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She didn’t believe for one second that Philippe wouldn’t shoot her and push that detonator button as soon as he thought he was far enough away to survive. She couldn’t let Tristan, her dad, the king, Curt, or Aliya die.
Saying a prayer for help and strength, she screamed as loud as she could, “I love you, Big Bad Wolf!”
Philippe glanced at her as if she’d lost her mind. His grip slackened.
Jennifer dropped to the floor, ripping herself from his grasp and getting her head blessedly away from his gun. She planted her feet, launched off the rock wall, and drove her shoulder into his knees. He screeched and toppled to the ground.
“I’ll kill you,” he yowled, reaching for her.
She scrambled away and yanked her drawstring bag open, fishing around and praying desperately. Her fingers closed around the bear spray. Philippe came ever closer. She cried out in horror, yanked the spray out of the bag, and pointed it at Philippe, who was less than a foot away. She turned her own head, closed her eyes, held her breath, and held down the trigger.
A hissing sound filled the tunnel.
Philippe cursed and spluttered and screamed. A crash followed as he dodged away from her and hit the wall. She feared a retaliatory bullet. Hopefully his aim was off. Hopefully he couldn’t see from the effects of the bear spray, but they were in an enclosed space.
Scuttling backward away from him, she threw the empty canister in his direction.
“You must die now, Miss Shule,” Philippe said in a ragged voice, coughing.
She heard footsteps and then a gun discharge. She ducked and waited for the agony of the bullet ripping through her body.
A body slammed into the wall and slid to the floor. An instant later, arms wrapped around her and lifted her into the air.
Tristan’s arms. She heard him cough from the bear spray fumes. She pulled in a breath too soon and coughed as well.
He carried her back into the cavern. Jennifer blinked her eyes open. Tristan had tears streaming down his face. She managed a smile up at him, her own eyes watery—bear spray or emotion. Who cared?
“Oh my, what strong arms you have,” she managed, coughing again.
He cracked a smile. “All the better to hold you with, my dear.”
She clung to his strength, his goodness, his safety. “Are those tears for me or the fumes of the bear spray?”
“Both.” He cradled her close, and she cuddled into him.
King Nolan was helping her dad to his feet, and Curt was cutting his restraints off. The two burly guards were definitely dead.
“William?” she asked Tristan.
“I don’t know. Knocked out or dead.” He looked at his brother. “Curt, when the fumes settle in the hallway, will you grab that detonator? We’ll hike to coverage and have Ray’s men come diffuse the bombs and deal with the dead bodies.”
“Sounds good.”
As soon as Henry’s hands were free, he wrapped his arms around the king. “I’m so terribly sorry about Anne, about hiding the truth, about all of it. I was terrified for my family’s safety, weighed down with guilt for your loss, trying to keep William from executing all his awful plans, and such a mess.”
The two men held each other and everyone held their breath, waiting for Nolan’s response. It was a lot to forgive. Jennifer loved her father, but she wished he could’ve found a different path eight months ago.
The king pulled back, his blue eyes bright. “I forgive you. We know how smart and devilish William can be, and I understand you were trying to protect Leslie and Jennifer. I know you and Leslie would never have willingly hurt Anne.”
“Thank you, Nolan,” her dad said in a thick, emotion-filled voice.
Nolan glanced down at the man slumped on the floor.
Jennifer hoped he was dead.
“Leslie was horrified of prison and I was terrified of the threats William continually made against her or Jennifer if I refused him.”
“I can imagine,” the king said. He paused and then nodded. “Let’s go find Leslie. It’s time to end this.”
