Page 56 of Stolen Princess

“Goddamn that woman!” I twist the wheel and spin the car back onto the other side of the road, narrowly missing an oncoming car. I’ll drive back in and find her and make sure she’s okay. That’s all I’ll do. Once I know she’s fine on her own, I’ll leave, and my conscience will be clear.

She’ll be fine. She’s a tough girl, as she said. Hell, she got assaulted and then kicked the shit out of the guy. She can do this. She can do anything.

I laugh mirthlessly to myself. I haven’t felt an ounce of guilt about anything since I was a kid. Three days with her and look at me. Twisted up over some girl I hardly know.

This isn’t who I am.

I don’t care about anyone.

Then again, I’ve never encountered anyone like her before, have I?

I race through town and find a parking spot near where I left her. The car door shuts behind me, and I admire the upscale town, so unlike the one we left this morning. It’s a busy day, and I take the same track she did, the necklace tucked in my knapsack beside the gun and the knife bouncing against my back. I stop when I reach a clearing and scan from person to person until I spot her. It’s not tough with all that shiny, golden hair, and I breathe out a fucking sigh of relief like no other.

I’m winded, and it’s not from running.

I hang back, slowly creeping into the space, but I take a seat on the grass about five meters back, tucked by a tree. She’s watching the children play on the playground, and my insides twist. I didn’t have that growing up, and I know she didn’t either. I had no easy friendships. No light moments of play. No childhood friends. No adventure or innocent mischief.

I had a drunk father who liked to use his fists and a depressed mother who didn’t know how to be one. I had poverty and shame. Genevieve might have had it worse, whether she’s the princess or not.

As if pushing my thoughts further, two texts come through. One from her mother, the other from Lars.

A: Where are you on getting the tiara from my sister? I want my daughter back.

Lars: Meet me in Montobello, outside the wine bar in town at eight.

Montobello is the town we’re in. I saw it on my drive here. So clearly he knows where we are, and I wonder if there’s tracking on Genevieve’s phone. There must be. So the woman is going to have Lars kill me and take Genevieve back. Then something else hits me.

I dig through my knapsack. Every item in it, but I don’t find anything. I dump everything out anyway, feeling each piece of clothing. Still nothing. That is until I feel the lining of the bag and find the small round disc.

A smile hits my lips. I should have known. I fish around until I find the small hole along the seam line and feed the tracker through it. I hold it in my hand before I let it fall into the grass. Then I load everything back into my bag and pick up my phone.

Me: Tough luck. I’m nowhere near there.

That’s to Lars, and I want him to know I’m lying. I also know he’s in town, and I’ll watch her like a hawk.

Me: I’m making progress. I’m close to tracking her down. I’m having my associate handle it. If she has the tiara, we have a deal. If she doesn’t, the girl is dead.

I let Genevieve be. I don’t disturb her. But I do look up a local hotel and make a call.

“Hello. My wife is traveling to the festival and had her wallet stolen. Can I make a reservation in her name? She obviously has no ID or credit card right now.”

“Sure, sir. As long as we have a credit card on file, that should be fine.”

“Great. Thank you.”

I set everything up, then once that’s done, I go online and make a new reservation for myself with an alias. Once the reservation comes through, I text her the address and details.

I watch as she picks up her phone and reads the text. She falls back onto her elbows in the grass after she’s done. She doesn’t look around to see if I’m here, and for some reason, that stings a bit. I don’t like that she thinks so little of me, even though I’ve given her no reason to think otherwise.

Still, I’ll let her think she’s on her own. It’s best for both of us. But in looking at her now, I already know I’m not going anywhere. I’ll get her to the festival, even if she doesn’t know I’m doing it.

Or watching her the entire time.

19

GENEVIEVE

Iwasn’t going to use it. I got the text, and I knew what it was when I read it. A peace offering. A way for Rhys to clear his conscience—I suppose it’s good he has one. Regardless, I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it on my own and was done with people controlling me. But without a credit card or ID, my options for sleeping inside tonight were limited. Honestly, I didn’t expect it to work. I expected to get to the hotel and have them ask for ID or laugh at me.