Tatum did his best to fill in the police and voiced his desire to press charges against everyone—except members of royal families—to ensure they would land in a cell as soon as possible. When it was all said and done, he was standing in the middle of the room, looking for Neese and feeling lost.
“Excuse me.” He tapped an officer who was taking pictures of the bloodstain on the floor. Marius’s blood. The prince had risked his life for Neese, and for that Tatum would always be thankful. “Can you tell me where they took Neese?”
“Neese?”
“The woman with the long brown hair.”
“The princess? They’re putting her on a charter plane to some island.”
“No.” He staggered back. They were taking her away?
“She said something about her family needing her.”
“Double no.” He pressed his hand to his forehead. Dang it all. She was the toughest princess he’d ever met, rushing off to save her family from an assassination attempt the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since the Romanovs. “Who took her?”
The officer shrugged. “It was the navy, I believe. The Secretary of Defense was on the phone with the princess for five minutes before she left.” He leaned closer. “She insisted on an escort.”
“Of course she did.” He would expect nothing less from the woman who had become a princess right before his very eyes. He needed to get to her. Who knew what kind of situation she was running into? Heading for the door, his only thoughts of Neese and being there for her, he was stopped by the officer before he cleared the hall.
“Hey now, where’re you going?” asked the short man with a bumpy bald head.
“I need to find Neese—I need to tell her—”
“You are going to the station to file a report. We’ll need ID and a phone number where we can reach you.”
“But—”
“Hey, the only reason you’re not in a cruiser right now is because that princess said you were one of the good guys. But that doesn’t mean you can run out on us. We need your help to make sure these guys are put away for a very long time.”
Tatum cursed.