The Royal by Susan Stoker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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| Novel: | The Royal by Susan Stoker |
| Writer(s): | Susan Stoker |
| Format: | pdf epub |
| Categories: | Fiction Books |
Callum “Cal” Redmon pulled his Rolls-Royce Cullinan into the Greens’
driveway on the outskirts of Washington, DC. Traffic had been terrible,
and he’d arrived much later than he’d hoped. He was in an awful mood.
His back hurt, his knees were throbbing, and he had a horrible headache.
Ever since he’d been a POW and endured relentless torture, his body
hadn’t been the same. He felt as if he was at least twenty years older than
his thirty-seven years.
The last place he wanted to be was here. He’d told his relatives that
he wasn’t a bodyguard. That ever since he’d gotten out of the military, he
didn’t want anything to do with covert operations or any kind of security.
And yet . . . here he was.
Being part of the Liechtenstein royal family wasn’t easy. Even
though he hadn’t grown up in the tiny country, and even though he barely
knew the queen and king, he was still expected to be loyal. Still expected
to drop everything to do their bidding when they asked. So when Carla
Green had told his second cousin—who she’d met online—that she was
being stalked, his cousin had reached out to Cal to see what he could do
about it.
When Cal, being Cal, had told him he couldn’t do anything about his
latest online model friend’s personal troubles, that she should call her local
police, his cousin had ignored him. He’d talked to his mother, who’d
talked to her sister, who’d spoken with the queen. She, in turn, had called
Cal’s parents . . . and the next thing he knew, he was being guilted into
driving to DC to “investigate” the situation.
Cal wasn’t qualified to do a damn thing about Carla’s problem. Yes,
he could shoot. Was a damn good shot, in fact. But that didn’t make him
qualified to be some amateur investigator and certainly not a bodyguard.
He could barely handle his own body.
Most days, his very bones hurt. The torture he’d received as a POW
had screwed him up, bad. Torn ligaments, broken bones, pulled muscles
. . . those were just the tip of the iceberg. Technically, all the injuries he’d
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sustained had healed, but the effects were ongoing, and his scars—inside
and out—were many.
Not only that, but since his release, Cal didn’t particularly care for
people in general. He was grumpy on the worst of days and standoffish on
the best. He’d seen the worst humanity had to offer, and he much preferred
to hole up in the house he’d bought in the small Maine town where he and
his friends had settled after they’d gotten out of the military.
Thanks to his royal lineage and parents who’d invested their family
money carefully, Cal never had to worry about the size of his bank
account. No one would know simply by looking at him that he had over a
billion dollars in his extensive portfolio. Most days he wore faded jeans
and long-sleeved T-shirts, and he definitely didn’t flaunt the fact that he
had money, and lots of it.
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