“Your Highness, don’t make this more difficult.”
“You mean go to my death quietly? Are you insane? I’m going to make this as difficult for you as possible. You traitor.”
“I am a patriot,” Mariette shrieked. “And you are a spoiled, wicked bitch.” Mariette didn’t know what Sofie had done to Louis, so when her former bodyguard started into the closet, Sofie sprayed her as well, quickly and at close range. She screamed loud enough that she drowned out the howling wind and recoiled as the chemicals in the cleaner burned her eyes and her nose. Kicking Louis in the crotch one more time for good measure, Sofie left the closet with her now broken hockey stick ready to take on Mariette. What she found was Mariette crouched in a corner with Ian standing over her, his gun leveled at her head.
“Ian, thank God. Oh, thank God. I thought when they got up here, you were dead.”
“There are three more downstairs. They got to me first. I’m sorry.”
“You handled three of them?” Would he ever stop surprising her? The man was a
superhero.
“Eh, they were amateurs.” He glanced in the closet at the retching, gasping Louis and smiled. “You did okay. For a princess, I mean.”
The sound of several vehicles roaring in and stopping suddenly in the driveway made Sofie grab her hockey stick again.
“FBI,” someone yelled from downstairs. There were rushed footsteps, people racing up the stairs and loud voices. Three in the kitchen. One looks DOA, a third is wrapped up with duct tape. Any sign of Stuart? The princess?
“We’re in here!” Ian called out, and within seconds, three agents, their FBI jackets announcing their presence, were in the room, guns drawn. One took Ian’s place guarding Mariette, and another went into the closet to look over Louis. The third agent shook Ian’s hand.
“Sorry we got here late. It’s hell trying to get across the water in a tropical storm.”
Sofie only half heard what they were saying. Boys talking about shots fired and kills.
She was feeling nauseous, and tired and dizzy…then everything went black.
“Sofie,” Ian’s hand stroked her face. “Wake up, baby.”
Her eyes opened and it wasn’t just Ian she saw, but his friend, she thought Ian called him Paul and a woman who was also wearing an FBI jacket.
“How are you feeling?”
Sofie looked around and realized she was lying on the bed. That’s not what she
remembered. “What happened?”
He smiled. “You fainted.”
“Fainted? I don’t faint.”
“You sure did,” Agent Paul said. “Dropped like a stone. Probably the shock from the situation.”
“Thank you for that description, sir.” Maneuvering herself into a sitting position, Ian kept her steady.
“I wish you were dead,” Mariette spat. “You and your whole family.”
Without hesitation, Sofie exploded. So much for being in shock. Lunging at her former bodyguard, Ian had to hold her back. “You are a traitor and a murderer,” the princess snapped.
“Once you get back to Aubonne, our laws will take care of you. You and your kind, Mariette, will rot in prison.”
The agents led Mariette and Louis from the room, but Sofie was still furious. “I can’t wait to get home and watch her face justice.”
“She’s got a lot to answer for.” Ian pulled Sofie close, but a shot of pain made him wince.
“Ahh.”
“What? What’s wrong?” She sat next to him on the bed, he her hands trembling before she touched him. Not having time to stop her, Sofie slowly tugged at the neck of his shirt and looked inside. He knew right away when she saw the knife wound because she lost her breath.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch? It’s not a scratch.” Shoving him back on the pillows made him grimace
again. “Special Agent Burns,” she called out. “He’s been stabbed.”
“What happened, man?” Paul asked.
Ian shrugged and the movement made his shoulder burn. “One of the guys in the kitchen had a knife.”
“Ah, which one?” Paul was a detail guy.
“The dead one.”
Sofie’s eyes went wide. “Someone is dead?”
“One dead, one in serious condition, and one with an incredible need to unburden
himself. We’ll be getting a lot of information out of that guy.” Paul was enjoying this way too much.
There was more commotion as paramedics arrived to look at him. People were getting around easier because the storm had blown through leaving some damage in its wake, but it hadn’t been nearly as bad as it could have been. There was a lot of debate about whether they were going to load him in an arriving chopper to go to the hospital or if they could get a local doctor in to stitch him up and leave it at that. He didn’t care too much what they did as long as someone did something. It hurt like a bitch and it kept on bleeding.