The Royal Guard Page 6

  “I love your hair down,” the captain said, taking several strands into his hands and running his fingers through the wave.

  “Thanks,” she said, forcing herself not to lean into his touch.

  “And you smell amazing. Is that vanilla?”

  She nodded, a tremble of sheer pleasure rose in her heart. Comfort filled her, a rightness casting a soft light on the two of them dancing. As the song neared its end, he pulled her even closer, her head snuggled into the crook of his neck. He smelled like cinnamon and sugar with a touch of cayenne. He liked her. He had to. At one point, she looked at him and he looked right back, his face getting closer and closer to hers. She was sure he was going to kiss her. She trembled in anticipation, but a dancing couple bumped into them and the moment ended.

  Christian took a step back, gesturing toward their table. “Why don’t we take a little break?” His face was so hard to read. Did he feel any of the disappointment that was settling over her? It was crazy how much she had wanted that kiss. She swallowed and nodded, moving toward the table.

  On their way, they passed Carlo, now making out with the woman he’d so coyly called an “opportunity.” Marisa smiled wryly. At least someone was getting what they came for. Tara wasn’t the only one with the idea of lurking around Murazzis’s, getting guardsmen to lavish money and attention on her. She remembered Tara’s words—“You want something from a guy, you have to give him a little something.”

  Her gaze flipped back to Christian, who was walking confidently to their table. He turned to smile at her, and there was something almost seductive about the way he looked at her. Her heart clenched. This is what Tara had been talking about. Tara had seen him do this to other women—seducing them to get what he wanted.

  He must be trying to manipulate her. A sliver of hurt rushed through her. Could it be that he was being so kind, acting like he liked her simply because he wanted to give her no reason to tell his secret? She thought back on his treatment of her. If he had feelings for her, he would have been helping her, making it easier for her to get the promotion she wanted. He had done the opposite, thwarting her at every turn. No, he never treated her as anything special.

  Never, until she warned him about the photo.

  He sat and pulled out a chair for her. She sank down into it, numb. A nagging, persistent ache settled in her gut. She had fallen for his ploy. She was such an idiot. Shame washed over her. She had to stop this. She pulled back, and he spoke before she could, “Listen, Marisa, I have to tell you—”

  “Stop,” she said, quickly before he could finish his lie. The look on his face was so transparent—he was pretending so hard, he looked like a lovestruck teenager. It sickened her. “I can’t do this.” She pushed away from the table, disappointment, shame, and anger warring in her chest. She had to get out of there.

  Christian reached out and grabbed her hand. “Wait, Marisa, please—”

  She turned and looked him in the eye. She spoke quickly, before her raging emotions could make her do anything embarrassing. Like cry. “Listen, Christian. You don’t have to be nice to me to keep me from talking. Even if you never put me in the personal guard or if you yelled at me every day, I would never give up your secret. Never, so you can stop pretending. Your secret is safe.”

  He was shaking his head violently. “No. No. Wait.” The two guys came tromping back with full glasses again. “No. I need to tell you…” but she wasn’t listening.

  “No!” she said as she stood and made to leave, tripping over a leg of the table as she did. “No.” She could feel Vadik and Yale’s stares, but didn’t care. She had to get out of there and quick.

  “Marisa, wait,” Christian called after her, but she ran through the crowds and out before he could stop her.

  9

  At the end of the block, she ran into Tara. Literally. They both fell onto their butts and yelped. Once they realized whom they had run into, they stood up and laughed.

  “Oh, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Marisa said.

  “Is everything okay? You came bolting around the corner so fast, I had no time to react.”

  “Sorry. All I wanted to do was get away from here as fast as I could.”

  Tara pulled her a ways down the side road. “What happened?”

  Marisa told Tara everything, Tara’s exclamations and sounds of disbelief egging her on.

  “He’s seriously the biggest player. I’m so sorry. Come on, let me treat you to something to eat.” They hustled down several blocks stopping at Francesco’s Italian restaurant to grab some pizza.

  “You know,” Tara said as they waited in line for a table, “why you’re so upset with his behavior, don’t you? You’ve fallen for him, just like I did.”

  Marisa’s face fell and she looked at her shoes. Prickles raced up her neck.

  “I know how you feel, and I’m sorry.”

  “How can I like such a jerk? To think I almost kissed him.” Hurt sank into her soul as if she were a beaten dog.

  “Because he’s handsome, powerful, and very charming, that’s how. Guys like him know exactly how to lure women in and tear them to pieces.”

  Their server took them to a table. Nausea settled in as she sat, and she wondered if she’d be able to eat anything. “I’m going to go clean up,” she said, standing up from the table and heading for the bathroom. She washed her face, hoping to get rid of the evidence of her tears.

  She returned to their table to find two drinks sitting there. “I ordered you a drink, I hope you don’t mind.” Tara took a sip.

  “Not at all,” Marisa said, taking the drink and sipping from it. She coughed. The drink was strong. “I’m so embarrassed. I feel so stupid for falling for him. I wish there was some way to make him feel how I do and how all the women he’s tricked felt.”

  Tara drank from her glass and then said, “Hmm. I think I might know a way to get back at him.”

  “What? How?” While she liked Tara, none of her ideas to solve the problem had been good ones, but she’d hear her out. She swallowed another drink, and her insides warmed.

  “I think he needs to be knocked down a few pegs. What if we used your clearance at the castle to do something to make our dear old captain look foolish?”

  Marisa’s first reaction to the idea was that it was a terrible idea, but on second thought, she kind of liked it. Making him look stupid to the people at work would be a real blow to his ego. He could feel just as terrible as she did. “Like what?” Tingles spread through her body as the alcohol charged through her system.

  “I’m not sure, but we can figure it out on our way.” They giggled. Tara slapped some money onto the table and said, “No time like the present.” She grabbed her glass and said, “For courage!”

  “For courage,” Marisa said, lifting her glass. They finished their drinks and headed out. As Tara drove, they schemed.

  “The best way to get back at a haughty man is to injure his pride,” Tara said. “Like make him look stupid in front of his men or the royals.”

  “Exactly.” Marisa knew their suggestions were getting sillier and sillier as they drove the fifteen minutes to the castle, but it was fun being with Tara, plotting. “We could hang a pair of his skivvies from his office doorknob.” She giggled.

  “Yeah. Something like that.” Tara grinned as they pulled up to the castle gate. Marisa handed Tara her ID to show the guard, who let them pass. Neither spoke as they drove down the long driveway, but Tara hummed an upbeat tune. Marisa led her to the underground employee parking garage.

  The moment they entered the castle grounds, her conscience started poking at her. Her discomfort grew the closer they got to the castle. As they parked, she tried to put her hand on Tara’s arm to tell her they shouldn’t continue. She was a royal guard. She had made promises and signed documents that she would never do anything to hurt the royal guard or the royal family. She could not betray that trust. Her body was slow to follow her commands, though, and Tara was out of the car before she
could stop her. Whatever that drink was, it was hitting her hard. She took a deep breath and forced her sluggish body out of the car. She looked around to see Tara waiting for her at the employee entrance, looking at her phone, a bag over her shoulder.

  Marisa called out to her, but her voice was weak, and Tara didn’t act as if she’d heard anything, so she stumbled over to her.

  “Tara,” she said as she reached her new friend. “I’ve changed my mind. We can’t go in there. We can’t. We’ll have to find another way.”

  “I don’t think so, Marisa darling. We are going inside the castle right now.” She brandished a gun.

  Marisa’s mind commanded her body to react, to take the gun, but her limbs refused to respond. Her hand batted at Tara, but missed the girl and gun completely. She blinked several times. “What is going on?” she slurred, forcing her leg out to kick Tara, but missing by inches.

  Tara laughed. “That stuff is amazing. My boss was right.”

  Tara swiped Marisa’s ID card and the door clicked open. Tara grinned, wide and bright. Marisa’s normally sharp brain was cloudy and gray now, and it became increasingly hard to think as Tara pulled her into the castle and reached into her bag. “Put this on,” she said, handing Marisa a black jacket. Marisa held it in her hand, but merely stared at it while Tara put hers on as well as a face mask. “I said, put it on.” Marisa fumbled with the jacket trying to put her arm into the hood. “Oh, good grief,” Tara said, helping her into the jacket and then pulling her down the dark hall, a flashlight lighting their way. “Now Marisa, where do you keep your radio and your keys?”

  While a piece of her mind was yelling for her not to tell, the other part was giving it up freely. “My changing room.” She wanted to reach out and stop Tara, but couldn’t. Her hand sat snuggly in Tara’s as Tara swung it from side to side like they were best friends going on a walk in the park. “They can see us, you know,” Marisa said. “Cameras everywhere.”

  “My boss has taken care of that. Don’t worry your pretty little head. Now, remember. You are happy and want to do what I tell you to do. Take me to your changing room but go a way that we won’t run into anyone.”

  Marisa had no clue why she was taking this girl to her changing room, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “You like doing as I say, don’t you, Marisa?” Tara taunted.

  Something told Marisa she did, that she wanted nothing more than to do everything Tara asked her to do and she would be happy about it.

  10

  The castle was dark and deadly silent, and everything seemed to echo. While guilt ate at her gut, she couldn’t stop following Tara’s orders.

  Words bubbled out of her, without her permission. “I feel really, very, very good right now.”

  “As you should. That was a special drink I gave you. I put some stuff in there to help you help me. Why don’t you clap for me?”

  “Great!” Marisa said, clapping her hands. A small part of her still wanted to resist, but that part had no power.

  As they reached Marisa’s changing room, Tara said, “Where’s the record’s room, and how do I get into the vault?”

  “The records’ room is no fun,” Marisa wailed. “Let’s do something fun.” A part of her she had been denying told her to stop speaking, to stop it now, but her mouth wouldn’t stop and soon the idea faded.

  “We need to go there, and you need to tell me how to get there right now. It will be fun.”

  “Four halls down. Easy.” She grinned and swayed.

  “And how do I get in?”

  “A key and a keycard.”

  “Our information was correct then. Get me the correct keycard and keys.”

  “No!” Marisa screamed, that defiant part of her breaking the surface. “I’m drunk. I can’t be here. You can’t be here. Help!”

  Tara clasped her hand over Marisa’s mouth before she could say anything else. “You aren’t drunk, Sweetheart. I gave you a neato new truth serum. I think you need a bit more.” She pulled out a syringe from her bag and poked it into Marisa’s arm. “You’re going to have a lot of fun guiding me to the places I need to go, then you won’t remember a thing.”

  Her resistance faded again, and she laughed.

  “We don’t have a lot of time, Marisa. Now, get me your radio and the keys.”

  Without hesitation, Marisa opened her locker and pulled out the items.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” Tara shuffled through the rest of Marisa’s things in her locker and pulled out some plastic cuffs and said, “You love sitting here. You feel safe.”

  She nodded. “I love sitting here. I feel safe.” And she did, a warm comfort blanketed her.

  Tara rushed out, strapping Marisa’s radio to her. Marisa lay her head down on the bench and started to sing. Tara had been right. She was happy sitting there. Not only did she feel safe, but she also felt very happy.

  Tara returned and sat down at Marisa’s desk.

  “It needs a window,” Marisa said, moaning as she did.

  “No,” Tara chastised her. “It would be bad if there was a window. Then someone might see us.” She chuckled.

  Marisa wasn’t sure she cared to even breathe anymore. It was taking a lot of energy to breathe. Something inside her kept telling her lungs to move, in and out, in and out.

  “Done,” Tara suddenly announced. “Now, I’ll go return it.”

  Marisa gave a shallow nod as she watched her leave.

  She came back only minutes later, breathing hard. “I couldn’t reopen the safe, Marisa. Why not?” She towered over Marisa’s curled up form.

  “Safe?” Her words slurred and everything looked blurry.

  “The records safe.” She shook Marisa.

  “Oh, that one?” She was tired and wanted to sleep. Sleep forever.

  “Yes. I did exactly the same thing this time as I did the first.” She gripped Marisa by the jacket and shook her.

  “Oooh, the second time.” She held up her thumb.

  “Marisa. Listen. To. Me. How do I get back into the vault?”

  Marisa bent her thumb over and over again, speaking would take too much effort. Too much air.”

  “I need your thumb?”

  Marisa nodded.

  She huffed. “Someone will be alerted that you opened it?”

  She nodded again.

  She swore and paced the room. “Crap! Crap! Crap!” Then she stopped and cut Marisa loose. “I have to get these back in there.” Tara looked at the clock. “I don’t have much time. You’re smart. You will come up with a good excuse. An inventory will show nothing is missing. Yes, it will be okay.” She spoke out loud, but it was getting harder and harder for Marisa to make sense of anything Tara was saying. She only wanted to drift off, but Marisa made her stand and held onto her arm.

  “Wait,” Tara mumbled to herself. “If I don’t take anything out of the safe, they will wonder why it was opened. They might somehow discover the forgery.” She stood still, holding Marisa up for several long seconds. Marisa put her head on Tara’s shoulder. “Hmmm. I guess I’ll have to take a few trinkets to throw them off. Sorry Marisa, but it looks like you’ll be going to jail. Sad that you won’t remember any of this.” She pushed Marisa toward the exit and pulled her hoodie back onto her head and tied it so tight that not much of Marisa’s face showed.

  Marisa moaned. She felt awful.

  “Come on. Let’s get back into that safe.” Tara put her hoodie and face mask back on.

  As they were about step out of the alcove, Marisa whispered, “The captain is coming.”

  Tara froze and cocked her head like she was listening for something. Marisa sucked in a breath and giggled. Tara slammed her hand over Marisa’s mouth and whispered in her ear. “You will be silent until I tell you to speak again, and you will not move until I tell you to. Nod if you understand.”

  Marisa nodded and smiled, even though she felt like puking. Tara’s hand left her mouth. “I don’t hear anyone.” The footfalls came ever near
er, and Tara’s mouth clamped shut. Had Tara finally heard the perfect steps of her captain? If she were only a few steps to her left, she would be able to see him. How she wanted to see him. She leaned a bit closer to Tara, hoping to get a glimpse of Christian as he passed by. Maybe he would help her. Tara responded by pushing her further inside the alcove. Tara pressed herself hard into the wall behind her. As Christian’s footfalls passed them, Tara peeked out from behind the statue and swore. “What is he doing here?” she whispered. She stared at Marisa and raised an eyebrow, then said, “You may speak now, but only in a whisper.”

  “My captain?” she slurred and slumped against the wall.

  “Yes. What is he doing here in the middle of the night?”

  “Alarm. Bad.”

  Tara squeezed Marisa’s wrist. “I did everything you told me to do.”

  She shrugged.

  Tara huffed. “Does this happen a lot?”

  “Never.” She wanted to sink to the floor.

  Tara swore and hit her fist into the wall.

  Marisa made a sound like a giggle, but it was too breathy.

  “Come on, he’s gone. Let’s get this done.” She sighed. “And be stealthy.”

  And Marisa was. At least she thought she was. It may have been in an exaggerated way because she hugged the walls and stopped and listened and moved with a funny gait, but they didn’t run into anyone. She worked very hard to get her body to move. She felt weak and silly.

  As Marisa walked into the record’s room, she whispered, “King Dominic,” her eyes fluttering wildly. The once physically formidable King of Monterra sat in his wheelchair at a table with a large book open in front of him. Tara stepped into the room and immediately pointed the gun at him and moved quickly toward him, saying, “Hands up, old man.”

  The king’s hands lifted swiftly into the air. He did not speak. At the same time, Captain Christian’s calm, but loud voice rang out over Marisa’s radio. “Team two, to the royal family. Protect the royal family.”