Page 77 of Lost Prince

Diana glances between us. “What is going on?”

I ignore her, keeping my focus on Peter. The memories of that night flash through my mind again. The ambush, the beating, the searing pain of the knife. My body tenses, ready for a fight.

"You thought you'd finished me off, didn't you? But here I am, back from the grave. I’m going to haunt you until your dying day, Officer Hartley.”

“Officer?” Diana looks at her companion. I’m beginning to think she really is clueless as to what’s going on. I don’t like that feeling. Uncertainty.

“I trusted you. Let you into my home, my bed. Was it all just part of the plan? Get close to me, learn our secrets so he can try to kill me again? You know this asshole tried to kill Lana too, right?" I tell her.

Diana’s shaking now. “I don’t know any of this.” She rises, looking unsteady. The protective instinct in me wants to reach out and steady her. I fight against it.

“I swear, Lazaro, I don’t know what’s going on here. I thought this was a job interview.”

Before she can finish, Peter leaps to his feet. In a flash, he grabs Diana and yanks her against him, pressing a gun to her temple.

Terror fills her eyes. Around me, the café patrons scramble from their seats, knocking over chairs in their haste to escape. A woman clutches her child to her chest as she rushes for the exit. An elderly man stumbles, nearly falling in his panic to get away.

My eyes dart back to Diana, her face pale with fear as Peter presses the gun harder against her temple. Her chest heaves with rapid breaths, and she’s trembling. Her eyes meet mine, filled with confusion and terror. I want nothing more than to rush to her, to protect her. It’s a soul-deep, protective feeling. It washes away the doubt. She’s a pawn in his sick game, I realize. I need to play this carefully or we’re both dead.

I take a cautious step forward, but Peter tightens his grip on Diana, making her whimper.

"Let her go. You’ve got what you want. Let her go and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I want you and your family dead.”

“What is your fucking problem, anyway?” I ask him. “Why do you have such a hard-on to kill us?” I try to remember back to what Henry had explained. Something about a dead cop?

“Don’t come near me.” Peter backs away, dragging Diana with him. Tears stream down her face as she looks at me pleadingly. She’s looking for a hero. I’m no hero. But I am a protector. Isn’t that what Lana said?

“Why are you doing this?” I say more calmly. I don’t want him so agitated that he fires the gun by accident.

“You killed my father.”

My blood runs cold at Peter's accusation. The thought of being a murderer sickens me, and yet, I’ll kill this man with my bare hands if I get the chance. Had his father wronged me and my family?

"Maybe," I say, forcing a cold smirk onto my face even as my stomach churns. "Who was your father, anyway?"

Peter's eyes narrow with hatred. "Detective Brad Hartley. Decorated officer. He died four years ago by your hand."

As soon as he says the name, a flood of memories washes over me. I see flashes of a stern-faced man in uniform. He wasn’t a cop we could buy, but I don’t remember him being an asshole like his son. In fact, in my mind, he’s alive, suggesting I break from my family as he arrests me for stealing a car. I think I must have been fifteen at the time. He encouraged me to find a legit career. It was almost as if he cared.

What is clear to me in my foggy memories is that I did not kill him. "Brad Hartley. I remember him. But I didn't kill him."

Peter's grip on Diana tightens, making her gasp. "Liar!”

“I’m not lying. I sort of respected him. You’re nothing like him.”

Peter’s eyes flash with hatred. "You expect me to believe that?"

“That you’re nothing like him? Yes. He’d never torture a woman or hold an innocent woman hostage. He tried to help me, you know.”

“You’re full of shit.”

I shrug. “I didn't kill him. I was set up. Someone wanted your father dead, or maybe they just wanted me out of the way and used your father to get it done, blaming me. But I didn’t kill him. Nor did my family. Now let Diana go?—”

“NO! You're just trying to save your own skin. You deserved to die that night. How the hell did you even survive?"

“Takes a bigger man than you to kill me, Pete.”