The Elite (Romantic Suspense)

Jacob: Exiting the Eternal City

Daphne's irritation was palpable, even from the front seat. Jacob didn't blame her — her world had just exploded, literally and figuratively. He would want to know what was going on, too.

"Where are we going?" The pleasant, public voice of a princess in control of her faculties was back, something that seemed impossible only moments ago. For Jacob, the switch meant some mental calculations: How coherent was she? There was a lot that he couldn't tell her, of course, but he didn't have a clear sense of how little he could get away with saying.

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. For someone mere meters from a deadly bombing, she looked remarkably in control. Jacob wished he had more personal interaction to draw on. He was sure Morgan, her assigned PPO, would know how to placate her until she was safely on a plane back to Montrovia — Morgan had protected her since she was thirteen. Since that wasn't an option, Jacob was going to have to trust his gut.

"There's a plane waiting to take you back to Montrovia. We're on our way there now." Facts. He would go with facts first — give her something concrete to hold on to. He deliberately didn't mention that they were going the least direct route he could find, just in case they were being followed.

"Why did my family send a plane?"

She didn't even wait for him to reply.

"Wait, let me guess: You can't tell me, right?"

"I cannot." He wasn't sure he would have explained even if he were allowed. Sometimes Jacob found the strict limitations of his job and what he could and could not say isolating and restrictive. Right now, he was grateful for the excuse to avoid inserting himself into family drama.

Daphne sighed loudly from the backseat. "Can I sit up at least?"

Jacob did a sweep of all three mirrors and turned to glance behind him. "I'd rather you stay down, but if you need to move, I guess we're okay."

She exhaled and sat up with a rustle. "I am never listening to a stylist who recommends Swarovski crystals again," she said quietly. He could hear her stretching but didn't dare take his eyes off the road to look. All he had to do was get her safely to the airport and on the plane. Then he could disappear.

Jacob always felt confined by Rome's small and winding streets. In training, these were touted as great escapes from the city. The problem was trying to figure out where you were when you couldn't see anything around you. And not getting a car stuck where the street became too narrow. Jacob swept through another check of his rearview mirrors even as he tried to merge into the evening traffic. No one seemed to be following them, but he didn't trust that for a second. The royal family had several enemies too sophisticated to rule anything out.

He clicked on his radio again. "Moving south towards the Stadio." There wasn't a football game in the arena today, thankfully. He prayed he could get lost in traffic quickly.

"Rog." Marcus's businesslike tone helped ground Jacob when he was on a mission. Some of the handlers liked to make agents laugh when things were tense; Jacob mostly just wanted to be left alone, and Marcus seemed to understand that intuitively.

"Be advised that the Policia have set up a perimeter around the theatre and are expanding out to prevent people from leaving the city. We've alerted the consulate that you're there and diplomatic privileges for your car and in your name are in the process of being issued. Just make sure that any officers you come into contact with understand."

Jacob bit back a groan of frustration. What would look more suspicious than trying to escape a city with Diplomatic Privileges that hadn't been cleared in advance? "Any chance I can beat them to the Ring Road? " The ancient road that encircled the city was the only way to reach the airport. And everything else in Rome. One well-placed security checkpoint and he was done.