Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,25

my protection,’ he ground out.

‘For once will you stop thinking about your bloody job and give me an hour’s peace before my life is obliterated? I need to see someone. In private. Can’t you understand that?’

Lucas tore his gaze from the grim scenery and narrowed his eyes on her. ‘You feel deeply for this person?’

‘Yes. Just an hour. Please?’

The shutters slammed down over his face. ‘One hour. I will wait.’

‘Thank you.’

‘In Reception.’

‘Reception? People are sure to ask questions as soon as they clap eyes on you. You’re hardly inconspicuous.’

He shrugged those broad muscular shoulders. ‘Tough.’

‘God, you’re the most arrogant louse I’ve ever met.’ And to think she’d just told him something she’d never told another soul just to make him feel better.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, she yanked her bag from the floor as the car door opened before her. And there stood Lucas.

‘How...? You know something? You’re the human equivalent of a silencer.’

He flashed her a killer half-smile. ‘One hour, Just Claudia.’

* * *

Lucas paced the reception area, his size twelves wearing holes in the thin matting, and yanked back the cuff of his jacket to check his watch. Again. One hour, seven minutes, thirty-six seconds.

Dios, he abhorred hospitals: the thick air of grief sliding down his throat, the dread, the notion that control had been handed to God and Lucas would pay the price.

Teeth bared, he let out a low growl. Where the hell was she? And who was this Bailey person? A lover? She’d intimated a female, but he knew women lied under the dense weight of desperation.

Anger swirled, black and heavy in his gut, as well as some indefinable emotion he was loath to name. The suspicion sparked a flare of unease in him. Was she safe? The shock of it suddenly engulfed him and acted like an almighty trigger.

He strode towards the curved reception desk, set like a barricade, denying all further access to the floors beyond. Her private business was no concern of his but, Dios, one hour was one hour, and if something happened to her...

After flashing a smile to the emaciated blonde, some extreme lash-fluttering, flaunting his government credentials and name-dropping his right-royal-pain-in-the-ass, she directed him to floor seven and one Bailey Michaels.

Adrenaline surged to every extremity until he felt hard—armed and ready to take on the world as he stalked towards the lift, then bypassed it for the stairs, needing to run off some excess energy, throwing open the doors to the seventh floor a minute later.

Three things happened simultaneously to punch the air from his lungs. The musical sound of children’s voices floated past his ears. The colourful images of cartoon characters painted on vast glass plates drew his eyes. And the scent of strong disinfectant speared up his nose to assault his mind.

Stomach revolting, he stiffened his abs to prevent his six-egg omelette from making a reappearance. Twenty years vanished and he was back in the halls of hell.

His hand shot out to grip the wooden ledge framing a window. His thoughts fractured. His vision blurred. Air was imprisoned in his chest. Get up, boy. I’m not done. Get the hell up! Glancing down at his hands, he grimaced as blood dripped from his fingers to splash into a dark red puddle at his feet.

Get it together, Garcia. Stand to attention. Now!

Breathe. He needed to breathe. Dragging in oxygen, he infused his spine with steel and reached for the plateau between consciousness and serenity. In and out, slow and even. His mind’s eyes gradually turned black, his heartbeat slowed, and a voice filtered through the murky haze.

‘...and then the brave dark knight took out his sword and fought the dragon with all his might. Past the castle walls, past fire and flame, through the walls of men he charged to find her. Up the stairs to the turret where she lay in a deep sleep waiting for his kiss...’

Claudia?

His eyes sprang open and Lucas scanned the hallway for the direction of her voice, moved stealthily towards an open door.

‘Oh, and she was so beautiful. With long golden hair, just like yours, and big blue eyes the colour of the Arunthian ocean...’

‘Like mine?’ a little voice asked.

‘Just like yours.’

‘No one would want to kiss me,’ came the little voice.

‘Oh, the dark knight would want a kiss. But you’d have to be older. Like the Princess. And when you’re older your eyes won’t be sore any more and your wrists will be just like mine. See?’

Lucas surveyed the small room,