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She glanced up at Steffan. “You weren’t just selling me. This looks palatable, maybe even good.”
He imagined she was used to only eating at five-star Michelin-rated restaurants. “If you would’ve eaten it fresh, it would’ve been better.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” She shrugged.
Beggars? She probably felt like a fish out of water. Steffan’s heart softened. She was alone, without her vast financial means, and in danger of prison, or worse if the Rindlesbachers were after her. He needed to ask Jensen for all the details of this murder and Hattie’s involvement with Treven Rindlesbacher. The guy was a snake. Steffan remembered the murder of a tourist, Jane Presley, that Treven had been an accomplice to. The Rindlesbacher family had made outrageous claims to the throne over the centuries, so maybe this Treven felt like he was above the law.
From what he remembered, they’d never found the prime suspect in that murder case, and William and Naomi Rindlesbacher kept professing their son’s innocence.
Now Steffan was staring at that suspect—and intrigued by her. Surreal.
“At the moment, I’m at both of your mercy,” Hattie said. Her gaze flitted to Jensen, standing a couple feet away from Steffan. “Detective Jensen. I am so sorry that I came back to your country. After what you did for me last time …” Her lip looked to be trembling, which seemed very un-Hattie-like in Steffan’s brief experience with the tough, sassy woman. “Rescuing me after Jane’s murder.” She shuddered. “I would never willingly go back on my promise to not return.”
Neither of the men corrected that he was Chief Jensen. Steffan felt a jolt of apprehension. Jensen always did the right thing. Always. He was a straight arrow. If he’d helped Hattie escape when he was a detective but made her swear never to return, would he have to do the legal thing now? As the Chief, it wouldn’t be only aiding and abetting an escapee—it would be conspiracy.
“I tried paragliding,” Hattie continued as Steffan’s mind spun with questions and worries. “I blame Franz. The wind was vicious, and we were separated. Apparently, I crash landed in Augustine. I loathe that I’ve put you in a bad situation again. If I had my cash or credit cards, I would heavily compensate you for everything you’ve done. I promise I can do that after my money is restored.” She gave a cautious smile.
Jensen’s brow furrowed. “Don’t.”
Steffan’s stomach dropped. Hattie needed to proceed cautiously. Jensen was already on edge, and Steffan had no clue if he’d arrest her or drive her to the border and leave her there with no money or help.
No. Jensen was a good man; he wouldn’t desert a woman in need.
“Sorry. I won’t.” Hattie swallowed and nodded. “At this moment, I am simply begging you, from the goodness of your generous heart, to help me escape like you did last time. Please.” She looked from Jensen to Steffan.
Who was Franz? Not that it mattered. Jensen had helped her escape. Jane Presley’s murder. Had she really been involved…?
“No way you were the murderer who escaped after Jane Presley’s murder,” Steffan said.
Jensen shot him a look, and Hattie cringed and poked at a hole in her fitted workout shorts. The tension ramped up as Jensen slipped his hand in his pocket. Going for his cell phone? At least he wasn’t reaching for his gun. He closed his eyes and shook his head. If Steffan knew his friend at all, he was struggling with an internal battle.
“She was framed,” he said to Steffan, a muscle working in his jaw. “Treven Rindlesbacher tried to frame her, but she’s innocent and I have to do the right thing.”
The words hung in the air. Hattie slumped against the bed in relief. “Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking.
Jensen nodded. “Please eat, Hattie, and I’ll fill him in.”
Hattie’s eyes flashed with concern. “Nobody knows about any of this, but me and you and whoever the older guy was. Is it fair to drag him into it?”
“You can trust Steffan, and we’re going to need his help. The Rindlesbachers are growing edgier than ever. If they find you here …” He shook his head. “We need the royal family on our side. I helped you before because of my partner Peter’s insight and insistence and because it was the right thing to do, but I’ve never broken the law before or since. Of course the Rindlesbachers won’t see it that way. This scandal getting out could hurt not only you and my department, but the entire country and the royal family.”
Steffan swallowed. What kind of help was Jensen asking for? He’d give it, but conspiracy to cover up a crime? Aiding a wanted woman? And facing international scandal and putting his medical and royal reputation on the line. What if it hurt his family? If the Rindlesbachers got a hold of this, they could claim there was no limit to the corruption of the royal family line of August. Corruption at the highest level. Corruption even in regards to the most heinous of crimes.
He had no idea what to say or do, but an innocent woman going to jail for murder because of the scheming of the Rindlesbachers could not happen on his watch.
Hattie’s gaze met Steffan’s. “Will you help me? Can I trust you?”
Everything inside him softened. He understood why Jensen had willingly risked everything five years ago. Steffan would do what he had to do to protect Hattie and do the right thing, even if it wasn’t the legal thing. She was so regal, he felt like he should bow before her and ask for the favor of her trust, for the honor of protecting her. Like a knight of old protecting the innocent and beautiful princess from the scheming sorceress Morgan Le Fay. It kind of fit as he pictured Naomi Rindlesbacher—seemingly kind and benevolent, but evil and manipulative clear through, a pathological liar who would do anything to further her husband’s position and get her son out of prison.
“I will help you, and I promise you can trust me.” Steffan said it like an oath. Should he bow to her, go on one knee?
“Thank you,” she breathed out, leaning her head back against the pillow and looking him over with those captivating deep-brown eyes. “You do seem the trustworthy type. Handsome, honorable, princely doctor and all of that. You could be a knight of old.”
Steffan could only stare at her. Had she read his mind? He liked her description of him. He liked her. But if she’d been semi off-limits as his patient, she was completely off-limits as a woman wanted for a murder she didn’t commit, who needed to evacuate his country before she put everyone he loved at risk.
“Okay, Detective … I mean Chief Jensen. Spill the story while I try to eat.” She gave Jensen a weak smile and cut a piece of chicken.
“Hattie was visiting our country with her friend Jane Presley,” Jensen said to Steffan. “They met Treven and some other locals dancing.”
