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squealed. The seat belt snapped against his neck and chest as the impact jostled him. Both vehicles spun out, gravel spewing as they skidded off the pavement onto the shoulder of the winding road.
    “What the hell’s going on?” Antoine’s shout vibrated in the speaker.
    Reaching beneath the seat for Brenner’s spare weapon, the one he would not have been able to get through the security screeners, Sebastian assured his twin, “I have it under control.”
    “Wait for me,” Antoine implored him. “I can be there shortly with a few of the security detail.”
    “You’ll be too late,” Sebastian replied as he pushed open the driver’s door. Dirt swirled in the wind, stinging his eyes, so he had to squint against it and the sunlight as he approached the van.
    The heavily tinted window lowered just a couple of inches—not enough for Sebastian to see the driver. All he caught was a glimpse—a glint, really—of sunshine off metal.
    He was not the only one who was armed. Perhaps he should have worn a bulletproof vest for the press conference as Antoine and the sheriff had suggested. But if a true marksman had been hired to kill them, Sebastian knew they always went for the head shot.

Chapter Three
    Gravel spewed as the van slammed into reverse. The tires fishtailed off the shoulder and then back onto the road. The prince stood in the cloud of dust swirling around him, a gun—probably a GLOCK—gripped tightly in his hand.
    Dmitri held on to his own weapon, the barrel of the Ruger revolver trained on the prince as the driver continued backing away from the Hummer. “I should have fired at him,” he grumbled. “I still have a shot.” But only for a few more moments as the distance between them widened.
    “Prince Sebastian is not the intended target,” the driver, Nic, reminded him. “We do not have clearance to kill him.”
    “Not yet.” Dmitri reluctantly holstered his gun. Then he reached for his cell, his hand shaking slightly as anger coursed through him. “But we will…”
    “The son of a bitch ran us off the road,” Nic snapped as his anger erupted.
    “Ran you off the road.” Had Dmitri been driving, that would not have happened. He punched in a speed-dial number and swallowed hard when the boss answered immediately.
    “Is it?” the man asked.
    “We were not able to get close enough to tell,” Dmitri admitted.
    “Why not?”
    “We had interference,” he reluctantly explained, “from one of the royals.”
    “Which one?”
    “The one who held the press conference offering the reward. Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh. I had a shot. Should I have taken it?” Dmitri asked, turning to glare at the driver.
    A deep chuckle emanated from the phone. “The prince is no threat.”
    “He has military experience.” Dmitri recalled learning from the conference. He had posed as one of the reporters and then hung around with them afterward on the off chance that she might come forward for that reward. The prince had done what they had not been able to. He’d drawn her out of hiding.
    “A prince with any real military experience?” The boss snorted. “I’m sure he never left his barracks without his security detail. He is no threat.”
    “But we lost our tail on her because of him,” Dmitri said. Despite his efforts, Nic had been unable to keep the Hummer from passing them. Was it because, as Nic had grumbled, the Hummer was just more powerful than the van? Or was it because the prince was more powerful than Nic or the boss would admit?
    “The plan was to use him to find her,” the boss reminded him. “Follow the plan. Follow the prince. He’ll lead you to her.”
    “And once we have her?”
    A chuckle rattled over the cell phone. “Then you will kill Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh, of course.”
    “Of course…”
    Dmitri stared through the dust-smeared windshield at the Hummer in the distance. As the prince rounded the rear of the vehicle to approach the driver’s side, sunlight glinted off the