I’d been sinking fast into the cold, dark place that haunts me in my nightmares. If the FBI can’t keep me safe, who can?! Suddenly, America, which had seemed so exciting just last night, was a terrifying, alien place. I just wanted to be back in the palace, sinking into a steaming bath scented with oils, with guards outside the door and more down the hall and thick stone walls and a perimeter and my parents and—

And then he said he’d protect me.

And I drew in a shuddering breath.

“What?!” said Director Gibson. “Are you nuts? I can’t let her go off with you! What would you even do with her?”

“Get her off the grid,” said Garrett in that deep, Texan rumble. “She’s gotta disappear. Only way she’ll be safe. Then I’ll figure out a way to get her home.”

My breath caught and a big swell of emotion made my eyes prickle with heat. He’d already done so much for me. Now he wanted to put himself at risk to save me. But...could I trust him? I’d known him less than a day.

I looked at Jakov and Emerik. They’d protected me so well, back in Lakovia. Emerik was like an uncle. His obsession with etiquette and tradition could be frustrating but I knew he was only trying to look after me. And Jakov was like a hot-headed, protective brother, scarcely older than me and ready to body slam anyone who threatened me into the dirt.

But they were outnumbered. And this strange country wasn’t their home. It was Garrett’s.

I wavered...right up until I looked into Garrett’s eyes. I gasped when I saw the fire there, the protective fury. It wasn’t like Jakov’s, quick and hot, impulsive. It wasn’t like Emerik’s, a steady flame held in a gilded lantern for decades. Garrett’s was like looking into a volcano: a never-ending supply of scalding determination. He would protect me. No matter what.

I nodded. “Mr. Buchanan, I accept your offer.”

Director Gibson’s eyes bulged. “What?! I can’t allow this! You’re coming back to our headquarters.”

I could see him nodding at other FBI agents to come over. He seemed like a good man. He was only trying to do his job. But Garrett was right: someone on the inside was helping the assassins. And the FBI was part of that system.

Agents surrounded me. A hand landed on my shoulder and I was coaxed to stand. They were going to lead me away, away from Garrett—

No they weren’t.

I was terrified but my father had taught me to never let people see you’re scared. I drew myself up to my full height and did my best attempt at what I call my mother’s queen voice. “I have done nothing wrong,” I said. “And you have no right to detain me.”

The hand disappeared from my shoulder. All the agents took a step back and looked at Director Gibson, their faces pale. Garrett took a step forward and put his body between me and them.

“How the hell are you going to make her disappear?” asked Gibson. “She’s a princess! She walks into a hotel, it’ll be all over the newspapers!”

“We’ll be discreet,” rumbled Garrett. That voice. It seemed to vibrate through my whole body, leaving me thrumming and tight-breathed. Oh God, what have I done? I was dangerously attracted to this man. Every time he gazed at me in that raw, heated way, I felt my body’s answering call, shockingly strong. I wanted to run and press myself to that big, hulking body and tilt my head back for his kiss. I wanted to feel those big hands on my back, on my ass, sliding up under my breasts and parting my thighs. I wanted to writhe against that strong chest and those hard abs, clawing at him as he tore my clothes apart.

Now I was putting myself in his care: we’d be together constantly. How the hell was I going to control myself?

Emerik elbowed his way through the agents. “Your Highness! I must protest! You’re entrusting our safety to—”—he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper—”to a common soldier!” Then he glanced at Garrett. “No offense.”

“None taken,” growled Garrett. “Never been ashamed of being a soldier.”

I glared at Emerik. He was treating Garrett the same way I’d seen the FBI agents treat him when we’d first arrived: like a beast. People were polite with Garrett, but only because they were scared of him. They talked down to him. With the FBI agents, it was because he wore threadbare clothes instead of a suit. With Emerik it was because he wasn’t the right social class. And all of them treated him as if he was stupid. Well, I wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. “That common soldier saved all of our lives!” I told Emerik tightly. I looked at Garrett. “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll need one of your cars,” Garrett told Director Gibson. “And I need a gun.”

Gibson looked incredulous. “I can’t give a civilian an FBI firearm! Do you know what—”

“If you want her to live, give me a gun!” snapped Garrett.

Gibson glared at him...and then motioned for the nearest agent to hand over his weapon. Garrett took the holster, too, which he had to adjust to fit his big frame.

“Now what?” I asked.

Garrett met my eyes and then his gaze rolled down my body, head to toe. I was a complete mess...but the look in his eyes didn’t say that at all. He looked at me as if I was the best thing he’d ever seen and that sent a warm glow right through me.

“Now,” he said, “you disappear.”

* * *

Garrett got behind the wheel of one of the FBI SUVs and drove us back up to the highway. Director Gibson got agents to collect my luggage and load it into the back. I grabbed a moment alone in the back seat to change. After rummaging through my suitcases, though, I realized I had a problem. I needed to be inconspicuous, but how do you do “inconspicuous” when everything you own has been picked out by the palace stylist to look good for the crowds? Half of the clothes were fiercely traditional, like the dress I’d worn that morning, and the other half were one-off designer pieces. I eventually pulled on the white business suit I’d worn at the UN, but I knew it still wasn’t right. I still looked like me. It would do for now, but I had to do better. I’d put enough people in danger already.

Emerik, Jakov and Caroline got back in and we sped off. Garrett’s first stop was a strip mall. He got me to draw as much cash from an ATM as my card would allow. “After this, no credit cards,” he told us over his shoulder as we climbed back in. “And everyone throw their phones away.”

“Our phones?!” squeaked Caroline. She’s addicted to her phone, usually messaging some guy. But she along with the rest of us dutifully dropped our phones into a trash can as Garrett drove past it.

“You really think they’re tracking us like that?” I asked, my voice shaking a little.

“Your Highness, I don’t know what the hell is going on,” said Garrett. “But I’m not taking any chances, not with...you.” On the last word, his eyes met mine in the rear view mirror and locked there, and I felt that pull, stronger than ever. Then he looked away as if embarrassed, and I nodded and looked at my lap, face flushed.

And next to me, Caroline nudged me in the ribs and gave me a tell me everything look.

I gave her an innocent shake of my head, as if nothing was going on.

We had to ditch the SUV, Garrett said, because the FBI could track it. So our next stop was a used car dealership called Honest Al’s. Most of the cars had rust patches and the dealer...well, maybe I didn’t understand American humor but he didn’t look honest.

I gazed up at the sky. It was just past noon and it was ferociously hot. Emerik was scowling but I loved it. The sunshine in Lakovia always felt somehow distant. Here in America, the sun touched your exposed skin, its warmth soaking into your body. It made me want to strip everything off and bathe naked in it. I flushed at the thought and tried to look innocent.

Garrett looked around for a few minutes and eventually settled on a car. There was a lot of negotiating, some handshakes and then a few extra bills changed hands. “Alright,” said Garrett when it was done. “He’s going to ‘forget’ to put the paperwork through for a few days.”

Emerik stared at what he’d bought. “You can’t be serious.”

But I was staring for a different reason: I loved it. For a second, I forgot my fear.

It was a white pickup truck that had once been red: the paint still showed through in a few places. There were dents and chips on almost every surface and the wheels were thick with dried dirt. I’d never seen one up close before. Immediately, I was in some American movie, with small towns and high school proms and skinny dipping in the lake and—

Before anyone could stop me, I’d climbed into the passenger seat. Oh, wow! This was even better. It even smelled different to a limo. They smelled of chemicals and plastic. This smelled of wet earth and freshly-chopped wood. When I slammed my door, it went clank, metal on metal, not the dull whump of an expensive car. I couldn’t help it: I grinned.

Garrett climbed into the driver’s seat. Straight away, he looked more comfortable than he had in the expensive SUV. When he saw my grin, his heavy brow knitted. “What?”

I flushed. A princess is meant to be reserved, I could hear my mother saying. Not excitable like a child. “Nothing,” I muttered. “I’ve just never been in a pickup before. And I’ve never sat up front before.”

He nodded in understanding. “Except to drive.”

I flushed even deeper.

He blinked. “You don’t...drive?”

Emerik and the others were climbing into the back seat. “A princess is always chauffeured,” he said. He looked disapprovingly at how close we were sitting.

“My mother learned,” I said. “In fact, she used to race cars when she was young, before she met my father. But I never did.” Hot embarrassment flooded my face. The pampered princess who doesn’t know how to do anything. “You must think I’m so stupid,” I muttered. I stared hard out of the side window.

“No.” Garrett’s voice was both gentle and firm. I slowly turned to look at him. “I don’t think that,” he told me. “Not for a second.”

I swallowed. Those gorgeous, clear blue eyes were suddenly all that existed in the world. And then my eyes were drawn inexorably down. That hard upper lip. That full, soft lower one. I drew in a breath and it was tight and shaky. And then we were leaning in towards each other, a fraction of an inch at a time….

“Perhaps we should get going, Mr. Buchanan,” said Emerik from the back seat.

I jerked back. Stupid! What are you doing? And did Emerik know? Was I that obvious? Of course you are, you’re behaving like a love-sick child!

I scooched a little further away from Garrett, and stiffly reached for my seat belt. Then I folded my hands demurely in my lap and nodded, and Garrett started the engine. It wasn’t until we turned back onto the highway that I risked a look at him. And then only a quick look, barely a glance, just enough to take in that rugged jaw, his blue eyes so serious, so determined, the tan bulges of his shoulders and biceps, revealed by his ripped-off shirt sleeves—

I realized I was staring again and forced myself to look away.

And we roared off down the highway.