Royal Games (Dating Games Book 5) Read online

  It would mean Kendall was gone.

  How? How was that possible? I’d just seen her this morning. Felt her in my arms. Lost myself in her love. How could an active twenty-seven-year-old have a heart attack and die? All I heard were words like underlying, undiagnosed, and hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.

  “Anders.”

  Creed’s voice entered my subconscious as a firm hand landed on my shoulder. I slowly turned to my oldest friend and the man I’d recently brought on as my chief protection officer, his eyes narrowed in worry. At least he knew not to use any formalities with me right now. There were times I needed him to put our friendship above the job, and this was one of those moments. “Do you understand what he said?”

  “Understand?” I managed to squeak out.

  A thousand razor-sharp knives poked at my throat, making it excruciating to speak. Making it excruciating to breathe.

  To live.

  “How can I possibly be expected to understand that Kendall died from a heart attack?”

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to participate in a huge beach volleyball tournament today. Then she was supposed to meet with a coach who was interested in bringing her on to a two-person team in the hopes of reaching the Olympics. Now, all those dreams were gone.

  Kendall was gone.

  “I can understand what a shock this is,” the doctor stated firmly, yet still with compassion. How many times did this man stand in this exact spot and deliver the same news to a different family? “Sudden death is a very real consequence for those who suffer from this condition.”

  “But how did it go undiagnosed for so long?” I choked out.

  “It’s hard to say.” His sympathetic eyes fell on me. “There are warning signs. Fatigue. Shortness of breath. Lightheadedness. But in my experience, young people tend to shrug off these symptoms as being caused by stress.”

  I scrubbed my hand over my face, acid churning in my stomach. Kendall had complained about feeling tired and lightheaded this morning. I’d told her she was probably just nervous about the tournament. I’d brushed off the warning signs. Downplayed them. Minimized them. Because of that, Kendall was gone.

  The truth hit me like a freight train, knocking the wind out of me and forcing me to stumble back. The heat of dozens of eyes glared at me, studied me… Blamed me.

  I blamed myself.

  Unable to breathe, I tugged at the collar of my t-shirt, feeling like it was suffocating me, blocking me from getting any oxygen. The world spun, the walls closing in. I couldn’t be here. Couldn’t be in this place where Kendall’s lifeless body lay. It couldn’t be true. I refused to believe it was true. This was simply some cruel joke, some sadistic prank, some god-awful nightmare. If I drove back to the hotel, I’d prove it. See her smile, feel her lips, drown in her love.

  Abruptly spinning from the doctor and Creed, I stormed out of the hospital and into the humid night air. I scanned the frantic atmosphere outside the emergency room entrance — ambulances offloading people on stretchers, worried family members hurrying in behind them. All I wanted was to get out of this place, and I couldn’t even do that without a car of my own.

  “Anders!” Creed shouted, rushing through the automatic doors and toward me. “You can’t—”

  “Give me the keys,” I demanded, cutting him off.

  He stilled, eyeing me with a mixture of confusion and concern, brows wrinkling. “The keys?”

  “Yes.” I closed the distance between us, getting in his face. “The bloody keys, Creed.” I held out my hand. “To the car. I’m taking it.”

  “I don’t think that’s a smart idea.” His voice was soothing, expression calm. But I didn’t want to be placated. I wanted to drive, to have some control over one thing in my life when it felt like it was spiraling out of control.

  “I don’t give a fuck what you think,” I roared, heat rising in my body. Spittle formed in the corners of my lips, the cords of my neck straining. I’d probably regret my behavior tomorrow, but I couldn’t do this right now. I needed to get out of here. “Give me the goddamn keys, Creed!”

  “Like I said…,” Creed continued in the same tone, completely unperturbed by my anger. “That’s not a smart idea. You’re not in the right frame of mind. It’s my job to ensure your safety. I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive right now.”

  Frustration choking me like a noose, I advanced on him. I took him by surprise when I gripped the collar of his button-down shirt, tightening it around his neck.

  “The keys,” I ordered through a clenched jaw. “Now.” I noticed a few security guards begin in our direction. “Or I’ll make a scene and you can explain to my father why both his son and CPO were arrested.”

  Creed’s eyes flamed. I could tell it took all his resolve not to reel back and land a hard blow to my jaw or a quick knee in my groin. I wasn’t naïve. His military training far surpassed mine. But I’d give him a run for his money, especially with the amount of anger-fueled adrenaline that had replaced the blood in my veins.

  “Last chance, Creed. Give…me…the…keys.”

  He held his resolve for another moment, then sighed, reaching into his pocket and reluctantly handing them over. “Here,” he strained out.

  I released my hold on him, and he stumbled backward a few steps. I started toward where the black SUV was parked.

  “But I’m coming with you.”

  I spun toward Creed, glowering.

  “It’s either you let me come with you or I tackle you to the ground and make sure you can’t hurt yourself, even if that means zip-tying your ass and throwing you into the back of the damn car.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.” I brushed him off.

  “Try me,” he growled.

  My last chief protection officer wouldn’t have been as bold as to threaten me like this, but he also wasn’t a friend. Creed had absolutely no problem standing up to me and bringing me down a few pegs when I acted like an “entitled little prick”, as he often called me. I supposed I was acting like an entitled little prick now, too, but I was angry. Bitter. Defeated.

  “Fine,” I finally relented. “But no backseat driving. I need to have some sort of fucking control in my life right now. Not a reminder that I don’t have any.”

  “As you wish,” he stated, following me toward the parking garage.

  I pushed him aside when he tried to open the door for me, as he’d been trained to do. Instead, I jumped into the SUV and cranked the engine, a small sliver of relief filtering through me when I put the car into reverse. I hadn’t driven myself anywhere in what felt like an eternity. It may not have seemed like a big deal to many, but it was everything to me. Was everything I needed right now.

  I ignored Creed’s glare when I peeled out of the parking lot, speeding along the roads and parkways, not really sure where I was going. Creed tried to direct me toward the hotel, but I didn’t pay attention. I just wanted to drive. Just wanted to stay in this moment where I felt some control, regardless of how fleeting it was.

  As I drove along a winding road through a wooded area, an intense pain shot through my eyes, blinding me. I momentarily squeezed them shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. I should have expected this. I tended to suffer from migraines, especially during times of high stress.

  “Sir.”

  Creed’s voice filtered into my brain, but just as I’d been doing since I got behind the wheel, I didn’t respond.

  “Sir,” he repeated, more urgently. Yet again, I didn’t acknowledge him, my brain unable to tell my muscles to move and look at him. My skin tingled, but I ignored it, adrenaline fueling me.

  “Anders!” he bellowed.

  “What?” I finally managed to turn my head toward him as a bang reverberated.

  I slammed on the brakes, and the SUV skidded to a stop. I studied my surroundings, making sure the loud crash didn’t come from us. When I glanced into the rearview mirror, I noticed smoke coming from down an embankment on the other side. Instinct kicki
ng in, I flung open the door and dashed down the street to see if I could help.

  As I approached, I observed a small SUV down a steep hill, the front end crumpled against a large tree. Smoke billowed from what remained of the engine, the smell of gasoline overpowering. I coughed, struggling to breathe, but it didn’t make me retreat. If anything, it encouraged me forward to help anyone who may be stuck in that car.

  I needed to help them.

  I bolted down the embankment, branches and twigs scratching my exposed legs, but there was no pain. Only the thought that I need to make up for failing Kendall.

  “Anders! Stop!”

  Hearing my name, I paused, looking up to see Creed rushing toward me, expression wild.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Helping!”

  The odor of gasoline getting stronger, I darted toward the demolished car, trying to figure out a way inside. The driver’s side door was crushed to the point it was impossible to open. But the passenger side hadn’t been. I hoped.

  I ignored Creed’s pleas to keep my distance and ran to the passenger side, yanking at the door. After a few tugs, it finally opened. A young woman sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed, a gash across her forehead.

  “Give me your knife!” I bellowed at Creed as he approached.

  “What?”

  “Your knife! Give it to me!”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he reached for his ankle, withdrawing the blade he’d always kept hidden. I stabbed the airbag holding the woman hostage. It deflated in a cloud of dust, revealing the woman’s rounded stomach.

  “Shit. She’s pregnant!” I looked around her body to make sure there weren’t any other injuries, noticing a pool of blood between her legs. “And bleeding. Call for an ambulance!”

  “Already done, sir,” Creed said from behind me.

  I returned my attention to the woman and managed to unbuckle her from the seat belt. Unsure of any hidden injuries she may have, I carefully lifted her into my arms, doing my best to not jostle her any more than necessary.

  As I pulled her from the car, I heard a slight jingling. I looked down to see a necklace fall from her neck and land on the seat. I grabbed it, along with what I presumed to be her engagement ring attached to it, and shoved it into my pocket for safekeeping.

  “Hunter,” she groaned, her eyes narrow slits, breathing shallow.

  I glanced across the center console at the young man behind the wheel before looking back at Creed. I didn’t have to say a word for him to know what I wanted.

  “We’ll get him, too,” I promised, carrying her up the hill.

  “I don’t feel well,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible.

  Reaching the road, I strode toward the SUV and set her into the back seat. Sirens blared in the distance, but they still seemed so far away.

  I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Just stay with me, okay? Don’t close your eyes. Fight it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Anders!” Creed bellowed.

  I looked up to see him frantically run up the hill and toward the SUV, eyes panicked. Seconds later, the car burst into flames. I flinched, the heat of the fire reaching us, even up here.

  “What was that?” the woman asked weakly. “Was that the car?”

  I peered back at her, fighting the tears welling in my eyes. This must have been how the doctor felt minutes ago when he had to deliver the news about Kendall to me. Just like the doctor didn’t sugarcoat it, I couldn’t, either. Couldn’t lie to her.

  When I nodded sadly, she released a soul-crushing wail that clouded the night air, as tumultuous and violent as a summer thunderstorm. Her entire body trembled through her sobs, the injuries she suffered in the crash now doubled as she fought to breathe through the excruciating pain in her heart.

  “It hurts,” she struggled to say. Her grip on my hand weakened, her eyes closing.

  “No, no, no. Don’t do that,” I pled urgently, desperately. “You have to stay with me.” The sirens grew near, but still weren’t close enough. “Paramedics are almost here. I need you to fight. For yourself and your baby.” I glanced down at the sticky blood staining her dress between her thighs, refusing to believe this poor woman would not only lose the man I assumed to be her fiancé or husband, but also their baby.

  “I’m so cold.” She shivered, the bright lights of the ambulance rounding the bend. “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. Just keep talking. Just focus on my eyes. Tell me your name.”

  “Nora,” she said as the ambulance screeched to a stop behind the SUV. “My name is Nora.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anderson

  Present Day

  I bolt upright, a cold sweat dotting my skin, breathing uneven. My heart pounds, every inch of me on edge. I run my hand through my hair, telling myself it’s just a dream. It’s not even the first time I’ve had that particular dream. For months following that night, it played on repeat whenever I closed my eyes.

  But up until now, I thought she’d told me her name was Laura. Not Nora.

  My mind reels as I steal a glance at the woman sleeping peacefully beside me. Her chest rises and falls with her relaxed breathing, lips curved up slightly, as if whatever she’s dreaming about makes her smile.

  There’s a slight glow in the room with the dawning of day, bringing attention to our discarded clothing thrown on the floor in our haste to finally succumb to our desires. From the moment I saw her, I felt drawn to this woman. Could this be why?

  I scrub a hand over my face, putting the notion out of my head. It’s just my brain playing tricks on me. That’s the only explanation. So what if Nora lost her fiancé in a car wreck? So what if she told me his name was Hunter, the same name I’d heard the poor woman cry out in my dreams? If it was Nora, wouldn’t she have mentioned she was also in the car? That she was pregnant? That she was pulled from the wreckage? But she hadn’t.

  I pinch my eyes shut, trying to rewind to the night I lost everything. I fight to remember the woman’s face, her eyes, her hair. Anything that could put myself at ease, but nothing comes, the woman no more than the faceless ghost she’s been the past six years.

  I settle back onto the bed, doing everything to convince myself she’s not that woman, that I’d have a better chance of winning the lottery, the probability of it so low it shouldn’t even register in my subconscious.

  But it does.

  That morning earlier in the week comes rushing back. Creed had wanted to tell me something he found in Nora’s background check, but I refused to listen. Could this have been it? Been why he bumped into me at the bar last night when I was about to kiss her? To stop me from doing something he knew I’d eventually come to regret?

  My curiosity getting the better of me, I swipe my phone off the nightstand and, after glancing over my shoulder to make sure Nora is still asleep, type her name into the search bar of my browser.

  As expected, the first few hits are her social media profiles, as well as a website for her yoga studio in the Village. I resist the temptation to click any of those links, steadfast in my resolve to learn about her from her alone.

  Except in regards to the possibility that she may be the woman I pulled from the crash.

  I tap on the search bar once more, adding “Hunter” and “car accident” to Nora’s name.

  This time, the first link that pops up is for an obituary of a man named Hunter Allen Copeland.

  A voice in my head warns me against clicking on it, my stomach churning with acid at the premonition I won’t like what I learn. But I have to know. I have to do this.

  With a heavy heart, I click on the link and read all about Nora’s fiancé. About his happy childhood. About his love of sports. About his academic achievements. About his recent job offer as a sports therapist for the Lakers, a lifelong dream realized. How he was excited about starting this new chapter with his fiancée at his side.

  Then I read all about his death as the result of a si
ngle car accident that occurred in North Harbor on the same day Kendall died.

  My shoulders curl forward and I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that would make the truth disappear. But it won’t. Nothing can make this information go away.

  I sit up, digging my fingers through my hair, my lungs struggling to breathe as I do everything to process this unexpected turn of events. Throat aching, I glance at Nora as she sleeps, the morning light filtering in behind her making her appear ethereal. Like an angel.

  What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to tell her? Do I share that I know she was in that wreck? That I was the Good Samaritan who pulled her from the car?

  That I failed to save her fiancé?

  In this moment, I wish I’d followed up on what happened to the woman I’d pulled from that wreck, but I hadn’t, too overwrought with Kendall’s death and the aftermath of mourning my girlfriend with cameras capturing my every move.

  Slipping out of bed, I yank on my shorts, shirt, and shoes, then grab my wallet before heading outside. The second I step into the fresh air, I feel like I can breathe again. I start toward the Wrangler, thinking a drive might help me process everything. But when I notice the dark SUV parked in a distant spot, I change direction, storming toward it, my footsteps echoing in the quiet morning air.

  As I approach, Creed jumps out of the driver’s side, looking polished and put-together, despite the early hour. I ignore him when he opens the back door and slide into the front passenger seat instead.

  “Where to, sir?” he asks tentatively as he slips back behind the wheel.

  “Just bloody drive.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” He puts the car into gear and pulls onto the main street.

  Not many cars are on the road yet, the sleepy Route 66 town just starting to come to life. The sun slowly rises over the desert horizon, bathing everything in light, not a cloud in sight. Tumbleweeds roll with the wind, birds swooping into distant fields in search of food.

  After a few silent moments, Creed pulls into the parking lot of a Mexican bakery and heads inside. I take this time to collect my thoughts, try to think rationally about this. But all rationale left me once I learned the truth.