“Is that what they call kidnapping here?” Louis’ insinuation set off Ian’s fierce temper.
He was still on the phone, barking orders with his eyes on the television screen. “The last I saw she was with some FBI agent who was an old boyfriend of hers. I think they were at Cambridge at the same time. From what I understand, she left him.”
“And you’ve decided to sound the alarm. You think he’s taken her? Against her will?”
“Well,” Louis exclaimed. “Someone has to let people know to look out for her?
Princess,” he called to the television camera, “I am loyal to you. I will make sure you are found.”
The interview ended as they flashed a picture of Sofie on the screen. Great. There were no words. She had no words because now there was real concern. The assassins could figure out where she was.
“Listen to me, Paul,” Ian was furious. She didn’t think she would ever again see a man so angry. He’d flown from the bed and was currently stalking the bedroom.
“I don’t care if that troll claims he has diplomatic immunity. I wouldn’t care if he was the goddamn Queen, I want him brought in. I want to know who he’s talked to and for how long he’s been talking. Right…uh huh…no, I do not care. Just do it.”
“He should have gone home,” she said plainly. “He had no business staying. Everyone was ordered home.”
“He was supposed to go. We escorted your entourage to the airport hours before you and I left. Hours. He should have been over the Atlantic when my Jeep pulled away from the hotel.”
“Then what is he doing here, why…” She locked eyes with Ian. “He’s trying to flush me out. Is he a member of the cause?”
Ian shook his head, shrugged; it was a series of indecisive movements. “They’re doing a deep background check now. We’re going to bring him in for questioning.” Ian sat on the edge of the bed, not able to fathom what just happened. “He knew you were in danger—information reached your people before they boarded the plane to Switzerland. He knew it and he thought you were going to a safe house. And now, even if he’s not involved, we’re going to keep him in custody.”
“If he isn’t a member of the movement, he’s a sympathizer.” Sofie rested her head on Ian’s broad back. “He was my personal secretary. I thought he was a friend and confidant.”
“What does he know, baby?” Ian asked.
“He knows everything,” she responded.
“What does that encompass?”
Drawing a breath, she told him. “My calendar, phone book, email, my personal files.”
“Jesus. And what did you tell him about us.”
“That’s interesting,” she said. “Because I didn’t tell him anything about us. He knew I had someone in school, but that was all. I never told anyone about you, specifically.”
“Someone knew?”
“Mariette.” Mariette was her personal bodyguard. “And Ella.”
“Your lady’s maid. Is there anything you can tell me?”
“Mariette was born in Aubonne. Her family has a long service with my family. Ella is Austrian, but I believe she’s been in the country a long time.” Sofie’s heart broke a little thinking that one of the two women might have betrayed her.
Ian went to the dresser, pulled out a pair of jeans, donned them, and then pulled a long sleeve t-shirt over his head. After the clothes, he reached in another drawer, took out his pistol and after snapping in a full magazine, put it in his shoulder holster. She should have expected he’d want his weapon, but seeing him like that—fierce, lethal—was sobering. It made the danger that much more real.
No doubt, Sofie was glad he was armed, but the fact he needed to be, was terrifying.
Rising from the bed, she went to him. “What’s going to happen?” she asked.
He looked down at her and kissed the top of her head in the most reassuring way
possible. “I’m not sure, but we have to be ready.”
Chapter Seven
Ian didn’t like waiting. Especially when he needed information. Sofie was dressed and curled into the corner of the couch in the family room looking like she’d lost her best friend. As much as Ian didn’t like Louis, and hadn’t since the moment he met him, he appreciated that once again Sofie felt betrayed by the people around her.
The secure phones were having trouble because of the storm, but amazingly he’d just gotten through to the Archduke. “Sofie? How is the storm?”
“Sir, it’s Ian Stuart. We have a situation.”