Page 53 of Royal Agenda

“We thought of that,” said Malcom as they cut across the grounds. Mack had a destination in mind and Ryker was only a half-step behind him moving at a casual stroll. First rule of evading capture, don’t draw attention. “But you dying a second time would be a much bigger problem.”

“Concordato.” Agreed.

“Liam is in the water.” He nodded toward the large pond ahead of them. The residents used it for paddleboarding and other recreational activities. It would not take much for one of the SEALs to submerge. Liam and Sean always had dive equipment in their vehicles, a convenience allowed by owning the salvage company.

Ryker scanned the area as they approached the one and only bridge over the pond to the library. There! In the reeds, a black barrel was barely discernible. Even now, Ryker couldn’t be sure if it was Liam’s gun or a long stick.

The library was not one of their strongholds, nor was it an escape plan they had laid out and practiced when they first came to Diamond Cove. Each man knew their part in every scenario. Aaron had even played the attacker, which had brought a new challenge to the game—Aaron would make a fine assassin himself. “Why are we in the open?”

“Bait.”

Ryker drew in a quick breath. “This is not how it is done. I am not chum,” he threw out the term for shark bait that he had learned on a fishing excursion with the team when he first arrived in Diamond Cove. It was touted as a team-building experience, but he suspected it was an initiation of sorts. One he had passed with flying colors thanks to his military training.

“Keep walking; go straight to the library.”

Ryker cursed in Italian.

Mack veered off with a friendly wave. To the casual observer, they looked like two friends going about their days.

Isola de la Famiglia guards would never leave him alone, nor would they parade him across a bridge without cover.

He wasn’t a coward—he was a prince. He was also a graduate of allenamento di base and earned the title of marina speciale in the Isola de la Famiglia military ranks. He trained regularly with the SEALs he was assigned and trusted them. Though sometimes he struggled with their cowboy ways.

He felt eyes on him, though he couldn’t be sure if they were friend or foe. As he crossed the bridge, he caught sight of the three small alligators who called the pond home, floating near the stick/gun barrel he’d seen earlier.

Liam was there.

That man was like catnip to animals, birds, and reptiles. They loved him on sigh,t though no one could figure out what special powers Liam possessed to make it happen. Half the time he didn’t notice the bird on his shoulder or the dog sitting on his foot or the lizard climbing up his leg.

Ryker reached the middle of the bridge and continued without hesitation. Every part of him screamed that this was a bad idea. He was too exposed, too vulnerable out here. No cover. No place to run. Niente!

Where was everyone? The place was so quiet. Oh. Lunch. Chef Bruno’s cuisine was not to be missed.

He advanced—expecting a shot to ring out. Or, if the bounty hunter was any good, he wouldn’t hear a thing at all. The foreboding in his gut was in deep contrast to the bright summer sunshine and cheerful insect noises.

The doors to the library came into view. His legs cramped with the need to run to them, to find safety in the shadows there.

The award-winning Palm’s Library was at one time in history, an observatory. The glass dome on top allowed for enough light in the day to browse the shelves or have a wonderful conversation with the librarian.

Kate had a keen mind and quick wit and was knowledgeable on many subjects. She was also dating a rock star, Axel Clayton, which was funny to him because they were opposites in many ways. She assured him that opposites attract was a trope in romance novels for a reason.

He tended to befriend women. Kate. Samantha. Cocoa. Grant said it was because he didn’t have game. It wasn’t that—he missed his sisters. If he survived this bounty hunter, he may actually see them again. One day.

More importantly, he’d see Grace again. A sudden desire to live so he could be her prince, her man, the love of her life surged through his veins like fire, consuming his thoughts. No one would care for her the way he could—the way he vowed to care for her from this moment on. He would see her happy every single day until the day he perished!

For Grace, he would live. Because Grace didn’t value him for what he could do for his country, she didn’t care about his title nor wealth—or lack thereof at the moment. No, she cared about the man he was when the moonlight rippled across the waters. That was a woman worth living for.

He made it to the doors and reached for the handle.

The soft scrape of a shoe sounded like cannon fire to his hyper-alert ears and he instinctively ducked. The arm that had aimed for his head whooshed through the air.

Fueled by his new purpose in life, Ryker stepped into the attacker’s space and shoved him into the granite pillar with a grunt at the same time punching right below his sternum. He felt the man’s ribs bend and heard him gasp. A tiny yellow puff ball blurred through Ryker’s vision and stuck in the man’s skin.

The bounty hunter slumped, and Ryker backed away, allowing him to slide to the ground in a heap. He shook out his hand, not because it hurt to punch the guy, but because he had this strange sense of not feeling his limbs–a side effect from a surreal experience of fighting for your life.

Sean dropped out of the palm tree wearing a tan tee shirt and tan pants. He ran forward, the dart gun he kept under his car seat pointed at the suspect. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket. “I got him.”

Ryker turned incredulously. “You got him?” he mimicked the American accent, adding sarcasm.

---