grinned at him. “I will. Soon. But my hands are a little full here, and Ben’s breakfast comes first.”
He opened the sack with his breakfast sandwich. “But your food’s getting cold.”
“I imagine in the coming years, I’ll eat a lot of cold meals.” She bent her head to peek under the blanket. “Isn’t that right, Ben?”
Hunter unwrapped his food, feeling a bit guilty eating while his food was hot, then nodded toward the television, where a car dealer was raving about his crazy prices. “So what are we watching?”
“Local news. I was thinking if my family reported me missing, there might be a story about it.”
“Good thinking.”
“Yeah, but so far all they’ve shown are national news stories.” Brianna picked up a piece of her toast and took a bite.
On the TV, the commercials ended, and a serious-faced newscaster reported on a dip in the stock market.
“Has the doctor been by this morning? Has anyone told you yet when you can get out of here and go home?”
“No on the doctor, but my nurse thinks they’ll let me go home tomorrow morning if I don’t show any complications.” She twisted her mouth in consternation. “I hate to say it, but...I’m a little nervous about going home, taking care of Ben by myself. Especially when we don’t know who shot at me or why.”
“You won’t be going home alone. I told you, I’m going to help you. I’ll protect you until we know the danger to you is past. Until we find your family. I’m not going to abandon you, Bri.”
She scowled at him. “I can’t ask you to do that. I’m not your responsibility.”
“Maybe not. But I’m volunteering. I can’t in good conscience leave you with a new baby, a concussion and some unknown threat out there.”
“Hunter,” she said on a groan and peeked under the blanket at Ben again, “I don’t feel right imposing on you.”
“And I don’t feel right turning my back on you when you’re alone.” He paused. “If you don’t want my help, I guess I can’t force my way into your life, but...”
She slanted a look at him. “I do want your help. I appreciate it. So much. I just feel guilty taking over your life this way.”
“Well, stop feeling guilty. I’m happy to help.” Hunter sat back in the chair and took another bite of his sandwich. “When I go by your house today, I can find your purse or phone or pictures that might—”
Brianna’s gasp cut him off.
“Turn it up!” Gaping at the TV, she waved a hand at the remote control beside him.
“What?” He set his breakfast in his lap and grabbed the remote.
“Turn the volume up!”
He did and together they watched a news report about a coup attempt against the ruling monarch of Meridan, a small European island nation Hunter had never heard of.
Hunter frowned, puzzled why the story was so important to Brianna. “What’s wrong? Why—”
She waved a hand, shushing him, and her face grew paler as the news report continued.
“Mourning citizens took to the streets, shocked by reports that King Mikhail had been assassinated,” the reporter said. “Prince Cristoff, heir to the throne, has not been seen in public for several days, and rumors have circulated that the prince has also been assassinated.”
Hunter turned to watch Brianna’s odd reaction to the news story rather than the television. “Brianna?”
She gave him another hushing wave of her hand as the screen filled with file footage of a well-dressed man with dark hair waving to a crowd before climbing into the back of a limousine.
The reporter’s face filled the screen again. “Palace officials deny the rumor of the crown prince’s death but won’t comment on Cristoff Hamill’s whereabouts.”
Brianna’s expression leeched of color as she turned to Hunter. “I know him.”
“What?” He wrinkled his brow and glanced back at the television. “Who? The reporter?”
She blinked, her expression stunned. “No. Cristoff.”
A startled chuckle escaped Hunter before he could stop it. “The prince guy?” He aimed a finger at the TV. “That’s in Europe somewhere. What makes you think you know the prince?”
“It’s just a feeling...a flicker of something. An image. A memory. I...”
For the first time, Hunter began to doubt Brianna. How could she remember some obscure prince from a tiny European country? It wasn’t as if this Cristoff guy was often in the news the way Prince William of Great Britain was. But the recognition that filled Brianna’s face seemed so real.
A tickle of unease started at the base of Hunter’s neck. “Brianna, I don’t know. Maybe you know someone who looks like him.”
She drew a slow, deep breath and gawked at the television. “No, it’s him. I’m sure of it. But I don’t just know him, Hunter.” She faced him, her eyes wide. “Prince Cristoff is Ben’s father.”
Chapter 5
Her head pounding, Brianna stared at the TV screen long after the news story about the unrest in the tiny country of Meridan ended and the announcer moved on to a report about the local city council. The pain from her concussion made it that much harder to concentrate and focus on the fuzzy memory that elbowed its way to her attention and wouldn’t be ignored. As crazy as it sounded, even to her, she was certain she’d not only met the man identified as Prince Cristoff Hamill of Meridan, but she’d seen him recently. In her mind, a voice echoed, saying, If the baby’s mine, then he’s my heir and next in line for the throne.
Next in line for the throne? Brianna rewound the news story in her head. A coup attempt. An assassination of the king. A missing prince. She shivered as a cold certainty settled over her.
“It’s not me they want to kill—it’s Ben. He’s the heir to the Meridanian throne.” She glanced toward Hunter and met a skeptical frown.
“Brianna, do you hear yourself? Why would a rebel faction in Meridan, wherever that is, want to kill your son? How would you know the prince?”
She sank back against her pillows and closed her eyes, wishing the throb under her skull would give her even a moment’s peace. “I don’t know, Hunter. I know it sounds crazy, but...the same way I just knew about Sorsha, I know Ben is Chris’s baby.”
“You mean Cristoff?”
She cracked open her eyes and cut a side glance to Hunter. “What did I say?”
“You called him Chris.”
She pulled her brow down, letting the name replay in her mind. “It just rolled off my tongue. Like my signature was muscle memory last night. I know him as Chris. I’m sure of it.”
Hunter swiped a hand over his mouth, his expression saying he was unconvinced. “Well, I can’t disprove that theory, so we’ll keep it as a possibility.”
Her shoulders sagged. Did she really expect anyone to believe she’d had an affair with a prince and that her child was of royal lineage? It sounded improbable even to her own mind, but the certainty, the echo of a voice, the fear for Ben’s life wouldn’t let go. They gripped her heart and shook her, demanding that she pay attention.
She gave Hunter a level look, wanting desperately for him to believe her. “When I get home, I’ll find proof.”
Ben finished his breakfast and started wiggling and arching his back in discomfort. The night nurse had showed her how to burp him after a meal, and