Private Princess

Chapter 12

Morgan dropped down onto the bed. He saw a rush of relief wash over Jane Cook as she realized he was uninjured.

“We need to go,” he told her. “Now.”

“The police are here,” she replied.

“That doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

“They’re armed. At least, she is.”

Morgan followed Cook’s eyes to the doorway. There was a woman standing there wearing dark jeans and a hoody, and in her hand by her side was a Glock 17.

He tensed.

The magazine of that weapon held seventeen rounds. The same number of bullets that had cut apart his hotel room.

“Who are you?” Morgan asked, wondering if she had reloaded, and if he could cover the distance to the woman before she could raise the weapon.

“I’m PC Sharon Lewis. I’m on Princess Caroline’s protection team. De Villiers sent me.”

“Call De Villiers,” Morgan instructed Cook.

Lewis laughed. “I’ve got a gun and you’re standing around half naked.” Her Welsh accent was thick to the point where Morgan almost struggled to understand her. “If I wanted you dead, well...”

Morgan said nothing. The words made sense on the surface, but he was ruling nothing out. Until he knew more, he would treat this woman as suspect.

Cook hung up her phone call. “De Villiers didn’t send her. The Princess did.”

“She sent me to see if there’s anything I can help you with,” Lewis explained, toying with the broken crockery of the tea set. “My guess is, that would be a place to sleep that isn’t a shooting range?”

Morgan allowed himself a wry smile. “It would be nice to go to sleep without wondering if I’ll wake up dead.”

“Get your stuff,” Lewis told them. “We’ll leave now.”

“Where are we going?” Cook asked her.

“You wouldn’t be able to say it even if I told you.” The Welshwoman grinned, pausing in the corridor to allow Morgan to finish dressing, and for Cook to grab her rucksack. “All ready?”

They were, and as the riddled door swung shut behind Morgan, one thought was clear in his mind.

Someone did not want Sophie Edwards to be found.