Princess: A Private Novel (Private #14)(36)

“I couldn’t stop them,” she said, the single tear followed by several others. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I couldn’t stop them.”

“Don’t think about it, Lewis. Don’t even think about it.”

But of course it was all she could think about. The image of Cook on her knees with the barrel pointed at her head. The soft psst sound of the silenced pistol firing. The sight of Cook’s body slumping to the floor.

“You need to rest, Lewis.”

“I don’t want to close my eyes,” she whimpered. “It’s all I see.”

From long experience of violent memories, Morgan knew of one way to escape the emotional pain.

“Watch her, Peter.”

Morgan slipped out the rear of the ambulance and returned a moment later with the paramedic. Without a word, the first responder took a syringe and fed morphine into the cannula in Lewis’s wrist.

“He’s given you something for it. You’ll sleep, Lewis, and you won’t feel the pain. You won’t see the pain.”

Lewis tried to blink tears away, but gravity held them on her eye. Morgan took a tissue from one of the ambulance’s shelves and delicately dabbed them.

“You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever seen. I’m going to come with you to the hospital.”

“No,” she said, fighting against the drug that now began to overtake her. “No hospital, Morgan.”

He had to hunch over to catch the rest of her words, which were lost to Knight. Finally, Lewis’s lips stopped moving, the slow rise and fall of her chest showing the signs of a woman in a deep, drug-fueled delirium.

“What did she say?” Knight asked Morgan.

When the American turned to face him, his eyes reminded Knight of an impending storm. There was calm now, but soon all would be destruction and violence.

“That we finish this.”





Chapter 61


JACK MORGAN AND Peter Knight stepped from the ambulance, the paramedic pulling the doors closed behind them. The vehicle’s lights and siren started up and police officers hurriedly cleared a lane for it to pull away. Given the severity and nature of the attack, a police car followed in the ambulance’s wake to ride shotgun. Morgan noticed the precaution, and gave his thanks to the police sergeant.

“She’s one of ours,” the woman said.

“She saved my life,” Morgan told her. “Please look after her.”

“We will,” the sergeant promised. “I’m sorry that we can’t let you inside. If it was up to me…”

“You’ve done enough,” he assured her. In truth, it killed him that he could not run to Cook’s side, even in death, but if he was to be denied that proximity to the woman he loved, then he would take himself where he was needed. He would take himself to where her killer was hiding, and there, he would deliver justice.

“We need to go,” he told Knight.

“Our car will be here any second,” said Knight, and sure enough, a black Range Rover appeared in that moment at the end of the street. “But that’s not ours,” Knight wondered, ready at any moment to shove Morgan into cover should the occupants prove hostile.

At the behest of a waving officer, the vehicle slowed to a stop ten meters short of the cordon. There the passenger door opened, and Knight felt his body relax as a familiar figure stepped into the street and beckoned toward them.

“Over here!” Colonel Marcus De Villiers waved, and after a final thank you to the police sergeant, Morgan and Knight slipped under the cordon to join him.

“Have you seen Lewis?” asked the Guards officer.

Morgan nodded. “We have. She’s badly beaten, but alive.”

“Thank God,” De Villiers sighed. As head of royal security, Lewis fell under his command, and there was no doubt in the Private agents’ minds that De Villiers truly cared for Lewis’s well-being.

“And Cook?” the man asked hopefully.

Morgan said nothing. Knight shook his head.

“Morgan, I’m so sorry.”

Morgan’s mind was miles from sympathies. A million miles from them. It was only concerned with retribution.

Perhaps De Villiers saw as much.

“Get into the car, Morgan,” he ordered as if to a soldier. “Not you,” he said to Knight as he tried to follow. “I need to speak with Morgan alone.”





Chapter 62


AS THE RANGE Rover’s door closed behind them, Morgan was about to ask De Villiers what he wanted to speak about. Instead, he watched with surprise as the Colonel slammed his fist into the headrest of the empty passenger seat.

“Bastards!” he snarled. “Spineless, gutless bastards!” He punched again, breathing heavily. “They’ll pay for this—Lewis is one of mine.” The head of royal security inhaled deeply. “An attack on her is… It’s an attack on the Crown, Morgan.” De Villiers shook his head. “And Cook? She was awarded an OBE for what she did in Afghanistan. She’s done as much for her country as any other person.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Morgan asked, his manners blunted by emotion.

“Why?” De Villiers choked, as if it were obvious. “Because I want to help you.”