Page 64 of Dirty Thief


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“The council’s job is to criticize. What you’re doing is the right thing. The tragedies of war touch us all, and if we are presented the opportunity to help, we should.”

“I confess, I only did it because Marguerite showed me pictures of the children, and I felt sorry for them.” I think back to that day on the track. “I should have talked to Rowan first.”

She pats my arm. “It’s okay to trust your instincts sometimes. You are the queen regent.”

My hands tighten on my purse, and I wonder what she would say about my current, more illegal instincts. A few more paces, and we’ve circled the courtyard. We’re making our way to the half-moon staircase leading to my chambers.

I step toward them, and do a little bow. “Well, if that’s all—”

“Are you happy here at the palace?” She squares her shoulders and looks up at me.

It makes me pause and return to her. “Yes, very much. I’m very happy here.”

“And Rowan?”

“I love the king. Why do you ask?”

Her eyes move down my designer dress, and she motions with her hand. “It’s been a few years, and normally, by this time, the king should have at least one heir.”

She’s not being mean or accusatory, and it takes me a few moments of wavering to decide what I need to do. “We’re trying,” is all I say.

“Very good,” she nods. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

With that she continues her stroll around the palace. I watch her slowly making her way away from me wondering if I just made a critical error. I don’t think Rowan will be angry either way, and her line of questioning, her implication that I might not love Rowan had been more than I could tolerate.

She makes the corner out to the gardens, and I see a smile on her face. My eyes narrow, and I feel like I just got played.

“Can’t worry about that now,” I grumble, taking the steps two at a time.

I lost valuable minutes. Rowan could be headed back to our suite, and I’ve got to stow this weapon somewhere he won’t find it.

Dashing through the door, I quickly look around every possible hiding place—in the bathroom, in the closets. I’m alone, and I open my clutch, tossing it on the bed and checking the chamber of the gun. Six bullets are inside, and the safety is on.

Standing in the middle of the suite, I look all around at the paintings, the potted plants, the sofa, the black leather wingback chair… that one makes me smile.

“No furniture,” I say to myself. Paintings and plants are out.

Going to the bathroom, I open the lower cabinet door and pull out a stack of towels. In the very back is a basket of leftover medical supplies from a few years ago. They appear undisturbed, and I have to trust the servants won’t look in it over the next few days. I take the gun and wrap it in the ace bandage at the bottom of the basket. Then I return everything on top, put it in the back of the cabinet and replace the towels.

Checking the clock, I have just enough time to send the email. Hurrying across the hall to the small study I open my laptop and pull up the orphanage Gmail account

“Oh!” My heart leaps when I see I have a response from the German ambassador waiting.

Chewing my lip, I decide that’s one I can handle whe

n Rowan is back, and I go straight to the “Family Information” message.

Before I start to type, I twist my fingers together. What I’m about to do sends a rush of bile to my throat. It makes me want to run to the bathroom and vomit. I want to stand out on the balcony and scream. The words I’m about to type are enough to cause me physical pain.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I whisper to my real father—the one I only knew such a short time. “I hate that I have to do this.”

With another deep breath, I place my fingers on the keys.

Daddy Dwayne,

Your message has made me sad because I have made you sad. You look at me as the queen regent, and you think I can do whatever I want. It’s not true. I’m heavily guarded, and it has been impossible for me to come to you.

However, the king has been preoccupied with the recent crime wave, and it provides a way that I can escape. If you can meet me tomorrow evening in the Pointe de la Veille, I will be there.

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