Royal Distraction by Lucy McConnell (love story novels in english TXT) 📗

feet. “I’d say that makes us even.” He brushed his hand over his shoulder as if flicking dust off his shirt. In their world, that should have evened the score. Really, he should have been the one hunting the assassin down, not the other way around.

“We won’t be even until you’re dead.” The guy stumbled away. His right arm would need layers of stitches to pull the muscle back together. With any luck, he’d have six weeks of physical therapy and be out of the game for a while.

By that time, Tatum should be well rested and sporting a tan on Zimrada. “Good luck with that,” he called to a now empty street. Well, not quite empty. The one old man staring at him averted his eyes and hurried his labradoodle along the opposite side of the street.

He put his hands on his hips, pacing his breaths and working to slow the rush of adrenaline through his veins. He walked, checking for damage. His left knee was bruised since it had taken the first hit when he went down. He bent and straightened it several times, determining that he could walk it off. Which he started to do right away. Staying in the same place only made him a sitting duck.

He rounded the corner, taking a different street out than he’d taken in. He’d have to call the rental car company and have them pick up their vehicle. He couldn’t go back to the hotel. He stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t go back to Neese.

With a curse, he pulled out his phone. “He saw me,” he said as soon as Nelson picked up.

“You good?”

“I returned a favor.” He shook off the dull pain in his hip. Another bruise. Nothing to worry about.

“Wish I was there.”

“Me too.” Tatum took in his surroundings and plotted a route back to his room.

“He didn’t happen to say why he was in DC, did he?”

“Yeah, we discussed it over tea.”

“Maybe he’s there for you.”

“He is.” Tatum kicked a rock. “He thinks it’s personal.”

“Why don’t you stay out of his way for a while? The bounty on your head went up yesterday.”

“How much?”

“Enough that even I’m considering cashing in on the deal.”

That brought a smile to Tatum’s face. “Why don’t we just fake my death and split the cash?” Not that they needed it. “We could retire to an island and enjoy the private life.”

“That’s the plan. Not the dying part. Try to avoid that.”

“Every day.”

The line was quiet. “You’re sure you can handle this guy?”

Tatum kicked a garbage can. “I’m ticked that I have to. Is this what being a good guy gets me? A life running from bounty hunters and idiot assassins?”

“No good deed goes unpunished.”

Tatum didn’t respond. He wanted the quiet life, now more than ever—because he’d experienced an average life today, and it was sweet and wholesome and all the things he thought he’d left behind. Instead, he was running towards them. He wanted to spend an afternoon rocking on the front porch and drinking lemonade with Neese.

But when he talked to Nelson, there was still a part of him that craved their busy lives, the excitement. He grinned. He didn’t like fighting, per se, but he liked winning a fight. He enjoyed outsmarting the other guy. And now that he’d fought him, the assassin was more of a thorn in his side than a real threat. As long as he could see him coming, Tatum would be fine.

“Hello?” Nelson asked.

“I’m here.” For now. He rolled his shoulder and found it stiff. “I’m still here.”

“Okay. I’m wrapping up this job in two days. How’s the princess?”

“She didn’t show.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can get in with her.”

“What about your contact?”

“She … uuuuhh …”

“She?”

Tatum closed his eyes. He could see Nelson’s eager face begging for intel.

“She wasn’t forthcoming with the information,” he barked.

Nelson paused. A tiny bead of sweat ran down the back of Tatum’s neck. He wouldn’t be the first to crack. If there was anything in this world worth protecting from his work, it was Neese.

Nelson cleared his throat. “Then we’ll go to the island together when I’m done here.”

“That is a brilliant idea.” Images of walking sandy beaches holding Neese’s hand and sharing kisses filled his head with enough reasons to let the world think he had disappeared.

“Let’s do it. I’m out.”

“Out.”

Tatum disconnected the call, wondering how exactly a person could fake their death without telling their parents.

Chapter Twelve

Tatum checked the time on the dash of his new rental car. The car arrived this morning, an SUV with tinted windows. He wished it weren’t so shiny. However, in the parking lot of Neese’s posh hotel, a shiny new car blended in much better than a dusty clunker would have.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t come back here, that he would stay away from her, but that was a promise he knew he would break. Sometimes he did that. He swore he wouldn’t do anything stupid, knowing full well he was going to dart across an open street with a sniper at the end just so he could get off a shot at the guy.

The stupid things he did usually paid off. He hoped this was no exception.

He’d taken extreme caution before approaching the hotel, waiting for an hour across the street at a café, observing the comings and goings and making sure no one was observing him.

He’d taken caution with his appearance too. He’d sprayed his hair Bob Barker white and padded his middle so that it hung over his belt. The hand-me-down suit from the consignment store rode up on his ankles. The thick-rimmed glasses were a bit much, but they fit the persona so well he couldn’t pass them up.

Neese would be in meetings with the princess this morning. They were due to visit the Secretary of Defense at his office—a visit Tatum was happy he hadn’t been invited to make. He wanted the chocolates to arrive before