Page 2 of His Forever Princess

Especially since she'd left him in the dark about the threats against her.

He was so angry his hands shook. They hadn't been on the same continent since Maggie's wedding. Before that, it had been at least five years.

She didn't need him. She'd made that perfectly clear years ago. But that didn't stop him from video conferencing with her security team once a week. He always knew where she'd be. What legislation or trade agreement she was working on. The threats against her.

Until this recent threat.

She'd ordered her security team to hide the truth from Gideon, to make the threat seem less severe. She'd almost died because of it. And put their daughters in the crossfire.

Gideon had made sure all three of his daughters, along with Maggie's husband and Tirith's beau, had been sent to secure locations as a precaution. He felt reasonably secure that his daughters would be safe. After all, the letters and emails had threatened Alessandra directly. Not his family.

Now it was up to him to keep Alessandra alive.

"I'm going to walk the perimeter. Then I'll bring in your bags."

He didn't expect a response, and none came.

Exhaustion buffeted him as he stepped outside into the darkness. The sky was littered with stars. No moon out tonight.

He leaned one arm against the side of the house, sagged against the wall, letting it take his weight. His side ached. He wanted to sleep.

Focus.

He had to keep going. This had beenhisplan. Isolate Alessandra until his team, not hers, had neutralized the threat.

It had been a long time since he'd been a Navy SEAL, but he still had connections with that world. He only hoped they would be enough.

He walked the perimeter of the cabin, eyes alert for any sign that someone had been here recently. Everything was dark and quiet.

At the SUV, he pulled out Alessandra's duffel bag and one of the brown grocery bags. His side protested.

He needed to check the wound. He'd only had time for the doctor to put in a few stitches and toss some antibiotics in his duffel. It had been twelve hours since then.

Inside, Alessandra wasn’t immediately visible, and his pulse skyrocketed.

There.

Maybe the bathroom door didn’t latch or something because it stood open a couple of inches. He caught sight of her blonde tresses, saw her face pressed into her hands, shoulders trembling.

His first instinct was to go to her. It was a visceral tug, the desire to pull her into his arms, reassure her, comfort her.

Except he wasn’t the right guy for the job. Not anymore.

He dropped the bag of groceries on the counter with a thud. “Everything is clear outside.”

He crossed to the bed and put her designer leather bag on the end of it. He’d need to scrounge up sheets and a blanket. A chest under the window seemed the likely place for them.

He was bone tired and didn’t want to add one more thing to his to-do list, but there was nothing for it. Alessandra didn’t need to sleep on a bare mattress.

He was propping the the lid of the chest open when he felt a trickle of warm liquid trail down his side, underneath his T-shirt and the flannel shirt he’d thrown over it.

He bit back a curse word. He needed to be at full speed, full strength. His wound would slow him down if he didn’t take care of it.

When Alessandra left the bathroom, he set the sheets and blanket on the end of the bed and went into the bathroom himself.

Pain flared as he took off his shirt.

This was bad.

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