Keep Her from Them (McRae Bodyguards, #4)

Chapter 1

R aphael

If ever a building represented my relationship with a woman, it was this one. The royal palace sat back from the busy London street with armed guards at the gold-tipped gates. Tourists peered through high fences, their cameras capturing every moment.

Somewhere in the pale stone building, a princess waited.

Hostile, defensive, and out of reach to me.

Alexandra was cousin to King Philip and the prettiest lass who ever existed. Also my latest subject as a bodyguard, temporarily, at least. Ever since getting this assignment, I’d thought about her, wondering about her life and whether she remembered me.

Back at university when we’d met, I’d acted to protect her in a way that hadn’t exactly pleased her. In fact, I’d caused Her Royal Highness no end of embarrassment.

Aye, she wasn’t going to be happy to see me at all.

My taxi from the airport stopped, and I shouldered my sports bag and exited to the warm summer afternoon. By force of habit, I was early, and not due to meet with the team manager for another hour to get my briefing ahead of an evening of work.

Through the throng of sightseers, I approached the main gate and held up my ID to the armed officer.

“Raphael Gordonson, reporting for duty. I’m due to meet Barrington Bray.”

The woman took my ID, ran her gaze up and down me, then spoke into her comms. To my right, one of the tourists aimed their camera my way. I flinched and turned, a long-held automatic response to having my picture taken.

“Received and understood.” Whatever the armed guard heard confirmed my case, and she returned my ID and unlocked the gate. “Walk directly to the archway. Someone will meet you.”

On royal grounds, I crossed the wide-open frontage until I reached the towering building. I’d seen Ossington Palace any number of times on TV, for the king’s lavish ceremonies or when they marched troops outside, but never visited.

Through the archway, a beefy Guardsman toting another deadly weapon queried my presence then had me follow him around the building and into a side entrance. He left me at a staff desk where another guard searched me and swabbed my shoes, then an administrator photographed me and made an ID for me. No one spoke more than they needed to. Not unfriendly, but with a quiet efficiency I appreciated.

I was taken to an office. Behind the closed door, a man spoke loudly on the phone, his tone haughty and posh. My escort rapped a knuckle on the glass then ushered me inside, closing me in.

The man, Barrington, I presumed, waved an arm in exasperation then slammed the door of an inner room, continuing his call in private. I set down my bag and took in my surroundings.

This part of the palace was very different from the glamorous exterior. The offices looked like they were from the fifties and hadn’t been refitted since. A rotary telephone with a curly cable perched on a desk. Paperwork teetered in a wire tray. A frame on the wall held rows of identical black radios, old-fashioned models but still the most modern piece of technology in my eyeline.

In the other room, the shouting ceased. I stood taller, waiting to be admitted.

I was here as a favour for a week maximum. Ben, my boss, had lent me out to another firm who held the private security contract for members of the royal family for when they weren’t covered by the police. Barrington ran the team I was joining, and though I’d never met the man, I wanted to make a good impression.

Yet as I waited, I found myself thinking less about the job and more about the person I’d be guarding.

At twenty-three, the princess was the same age as me and often in the headlines. I never went looking for her but couldn’t avoid occasionally seeing her latest scandal. On the short flight down to England, I’d read through articles with pictures of her stumbling out of nightclubs and laughing in the backs of limos. There were rumours of lovers, drunken nights, and even drug use. She had a reputation as a party girl, no matter how smart and formal she appeared when standing next to her older cousin, the regent of our realm.

She’d picked up the nickname Sexy Lexi in the tabloids.

It was a step on from the girl I’d known.

In my normal career, I protected Leo Banks, world-famous rock star and a good friend. I’d wanted to join his team, based in an aircraft hangar on the same Scottish estate where I lived, for as long as I’d known about it, and had signed up the minute I’d passed my helicopter training.

Would Alexandra be impressed that I could fly?

Would I even get the chance to show her?

I didn’t want to examine too closely why I was obsessing over that.

The door flew open, and the man stomped out, his tie askew around his thick neck as if he’d yanked it loose. His cheeks glowed with the heat of anger. “You’re early.”

“Mr Bray. Glad to be here. I’m Raphael Gordonson.” I offered out a hand.

He didn’t take it, going to the exit instead, his posh accent sharpening. “Do I look like Bray? The name’s Jared Jessop. Don’t mistake me again. Now follow. We’re leaving.”

Now? Shite. I grabbed my bag, jogging after the man who’d set off down the corridor.

He shot me a glance, and a scowl darkened his lined brow. “Leave that. You can pick it up after the event.”

I did an about-turn, snatching my suit jacket then tossing my bag back into the office. Had to trust nothing would go missing in a palace.

With clear impatience in every move, Jared checked the time and strode deeper into the interior of the building, griping about the delay.

I shrugged on my smart jacket. “We’re heading straight into a briefing?”

“No time for that. You’re hitting the ground running, sunshine. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

That must’ve been what enraged him on his phone call, but damn. Mobilising without any preparation wasn’t my favourite.

“It would help if I understood?—”

Jared stopped abruptly. “Let’s get one thing clear. You don’t need to understand anything. All you need to do is follow orders and obey my every word. We’re heading out unexpectedly early, and that means you need to do your fucking job and jump when I tell you to. Standard protocol can be discussed on the move.”

We reached the end of the corridor that spat us out at a different part of the building’s exterior. Three vehicles waited in a line, all black, shiny, and high-end. At a guess, I imagined they were modified to be bulletproof or maybe even bomb resistant, judging by the type of tyres needed for the additional weight.

That was as far as my thoughts got me. Jared threw himself into the first vehicle with a snap for me to climb in the last. I passed the central vehicle and stole a glance inside.

My heart beat out of time.

Princess Alexandra sat in the back, perfectly made up and regal, yet at the same time exactly like the girl I remembered. Her dress sparkled, and she had her dark hair up in a fancy style.

I recalled it loose and brushing over my bare skin.

The princess interlaced her fingers as if nervous, then her gaze rose to mine, locking on for the fraction of a second it took for me to pass by.

The too-short eye contact fried my brain.

Then the moment had gone, and I climbed into the last car, the convoy immediately starting out with a shout from a guard.

Next to me in the back, a solid bodyguard in his forties regarded me. “Hey, new guy. We were expecting you. I’m Johnnie, that’s Will,” he indicated to the man in the front passenger seat, “and Riss is travelling in the car with our principal.”

I remembered my name and introduced myself. The rapid turnaround of the afternoon had thrown me. Jared said I was early, but then we’d launched into a mission without a single word of where we were going or any plan. Had I been on time, I would’ve missed the assignment, not that I had a single fucking clue what was going on.

Jared had used the half a minute in the corridors to put me in my place where he could have given a shorthand explanation. I didn’t like it. I was used to Ben’s calm professionalism. Even in the midst of danger, our team had each other’s backs entirely.

Above all that was another more potent thought.

Of exactly how Princess Alexandra’s eyes had flared as they’d taken in mine. She’d recognised me. All I wished for was to go back in time and take another second to see how her expression resolved. In hatred or forgiveness.

For unknown reasons, that felt more important than I could say.

T he busy streets of central London passed us by, and Johnnie handed me a radio.

“Familiar with the model?”

I inserted the earpiece, clipping the radio into my inside pocket. “I’ve used a different version, but I assume they all work the same.”

He performed basic checks with me, confirming I could hear the team. Johnnie had the weatherbeaten aspect of a man who spent his life working outdoors. His brown hair was greying at the temples and cut military neat, and thick biceps stretched his shirt.

Will was likewise stacked with lean muscle, but he wore a more sarcastic set to his mouth.

Like me, both men were outfitted in standard bodyguard wear for formal events. Black trousers and plain shirts covered by suit jackets, designed so we could blend in. We didn’t carry guns—that was only for the royal protection officers who worked for the police, and the palace guards who were military. Our job was arguably more dangerous with how we’d put ourselves between our subject and danger. Our bodies were our weapons.

“Can ye fill me in on the event?” I asked.

Johnnie rolled his eyes. “Jared up to his usual self then? Boss isn’t hot on briefings. Thinks they’re beneath him.”

I contained my annoyance. Not all team dynamics could work as well as mine. “Isn’t Barrington the boss?”

The bodyguard held up his hand and the second much lower, as if to indicate levels. “Jared is our team lead. We don’t see much of Barrington, more’s the pity.” He gestured between him and the man up front. “We usually carry out our own prep and risk assessments, but Jared did the advance work on this one. It’s not such a big deal as it’s a low-risk event.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“The principal added the night to her calendar herself.”

Our principal was Alexandra, the woman I couldn’t forget one car ahead.

I frowned. Why would that mean her security was lesser? It was as much based on the person as the place.

Johnnie continued, “I’ll walk you through it. Don’t worry, this one is pretty basic.”

The tightness didn’t ease in my chest. I could roll with the punches but I didn’t enjoy being on the back foot, particularly in such a high-profile job as this.

Particularly under the scrutiny of a princess.

“It’s an art exhibition with drinks. The principal, codenamed Penny Allen, will spend up to two hours at the venue then return home.”

I held in my surprise. ‘Penny Allen’ was an alias the princess had used at university. Based on the initials of Princess Alexandra, the codename was used to refer to her by anyone who protected her. That she still used it years later was strange. If I knew it, dozens of others from the student body would, too.

Johnnie talked me through the venue and the risks, but all too soon, we arrived at a modern building with glass walls and a barrier holding back a small crowd.

Men with cameras lurked amongst them.

The princess had been haunted by photographers during her studies. Back then, she took measures to avoid them, and from mutual friends, I knew she hated having to do so.

I leapt from the car, falling into formation with the rest of the crew and watching Jared for orders.

Perhaps it was the air of unpreparedness I was riding, but I had a bad feeling about tonight, even if her team did this regularly. They’d kept her safe enough, though she was too often in the headlines.

Aye, that was what bothered me.

Princess Alexandra hated the press yet now seemed to court them. What caused that change of heart?

I locked down my intuition and fell in at the back of the diamond formation we assumed to get her into the building.

And the lass didn’t look round at me once.