The Princess (Filthy Trilogy 2)

“I’m going to get Harper.”

“Wait until back-up is here to take her out,” Adam says. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Copy that,” I say, heading for the door where I swipe my badge with success. I’ve just walked inside when the lights go dark. It takes me all of one second to grab my phone, light the flashlight and start running for Harper, every instinct I own telling me that she’s in trouble and I can’t get to her soon enough…

***

Present day, back in the plane…

With Harper in my chair, and the storm now past us, I kiss her like it’s the last time I’ll ever kiss her and with good reason. I could have lost her tonight and not just because I fucked up with her, and given her enough of a reason to kick me to the curb. Those men were in that warehouse to either scare Harper or do her harm, but I don’t think it was about fear. You don’t hire those kinds of pros to just scare someone. Had I not come back, I believe she’d be dead. I know it deep in my gut and that was Isaac’s plan. Piss me off. Get me to leave. I fucking did it, too. I left. I not only left, I almost left her to die.

And right now, that bank account and the wires don’t matter. The fact that I know that she hasn’t told me everything doesn’t matter. Kissing her matters. Touching her matters. I’ll make her tell me everything and then the secrets won’t matter anymore either.

CHAPTER SIX

Harper

I’m kissing Eric in a private airplane, in the same seat with him. Just a few hours ago, I would have believed that an impossible feat. Just days ago, I would never have believed that I’d ever see him again, let alone touch him again. He molds me closer and I press into the hard lines of his body. I don’t seem to have any limits with this man. I wish I could say that I no longer have any secrets from him either, but there are things I can never say to him. They’d hurt him too badly. And I refuse to hurt him. It’s a thought that has me kissing him harder, deeper. I want to just get lost in this man and I know that’s not even possible. Someone tried to kill me tonight.

“Wait,” I pant, pressing on his chest. “No. I’m forgetting what happened. I’m forgetting what we just ran from. You say out of sight, out of mind. You say they’ll let me go, but what if they won’t? What if they, whoever they are, follow me? We don’t know what this is about. We don’t know what they want. What if I bring the problems to you? What if I’m the

reason your real life is shaken up or rocked? Destroyed even.”

“My real life?” he queries. “Sweetheart, you are my real life.”

“You have a fortune and career and friends in New York City. I don’t think I can go there with you until we know what this is. I can’t. We have to turn around or re-direct. I can pick a city and just go stay there. Even someplace in New York. I just need to know that I won’t cause you problems.”

He rolls me slightly to my back, as much as the seat allows. “You do know I was trying to fuck you thirty thousand feet in the air, right?”

“Fuck me thirty thousand feet in the air after you tell me that I’m not going to put you, or people you care about, in danger.”

“The people I care about—Grayson and his future wife—they heard I was worried about you, and immediately wanted me to send you to them to protect.”

“They did? They don’t even know me.”

“Grayson knows all about you, Harper. You know that. You saw that when you showed up at the office.”

“Yes,” I whisper, “and I was shocked. I didn’t—”

“Think you impacted me like you did?”

“Exactly. I didn’t.”

“Well, you did, and for the record, I didn’t think the princess gave the bastard two shits of a thought after I left.”

“You know better.”

“Now,” he says. “But bottom line, we let time pass that didn’t have to pass. That night we began might not have been our time, but it could have come sooner. You belong with me now. We do this together.”

Together. I belong with him. Those words do all kinds of wonderful things to every part of me, inside and out. I want to believe they’re true. I want to believe no one can ruin this for us, but I know that there is much at hand at present. Too much, I fear. “Together means that we protect the people we care about.”

“No one I care about will be in danger by us going to New York,” he assures me. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Just like I wasn’t leaving you back there. I won’t ever leave you there again.”

The implications of his words are broad and I don’t want to let myself go where they lead. Not with this much drama, not with the risks this family represents to the rest of his life.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” he says, squeezing my knee, “stop. You said a lot of things on those messages, things I understand. Things we’re going to talk about when you’re in my bed, in my home, where I’ll make sure you feel safe.” My cheeks heat. I told him I might love him. I know that’s what he’s talking about. “You want to take it back now?” he challenges.

I swallow hard and meet his stare. “No, I don’t, but what happened to us talking about this in your apartment? I thought you said we were—”