The Soldier and the Princess

Chapter twenty-two

Daphne

“Thisissomeserious bullshit,” I muttered as Duke lead me into the clearing where the Ranger Station was situated. Twisting against his hold, I looked back over my shoulder at him, but Duke wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping someone as horrible as Davis?”

Clenching his jaw, Duke grunted, but said nothing.

In fact, he’d said a lot of nothing since he had dragged me away from Xander’s fire.

It had been embarrassing how feeble my escape attempt had actually been. When I was running in the dark, it had felt like I had traveled miles, my increased heart rate making it seem as though I had expended an insane amount of energy and covered a great distance from the rickety shack they had housed me in.

The reality of it was that I had mostly run in a distorted zigzag pattern, making me feel ridiculously incompetent and exactly like the pampered socialite everyone always pegged me as.

It was sad, really; I had spent so many years trying to throw off the mantle of that stereotype, and when it came down to it, I was exactly what everyone claimed I was: spoiled, inexperienced, and useless.

I couldn’t do anything for myself, could I?

By the time we had made it back to the abandoned Ranger Station, I was a mess of emotions and hunger and honestly on the verge of tears. I held my chin up high, though.

The last thing I wanted was for these bastards to see me cry.

The place looked different today than it had the first time I had seen it, less ‘serial killer murder den’ and more ‘post-apocalyptic backwoods chic’. The building was small, but it wasn’t nearly as run down as I had thought. It looked more like the forest was simply reclaiming it; tall grasses growing up along the foundation, moss on the roof, and the raw wood showing through where the paint had all flecked off.

Looking at it now, the designer in me could see the potential. Sure, the place had been through a lot, but it had been built to last, with good bones and a solid foundation.

All it needed was a little love.

I was snapped out of my musings by the ringing of a phone. Davis, who had been walking ahead of our sad little group, stopped abruptly and cell his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah,” he answered with all the casual indifference of a guy who really didn’t care what you thought about him. “What?” I froze as he turned to look at me, his furious, narrowed gaze sending chills down my spine. “Are you fucking serious?” Davis paused to listen, his anger growing with each word he listened to. “Well, isn’t that just fucking interesting. I’ll take care of it. I said I’ll take care of it. You just make sure my money is where it should be. I’ll deal with this.” Whatever he heard on the phone must have pissed him off, because he finally looked away from me and began pacing along the gravel drive outside the shack. “I don’t give a fuck who she is. She’s seen our faces. She knows our names. That has to be dealt with.”

“Oh oh,” Spaz said, his vile grin creeping across his face. “Sounds like your time is up, rich bitch.”

I ignored him—and the nausea that suddenly flared up at the look he was giving me—and focused back on Davis.

“You listen to me,” he snarled into the phone. “I did what you asked. We grabbed the girl exactly where you said she would be. It’s not my fault you weren’t more specific in your instructions. So, seeing as how you can’t do anything right, I’m gonna be making the decisions from now on. And that starts with my fee. You want the girl grabbed—the right girl—it’s gonna cost you.” He listened again, slowly making his way to where I still stood, my back pressed up against Duke’s broad chest, and every thing about him indicated that I should run.

This man was a predator, and he was ready for the kill.

“You’ll meet me, today, and deliver the money, and I’ll go get the girl. Then I’ll do what’s necessary to make sure that we don’t go down for your fuck up.”

With that, he disconnected the call, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he glared at me.

“You lied,” he accused, his long fingers coming up to trail over my jaw as he gently brushed some stray hair off my face. “Why would you lie about who you are? Most people, when faced with a situation like that, would lie to protect themselves. Yet you? You put yourself in danger for someone else.” Davis paused, his eyebrows drawn down in confusion. “Why?”

“Because that’s what you do when you love someone more than you love yourself,” I said boldly. “You don’t hesitate to protect them.” He shook his head, and I knew he didn’t believe me. In that moment, I honestly felt sad for him—for all of these guys—because I could tell that no one had ever loved them selflessly like that.

Davis proved my point when he only scoffed.

“Yes, how very noble. I’m sure you’ll be kept warm at night with all your benevolent bullshit. Meanwhile,” he went on, dragging a cigarette out of somewhere and placing it between his lips. “I’m still gonna get exactly what I want, and now you’re just fucked.” Spinning on his heel, he stalked toward the car that was still parked exactly where it had been yesterday. “Get her inside,” he hollered over his shoulder. “I have to go fix this shit.”

I could do nothing but stare as Davis started the car and took off, the light cloud of dust he kicked up floating away on the morning breeze as he sped down the road and disappeared into the trees.

He was going after Penelope, just as I thought he would.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying not to throw up. I wished there was some way to reach out to Stone, let him know what was coming. Hack told me he had been in touch with my brother, and there was no way Stone would leave his pregnant wife unattended when something like this was going down.

I was sure she would be well protected.

But I couldn’t deny the fact that I really just wanted to talk to him, hear my brother’s gruff voice telling me it was all going to be okay. He’d scowl at me and say something like ′What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now, little bit?′ and I’d roll my eyes and laugh.

God, how I missed him.

I was brought back to the moment when Duke pressed his hand to the center of my back, gently but firmly guiding me toward the shack. As we climbed the stairs, the door opened and Greasy stepped out, his lanky hair now tied back in a ratty man bun.

“Where the fuck is he going?” he asked, gesturing in the direction Davis had just left from.

“Turns out our girl ain’t really our girl,” Spaz cackled, throwing his head back and laughing.

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Neither Duke nor I were inclined to answer him, and Spaz was still laughing. “Seriously, you asshat. Where is Davis going?” Getting fed up with getting no information, Greasy took a swing at Spaz.

“Hey!” Spaz shouted, his laughter stopping immediately. “The fuck you do that for?”

“Because I asked you a question, dickhead.”

“It’s not my fault you’re uninformed. You’re the one who didn’t want to go after her, so don’t blame me when you’re out of the loop.”

Greasy scowled, but was apparently tired of asking. “Well, wherever he’s going, I hope he brings back some pizza. This camp food is shit.”

And with that, he turned and re-entered the shack, Duke and I right behind him.

The last time I had been in this room, I was upside down, hanging over Davis’s shoulder as he hauled me down to my holding room. This time, I took the time to look around, trying to familiarize myself with the place in case I got the opportunity to run again.

It was basically a single room space, with one wall holding a very small kitchenette, and a round dining table and two chairs in the center. The second wall held a ratty plaid sofa, and on the third was a pinned map, the kind you see in movies with all the swirls and stuff. I knew it was a topographical map—there was another in the office where they had kept me— but there was no way I could ever hope to read it.

It was what was beneath the map that caught my attention, though. Because on a rack, hanging so innocuously against the plain wood wall, was a series of outdoor survival tools. There was a small shovel, a length of coiled rope, and there—right there in plain sight—was the biggest knife I had ever seen, its jagged edge looking vicious in the muted light of the dusty windows.

I tried to keep the smile off my face; finally, there was a weapon I could access.

Now all I needed was a plan.

And I was pretty good at making plans.