic clawing at my throat. I can’t go back. Not now when they might know about my brother.
I must leave tonight.
My brain can’t seem to focus on anything other than escape. Closing the blinds, I race to my bedroom and pull out a backpack I used one weekend camping with Rhys. I can only take essentials: tank tops, sweatpants, shoes, basic toiletries. Anything that can be tracked must be left behind, which means no cell phone. I’ll have to buy a temporary cell phone later down the road to use in emergencies. Food is next, along with water. My wallet, which contains my identity, ATM card, and pocket change is the last thing to get stuffed into the bag.
I glance at the watch on my wrist. Eleven is way too early for me to escape without my night bodyguard seeing me leave. I set an alarm on my phone for two in the morning and lie down in bed to see if I can catch a quick nap. Sleep eludes me, my brain on a spin cycle with all the thoughts swirling about what could happen. I’ve never done anything so reckless before and I’m both exhilarated and terrified.
When my alarm goes off, I’m tired but wired, ready to get out of here and get this plan underway, no matter how it turns out. Being in motion is better than waiting.
I pull the heavy backpack onto my shoulders and place a dark baseball cap on my head to hide some of my blonde hair. Taking the stairs one by one, I peek out the window of the lobby to see John, the night bodyguard in his car across the street. Quickly abandoning that route, I see a service door on the other side of the lobby. It’s unlocked so I go through it, winding my way through a few hallways until I find a back door the tenants wouldn’t normally use.
Once I’m outside in the alley, I keep my back to the cracked stucco wall and hustle my way down the street in the opposite direction I’d normally go, making sure I stay out of view of John. The city is different at night. Quiet. Peaceful almost. I pass a few homeless people bundled up in blankets sleeping. A man missing a few teeth a couple blocks away lifts his hand in greeting. Twenty minutes in and I’ve already become part of the fabric of the night scene. A person on the run.
According to the map I studied on my phone before leaving the apartment, I should be only a block or two away from the bus station. The bright lights of the station catch my eye before long. I pick up my pace and head to the window to buy a ticket anywhere headed east. I’ve got enough cash to get me to somewhere in Kansas. Once there, I’ll head into town and find a bank. Once I withdraw the rest of my savings, I’ll discard the ATM card and get another ticket further east.
A huge bus rumbles to the curb, blinding me with its headlights. A few people slowly get off, blinking their eyes and trying to get their bearings. When the driver waves us on, I pick up the backpack that’s getting heavier by the minute.
“Ticket, please.” The bored driver doesn’t look me in the eye, just stands there waiting for me to produce my ticket. When I do, he waves me on without so much as a glance.
I find a seat halfway back on the aisle. Not a lot of us are on this bus at this hour, which means I have some space to myself. Once the bus gets underway, I plan to take a nap, my backpack as my pillow. My hat acts as a conversation deterrent, especially as I pull it down low to cover most of my face. Thirty long minutes later, the bus rumbles to life and we slowly pull out of the station.
Maybe it’s the fatigue, maybe it’s the circus of emotion that pummels me from all sides, but a tear streaks down my cheek as I watch the neighborhood disappear behind me. The shock of running away, of actually following through on this ridiculous plan, fades away. Placing my hand on the window I whisper goodbye, my thoughts on the life I’ve built for myself the last few years. It’s the only goodbye Rhys or Ryker will get from me.
The tears flow freely now, the wristband of my sweatshirt becoming soaked the more I swipe at my face. My heart aches like my legs used to when I was little and had growing pains. I wish my heart were growing, but fear it’s the opposite. My heart is contracting and withering away with each goodbye I don’t want to make.
Once we gain speed and enter the freeway, I look up at the stars in the dark sky. They look the same as they’ve looked every other night here in Los Angeles, yet everything has changed. Instead of becoming Queen of my country, I’m now homeless in another. I’m the opposite of every fairy tale. Who chooses riches to rags? Me, apparently.
Someone taps on my shoulder and I freeze. I don’t want attention. My whole plan rests on fleeing under the radar. Maybe someone heard me crying even though I tried to stifle it. Like an animal in the wild caught in a bad situation, I pretend to be sleeping.
Whoever is behind me sees right through my flimsy ruse. The gravelly voice disrupts everything I had planned.
“Going somewhere, Princess?”
8
Ryker
My instincts have never failed me, which is one reason I make a great bodyguard. Tonight I’m wishing they were wrong, but there she is, her long walk to the bus station the least stealthy escape I’ve seen in all my years on the job. For one thing, she’s gorgeous, even with that hat trying to hide her face. And there’s that tall posture and regal head tilt giving her away. Most vagabonds have a stoop to their shoulders after life’s beat them down a time or two.
I should have intercepted her earlier, but I wanted to see if she’d actually go through with it. She was always within ten paces so I felt comfortable with her safety even on the dark streets this late at night. I even planned to sit on this stinky bus until she got off, just to see if she’d turn around.
Then I heard her sobs, muffled by her sweatshirt, but audible just the same. Her shoulders had hunched, closing in on herself, like they finally got a chance to take a break from the stiff posture I’m sure she’d been taught since birth. I couldn’t sit there and let her go on like that, not when the sound of her tears felt like they were ripping my heart from my chest.
“Ryker!” Her red-rimmed eyes widen, the blood draining from her face.
I flop down on the cracked seat next to her, crowding her into the window. “What the—” I bring my fist up to my mouth and bite down on the skin to stop the words I want to spew at her in anger. When I have the raging anger threatening to boil over under control enough to speak, I continue. “What do you think you’re doing, Charlotte?”
Her knee starts jiggling up and down, bouncing our bench seat. Her nervousness gives me perverse pleasure. She should be nervous. Because now that I have evidence she plans to run, I have plans to handcuff her to my own wrist until I get her on that plane to Regora. A terrifying thought runs through my mind, adding to the fire. Did she play me with that sweet face? Did she make me her friend just to throw me off?
“How’d you find me?” Her question irritates me further. Does she think that little of my skills?
