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Steffan’s feelings couldn’t factor in right now. She’d injure him a lot more if she involved him in this mess.
Jensen was a great man. He’d proven that five years ago when he believed her and helped her escape instead of prosecuting her for Jane’s murder.
And somehow she’d managed to put this great man in a situation where he had no choice but to arrest her or … dispose of her? That might be the easier option for him than all that he’d probably had to hide coming to light. Steffan wouldn’t let Jensen kill her. Jensen wouldn’t kill her. But he might have been convinced that Treven was telling the truth over the years and be ready to arrest her. She snuck a glance over her shoulder. Jensen’s face was tight, his mouth pursed. Steffan’s face was … disappointed. She hated that but could do nothing about it.
Please, Heavenly Father, she prayed. I know my soul is a lost cause, but my parents, aunt and uncle and cousin are saints. Can you use some of their bonus points and help me out?
She should’ve been stunned that she was praying but she was too afraid to analyze that right now.
Jensen directed her down the patient hall. She walked to her room because she wasn’t sure where else to go. At least it wasn’t the rooftop.
They made it back to her room and Steffan held the door for her. She brushed past him, and warmth filled her body. It was silly and out of place with the danger they were in. If only … no, there was no if only.
Her only course right now was to beg or bribe Jensen into breaking all kinds of laws for her. Again. Maybe even offer him a private island or a Lamborghini. It wasn’t a bad bribe if she was truly innocent, right? A significant contribution to the Augustine Police Force Memorial Fund?
Whatever it took to get the heck out of this beautiful country and away from this more beautiful prince. She met Steffan’s blue gaze. He looked injured knowing she’d lied, and he looked like … he cared for her.
Ah, no. She had to get away, and fast. Neither of them could be ‘caring’ for each other. That was a recipe for disaster, and she was already in the middle of a full-blown disaster.
Please, please let Jensen still believe me and be willing to help me. I’ll give up my fortune and go volunteer with Wolf and Sadie in the dirt.
There she went praying again, but even living in squalor didn’t sound as bad as prison. Never seeing Steffan again sounded like the worst punishment of all.
Chapter Four
Steffan stood next to the closed door and folded his arms across his chest. He looked from Jensen to … Hattie? The name fit her. He wasn’t a big social media guy, but Jensen had said she was a billionaire and a famous socialite. He could see her being a billionaire—she held herself with confidence and as if she were royalty—but socialite didn’t fit. She was too grounded. She hadn’t threatened him with a team of lawyers, and she was kind and gracious.
But the fact remained that she had blatantly lied to him and obviously didn’t trust him. That stung. Worse, she was wanted for murder. How could this gorgeous and seemingly innocent woman be wanted for murder? No wonder she’d flipped out when she’d heard she was in Augustine. No wonder she’d flipped out when she heard Jensen’s name.
He could smell her dinner. “Did you eat?” he asked.
“No, I did not eat,” she snapped at him. “I was trying to escape—from him.” She pointed at Jensen.
“Is whether Hattie ate or not really our most important issue at the moment?” Jensen asked.
The entire room was so tense you couldn’t slice through it without a butcher’s cleaver.
Steffan wouldn’t let Jensen haul her to prison. “I am her doctor, and my patient has been through an extremely traumatic accident today. She needs her strength, and she needs to rest.”
Hattie shot him a grateful look. Steffan tried to steel himself from falling for her. She was his patient and apparently a wanted murderer. He grasped his stethoscope in his palms, not sure how to proceed.
“Hattie.” Jensen pushed out a breath. “Steffan’s right. Please sit and eat, while we …” He lifted his hands, obviously frustrated. “Figure out what to do now.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, or maybe escape from both of them, but she just nodded, sat on the bed, and pulled the cover off her tray of food—teriyaki chicken, rice, broccoli, a roll, green salad, and a mint brownie.
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.”
