Page 128 of The Unlikely Spare

We reach the car park, which is thankfully deserted in this quieter section of the lakefront.

Eoin pauses to meet my eyes. “I do trust you,” he says.

I swallow hard.

“We should find another vehicle,” I say abruptly, scanning the car park.

I immediately spot a dusty station wagon parked at the far end of the car park, camping gear strapped to its roof and stuffed in the boot. Practical. Anonymous. Perfect.

“That one.” I nod toward it. “I believe my royal tour has officially devolved intoGrand Theft Auto: New Zealand Edition. Mother will be so proud.”

Eoin follows my gaze, studying it with professional assessment. “It’ll do.”

“From royal motorcades to stolen station wagons. If this continues, by next week, I’ll be escaping on a rusty bicycle with a broken bell,” I say.

“We’ve got to keep you alive to next week first,” Eoin says.

And on that cheery note, we cross the car park to steal yet another car.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Eoin

I can’t believe this man.

Nicholas has apparently taken the fact that I’m the sleeper agent planted in his protection team to aid in kidnapping him in his stride. Almost as if this is simply another royal inconvenience to be managed alongside charity galas and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.

He said he trusts me to keep him alive.

Not that he trusts me. Just that he trusts me to keep him alive.

Trust. The word sits in my chest like a live grenade. Because I heard what he didn’t say as clearly as what he did.

His walls have gone back up, and it feels like he’s measuring the distance between us, like he’s calculating exactly how much space he needs to stay safe.

Not from bullets.

From me.

Despite all this, he’s somehow managing to hold me together by being so perfectly, infuriatingly Nicholas that I can almost forget I’m the weapon that was supposed to be aimed at him.

My impossible feelings for him only seem to be growing even stronger and even more impossible with every passing minute.

I have to push my feelings for him aside and focus on keeping him alive and away from the people trying to kidnap him.

Maybe if I do that well enough, he’ll… What? Forgive me? Trust me again? Let me close enough to break his heart the way everyone else has?

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Nothing matters beyond keeping him safe. Even if he’ll never let me be anything more than his protector again.

First, we need to steal a car.

I position myself at the passenger side, blocking any view of my less-than-legal activities. The lock gives up without even a token protest, proving these old wagons have about as much security as a garden shed.

“Keep an eye out,” I tell Nicholas, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Nicholas follows my instructions, doing his best impression of a lookout, which is surprisingly decent for a man who’s spent his life being watched rather than watching.