Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Brandishing a Crown

Brandishing a Crown
Rita Herron
He'd come to Wyoming on business, but the moment Prince Stefan Lutece met the beautiful forensics expert, all he could think about was pleasure. Unfortunately, Jane Cameron had a job to do–one that involved missing evidence and possibly murder–and she wasn't falling for Stefan's royal charms.But everything changed when Jane became the target of her own investigation and Stefan, with his military training and commanding presence, her self-imposed guardian. Protecting her 24/7 guaranteed Jane's survival…and stirred up the attraction practically burning between them. Stefan guaranteed he'd keep Jane out of the line of fire–but not out of his big, lonely bed.



“Tell me, Jane. Does the fact that I kissed you bother you, or that we were interrupted by your colleague?”
“That kiss never should have happened,” Jane said.
He gave her his most charming smile. “It should not have happened here, but it will happen again, Jane.” He forced himself to drop his hand before he forgot his promise, slanted his mouth over hers and took what he wanted. “Only, next time it won’t be at work. And it will be a proper kiss.”
She gulped. “Proper?”
“Yes,” he said with a wink. “A proper kiss from a prince.” He lifted a strand of hair from her cheek. “And I promise it will be one you remember.”

Brandishing a Crown
Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my sister:
May she find her own prince one day…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling to kids for romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her website at www.ritaherron.com (http://www.ritaherron.com).

CAST OF CHARACTERS
Prince Stefan Lutece—He has come to the U.S. to make trade agreements between his small island nation, Kyros, and America, but someone wants him dead. Who can he trust?
Jane Cameron—This sexy forensics specialist knows everything about processing crime scenes, but nothing about matters of the heart.
Lieutenant Ralph Osgood—Jane’s superior and the head of her CSI unit believes Stefan and the COIN members are in the States on a fishing expedition to improve their military efforts and knowledge about bombs. How far will he go to prove he is right?
Prince Thaddeus Lutece—Stefan’s brother wants his home, the island of Kyros, to remain a resort instead of a site for oil drilling, and he wants his brother to go through with the marriage his father has arranged to Princess Daria El-Shamy. Would he hurt his brother to stop the trade agreement from going through and to ensure Stefan agrees to the marriage?
Jihad Issam—The head of Kyros’s tourist trade opposes oil drilling on the island, claiming it will ruin the country’s idyllic setting and environment. Would he kill Stefan to keep his country from venturing into mining?
Prince Butrus El-Shamy—Princess Daria’s brother is against the arranged marriage. But what are his reasons?
Hector Perro—Stefan’s chief aide and loyal friend—or is he?
Edilio Misko—The head of Stefan’s security team; can he be a mole?
Fahad Bahir—He’s coordinating the security teams for all the royals.
Danny Harold—This news reporter seems to know more than he should; where is he getting his inside information?

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One
“Stefan, if you would simply return to Kyros and marry Princess Daria, our problems would be solved. In exchange for the marriage, King Nazim El-Shamy has agreed to give our nation as much financial and military support as we need to fend off Saruk.”
Prince Stefan Lutece sighed as his private jet began its final descent into the Wyoming airport. “Father, you know I have other plans for Kyros.” And for himself.
And an arranged marriage was not on his agenda.
Saving Kyros from being swallowed by Saruk, the larger militant nation nearby, however, was.
But he didn’t intend to succumb to his father’s outdated means, or force his people to be swallowed into the folds of another nation. He wanted to utilize the oil on their land which could make them financially independent. That was the prime reason he’d joined COIN, the Coalition of Island Nations in the Mediterranean, and the purpose for his trip to America now.
And as far as marriage—if he ever indulged it would be with a woman who stirred his passions, not a woman like Daria who although physically beautiful, possessed a coldness in her eyes that chilled him to the bone.
“If this summit meeting goes as planned,” Stefan continued, “and the coalition succeeds in making the trade agreements with the U.S., Kyros will prosper and gain independence without becoming indebted to King Nazim or Saruk.”
The sound of the plane’s landing gear rumbled, the plane tipped slightly, then righted, dropping altitude. Stefan glanced out the window at the rugged Wyoming land, the white-tipped mountains, the acres of untamed prairie land, and momentarily missed the lush tropical beauty of his own country.
Kyros, with its century-old ruins and stone temples, was rich in culture and history. With tourism as its main industry, the island was picturesque, boasting plush green foliage, colorful gardens, and inviting private resorts nestled along the Mediterranean coast.
But the island had been forced to become a member of the EU, and with the euro so strong and with additional import costs, fewer and fewer people could afford the exorbitant costs of vacationing on the remote island.
He and his people had discovered several untapped areas prime with oil, though, that could turn around their economy.
“You know Thaddeus and I are both opposed to polluting our nation with mining,” King Maximes growled.
“I do know that, Father. But as I’ve explained countless times, my team of experts has devised a way to minimize the waste and pollution to the environment.” It was a major breakthrough, which he intended to use as a selling point to the summit.
“Do not sign anything until you discuss it with me and Thaddeus, Stefan.” His father began to cough. “Remember I want what’s best for our people.”
“So do I, Father. And the COIN compact is what is best.”
Stefan gritted his teeth as he ended the call. He felt his blood pressure rising. He and his father and brother would never agree on politics, but with his father’s illness, an illness he was forced to keep secret to prevent Saruk from pouncing on them at a vulnerable moment, he was the new leader.
And he’d be damned if he’d allow Thaddeus to deter him. The spoiled brat did not want to make the tough choices but he wanted the glory—and their father’s inheritance.
Suddenly streaks of yellow, orange, red and gold filled the distance, the brilliant sunset momentarily capturing his interest. Below him the desert with its spiny cactuses, sagebrush and tumbleweed reminded him of the ghost towns of the old West he’d seen in American motion pictures.
As the plane soared closer to its destination, mountain peaks jutted toward the sky and the desert gave way to hundreds of acres of ranchland, a winding river, and a valley filled with smaller ranches, wildlife, farmland, and green pastures where cattle and horses grazed.
Sheik Amir Khalid had chosen the meeting spot, claiming the Wind River Ranch and Resort was both sophisticated and full of grandeur, and if the sight below him was any indication, the description had not done the place justice.
Unfortunately he was not here for pleasure, but business.
He sipped the last of his scotch, then leaned back and watched the sunset fade as the plane touched down. Seconds later his cell phone beeped, indicating he had a text message.
Grimacing, he checked the text, half expecting it to be his father, yet hoping it was one of the leaders of the other COIN nations confirming their meeting place.
Instead a warning appeared on the screen, YOUR LIVES ARE IN DANGER. DON’T TRUST ANYONE.
His chest clenched with worry. He and the other royals were well aware that their arrival might cause trouble. Both anti-American sentiment and the fear of terrorists had been prevalent reactions when they had first announced the summit.
Who had sent this message? Was it a real threat?
The plane skidded to a stop, and a drop of perspiration slid down his temple.
It did not matter. He had to contact his security detail and the other COIN members and alert them that they might be in danger.

FORENSIC EXPERT Jane Cameron slumped onto the tattered sofa in the break room at the crime lab, sighing in disgust at the special news feed of the royals’ arrival in Wyoming. Cameras panned the airport where the private jets for the dignitaries were landing. Security and police had roped off areas to fend off the nosy spectators, disgruntled citizens protesting the summit, and the swooning single women who wanted to sneak a peak at a real prince and sheik.
“Every girl’s fairy tale—she’ll grow up and marry a prince one day,” Ralph Osgood, her boss at the crime lab, muttered sarcastically. “How about you, Jane? You got stars in your eyes?”
“Hardly,” Jane said with a smirk. Fairy tales didn’t come true.
She glanced at the newspaper photograph on the desk. Prince Stefan Lutece was clad in his prince’s robe and crown, Sheik Khalid in his traditional robe…
Damn. Even if fairy tales did come true, a man like Prince Stefan wouldn’t bother with a second look at a plain Jane like her.
Not that she was in the market anyway. She liked her life just fine. She had her job. Control of her own remote. The environmental issues she supported.
“Today marks a monumental day for Wyoming,” Danny Harold, a cutthroat news reporter, stated interrupting her thoughts. “The Wind River Ranch and Resort will serve as host to a week of meetings that promise to help bring peace and economic security to the smaller nations of COIN as well as offering innovative and financially beneficial trade agreements to the U.S.”
Jane poured herself a cup of coffee and stirred a massive amount of sweetener into the cup. Everybody in the world was in a tizzy over this damn summit meeting, raising the threat level for travelers and locals to a high. Hell, for the last week she’d worked around the clock checking out suspicious crime scenes that police suspected might be terrorist threats. Thankfully they had been bogus, but the possibility of problems was very real.
“Sheriff Jake Wolf, Wind River’s local sheriff, is coordinating efforts between the various nations’ security teams,” Harold continued. “And now, here they come!”
Cameras focused one by one on the royals as they exited their private jets, each surrounded by a team of armed security agents in suits. In the background, protestors shouted derogatory remarks about terrorists, urging them to go home, while women and young girls shrieked at the sight of the princes and sheiks clad in regal attire.
“Sheik Efraim Aziz of Nudar,” Harold announced, “…twin brothers Prince Sebastian Cavanaugh and Prince Antoine Cavanaugh of Barajas… Sheik Amir Khalid of Jamala…and Prince Stefan Lutece representing Kyros.”
While the crowd cheered and booed, and the security teams muscled through the throng escorting the royals to the scheduled press conference, Jane studied the individual men, silently admitting that they were all very striking.
Sheik Efraim Aziz, clad in a galabiyya and embroidered hat, had dark hair and eyes and looked to be in his late thirties. The twin princes of Barajas, Prince Sebastian and Prince Antoine, were over six feet with brown hair and wore trousers with shirt length robes. She’d heard that both had military training. Sheik Amir Khalid was slightly younger, in his early thirties with black hair. From what she’d heard, he had suggested Wyoming as the summit meeting destination because of an earlier visit. His hat was a kufi skullcap, his galabiya colorful.
Then her gaze fell on Prince Stefan, and for the first time in her life, her stomach fluttered. Not a girl to let a man turn her head, she was shocked at how her pulse jumped and her body tingled.
Prince Stefan had jet black hair that matched his impressive tailored black suit. His prominent cheekbones and patrician nose boasted of a Greek heritage and made him look regal as if he should be the poster boy for all royals worldwide.
Or as if he was a Greek god.
And when the camera focused on him, his piercing green eyes gleamed with an intensity, an air of authority and intelligence that made her want to climb inside his mind.
Yet those piercing eyes scanned the crowd with suspicion.
Suddenly he leaned over, spoke to the security agent beside him, and panic stretched across the guard’s features. A second later, security agents surrounded the prince, then whisked him toward a limo while other security teams did the same with the remaining royals.
She tensed and tried to pan the crowd for suspicious characters. Something was wrong. Had the dignitaries been threatened?

STEFAN HATED to stir panic amongst the royals and forgo the initial press conference, but the moment he’d shared the text message, his chief of security Edilio Misko had contacted Fahad Bahir, Amir’s personal chief of security agent and the head of security for the COIN compact. Fahad had canceled the press conference. Security had also insisted the men immediately be transported to the resort.
Stefan despised being forced to slink away like a coward when he was a military man at heart and could defend himself, but he had no weapon now, and he had to remember that he was representing his nation. This deal was far too important for him to dismiss even the smallest hint of trouble.
And worry that this threat would impact their meetings consumed him. Efraim was already on the verge of pulling out of the deal.
Surrounded by Edilio and five other security agents, Hector Perro, Stefan’s chief aide, herded him toward the limo. Edilio pushed Stefan inside while shielding him with his own body. The security team surrounded the vehicle, each scanning the area for questionable characters.
Shouts from disappointed fans and protesters echoed from behind the gates as the limo driver drove toward the exit. Police had blocked off the parking lot as well as streets, and a pair of police cars led the entourage of limos as the collective group left the airport.
A mob of protesters lined the front gate, news station reporters and helicopters circled like vultures, and anti-Muslims waved American flags voicing their opinions.
Stefan frowned.
Even though he lived in the Mediterranean and Middle Eastern nations surrounded him, he failed to understand the hatred. He had valuable ideas which could benefit Kyros and the U.S., and he refused to allow either country to deter his mission of peace.
“I am sorry you did not get to hold the initial press conference,” Hector said quietly. “I understand how important this trip is to you, Prince Stefan.”
Stefan glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Night had descended, yet moonlight streaked the horizon, giving the rugged farm and ranchland an ethereal feel. Alpine meadows and Aspen forests filled his vision. Elk, deer, antelope, wild horses, cattle, mountain goats, and prairie animals roamed in their natural setting as if life had been turned back a century to a much simpler time.
A time before hatred and war and pollution.
“We must find out who sent this message,” Stefan said quietly, “determine if it was in fact a threat, and if so, discern what the person who sent it might know.”
“Yes, Prince Stefan,” Hector said. “Edilio is trying to trace the origin of the message as we speak.”
They passed an impressive sprawling ranch called the Seven M, then passed the Wind River reservation which jutted up to the resort property. Finally the driver veered down a side road and Stefan noted signs indicating the Wind River Ranch and Resort. The two-hundred acre secluded resort was situated on a working cattle ranch, a concept that intrigued him.
Yet this beautiful state was also troubled with pollution from their oil drilling. An area in which he possessed expertise and a problem he intended to rectify.
The main resort guest accommodations appeared as the driver wound up the drive. A sense of welcome engulfed him at the rustic charm, and the floor to ceiling windows and skylights with their majestic views of the mountains.
Minutes later, his security team ushered him through the enormous lobby, which boasted massive stone fireplaces and cozy seating nooks, to a large conference room where the other COIN members joined him.
“I’ll see that your luggage is stowed and your suite properly prepared,” Hector said, then excused himself.
Stefan nodded, then greeted each of the royals in turn while a staff waiter uncorked champagne and passed it amongst them.
“We have much business to attend to,” Amir said. He gestured toward Stefan. “Stefan has alerted us that he received a warning not to trust anyone while here. We do not take this warning lightly. Yet we must forge ahead unscathed by the hostility of those who oppose us.”
“Here, here,” Sebastian said, then raised his champagne flute for a toast.
The men clinked glasses.
“The summit begins tomorrow, but tonight is for us to relax.” A broad smile filled Amir’s face. “I chose this resort for its privacy, beauty and charming hospitality. It would be shameful if we did not become acquainted with the area and partake of the amenities offered.”
“I for one, am looking forward to those amenities,” Stefan said with a devilish grin. “And something the locals call Shoshone lamb and navy beans.”
The men laughed.
“I think a massage might be in order.” Antoine rolled his shoulders. “The long travels seem to have created a kink in my neck.”
More laughter followed as the men chatted about the possibility of attending an American rodeo, trout fishing, and hiking. A waiter appeared announcing dinner, and they were escorted into a private dining suite. Crystal chandeliers, a massive oak table, ornate molding and a picturesque view of the winding river added ambience to the artistically presented array of appetizers, meats, vegetables and desserts.
Stefan lacked a sweet tooth but tried each item displayed, his belly bulging from the fine cuisine. After dinner, drinks were served in a ballroom where they actually mingled with other guests. Stefan was surprised at the warm welcome, his earlier worries dissipating as the drinks and conversation flowed.
Efraim approached him, cognac in hand. “Amir has arranged a limo to drive us to the town of Dumont for some local flavor.”
Stefan arched a brow. “Local flavor? That sounds interesting.”
Efraim laughed. “Yes, no politics tonight. Our friend wants to play.”
“Aren’t you worried about the threat?” Antoine asked.
Amir shrugged. “If we let threats stop us, we would lock ourselves away for eternity and accomplish nothing.”
Stefan nodded, although a frisson of alarm traveled up his spine.
Hector, always the fussy assistant, pulled Stefan aside. “Are you certain this is a good idea, sir? Perhaps you should remain here where it is secure.”
“Amir is right. Do not worry so much, Hector,” Stefan said. “This is my opportunity to see another part of this beautiful state and understand the people and their culture before visiting the oil drilling sites.”
Hector’s gray brows furrowed with concern, but Stefan dismissed him and hurried to join the others.
Dumont was located at the foot of the mountains and served as a point of departure for camping, fishing, hunting, mountaineering, and wilderness travel. They passed a national park as they drove into the town, then the city hall, a museum of Native American history, a casino, bed and breakfast, sporting goods shop, bike shop, Museum of the West, and various other businesses along the square.
“Dumont was named after a famous female expert gambler,” Amir said as they climbed out at a rustic building where loud country music floated in the air.
“Perhaps we should try a game of twenty-one?”
Sebastian and Antoine exchanged grins. “I intend to people watch,” Sebastian said with a devious wink.
Stefan grinned. “You mean women watch?”
“Yes.” Sebastian shrugged. “Purely research, mind you.”
“Right, brother. We shall see what the west holds,” Antoine said with a chuckle.
Stefan tensed as their security guards surrounded them. He would have preferred to visit the town uninhibited by the constant barrage of protectors yet knew it was futile to argue. Still, they made quite an entrance as the agents swept them in.
Locals stared and whispered, some snapping pictures with their mobile phones. A few women gawked and approached for autographs but the security agents warded them off.
Amir seemed preoccupied, as if he was searching the room for someone, and Stefan wondered if he had made friends on his previous visit to the town.
Country music blared, the locals participated in some strange dance called square dancing and clogging, but all the men were entertained.
By 2:00 a.m., jet lag and fatigue set in, and the men filed out, the late night patrons of the honky tonk having imbibed too much to gawk any longer. It appeared that alcohol softened the haze of animosity between the cultures. The fact that Stefan, Antoine and Sebastian had warmed to a few patrons and forced security to grant them some leeway hadn’t hurt their cause, either. Efraim, on the other hand, continued to harbor anti-American sentiment.
Stefan yawned as the limo deposited them back at the resort. “Thank you, Amir, for showing us all a good night. If the remainder of the trip goes as smoothly, we will be leaving here with the COIN compact signed.”
The other royals climbed out, each agreeing, but Amir remained by the side of the limo. “I have enjoyed it immensely, my friends. But I have an errand to do.”
Stefan checked his watch. “At this hour?”
Antoine poked his twin brother. “You know our friend is a rebel, what the Americans call, a party animal.”
Amir laughed. “You are right, I am not ready to end the party tonight. I will see you tomorrow at the summit.”
Amir’s security agent seemed irritated at Amir’s decision, but allowed Amir to settle back in the car, then he joined him, and the limo disappeared again.
The security agents escorted Stefan and his friends to their private quarters, and Stefan dismissed Edilio so he could retire for the night.
Before going to bed, Stefan checked to make sure his notes for the next day’s presentation were in order. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned when a pounding sounded at the door.
“Prince Stefan,” Edilio shouted. “Sheik Aziz says it is urgent.”
Stefan rushed to answer the door. Efraim bolted inside, his features contorted with worry. He grabbed the remote control and flipped on the television set.
“What is wrong, Efraim?” Stefan asked, his own heart suddenly pounding.
“A limo just exploded a few miles from here.”
The special news broadcast burst onto the screen, cameras focusing on a burning vehicle. Smoke billowed toward the sky as rescue workers converged to douse the flames and save whoever might be inside.
“That limo,” Efraim said in a choked whisper. “It looks exactly like the one that just dropped us off.”
Stefan’s blood ran cold.
The very limo Amir had left in only moments earlier.
Had Amir made it out alive?

Chapter Two
Jane’s cell phone buzzed, jerking her from a restless sleep. She’d been dreaming about high school when she was a science geek and the popular kids had made fun of her.
They’d tied test tubes filled with condoms on her locker, then spray painted the words virgin forever on the front. The football team had thought it hysterical.
She had cried the rest of the afternoon.
The phone buzzed again, and she shoved the covers away from her face, cataloging the memory into forget mode as she reached for the phone. The ringtone signaled this call was work.
Not that she had many personal calls. That would require a personal life, and plain Jane Cameron didn’t have one.
Her gaze landed on the clock as she answered the call. 2:50 a.m. What now? “Jane speaking.”
“Jane, it’s Ralph. Get your butt out to Snake Valley Road. We got us a crime scene.”
“What happened?”
“Car bomb,” Ralph said, his voice raspy as if he’d been running. Of course with his extra thirty pounds, he wasn’t in the best of shape anyway.
“Injuries?”
“Yeah. One dead.” Ralph wheezed a breath. “Don’t know if there were other passengers, but them security dudes following them royals showed up. Makes you wonder…”
The hushed exit from the airport replayed in Jane’s mind, and she instantly became alert. She could still see Prince Stefan’s piercing green eyes searching the area as if he suspected trouble. Had he been inside the limo when it blew up?
She took a deep breath. “The royals were attacked?”
“Don’t know for sure,” Ralph said. “Sheriff Wolf’s checking to see who was inside.”
Stunned by how much it bothered her that the prince and his friends might have been murdered, Jane rubbed her hands over her eyes, then sighed.
She was not caught up in the grandeur of the royal blood like her own mother had been. For God’s sakes, Prince Lutece and his friends were just men. They put their pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.
Except they wore robes of silk, had private valets to help them put their pants on, and held the future of entire nations in their hands.
But look where falling for a diplomat had landed her mother. Media attention and notoriety at first.
Then the man had cheated on her, made a fool out of her for all the world to see, and dumped her.
“Jane? If you’re not up to this, I’ll call someone else,” Ralph said with his usual passive aggressive tone.
The hell he would. Ralph had been gunning to have her replaced ever since she’d been assigned to his team. He was major dark ages, thought women belonged in the kitchen waiting on their men hand and foot, and in the bedroom, catering to their every need, not in the lab or carrying a gun.
Not her style.
She could outshoot, outtalk and outsmart him, and she intended to prove that.
“Of course I’m up to it.” Jane stood, shucking off her boxer pajama shorts and reaching for a pair of well-worn jeans among the pile of clothes on her floor. “I’ll be right there.”
Jane pulled on a T-shirt and boots, yanked her shoulder length hair into a ponytail, stuffed a baseball hat on her head, grabbed her weapon and rushed toward the door.
All week they’d been on standby in case there was a threat to the dignitaries, and now it looked as if their worst fears might have come true.
She jogged to her SUV, started the engine and peeled from the drive. The jeep bounced over the country road leading away from her cabin outside Dumont, slinging gravel as she sped down Snake Valley Road. The swirling blue lights of the sheriff’s white Dodge SUV lit the sky as she approached the bomb site, the paramedics and fire engine adding to the chaos.
A news van—Danny Harold’s station—sat parked next to the ambulance. As she climbed out, deputies were busy roping off the crime scene, and Sheriff Wolf ordered Harold behind the yellow tape.
Her gaze zeroed in on the charred body lying on the ground, and her throat closed. Was the dead man one of the royals, possibly Prince Stefan?

STEFAN AND EFRAIM rushed to the conference room to meet the other royals who had been quickly informed of the car bomb. “Was Amir inside the vehicle when it exploded?” Stefan asked.
Fahad Bahir entered, his face a mask of anger. “I believe so, but I’ve spoken with Sheriff Wolf and only one body was recovered. I’m on my way to the scene now to see if identification is possible.”
“I will go with you,” Stefan said. “I want to examine the bomb mechanism myself.” Bombs were his expertise in the military. A bone of contention for some Americans, so he didn’t exactly publicize the fact.
“The press, the police,” Efraim said, wiping perspiration from his brow. “They will demand to know what happened. Where we were, if Amir was inside.”
“And why he was traveling alone in the middle of the night,” Sebastian added. “Where was he going?” Antoine asked.
Tension stretched across the room as everyone traded questioning looks. Apparently their friend had not confided in any of them. “We must not alert the press or the summit members until we know if Amir survived,” Fahad said.
“I agree,” Stefan said. “It could create panic and interfere with the summit.”
“We must also protect Amir’s family,” Efraim said.
“There is no need to alarm them until we’re certain what happened to Amir and if he is safe.”
A chorus of nods solidified the agreement.
“That message I received seems even more suspicious now,” Stefan commented.
Efraim shifted. “First, we have to determine if Amir was inside the limo at the time of the explosion. And we need a list of anyone who might specifically target Amir.”
Fahad nodded. “I will work on that list and coordinate with all the security teams.”
“Meanwhile we must devise a story to satisfy the media,” Antoine suggested.
“We shall say Amir had private business to attend to,” Fahad said. “That should mollify the local police until we discover what happened to Amir.”
Stefan rushed toward the door, anxiety knotting his muscles. They’d come here on a peace mission, and if Amir had been killed, he’d find out who had set off that bomb and the reason.
“Stefan, keep us informed,” Sebastian said.
Stefan nodded. “As soon as I know anything, I will call.”
Fahad reached for his cell phone. “I’m going to alert security. Until further notice, each of you should remain in your quarters with your guards in place.”
The men reluctantly agreed, and Stefan, Edilio and Fahad raced from the room. Minutes later, fear seized Stefan’s chest as they parked at the crime scene, and he saw the remnants of the charred limousine and the dead man lying on the ground beside it.
Crime scene tape cordoned off the area. Thankfully, due to the late hour, there were no spectators hovering, only police officers and rescue workers. Although he immediately spotted the news van and broadcaster who had been at the airport earlier, and frowned.
How had this vulture found out about the attack so quickly?
A slender woman wearing a ball cap, jeans, and T-shirt that stretched across ample breasts caught his attention as she leaned over the charred body. Although not dressed in a police uniform, her demeanor, the way she stooped and meticulously examined the body, the subtle tilt to her chin as she surveyed the area, indicated she served in an official capacity.
America and their women, he thought with a mixture of awe and derision. One never knew where you might find one, how she would be dressed, and what man’s job she might have acquired.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a navy blue uniform shirt, jeans and sporting a wide pewter belt etched with a howling wolf design, strode toward them.
Stefan had been warned that the former sheriff of this county had been corrupt and rumors had spread to their security teams that other local law enforcement officers might be dirty as well.
What about this sheriff? Could he be trusted?
“Prince Stefan, I’m Sheriff Jake Wolf,” the big man said with an accent that sounded lazy western, belying the tension lining his tanned face. “What are you doing here?”
Stefan shook his hand and introduced Fahad and Edilio. “We received word about the explosion. What have you found?”
Sheriff Wolf narrowed his eyes. “One body so far. We’re searching the vehicle and victim for ID now.”
“Was the victim in the driver’s or passenger seat?” Fahad asked.
“Driver’s seat.” Sheriff Wolf indicated the surrounding land. “Got my guys searching to see if a passenger might have been thrown or crawled from the vehicle.”
Stefan and Edilio exchanged a troubled look. Any life loss was tragic, but if the driver was dead and Amir’s body wasn’t inside the vehicle, he might have survived.
The woman hunched beside the victim pivoted to look up at him, and Stefan was suddenly struck by the startling shade of her eyes as she met his gaze. Not blue, not green exactly, but a mixture. Hazel, he thought as they flickered and changed in the moonlight.
Then his gaze slid down the ball cap to the dainty nose and full pink lips, and he swallowed hard. He’d expected a mannish woman below that cap, and granted this woman bore no makeup or feminine clothing, but his belly tensed with a sudden spark of attraction.
She might not be dressed for seduction, but a keen intelligence and innocence lay in her expression. And a sensuality that sent a sliver of desire straight through his groin. “Prince Stefan?”
The soft timbre of her voice startled him even more. The gods, she had a bedroom voice. “You know who I am?” he finally asked.
A tiny smile curved her mouth, friendly at first, then twisting with displeasure. “Of course. Doesn’t all of America?”
He simply stared at her, speechless, and for the first time in his life, completely out of his element. He had bedded countless women in his years, yet this tomboyish female had his tongue tied in knots.
How could this be?
Fahad cleared his throat. “And you are, Miss?”
The woman rose, putting her almost a good half-foot below his six-two, her gloved hands by her sides. “Jane Cameron, forensics. I’m here with the crime lab to analyze and process the crime scene.”
Fahad introduced himself and explained his presence. “And we are here to find out about this victim,” Fahad said.
Fahad’s words jerked Stefan back to the matter at hand, and he shifted his gaze to the dead man on the ground.
The last thing he needed was a feminine distraction. And the silky strands of hair peeking from the ball cap and spiraling around Jane Cameron’s face and shoulders was definitely distracting.
“This man is not Sheik Aziz,” Fahad said matter-of-factly. “He was the driver, Bahur Adler.”
Jane Cameron planted her hands on her hips. Blast it. She also had curves.
“Forgive me, but under the circumstances, how can you tell?” Jane asked.
“The medallion around his neck, Bahur always wore it,” Fahad said. “And he was missing the index finger on his right hand. He lost it in a childhood explosion in his country.”
As if on cue, Stefan’s gaze fell to the man’s right hand. No index finger.
Stefan breathed a momentary sigh of relief that Amir might have survived. But if he wasn’t here or in the limo, where was he?

JANE’S BREATH HITCHED as she stared at Prince Stefan. His green eyes hid a well of emotions, but she read fear, worry, caution and distrust.
Although for a second, those eyes had flickered with something else when she’d first looked up at him. He’d been surprised that she was a female. When his gaze had fallen on her mouth, she’d had to wet her lips with her tongue because they suddenly felt dry.
Then an odd look had crossed his stoic face. Not just surprise, but as if he might be pleased at what he saw. As if he found her attractive…
She swiped at a drop of perspiration beading on her upper lip.
Ridiculous. The heat and lack of sleep must be getting to her.
Not only would he laugh at the idea of her being attracted to him, but she didn’t want any part of the limelight.
She’d had enough of that after her mother’s death. Plain Jane in front of the camera, news reporters dogging her, strangers staring and prying, whispering and gossiping.
How could that odd little girl be the model-beautiful Genevieve Cameron’s daughter?
“We’ll transport this man’s body to the morgue for an autopsy,” Sheriff Wolf said, interrupting her trip down memory lane. “And we’ll need contact information so we can request his medical records to verify his ID.”
“Of course,” Fahad said. “I will make the necessary calls immediately.”
Jane noticed Ralph speak to the coroner as he arrived. Prince Stefan visually scanned the area where the vehicle had exploded. Remnants of metal, plastic and glass littered the asphalt, filling the air with the stench of smoke, charred metal and burned rubble.
“Did the driver suffer?” Prince Stefan asked quietly.
Jane studied the dead man’s remains. “The explosion probably killed him instantly, then the body burned post mortem.”
The prince nodded. “Have you discovered evidence of another victim inside the vehicle?”
“Let me examine the limo and I’ll let you know.” She frowned. “Why the interest?”
Prince Stefan gave her a cautious look, then lowered his voice. “Our group used this limo earlier. It is important we know if this bomb was intended for us.”
“You think you could have been the target?”
Prince Stefan shrugged. “One of our men took it after the rest of us retired. I need to know if he was inside.” He touched her arm gently. “But we do not wish this news to be public. You understand, Miss Cameron? It could cause panic, and we do not know who we can trust.”
His fingers sent a jolt of heat through her. A sexual kind of heat that she didn’t want. Yet his words stirred caution. Had they received threats?
“Call me Jane,” she said. “And don’t worry, Prince. I dislike the media myself and will protect the investigation. They won’t learn anything from me.”
He studied her for a long moment as if debating whether or not to believe her, but finally gave a clipped nod.
More disturbed by his presence than she wanted to admit, Jane pulled away. “Now, I need to examine the vehicle. We might find clues as to the identity of the killer from the type of bomb and material used.”
“And the detonation device,” Prince Stefan said.
Jane raised a brow. “You know about detonation devices?”
A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “My military expertise was with explosives. But I’d rather you not make that public, either.”
Jane bit back a sardonic smile. Dammit, he wasn’t only sexy as hell, he was intelligent. She felt as if he’d lit some kind of fire in her belly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
She spotted Ralph eyeing her and strode to the limo. Hopefully, she’d be able to assure the prince that this bomb had nothing to do with the royals, then he could leave, and she wouldn’t have to deal with him again.
He was far too dangerous and tempting for a girl like her. Drooling over him would do nothing but lead to heartache, rejection, and put her in front of the media.
One place she never intended to be again.

STEFAN TENSED as Jane pulled away from him and rushed over to the limo to examine it. Something had passed between them when he’d touched her. A charged heat that had surprised him.
One Jane obviously didn’t feel. In fact, she seemed unfazed by him and unimpressed with his position.
He started toward the vehicle, but Sheriff Wolf stepped between him and Jane. “I’m sorry, Prince, but this is a crime scene. You’ll have to stay back.”
Edilio lifted a hand. “Sheriff, the prince is well educated in explosive devices. He can assist your people.”
Sheriff Wolf scowled. “We can handle it on our own. Ms. Cameron is one of our best.”
Jane pivoted from where she was examining the car, then crossed the distance to them. “The passenger seat in the front looks clean, but the backseat has blood on it.
Her expression turned grave. “I’m sorry, but it does appear that there was a second person in the car when it exploded.”

Chapter Three
Stefan’s chest constricted. Had Amir survived and escaped, or had he been blown to bits in the explosion?
Sheriff Wolf followed Jane back to the limo, and Stefan tailed him, hoping Jane was wrong. But Jane pointed to the seat and floor where she had sprayed Luminal, and Stefan saw the blood. Not just a few drops either. Enough to indicate someone could have been seriously hurt.
Sheriff Wolf spoke into his radio. “The blood suggests that a passenger was injured in the explosion. I want the search teams to cover a three-mile radius of the area.”
Jane waited until he finished issuing his orders, then waved her lab assistant over. “Tomas, we need to find the blast point, then let’s move out one foot at a time and collect everything we can find. Gum wrappers, pieces of metal, cigarette butts, glass—anything could have traces of the residue on it. Photograph and catalog it, then we’ll take it to the lab for analysis.”
The younger man nodded, hoisted his camera and went to work.
A balding man with a drooping left eye and a cheap suit approached Jane, then gestured toward Stefan. “What’s he doing here?”
Stefan tensed at his surly tone, but Jane simply gave him a level look. “The dignitaries traveled in a similar limo earlier. Security team is just covering their bases.”
Stefan hated compromising Jane by forcing her to lie, but security measures required it. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Prince Stefan of Kyros. And you are, Sir?”
“Ralph Osgood, CSI and Jane’s superior.”
Stefan disliked the man immediately. Most likely he used his rank to bully Jane and anyone else around him.
Osgood stuck a toothpick in the side of his mouth and chewed on it. “Prince Lutece, you need to stay behind the crime scene tape. You could be compromising evidence.”
Edilio stepped up to defend him, but Stefan shook his head, warning him to let him speak for himself. “As you suggest,” Stefan said with more politeness than he felt.
Gritting his teeth, he stepped back behind the crime scene tape. But what he really wanted was to examine the bomb himself.
He’d have to consult with Jane at the lab after she analyzed their findings.
Perhaps if he used his charm, she’d allow him to look at the evidence.

JANE FELT the tension radiating from the prince in his forced politeness to Ralph, but the smile he graced her with twinkled with an unspoken camaraderie as if he knew his good looks and smooth voice had won her over.
She had agreed not to share news with the press, but that was because she didn’t trust the media not to mess up a good case.
Not because of the prince’s mesmerizing green eyes.
Because she was a professional. And no one, not even the prince himself, would dissuade her from following protocol and doing her damnedest to solve this case.
Thankfully he moved behind the crime tape out of her direct vision, but she still felt his eyes watching her, studying her movements. Did he know something more about this bomb than he’d revealed?
If one of the royals had been inside when the bomb ignited, why wouldn’t he want them to alert the police?
Tomas was searching for forensics on the north side of the vehicle so she stooped to examine the underside of the car. The easiest bomb to make was one that involved gunpowder, a plastic bag and a wire. A blast-off mechanism was required, but the bomber could have used something as simple as a kid’s rocket toy. He would have put it near the engine, then run wires from the ignition to the bag. When the car started, the electrical spark would ignite the gunpowder, which would have ignited the bomb.
Except the limo didn’t explode when the engine started.
This bomb exploded mid-ride, meaning someone must have set a timer or been nearby watching to trigger the device.
She inspected the ignition, the engine and the gas tank and collected trace from all areas. The scent of burned metal and copper permeated the air along with the lingering odor of charred metal, burned rubber, blood and human skin.
Ralph was processing the car’s interior, so she used her flashlight to scan the ground along the deserted road. A cigarette butt caught her eye, and she bagged it, then gathered several pieces of metal, wires and plastic that could have been part of the explosive.
When she glanced up, Prince Stefan was still trailing her with those intense eyes, and she had the uncanny feeling that he was holding something back.
A glint of metal suddenly flickered in the moonlight. She frowned, waved her flashlight across the sagebrush and prickly pears, and spotted something that looked like a cell phone in the midst of a patch of Indian paintbrush.
With her gloved hands, she knelt, pushed apart the scarlet leaves and foliage and retrieved the phone, then flipped it over. It could have belonged to the passenger from the limo. Maybe they’d lift some prints that would lead to the bomber.
Or at least the name of the passenger. Then they could look at motive.
Unless the driver had been the target.
They couldn’t dismiss that possibility, although if this limo had transported the royals earlier, the more likely prospect was that the intended target had been all or one of the dignitaries.
She punched the connect button to make a call, but the battery on the cell phone was dead. The lab would have to do its magic, search for prints, the phone log history.
She bagged the phone and carried it to the evidence box. Prince Lutece’s eyes flared with interest as their gazes connected, and he wove along the edge of the crime scene tape until he stood only inches from her.
“You found something?” he asked in a gruff voice.
She nodded. “A cell phone. Could be nothing, or it could have belonged to the missing passenger.” She held up the bag and his jaw tightened.
“You recognize the phone?” she asked quietly.
A muscle worked in his throat. He was stalling. Debating whether to lie or how much to reveal.
Well, damn. Maybe the missing person was a friend of his. But she was not here to play games.
“Listen, Prince,” she said, purposely inflecting sarcasm into the title. “I don’t care what your position is. If you know the identity of the second person in the car, you need to speak up. Withholding information about a crime is a crime itself.”
Anger sharpened his tone when he spoke. “I do not need a lecture on the laws of your country.”
“And I don’t need you breathing down my neck if you aren’t going to cooperate. Do you know who this phone belongs to?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. He simply breathed deeply, so deeply that the sound sent a tremor through her. He was afraid he did know.
And he also feared that he couldn’t trust her.
The image of the panic on his face in the earlier news clip of his arrival rose in her mind in vivid clarity, sending a chill through her. He had received a threat. Maybe all of them had.
“I told you that I wouldn’t reveal information to the press,” she said in a low voice. “You have my word that I will be discreet.”
“It is not just the media that concerns me,” the prince said.
He didn’t trust the police?
She didn’t know how to assure him. Their last sheriff had been corrupt. Others had been rumored to be dirty, too, but she had no idea how deeply the corruption went or who might be involved.
And the prince’s arrival, along with the other leaders of the Middle Eastern and Mediterranean nations, had stirred distrust and suspicion on numerous levels.
He stroked her arm, and her gaze fell to his hand. His fingers, his touch felt so gentle, yet his military background and leadership role indicated he possessed a steely strength and determination. That he would do whatever necessary to protect his people and his friends.
“We believe Sheik Amir may have been in the limousine,” Stefan said in a tortured whisper. “But this news cannot be made public. And I do not want it shared with any of your law officials, even your boss.”
Jane gave a clipped nod. She hated to lie to Osgood or other police, but she also understood the delicacy of this matter. Lives were at stake. “I just want to get to the truth,” Jane said. “If your friend was involved, talking to me might help us find him.”
“You will do your job,” he finally said. “I just ask that you discuss any leads you find with me and get clearance with our security before you go public with information.”
He sounded so sincere that against her better judgment, she agreed.
Suddenly the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end, and her cop skills kicked in. Oftentimes criminals showed up at a crime scene and insinuated themselves into the investigation, so they could keep abreast of developments. That and a morbid sense of watching the police scurry around searching for clues.
She turned and studied everyone at the scene and the surrounding area to see if anyone looked suspicious.

STEFAN GRITTED his teeth. He did recognize the cell phone. It was Amir’s. Which meant the blood in the back of the limo most likely belonged to him, too.
Frustration knotted his insides. He did not like lying to Jane, but the earlier text made him extremely cautious.
Something about her tough-girl act impressed him. She wasn’t trying to be coy or use him. She was simply doing her job.
A refreshing change from the manipulative, seductive women who had tried to lure him into bed—and into marriage—and earn a position by his side on the throne.
But he did not have time to analyze his odd attraction to her. Finding Amir was of utmost importance.
“Was gunpowder used as the explosive?” he asked.
Jane adjusted her cap. “I will release my results once I’ve analyzed the samples at the lab.”
“But no signs of C-4 or another military ex plosive?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You do know explosives, don’t you, Prince?”
He nodded. “Among other things.”
Swinging the flashlight in a wide arc, Jane studied the angle of the limo, then shined the light on the edges of the asphalt next to the dirt.
Stefan followed the tracking light, and frowned as he noticed skid marks made by the limo. Then more tire tracks…
“There was another vehicle here,” Jane said. “Either the bomber himself or a witness.”
A witness would be invaluable. But if so, where was this person? “Perhaps someone found Amir and drove him for medical help.” At least he prayed that was the scenario. Not that this person had kidnapped Amir.
“I’ll have the sheriff check local hospitals.” She traced a gloved hand over one of the tire tracks. “I’m going to take plaster casts of these.”
“You can distinguish the make of the automobile by these impressions?” he asked.
Jane nodded. “If we look at the tread and wear, we can match them to a particular tire. There are databases that list which tires are installed from the factory on specific vehicles. And if there’s a hole or cut in the tire, that makes it even more unique.”
Stefan nodded, impressed.
“Let me get my supplies,” she said.
He watched as she spoke with the sheriff, then rushed to the crime lab van. Seconds later, she returned with a camera and supplies. She took photographs of each tire track at a ninety-degree angle, then from various angles, then measured the width and the circumference of the wheels as well as the distance between the front of the tires and the rear tires.
She also knelt and collected samples of the rubber left on the asphalt and dirt and bagged it to transport to the lab.
Stefan noted the meticulous way she handled each piece of evidence, logging it into an evidence log to ensure proper treatment.
There were also shoe prints on the dirt by the second car. She measured and cast those as well.
Finally, she stood and returned to him, looking up at him beneath the brim of her hat. “We need to take a sample of your foot impressions.”
He gaped at her, anger rising. “You cannot honestly believe that I had something to do with this bomb.” It was a statement, not a question.
Jane gave him a sardonic smile. “You tell me. You were here within minutes of the crime. You refuse to be open with me. You’ve asked me to cover up anything I find from the press. I know that you recognize that cell phone.” She sighed. “And you are a bomb expert. Do the math.”
“There is no math to be done,” he said, his voice hardening. “I am Prince of Kyros, here to make peace deals with your country and the limo my friends and I rode in earlier was blown up. I explained my reasons and you must accept them.”
Jane planted her hands on her hips, her expression defiant. “I don’t care who you are. I’m a crime scene investigator, and I’m going to find out what happened here. And whoever is involved is going to answer for this crime.”
Stefan’s cheeks burned. Edilio glanced up in concern from the car where he stood, and Jane’s superior, Osgood, did the same. Furious, Stefan jammed his hands in his pockets to keep from shaking the insufferable woman and finding himself handcuffed by the local law like a common criminal.
Osgood strolled over, scratching at his arm where it appeared a rash lingered. “Something wrong?”
“I just explained that we’ll need to take the prince’s foot impressions.” Jane smiled tightly. “For elimination purposes, of course.”
Stefan’s gaze met hers. He saw the challenge. But heat rippled through the air, a charged tension that made his body burn with desire.
Edilio approached, his temper flaring in his eyes, and the reporter hovering on the scene started toward them.
Sheriff Wolf caught the reporter, though, before he could snap a photo.
“You insult the Prince, Miss,” Edilio said in a harsh voice. “That is not acceptable. You must apologize.”
Stefan raised a hand to warn Edilio to calm down. The last thing he wanted was to cause an incident with the local police. Or for this reporter to capture it. “No need for apologies, Edilio. Let Miss Cameron follow her protocol.”
He gave Jane a seductive smile. “Take my prints, Jane. You will only prove that you are wrong about me. That even if you have a problem with me because I am a prince, that I am an honorable man, one you can trust.”

THE SUBTLE INNUENDO in Stefan’s voice sent a quiver up Jane’s spine. She didn’t really believe that the prince had anything to do with the bombing, and she had no idea why she’d baited him, but his presence totally unnerved her.
“I do not have a problem with you because you are a prince,” Jane lied.
Rather because he was a man.
She didn’t trust any man, especially a royal who could have any woman on any continent he desired. A man with wealth and power and people heeding his every beck and call.
She wanted him gone. Away from her so she could breathe normally again. So her fingers would stop sweating and her heart racing, and her mind would stop straying to dangerous avenues.
Like wondering what he thought about her. If he liked what he saw. If his hands were as sensual as they looked. And what it would feel like if he actually touched her with that sultry mouth.
Good grief. She was a moron to even think such nonsense.
“I’ll need your shoes,” Jane said.
“I will follow you to your lab and you may have them there,” the prince said in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Fine.” Jane grabbed the evidence box to transport to the lab, and strode toward her vehicle, but just as she crossed through the crime scene tape, the reporter shoved a microphone in her face.
“Can you tell us what you found? Who was in the car?”
Jane shook her head. “The department will issue a statement once the evidence has been processed and the victim identified. Now, please move, so I can do my job.”
Stefan smiled as she elbowed her way past the leech. It had irritated him when she had used that tone on him, but amused him now.
“Prince Stefan,” Edilio said. “Are you certain you want to cooperate with this woman?”
Stefan shrugged. “I think she will be useful in giving us information.”
“Such a crass female,” Edilio said. “I cannot fathom why some American women dress and talk like men.”
Stefan’s mouth quirked. Crass was not the word he would have chosen. Intriguing, sexy, smart. Not the type of woman he was accustomed to, but he would meet her challenge.
Still, responding to Edilio would only invite questions, so he refrained from comment.
Edilio drove and he tried to tame his libido as they followed Jane to the lab, parked and went inside. The crime lab was located in the brick courthouse in Dumont on the second floor and consisted of several offices and laboratories. Jane catalogued the evidence into their filing system, then settled at a workspace. With the late night hour, the lab was virtually empty, the halls reeking of pungent odors and chemicals.
“Find us some coffee,” Prince Stefan said. “I will phone Efraim and update him.”
Edilio nodded, then walked down the hall, and Stefan stepped into an empty corridor across from Jane’s lab to phone his friends.
“The driver was killed,” he told Efraim. “And there was blood in the backseat, but Amir was not inside.”
“Then he could have crawled away after the explosion, and he still may be alive.”
“It is possible,” Stefan said. “But Amir’s cell phone was discovered at the scene in the bushes. And there were tire tracks from a second car.”
Efraim grunted. “There was a witness?”
“Either that or the second vehicle belonged to the bomber. If he saw that Amir was still alive, he could have kidnapped him.”
Efraim cursed. “We must not let this information become known. Not until we discover the truth.”
“I agree.”
“I will handle making excuses to delay the summit,” Efraim said.
“Thank you, Efraim. But do not give up on it. We will make this happen.” Stefan’s phone beeped that he had another call. “I am sorry, it is my brother. I should take this.”
“Be careful, Stefan,” Efraim warned.
“You do the same, my friend.” Stefan connected his brother’s call.
“Stefan,” Thaddeus said. “We just received word that there was an attack on you and the COIN members. Are you all right?”
Stefan sighed. So much for staying out of the news. “I am fine.” He contemplated sharing about Amir but decided to hold off. Sometimes his brother had a loose tongue. “And yes, there was a bombing but we were not inside the limousine at the time.”
Thaddeus emitted a sound of relief. “Good. Now listen, Stefan. Father does not wish to frighten you but his condition is worse.” Thaddeus’s voice sounded anxious. “I think you should agree to the marriage with Daria and alleviate Father’s worries about leaving our country in turmoil.”
Stefan’s fingers tightened around the handset. “I do not intend to debate this matter with you, Thaddeus. I have made my decision and it stands.”
“But—”
Suddenly the lights flickered off, and Stefan tensed. A noise sounded. Footsteps. Something fell. Then a loud, shrill scream pierced the air, and Stefan’s blood went cold.
Jane…

Chapter Four
Jane screamed. Someone was attacking her, had grabbed her by the neck…
She grappled for something to use to defend herself, but her fingernails barely scratched the surface of the metal table, and she stumbled. The lab was pitch dark.
Who the hell was on top of her?
She struggled, pivoting to try to see his face, but a hand closed around her throat, choking her. Frantic, she raised her knee and kicked backward, thrusting her foot into her attacker’s shin.
He grunted and slammed his fist against the side of her head. Jane screamed again, flailing as she went down. Her head hit the corner of the table and pain ricocheted through her skull.
The darkness spun around her in a drunken rush, disorienting her. Then footsteps sounded. The back door to the lab swished open as if someone was leaving, but more footsteps pounded from the opposite direction.
Nausea clogged her throat as she pushed herself up to her knees and reached for the table edge to help her stand.
Suddenly a shadow crept into her vision, and she lurched into defense mode, threw her hands up and swung her fist toward her attacker.
The intruder caught her hands in his. “Jane, stop, it’s me! Stefan.”
Her breath rasped out as she fought the nausea again, but the voice registered.
The prince?
He took her by the arms and her knees buckled.
“Jane, are you all right?”
Jane sucked in a sharp breath. “Someone was here…attacked me.”
The prince gently smoothed the hair back from her face. She could barely make out his face in the dark, but his eyes shone in the sunlight beginning to peek through the slats of the blinds.
He pulled his hand away, and gasped at the blood on his fingers. “The gods, Jane, you’re bleeding.”
“The lights…” she said. “See if you can flip them back on. The evidence…I have to see if something is missing.”
“Forget the evidence,” he snarled. “You need medical treatment.”
Edilio suddenly raced up. “Prince Stefan, are you all right? I heard a scream.”
“I’m fine, but Jane was attacked. Search the building, and call an ambulance.” Edilio nodded and hurried through the door.
Jane gripped Stefan’s arm and tried to stand. “Find the lights. The breaker, in the hall. He must have tripped it.”
“First, you need medical attention.”
“No, I told you I’m fine,” Jane screeched. “Now get the lights.”
His long irritated sigh punctuated the tense silence. “Very well. But at least sit down.”
The room swirled again, stars dancing behind her eyes, and she clutched him, hating to show weakness and determined not to pass out. She would not be some helpless female. She was a crime investigator for heaven’s sake.
“You are bossy and insufferable,” he growled. But his hands were gentle as he helped her make her way to one of the chairs in the corner of the lab. She collapsed against the vinyl seat and leaned forward with her head between her hands, gulping air.
“Jane.” He brushed the back of her neck with his fingers. “Are you really all right?”
Gritting her teeth against the pain thrumming through her head, she reached up and squeezed his hand. “Yes. Now please, we’re wasting time while he escapes.”
He hesitated only another second before he raced from the lab. Jane blinked, intent on regaining her equilibrium, then ran her hand along the edge of the counter and found the phone. A second later she punched the number for security.
“Lock down the lab. We’ve been compromised. Suspect got away.”
“Roger that.” A brisk order to search the premises followed. “Do you need medical assistance?”
Jane hesitated. She hated to be babied, but she might need stitches. And documenting her attack was vital if they caught her assailant and went to trial. The prince’s security called an ambulance. “Alert Sheriff Wolf. I had evidence from the explosion in the lab. It might have been compromised. I’m going to check now to see if anything is missing.”
The lights suddenly flickered on, and she grimaced as she scanned the lab. Prince Lutece hurried in, his face a grim mask as he raked his gaze over her.
“You look like hell, Jane.”
A sardonic chuckle escaped her. “I thought princes were supposed to be charming.”
“Blood is not charming.”
“You’re right.” She eyed the evidence bags she’d logged in and frowned. “Dammit. The cell phone. It’s gone.”

STEFAN GROWLED deep in his throat. The attacker stole Amir’s phone.
Blast it. They might have lost a valuable piece of evidence that could lead them to the person behind the bomb attack.
And Jane—she looked so pale. Her eyes held hints of fear and pain, making his gut tighten with the need to soothe her.
Even worse, blood dotted her forehead, streaking her hair, reminding him that she’d been physically assaulted because of this case. Because of his friend.
A fact that infuriated him.
A fact that made him feel responsible.
He did not want to feel responsible for Jane Cameron, not a woman who seemed to snub her nose at his status.
Yet, he did want to alleviate her pain and fear.
His eyes fell on her hair, and his body hardened. During the attack she’d lost her ball cap, and her hair had come free of that ponytail. Her hair—it was golden brown and looked as silky as it had felt when he’d touched her earlier.
It also curled around her cheeks and made her look feminine and vulnerable.
Oblivious to his lustful thoughts, Jane pushed to her feet again but swayed, and he rushed to her. “Stay seated until the ambulance arrives.”
She sighed. “I’m fine. I need to make sure nothing else is missing.”
Stefan gritted his teeth.
He ached to pull her into his arms, hold her and comfort her. But the moment he stepped forward, she busied herself searching the evidence bags. “I hope security catches the bastard.”
He bit the inside of his cheek at her colorful language. “Did you see the assailant?” Stefan asked.
“No, it was too dark.” She angled her head toward him. “But I did manage to lift prints from the phone before the attack. I’ll plug those in the database and see if I get a hit.”
Footsteps sounded, and Stefan glanced through the glass partition and saw a man wearing a security uniform approaching along with Edilio. Two paramedics entered behind him with Sheriff Wolf on their heels.
“Ms. Cameron,” the guard said. “We searched the premises, but it appears your attacker escaped.”
“Do you not have security cameras?” Stefan asked.
“I checked them but he must have tripped them when he flipped off the power,” Edilio said.
A short, stout young man in a medic’s uniform hurried toward Jane. “Miss, are you the one who was accosted?”
Jane nodded. “Yes, but I’m fine, really. Just a bump on the head.”
“Let’s take a look.” He coaxed her to sit down, and Jane reluctantly allowed him to examine her head wound.
Sheriff Wolf moved inside, visually scanning the room. “What happened?”
“I catalogued the evidence into the system, then had started processing it when the lights suddenly flickered off.” She winced as the medic cleaned the cut. “Then someone attacked me from behind.”
The medic cleared his throat. “You might need a couple of stitches. We can transport you to the hospital—”
Jane shook her head. “Just fix me up with a butterfly bandage and I’ll be right as rain.”
“But you should go to the hospital and have a CAT scan,” he argued.
A skinny female medic approached Jane. “If you don’t stitch it up, you might have a scar.”
“I don’t care about a damn scar.” Jane gestured toward the other medic. “I’m not going to the hospital. Now I have to get back to work so bandage me or I’ll bleed all over the evidence.”
The medic insisted she sign a medical release denying hospital treatment, then placed a bandage on her forehead.
Stefan wanted to throttle the stubborn woman, but realized arguing with her was futile.
“Can you identify your assailant?” the sheriff asked.
“No,” Jane said. “It was too dark and he came at me from behind.”
“Coward,” Stefan muttered.
Jane swung her gaze toward him, and a small smile lifted the corner of her mouth.
“How do you know it was a male?” Sheriff Wolf asked. “Did he say anything?”
“His size, I guess. His hands were big.” She twisted her mouth in thought. “And when I kicked him, he grunted, deep like a man.”
Sheriff Wolf nodded. “Maybe he left his prints?”
Jane touched her throat absentmindedly, and Stefan’s jaw tightened. The bloody animal had tried to strangle her.
“No use. He was wearing gloves,” Jane said matter-of-factly.
“Did he take anything?” Sheriff Wolf asked.
Jane nodded. “The cell phone I collected at the crime scene.” She examined the evidence box. “The samples from the road and car seem to be intact,” she said. “And here are the blood samples from the car and the bomb particles. There were dozens of prints inside the limo, too.”
“I’ll file a report,” Sheriff Wolf said. “Keep me updated on the evidence once you finish.”
Jane agreed, then the sheriff and security guard left, and Edilio stepped into the hallway.
Stefan folded his arms. “My fingerprints will be among those in the limo,” Stefan said. “And so will the other dignitaries traveling with me. As I said, we took that limo into Dumont earlier in the evening.”
Jane’s eyes flickered with sudden understanding. “I know you’re concerned about the sheik. You think that you might all have been targets?”
Stefan could not deny the truth because Jane was too smart to already not have considered that theory.
“It is possible,” he said.
“Then why do you want to keep it from the press and the sheriff?” Jane asked bluntly. “They might be able to help you.”
There were not many people he trusted, and he did not offer that trust lightly. But this woman had nearly been killed because she was working this case, and perhaps because someone might have tried to murder Amir—and him and his friends.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/rita-herron/brandishing-a-crown/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.