Page 17 of Dominated (Bedding the Bad Girl 4)

But pathetic-looking or not, he wasn’t going to breathe easier until that gun was out of her reach.

Quickly, Frank crossed to her and kicked the gun to the far side of the room, unmoved by the wide, tear-filled eyes she blinked up at him from the floor. She was a beautiful girl, angelically so, but he had finally gotten a look at the brat that lurked beneath the pretty surface. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen through her sooner. He’d always prided himself on being a good judge of character.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Cynthia pleaded. “You have to believe me.”

“She just thought I’d look better with a few bullet holes for decoration,” Eleanor quipped behind him.

“Eleanor, please,” Frank said.

“I’m sorry. This is how I handle being scared,” Eleanor said, her voice rising before she broke off with a shaky breath.

Shit. Pretty soon he was going to have two crying females on his hands and the real red light stalker popping in to the waiting room. He had to establish order before they lost the chance to catch their second suspect. They could all sit down and try to figure out what the hell was going on with the queen after that was accomplished.

“Get up, Cynthia. Now,” he ordered. “Eleanor, do your best to get it together, okay? The real guy is on his way up.”

She blinked. “The real guy? What real guy?”

“We’ve got another suspect on the way. Cynthia might not be our girl, or she might not be working alone.” He reached down, hauling a freshly sobbing Cindy to her feet.

Eleanor’s hand pressed against her stomach. “You mean there’s someone else who wants to kill me?”

“He doesn’t want to kill you,” Cindy said, her voice laced with a healthy dose of bitterness. “He’s in lust with you.”

“What?” Eleanor asked, her big brown eyes growing even wider.

“He who?” Frank asked, pulling the queen across the room toward the east dressing room. They were running short on time, and he had to make her disappear before the man she was talking about made it to the tenth floor.

“The k-k-k…” Cindy stuttered, the resurgence of her tears making it impossible to understand what she was trying to say.

“Tell me his name,” Frank demanded, giving the girl a sharp shake. “Help me and maybe you won’t go to jail for the rest of your life.”

“I’m the queen,” she sobbed hysterically. “I’m still the queen.”

“You’re not going to live to be queen of anything unless you start talking,” Frank whispered, letting the full force of his anger show in his eyes.

Cindy gulped and her tears cut off with a suddenness that made Frank doubt their sincerity.

“Talk,” he growled. “Now. Quickly.”

“The prince— I mean, King Robert, my husband, he’s in love with Eleanor, or in lust with her anyway,” she said, continuing when Frank gave her a slight shake. “He started writing her those letters, but I didn’t know. When I heard about the stalker I just thought Eleanor was in trouble, and I wanted to help. But when the guards brought in the picture yesterday, I saw the coat I’d given Robert. I had it handmade, so I knew it had to be him.”

“You’re serious.” Eleanor sank down onto the red couch with a horrified look.

Good, she should be horrified by the thought of any man but me wanting to touch her.

The thought flew through Frank’s mind before he had the chance to consider what little right he had to stake a claim. Still, the king had no right, either, and if what Cynthia was saying was the truth, their entire kingdom was getting ready to be turned upside-down. Not even a monarch could get away with this kind of craziness.

“Is there anything else we should know, Cynthia? Quickly, we’re almost out of time,” Frank urged, his tone gentling.

She was talking, no need to scare her into another round of tears.

“I searched his room and found his journal,” Cindy said. ?

?He did the red light stalker thing to cover his tracks. He’s going to kidnap Eleanor and make it look like she was murdered. Then he’s going to take her back to the castle. He has a secret room in the west wing all ready for her. I found the key. He’s going to keep her there and have sex with her! In my own house! With my stepmother!” Cindy finished with a horrified gasp, obviously feeling more sorry for herself than Eleanor, the woman who would have become the king’s unwilling sex slave.

The girl was a piece of work, no doubt about it.

“Do you still have the journal?” Frank asked.

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