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She stayed with Mason—the poor kid with a knife sticking out of his back had been so brave—as Curt went outside to check on the other guard. The waiting was awful, and the seconds ticked by like hours. As soon as Curt walked back in, they both knew … he was dead.
Ammon hadn’t spoken, and Aliya couldn’t bring herself to look at him. These two men had murdered so many. Probably more than anyone knew. How could someone be so evil and selfish and depraved? Sorrow for the murdered guard and Gracie and so many other innocent lives taken turned her stomach. They would’ve killed her too. Thank heavens for Curt.
She focused on her prince. Curt was holding a clean towel around the knife wound and monitoring Mason’s vitals. The young guard’s color was pretty good. Hopefully the knife hadn’t hit any vital organs. She prayed for him to live, for Ray’s men to hurry, and prayed in gratitude for Curt.
Her hunky prince and brave hero. He’d saved her. She thought she loved him.
Then she remembered. She had to fly home in the morning.
Curt wouldn’t let her go. Would he?
Chapter Twelve
Curt spent yet another night short on sleep. The murderers had been apprehended or were dead. Maybe he should’ve felt remorse for shooting Fredrich, or whatever his name was, but the pair of them were cold-blooded murderers. They’d stopped by to see him fairly often the past year, apparently setting up their brutal scheme. He’d naively enjoyed their friendship.
How could he not have known they were murdering and trafficking innocent tourists? He’d harbored those men. Twenty-eight women trafficked or dead. Aliya had only narrowly escaped because of how brave and impressive she was. He was a mess. It was another hard hit, almost as hard as Suzanne and his mum’s death.
Chad flew Ray’s men in and transported Fredrich, Leon, and the wounded Mason off the mountain. Chad went with them, but Ray stayed with Curt and Aliya. He appreciated having his brothers around. Except when he wanted to spend the rest of the short hours he had comforting Aliya. He was a mess inside, knowing he’d unwittingly contributed to Fredrich and Leon’s demented, murderous scheme. He couldn’t imagine how unsteady and sick Aliya was knowing her friend had been killed and that she had almost died herself—twice.
They didn’t talk or comfort each other like he wanted. With Ray guarding them, they both went to their own rooms. Curt tried to sleep, every other minute determining he’d sneak into her room and unselfishly hold her and soothe her. He never moved, just lay there feeling miserable, unsteady, and oddly guilty. It wasn’t his fault Fredrich and Leon had kidnapped or killed all those women, but he still felt like an accomplice. He also felt confused and upset and selfishly longed to hold Aliya close.
Early in the morning, they headed down the mountain in a four-person Kawasaki Teryx. It said something that Curt didn’t even tease Ray about his poor taste in off-road vehicles. Thankfully the rain had slowed, so though it was a muddy drive, it wasn’t horrific. They made it to the castle and transferred into a comfortable McLaren GT four-door sedan.
Aliya was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive down the mountain, but she did get a little more vocal in the car, asking question after question about it and repeating that her daddy would ‘think he’d died and gone to heaven if he could only sit in it.’ It was so incredibly normal to hear her talking about something as simple as a vehicle that he relaxed a little.
Curt wished he could offer to take a picture of her in it to send to her daddy, but he was afraid if he had any picture of her he’d stare at it all day and never recover. How was he going to let her go? If he asked her to stay, would he be the most incredibly selfish man on earth? She’d been through something so traumatic he couldn’t think of how to start helping her heal. She probably wanted to get home, be with her family, and heal surrounded by those she knew and loved. What part did he have in that, if any?
It was interesting, but her light and sunshine had changed him over the past ten days. Healed him. He didn’t know how to do the same for her now and didn’t know if it was his place to do so.
They arrived at the small international airport far too quickly. Only eight gates but heavier security than most small airports because of Ray’s obsession with keeping their country safe.
With Ray leading them, they skipped security and took Aliya straight to a private waiting area. Steffan was cleared and met them there. It was nine-twenty and her plane was already boarding. Curt’s chest felt tight, like an elephant was sitting on it.
Steffan checked Aliya out, chatted quietly with her, and made her smile, which made Curt unreasonably grumpy. Finally, his too-suave, smart, and accomplished brother said he had to get back to the hospital. Steffan gave Ray a brief hug and then hugged Curt and murmured, “Don’t be an idiot about this one.”
As Curt had no clue if ‘being an idiot’ meant begging Aliya not to go or letting her go because it was the right thing to do, he simply nodded to his brother.
Ray shook Aliya’s hand, told Curt he’d be waiting in the car, and walked out with Steffan.
They were finally alone.
Curt looked into her beautiful golden-brown eyes and had no idea what to say. She’d said so many sweet things to him about being her hero, her hunky prince, teasing him about kissing, kissing him a lot and making him feel like he was her world. She truly made him feel like he could be healed and conquer the world.
Yet she hadn’t given him grief about not coming to America with her. Did that mean she didn’t care if he came or was it another manifestation that Aliya was all but perfect and wouldn’t pressure him or make him feel guilty? She’d made the one comment about him not completing or committing to anything, but as soon as she heard the story about Suzanne, she hadn’t mentioned it again.
He rubbed at his jaw. If only he was suave like Steffan, Tristan, or Malik. He had no charming or influential words right now.
“All sections now boarding for United Flight 1542 to Amsterdam.”
“That’s my flight,” Aliya said. She was wearing a T-shirt and fitted running pants that had been in Macey’s stash of clothes. She had nothing but the temporary passport Ray had brought for her and some cash in her pocket. Ray had booked her in a premium cabin that had a laydown pod, but Curt wished he’d been more thoughtful regarding her long trip. He wished he could be more thoughtful and know what she needed and what his role with her could be.
“Do you want me to go buy you a novel to read or some snacks or drinks for the flight?” he rushed out.
She smiled. “I’ll be fine. They have movies on the flight, and I’ve heard they feed you well in first class. I haven’t slept well since this all began. I’ll probably just sleep away the hours.”
He nodded, but her eyes didn’t look like she would sleep. She’d been traumatized. Why couldn’t he heal her like she healed him? “Your family will be ecstatic to see you.”
“They will. My poor mama. Lots more drama with this trip than even she predicted. She always tells me not to borrow trouble, but she fussed like a hen over her chick about this trip.” She laughed, but it was unsteady. This trip had obviously turned into a nightmare. “She’ll never let me travel again.”
