Winning the Queen's Heart: Contemporary Christian Romance (The Brides of Belles Montagnes Book 2) (35 page)

Alexander stopped and scanned the area. There.

In the middle of the pedestrian plaza.

He stood, looking around much as Alexander did, a gun hanging at his side.

Too many people around to risk a shoot-out.

No one seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Just Saturday morning shoppers going about their business.

Alexander stuck to the sidewalk near the buildings, trying to stay in the shadows, hoping Henry would overlook a man in his search for the queen. As his back turned toward Alexander, it was time.

He moved quickly through the crowds, weaving between families and packs of friends, praying that no one would recognize him for a few more minutes.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Ten feet.

The other man’s rotation would turn toward Alexander in just a few seconds.

Time.

He ran the last seven or eight feet and put his shoulder square into Henry’s back, dropping him to the brick street below. Alexander rose up to his knees, sitting on the other man’s back and trying to get Henry’s hands under control. Instead, he found himself lying on his back.

With a roar, he twisted away from the fist headed for his face. Alexander turned and rolled, using his legs to take Henry with him. When he managed to get on top, he used his fists to pummel the other man.

One part of his mind noticed the crowd starting to gather. Some yelled for a fight. Others moved to pull him off. Realizing Henry’s motion had ceased, he backed off. He turned to one of the men holding him. “Do you recognize me?”

Realization crossed the man’s face. “Sir...”

“No time to explain.” He shrugged the man’s hands off. “This man is a danger to the queen. He’s trying to kill her. Detain him until the palace guards arrive.” Sirens in the distance said it would be soon.

The man nodded and moved to stand guard over the fallen villain. Alexander turned. Rotating, focusing on the shops. She would have ducked into one. Which one? Not the one closest to the entrance. Too obvious.

Another rotation.

She would have gone further away. A place she could hide. Maybe someone she trusted. But who?

The queen’s father did most of his shopping there. As a child, the queen loved to hide among the tie-racks.

Martin’s words echoed in his head. Where was the shop?

There.

Alexander ran across the uneven bricks to the store. He yanked on the door handle, but it was locked. He pounded. “Let me in! I need to find her!”

An eyeball appeared from behind the shade. “Who?”

“My wife. She’s safe. I have to find her.”

The man nodded. The door opened just a smidge, but Alexander pushed his way in. “Where is she?”

“In the back.”

He turned and slid past racks of suits, tables of shirts, and broke through the swinging door in the back of the room. “Christiana? Honey? It’s me. Alexander. He’s down. They’re holding him until the guards get here.”

A sniffle caught his attention, and he turned to see her shoes peeking out from under a table. He lifted the tablecloth and smiled at her. It took everything in him to do so. She was disheveled, covered in blood, and scared.

And not nearly ready to come out.

So he went in after her.

Huddled and hunched, he sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay. It’s over. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head against him. “It is Julia’s blood. Does Tony have him yet?”

“Not yet. We fought in the plaza. Some men were watching him while I came to find you. Tony and his troops are on their way.”

She huddled into him, her slender fingers gripping his shirt. “It’s not over until he’s in handcuffs and back on Pirate’s Island.” If possible, she folded herself into a smaller ball. “Is Julia all right?”

Alexander kissed the side of her head. “I think so. Her head was bleeding pretty badly but the gunshot just grazed her.”

“Good. And Alex?”

“He ran into the press conference covered in blood. Got everyone’s attention.”

Her grip on his shirt started to relax. He could feel the stress leaving her body.

A voice crackled over the radio. “Alexander? Check in.”

He depressed the button. “We’re in the suit shop.”

A crash.

A scream.

And their safe hiding spot was history.

Chapter 36

Alexander found her. Henry could, too.

He had.

Christiana clutched at her husband, trying to absorb his strength. He moved until his mouth was next to her ear as crashing sounds continued elsewhere in the store. “Lay down, flat against the wall.”

Somehow, she did not know how, but they both did. She lay with her back to the wall, stretched out flat under the long work table. Alexander blocked her view with his body, shielding her and the baby. She felt more than saw him pull something out of his pocket.

“Do you know how to use this?” He slid his pocket pistol into her hand.

“Yes.” She did not want to. She did not know if she would actually be able to pull the trigger, but she knew how.

“If I have to leave you here to get to him, stay put. Be ready. If anyone but me or Tony lifts that table cloth, shoot him. Do you understand that? Anyone. He may still have others on the inside.”

“I understand.”

The crashing sounds grew closer. The cold metal chilled her to the bone. She kept her three fingers and thumb wrapped around the grip and her pointer finger safely along the barrel. He maneuvered until he lay on his back, his head facing out where he could see, she imagined.

But then he whipped it around. His fingers found her face and threaded through her disheveled hair. His lips on hers. Hard. Fierce. Desperate. And gone.

“I love you, Christiana. No matter what happens in the next few minutes, I want you to know how much I love you and the baby.” Another brush of the lips and he whispered, fiercely. “Stay. Here.”

“I love you, too.”

But he’d already rolled away, leaving her alone.

Unprotected.

She brought her hands together in front of her chest, praying she would never need to decide to pull the trigger.

Grunts.

Shouts.

Sounds of body blows.

Crashes.

Flashes of movement under the small opening above the floor.

A gunshot.

Another crash.

Silence.

“Christiana?”

She nearly wept at the sound of Alexander’s voice.

“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m going to lift the tablecloth.”

Christiana kept her finger off the trigger and pointed the barrel down toward her feet.

Pounding feet came into the room. Voices she recognized.

Blinding light.

A face she loved.

“It’s over. Are you okay?” Alexander reached down to take the pistol from her. He slid it back into his pocket holster and put the whole thing back in his pocket before coming back to help her.

She nodded and let him help her slide out from under the table.

“Don’t look,” he whispered.

“What happened?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and tucked her close to him. They walked into the front of the store, now swarming with police and security. “We fought. He won’t bother you anymore.” His hold on her tightened, and she started to feel safe.

Not bother her anymore? What did that mean? “Is he...?” She could not finish.

“No. I don’t think so. Just unconscious.” He stumbled and pulled her with him.

One of the security guards was at his side supporting him as Christopher pushed his way through. Her brother-in-law looked them both up and down then took a step forward.

Just in time to catch Alexander as he collapsed.

Christopher lowered him to the ground.

Christiana saw the blood.

And screamed.

* * *

Alexander felt weighed down. Beeping came from somewhere off to the right. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls.

Gentle fingers brushed against his forehead.

He tried to blink, but the light was too much.

“Alexander?”

Her soft voice called to him. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Here.”

A straw between his lips. A small sip. “What happened?” He tried to blink his eyes open, but the light still hurt. “Too bright.”

He heard her move and a second later, the light dimmed outside his eyelids.

“Better?” She sat back down at his side.

Alexander blinked his eyes open. “Yes.” He turned his head to see Christiana’s tear-streaked face. He reached for her with his hand, the one unencumbered by the IV. “What is it?”

“How do you feel?”

He bit back a groan. “Like I was in a bar fight.”

That got a smile. “How many bar fights have you been in, Xander?”

A chuckle escaped before he could stop it, but it quickly turned to whimpers. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“How many?”

“None, but it’s what I imagine a bar fight would feel like after it ended.” He traced her cheek with his finger. “Where’s your uncle?”

“Pirate’s Island Medical Center. He is being charged with treason this time, and there is no way he will win.”

“Good.” He tried, unsuccessfully to sit up a bit straighter. “What about Julia?”

“She and Alex are in the west wing of the palace. The doctor did not want her flying for a few days, and the cottage is part of the investigation.”

“We’re going to have to have a talk about that cottage and the secret passage no one else knew about.”

“I know.”

She held out the straw for him, and he took another sip. “How long have I been here?”

“Yesterday. The medicine knocked you out.”

“You’re okay?”

“I am.”

He reached over and rested his hand on her belly. “And the baby?”

She covered his hand with both of hers. “Dr. McCall said the baby is fine.”

Alexander wanted to say something else, but before he could the door opened. That was when he really looked around. “Where am I?”

The white-coated man answered. “Hospital section of the palace. We even do surgery and deliver babies here when needed. We didn’t feel your injuries were severe enough to warrant the hospital when we’ve got all this at our disposal.” He picked up a binder from the foot of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a truck.” He shifted again.

“I thought it was like getting in a bar fight.”

Alexander looked up to see Christiana smiling at him. “I’m guessing they feel about the same.”

Christiana moved back as the doctor started doing doctor-y stuff, like looking at his eyes. “You’re looking much better. I think I’ll release you out of here tomorrow morning. I do want to keep an eye on you one more night.”

He glanced at Christiana leaning against the wall, biting her lip. She’d already spent one night alone. “Come on, doc. I won’t leave the palace. You can even have the nurse come check on me every hour, but I’d kind of like to sleep in my own bed.” He noticed her face fall, just a bit, and he doubted anyone else would have noticed.

The doctor chuckled. “You mean with your wife?”

Alexander grinned back. “You know it.” Christiana straightened.

“Very well.” He gave them both his stern doctor look. “Nothing but sleeping. You need
rest
.”

“Yes, sir.” Like he would have the energy for anything else.

“All right. I’ll get some paperwork together. You don’t need discharged like a hospital, but I do have some instructions for you to take care of that bullet wound.”

Alexander’s head snapped around. “Bullet wound?”

“You didn’t notice pain in your thigh?”

Now that he mentioned it... “I hurt all over, but yeah.”

“A fairly simple through and through of the soft tissue in your right thigh. No bone or blood vessel or nerve damage so we cleaned it out, stitched it up, and have you on antibiotics.”

“Crutches?”

“You’ll need to stay off it for a while. We’ll talk more about it later.”

Christiana spoke. “So he will be confined to bed for a few days?” Was there a bit of sadistic glee hidden in her voice?

“Maybe not to bed, but he definitely won’t be up and around much. Gunshot wounds take time to heal.” He made another note in the binder and turned to the queen. “Would you be so kind as to either retrieve or have someone retrieve some clothes for your husband? Perhaps loose shorts and a t-shirt.” She nodded and walked away. “I’ll send someone in to help you get dressed and ready to move. I know a lot of men would rather not need their wives to help them in this state. Later, perhaps your valet can. Particularly with your wife’s pregnancy, it’s probably best if she doesn’t help lift you.”