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“I want a friend like that,” the other man, Fredrich, said. He also threw off his hood as the porch sheltered them from the rain. His eyes were a unique bluish-gray, and they glinted with humor and a superiority that she didn’t like. She’d seen eyes like that somewhere before. She wracked her brain and stepped closer to Curt.
Curt reached for her hand and smiled easily. His hand around hers was reassuring. “I’m the only friend Julia wants.”
Leon and Fredrich both laughed loudly at that.
“The offer’s still on the table,” Fredrich teased.
“You’re from Germany?” Aliya asked, her brain scrambling with why she was so uneasy and why things felt so off with these two. It could simply be they had interrupted her and Curt’s sanctuary, and she wanted to savor their last night together.
“Yes, schöne frau.”
“Your English is impressive.” She didn’t acknowledge the ‘beautiful woman’ comment. She’d taken some German in college and picked up a little more on her trip.
“Danke.” Leon focused on Curt. “Are you inviting us in or sending us to sleep in the mud?”
“If I must.” Curt drew in a heavy breath, winking at Aliya. “These two are a lot of work. Always leaving mud and garbage everywhere. Hungry, grumpy, annoying.”
“He is right. Mostly hungry.” Fredrich looked at her again.
Those eyes. There was something about those bluish-gray eyes.
The guard lowered his weapon and bowed to Curt. “If you’re comfortable inviting these men in, I’ll take my leave, sir.”
“Thank you. Goodnight.”
The guard cast a wary glance at the men and turned to go. Leon winked at her and murmured, “Little kitten.”
It all clicked in that moment. Jared. Aliya shuddered with horror, and she knew exactly where she’d seen those bluish-gray eyes. It all rushed back like a horrific nightmare you prayed to never remember. Cold sweat covered her body as she trembled in horror.
He was Jared from Great Britain. He’d tried to kill her. She’d fought and run and fell in the river and …
“It’s them! The killers!” she screamed.
Jared pivoted and lunged at the guard’s back. He planted a knife between his shoulder blades as they fell forward. The man thumped onto the porch face-first with a sickening thud, Jared on top of him. He didn’t scream or move.
Curt drew out his pistol, dragging Aliya behind him with his other hand.
Jared slid off the guard, yanked the large gun from under his body, and pointed it at Curt.
“Go kill the other guard,” he said to Leon—or rather Ammon.
Ammon stole the guard’s pistol from his hip and took off into the dark night.
Aliya couldn’t even form words. Jared didn’t bother to shut the door but stepped inside, the A.R. trained on Curt.
“Fredrich?” Curt’s voice was injured, but also surprised. “It’s true?”
“Impressive, isn’t it?” He dropped the German accent and sounded British. “John and I are masters of disguise. I hate to have to kill you, Prince Curtis. You’ve always been so welcoming. But we had to tie up this loose end.” He tilted his chin toward Aliya, sneering at her. “She’s the only lass who ever escaped from us. There is the little matter of her being able to identify us better than anyone could, but also it just gnawed at me. I don’t like being denied a beautiful little bird like this one.”
“Jared?” she whispered.
“One and the same.” He sounded and looked so proud.
“Did Ammon kill Gracie?”
He chuckled at that. “He had to, love. She didn’t fancy being sold to the traffickers. He was gutted about it.”
“What do you want?” Curt demanded, his pistol steady in his hand and pointed straight at Jared or Fredrich or whatever this scum’s name was.
