All the royals would have come out unscathed in this attempt if only he hadn’t tried to push her to get treatment. Now, on top of worrying about her, he had to worry about the press and the public and the implications of him as a royal being hurt in a potential terrorist attack.
Damn it!
Not only that, protocol—fucking protocol—dictated that he be treated and rushed to the underground bunker where his family was probably now sequestered.
As he tried to formulate a plan, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He withdrew it, easily recognizing the face on the screen.
Marcello.
“Prince Marcello’s on the line. If you’ll give me some privacy?”
None of them could ignore the request, even if it was posed as a question. The emergency personnel dispersed and, while the agent kept his distance, it wasn’t much of one.
Ethan walked towards the wall, hiding partially behind a pillar. He let out a short breath and then answered. “Everyone all right?”
“Everyone but you. Where the hell are you?”
“I’m still at the ballroom, trying to help where I can. The famous Anda Salamanca fell through the stage when the third explosion went off. I saw it happen. I had to help her and unfortunately managed to get a small head wound in the process.”
Marcello cursed, but didn’t make any mention of Anda being an agent. Then again, Ethan didn’t expect him to. His brother hadn’t figured out that Ethan knew she was an agent, nor had his brother figured out that he was one, too.
“You should have gotten out. Where is the agent protecting you?”
As if Ethan needed help. He started pacing along the wall. “I don’t have one. I haven’t had one since I joined the Navy. I don’t need one.”
“You have one when you’re off the ship. If I say you need one, then you need one.”
“Bullshit. You don’t have one, Nate doesn’t have one, and you know I could go on.”
“That’s my decision, not yours.”
This was the same kind of shit he always dealt with, all of them thinking that he was still just a kid that needed coddling. They all needed to realize he’d grown up. “No, actually it’smydecision. Now, can you confirm that the rest of the family are safe in the bunker?”
“We’re not done talking about this.”
Yes, they were, even if Marcello wasn’t ready to accept it.
“Would you consider hiding? The theatre was built with some hidden rooms and passageways.”
“What? Where?”
Marcello told him the locations of a few of them, but he knew he wouldn’t use them, not when Anda needed him.
“I don’t need to hide, but I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. Now, is everyone in the bunker?”
“Goddamn it, Ethan. Yes, everyone in Valentia’s in the bunker. I’ve also got Lorenzo and Carolina along with the rest of the family sequestered in Masillia to be on the safe side, and everyone in Brazenbourg’s on alert, too. I’m headed to the ballroom now. I want you in the bunker or hidden. No arguments.”
“I can help here and that’s what I’m going to do. That’s what I’m trained to do. You understand what that means. I can’t give up my training, same as you. I can’t ignore someone who needs help.”
“Stop trying to save everyone else and save yourself.”
The words so closely echoed what he’d said to Anda that he stopped in his tracks for a moment. The world rushed around him, more of the bomb squad, firemen, police, agents and different agency officials swarming the place, not realizing who he was or not caring in that moment but for one agent nearby. He didn’t mind the anonymity. That had been one of the reasons he’d joined the Navy; few cared about his royal lineage on a ship.
Belatedly, Ethan remembered the jammer in his pocket and activated it. All the royals carried one when they went to public events.
Protocol.
He should’ve activated it as soon as Marcello had called—the jammer would prevent anyone nearby from hearing anything he said—but his brother had a way of getting under his skin. It wasn’t like Ethan to be so careless.
