The Dirty Princess (The Exiled Prince Trilogy Book 2) by Jeana E. Mann

Author:Jeana E. Mann [Mann, Jeana E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781943938339
Publisher: Ishkadiddle Publishing, LLC
Published: 2018-07-23T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Roman

I felt terrible about lying to Rourke, but under the circumstances, I had no choice. The less she knew about the rebellion, the safer she’d be. If everything went as planned, I’d fly into a private airfield in Zurich, meet with my informants, and return to New York City before anyone noticed I was gone.

The second I stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, I knew something was wrong. Ivan sensed it, too. The car he’d scheduled to meet us was nowhere in sight. A green sedan sat a few yards away. We stood at the base of the stairs, stalling, waiting for the uneasy feelings to pass. Light, drizzling rain pattered on the pavement and rolled off our umbrellas.

“I don’t like this,” Ivan said. He placed a hand on my arm and motioned to the plane. “Go back inside. I’ll call the driver again.”

There were no gunshots, no armed assailants, just a burning, searing pain in my left side. Ivan clutched his chest, his mouth open in surprise. I saw the light in his eyes flicker and extinguish as his life slipped away. The dull thud of his body hitting the tarmac would echo in my ears for the remainder of my life.

“Ivan? Ivan!” My knees buckled beneath me. I needed to get to him. Even though I knew it was too late, I couldn’t accept the reality.

“Mr. Menshikov, we need to get you back onboard. Now.” Rough hands seized me beneath the arms and dragged me into the airplane. Warm wetness spread over my ribs and trickled down my hip.

“Where’s Ivan? Help him. I’m fine. Get him to a hospital.” I tried to escape, but the strength had evaporated from muscles.

“Sir, no. He’s gone.” Spitz, Ivan’s first in command, laid a gentle hand on my arm.

Two of the flight attendants came forward. A quiet, blue-eyed female attendant stripped away my shirt while the male attendant pressed a clean towel to my side. Blood seeped soaked the first towel and he replaced it with another one. I stared at the hole below my ribcage, disbelieving. My veins felt like they carried ice water. I shivered, shaking uncontrollably. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine,” I said, over and over.

“He’s in shock. Bring blankets. Turn up the temperature in here.” Insistent hands patted my arms and legs, searching for additional wounds. I melted into the seat, unable to hold myself erect any longer.

Spitz turned to the pilot. “Get us the fuck out of here.”

The engines roared to life, and within seconds, I heard the pilot asking for emergency clearance to takeoff. After a few hops, the nose of the jet lifted into the air, and we began a steep ascent into the sky.

A million thoughts raced through my head, tumbling over and catching upon each other. My heart raced. Warmth returned to my body, bringing with it searing, white-hot pain. I struggled to maintain consciousness. “Who were they?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got our people on it. They could be anyone.” Spitz ran rough fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

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