Page 15 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

Chapter Nine

Elliot

“Elliot.”

My gun’s in my hand, the barrel pointed straight between the intruder’s eyes before I recognize the voice of one of the twins.

I exhale quickly and blink, telling my body to relax.

Lower the gun, El. I do, but stiffly. It’s hard enough to tell the twins apart in daylight and when I’m fully awake, but it’s four in the morning and too dark out here to know which one of the princes thought it was a good idea to sneak up on me.

“What are you doing?” I hiss out, still on edge from the adrenaline spike that shot through me at his soft word.

He chuckles and leans against the wall of the building next to the inn. I found this alley during my earlier sweep of the town square—it offers a good vantage of the square while providing decent cover—and I didn’t think there was access from the back. Apparently I was wrong.

I hate being wrong.

“I should ask you the same thing,” he says, all nonchalance. Hex. He must be Hex.

I slip my Glock into my shoulder holster and turn my focus back to the square. “I thought I told you to go to bed early.”

“You suggested it, if I recall. I’m not fond of taking orders.”

“Are you fond of nearly getting yourself killed?” I grumble. “I could have shot you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

That makes one of us. I’m pretty sure I had started to doze off when he said my name, and I quickly rub the sleep from my eyes, wishing I had done more to prepare for this trip.

The anxiety from the drive never fully dissipated, which means the car wasn’t the problem.

I’m the problem. That’s the worst thing I could be dealing with right now.

Well, maybe the second worst thing.

“Do you see him?” I ask, my voice low.

Hex keeps his eyes on me, his expression serious. “Why do you think I came down here?”

“Where’s Sander?”

“He’s asleep. I got up to use the loo and noticed the lurker, and I thought maybe you’d be out here keeping an eye on him.”

Someone has been standing in the shadows across the square for three hours now.

I hoped he was a drunk waiting until the world stopped spinning before he walked home, but he’s been too still.

He’s waiting for something. Or watching.

I have never missed my tactical gear more than I do right now.

Night vision would be especially helpful.

So would sleep.

“I would ask why you haven’t sent one of the palace guards over to check it out,” Hex says, shifting so he’s standing next to my hiding place, “but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.”

Swearing under my breath, I try to think of the best way to respond. “It’s not that I don’t trust the guards.”

“But they’re not you.”

I sigh. I was used to having full confidence in my brothers-in-arms and knowing they would do the same thing I would in any given situation.

We were so in tune with each other that sometimes it felt like we could read each other’s minds.

I don’t have the same luxury with the Candoran guards, and I’m not sure I ever will.

“My job is to protect the heir to the throne,” I say. “I won’t leave her safety up to chance.”

“Gregor trained them himself, just like he trained you.”

“Gregor only trained me in Candoran customs,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes as the man in the shadow shifts his position. There’s a chance he saw Hex, but it doesn’t seem to have bothered him. “I already knew everything else.”

Hex snorts a laugh. “You say that, but you refuse to talk about your Green Beret days. You could be telling knobbies.” When I glance back at him and raise an eyebrow in question, he laughs again. “Lying.”

“Ah.” It’s not that I don’t want to tell Hex and Sander about my Special Forces training, but the more I talk about it, the more they’ll ask about the missions I went on.

I’ve told them about a few to keep them satisfied, but if they ever ask for more…

In theory, I could hold this position for a long time.

If Freya becomes queen and decides I’m not terrible at my job, I could be here for years.

The twins welcomed me right from the beginning, and at some point, I should trust them with the darker sides of my life.

But how does someone go about explaining how he got his best friend killed in action during an op gone wrong? That doesn’t encourage continued friendship.

“Oi.” Hex nudges my arm, making me tense up again, but then he gestures across the square, where the lurker’s face is now illuminated by a phone screen.

He’s too far to get a good read on his expression, but at least I can note some of his features.

Thin nose, thick eyebrows, round chin. Distinct enough that I would recognize him if I saw him again.

The screen goes dark, and the man melts into the shadows and disappears.

He might come back, but my gut tells me his vigil is done for the night.

Doesn’t mean mine will be.

As if reading my thoughts, Hex nudges me again. “You should get some sleep, El.”

Probably, but I want to revisit what information the RIA has on dangerous people in Candora.

The intelligence network sent me pictures last week, and I want to compare them to our friend across the square while the image of him is still fresh in my mind.

He didn’t seem dangerous, but I’m not willing to rule anything out until I know for sure.

There was enough talk around town of support for Grimstad and reformation for me to be on alert.

Electing Grimstad is one way to invoke change.

Removing his biggest obstacle is another.

“Yeah,” I say, if only to get Hex to go back up to his room. I need him to be alert tomorrow, though a part of me likes the idea of shifting one of the twins’ schedules to a night shift so there’s someone competent on watch at all times.

But no, utilizing the princes as guards would defeat the purpose of having them here as part of the campaign, and they need to make appearances during the day.

I have to remember that their lives are as important as Freya’s.

Protecting them is a lot less stressful than looking after the princess, but that doesn’t mean I can lower my guard.

With the way Hex narrows his eyes at me in the dim moonlight filtering down between the buildings, it’s clear he’s not going to believe me if I tell him I’ll be right behind him.

Maybe I’ll sleep for an hour or two, then come back down to the street.

I’ll make sure the outer guards know there was someone watching the inn.

I didn’t want to alert them before and have them accidentally scare off the lurker.

But as I follow Hex up the stairs to my room—the one next to Freya’s—my body is telling me that my decision to stay on watch was a bad one.

I can last longer than most on low to little sleep, but if I do this every night, it’s going to start taking its toll and limit my ability to do my job.

I need to be focused and take care of myself so I can be at top performance.

I don’t have enough information telling me I have legitimate reasons to worry. Freya isn’t in danger.

Yet.

My bed calls to me when I get to my room, but instead of collapsing onto it, I move to the window and look out through the darkness.

I won’t find the lurker there, but I’m still curious about his intentions.

Looking for holes in security? Searching for openings in the princess’s schedule? Hoping to make us nervous?

I grab my phone and move away from the window so the light won’t be as obvious, intending to look for a match to the lurker in the RIA’s database.

Instead, I find an alert that brings me to a new article from the tabloid that seems suspiciously obsessed with my cousin, Derek.

Hollywood Hot Scoop. I didn’t even know the website existed until a few months ago, when Derek first reached out to me about coming to Candora, but now I’ve been dragged into their stupidity thanks to Freya’s unsanctioned outing to Invem last week.

I haven’t figured out how they found out about that night, but at least they didn’t have many details.

Princess Freya’s Frantic Fight to Find Followers, tonight’s headline says, and I narrow my eyes as I skim through the article.

It’s all nonsense, talking about how Freya has taken to the campaign trail in a pathetic attempt to seem more friendly.

The author has decided Freya thinks too highly of herself if she thinks making a few speeches will be enough to turn public opinion, stating that Freya’s time would be better spent working retail if she really wants to know how regular people live.

According to the article, Freya’s interactions with Derek and his celebrity friends have tainted her view of the world and made her think she’s better than she is.

Derek does not have this problem, or so the article says, and he manages to stay humble no matter how much his fame grows. Based on the comments, no one seems to recognize the sheer hypocrisy of everything this website posts.

“Sounds to me like someone is trying to get your attention, Derek,” I mutter, closing the website and pulling up his number.

As always, he answers in only a couple of rings, but I barely hear what he says because the background is full of noise. “Hey, give me a second.”

The line goes silent for about thirty seconds, during which I peek out the window again, as if something might have changed in the last five minutes.

The square is still empty, though from up here I don’t have as good a sight line of the corner where the man was standing.

That could mean he didn’t have a good view of the princess’s window, but I’d have to check her view to be sure.

“Sorry,” Derek says, and this time it’s without the noise. “What’s up?”