by Julie Miller
“Give me a few minutes with Miss Valentine.” He paused when Filip shot to his feet, preparing to follow. Ivan put up his hand, warning him that he didn’t need any help walking across the room. “Send the others back to the hotel. A few of us, at least, should get some sleep before the meetings tomorrow morning. I plan to stay until I get a full report on Frank Valentine, and I know Carly is all right.”
“As you wish. I will also be staying.”
Ivan tipped his head to the sterile ceiling, his nostrils flaring with a measured breath. He admired Filip’s dedication to his job even as he found his need to hover irritating. Or was his attentiveness something more purposeful? Like keeping his prey in sight? An instinctive male need to call him on his behavior had to be squelched. “You have been up longer than I have. Leave Danya or Eduard and get some rest. I will have Captain Hendricks with me. I am perfectly safe.”
Filip adjusted the flak vest he wore beneath his shirt and jacket, as if the protective armor didn’t quite fit his muscular bulk. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable wearing it, if his next words were any indication. “I failed to protect you this evening. I should have checked every delivery myself. I will not fail again. I am staying.”
Ivan nodded. He wished he could trust this longtime servant to the crown without hesitation. Right now, he could only act as if he did. “Very well. But, privacy? Please?”
Filip gestured to the end of the hallway. “I have secured a room for you, just around the corner. I anticipated you would wish to speak to Miss Valentine. You will not be disturbed. I will dismiss the nonessential personnel and wait for you here.”
“Thank you.”
With a sharp nod, Filip crossed the waiting area to speak to his team, plus Aleks and Galina and a pair of uniformed officers who had accompanied Captain Hendricks to stand watch and keep a trio of local reporters away from the family and the royal entourage. Ivan shrugged off his suit jacket and went to join Carly the moment the doctor excused himself.
Up close, Ivan could see the goose bumps dotting Carly’s skin. He hadn’t imagined the chill she felt. He draped his jacket around her and squeezed her shoulders in a subtle show of support before moving in beside her to join the circle of hushed conversation. “Is Frank all right?”
She clutched the jacket together at her neck, offering him a weak smile of thanks. “Dr. McBride said Frank probably feels like he’s been hit by a train with the severity of those muscle spasms and pumping his stomach. He’s on pain meds. Stimuli might trigger new seizures until it’s completely out of his system, so they’re keeping him mildly sedated in a quiet, dark room.”
“Barring any complications, the doc says he’s going to pull through.” Carly’s father looked as if he’d aged since they’d first met earlier that evening.
Even her smart-mouthed brother seemed subdued by the close call. “I’ve always looked up to Frank. He’s the strong one. Seeing him hooked up to all those IVs and beeping machines freaks me out as much as seeing him writhing on the floor did.”
Carly linked her arm through Jesse’s and rested her head on his shoulder. “Dr. McBride said everyone’s quick actions, including yours, saved him. Frank is strong. He’s too stubborn to die. Focus on that.”
Jesse leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. “Nice pep talk, Carls. But we all know this was no accident. Are you gonna get this guy for us?”
“Of course, she will.” Carl winked at his daughter. “That’s her job.”
Not for the first time, Ivan wondered at the balance in this family. Was Carly a strong woman by nature? Or was she forced to be that way because her brothers and father needed her to take care of them? “Mr. Valentine, I am sorry that your son was hurt, when clearly, I was the target. I wish to pay for any medical expenses—”
“Did you poison Frankie?”
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t think so. So don’t apologize. And don’t think you gotta throw your money around to make up for what happened to my boy. You’ve got enemies, Your Royalness. And if you’re going to be dating my daughter, that means we have enemies, too. But you’re not one of them. Of course, you hurt my little girl and all that changes.”
How was he supposed to respond to that? He would never intentionally hurt Carly. And yet, he feared he already had. “Sir—”
“Dad...” Carly began.
Carl removed his ball cap and waved off both of their protests. He rubbed the top of his head down to his nape, sighing as if that burst of anger had drained whatever stores of energy he had left. He clapped Captain Hendricks on the shoulder. “Joe, you get the bastards who did this.”
The police captain nodded. “I will.”
The other man’s promise seemed good enough for Carl. “I’d better sort through that insurance mess.”
There was nothing subtle about Carly widening her eyes at Jesse and pointing toward their father as he walked away. It took a split second for him to catch on before he snapped his fingers. “Wait up, Dad. I’ll come with you.”
He hurried to catch up to Carl and squeezed a hand around his shoulder, offering his support so that none of them would be alone.
Captain Hendricks waited for Carl and Jesse to move out of earshot before he leaned in. “We need to talk. Your Highness?”
Ivan inclined his head toward the bodyguard pacing the waiting area. “There are ears here.” Placing his hand at the small of Carly’s back, he led them into the private room around the corner. “I wish to hear anything you have to say.”
It was no secret that Carly was a cop and that Joe was her precinct commander, so no one questioned why an officer of his authority was on the scene when a crime like attempted murder occurred in the company of a visiting dignitary. But the real gist of their conversation needed to remain between the three of them.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Joe pulled a notepad from the pocket of his jacket. “Since this is such a high-profile case, I expedited the tox results on that fruit basket through the crime lab. Every apple was injected with strychnine.”
“Just the apples?” Carly ran her hands up and down the silk-lined jacket that hung around her, as if Ivan’s coat alone wasn’t enough to chase away the chill she felt. “Why not the oranges?”
Ivan had the answer to that. “The prince does not like oranges.”
Her eyes darted up to his, and a tiny frown mark dimpled her forehead. Great. He’d just referred to himself in the third person again. But when Joe didn’t mention the odd phrasing, Carly didn’t ask the question stamped on her face. She crossed to the minibar that held a steaming pot of coffee but didn’t pour herself a cup. “That would narrow down the possibility of the wrong person eating the poison. If it’s common knowledge.”
“Most of Lukinburg knows this. There was an embarrassing news report during the last orange harvest about how difficult it is to peel an orange. I did not take the time on camera to eat one presented to me. The reporter suggested I hire someone to peel oranges for me. It became a jab at increasing government spending on what some consider to be frivolous programs.” That attempt at humor had given the Loyalists some unnecessary ammunition against the new government.
“Are they?” Carly asked, facing him again. “Frivolous? It could be motive for the threats.”
“I do not consider bringing in agricultural consultants to reclaim our overtaxed land and increase crop production to feed my people to be a frivolous expense.” Ivan bristled at how the old guard resented change, even if it was to their own benefit. “We spend a fortune importing grain and meat. One of our goals during this visit is to negotiate more equal trade with your farmers, as well as meet potential consultants. In the long run, we will save money by doing this.”
Joe tucked his notepad back into his jacket. “Save the political speeches for your official appearances. Right now, I’m looking to narrow down our list of suspects
. The forensics report wasn’t much help.” He included both Ivan and Carly in his dark gaze. “The lab dusted the basket and remaining fruit for fingerprints. Somebody wiped it clean.”
Carly pushed away from the counter and paced to the door. “I didn’t think to secure it right away. I was worried about Frank.”
“Actually, it narrows down our suspect list,” Joe said. “By the time the lab got a hold of it, the plastic wrap was completely missing. Whoever did it had to be someone at your house, covering his or her tracks.”
Carly stopped in front of Ivan, tilting her face to his. “Could he or she have wiped the prints to protect you from being a suspect? You handled the basket.”
“So did you. And Galina and Aleks.”
“Dad and Frank, too.” She shook her head and continued to pace. “There should be a ton of prints.”
The rest of Joe’s report wasn’t much more enlightening. “The lab also matched that first note you showed me to the printer on your airplane. I think we can safely confirm that this is an inside job.”
“But is it one person? Or is that inside man the representative of an entire rebel faction? Could there be others from the Lukin Loyalist movement here in Kansas City?”
“If there are, we’ll find them. Hopefully, before they make their move.” The captain buttoned his collar and straightened the knot of his tie. “In the meantime, I’ll have a lab team go through everything in your suite with a fine-tooth comb to see if there are any other threats there.”
“You will have to go through Filip for security clearance.”
Grinning, Joe buttoned his jacket and headed for the door. “It’s a Kansas City hotel, not embassy property. All I need is to wake up a judge and get a search warrant.” He turned his dark eyes to Carly. “Sorry about your brother. You okay, Valentine?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re going to need sharp eyes and a clear head. I need you with the prince as much as possible until we figure out who the mole is and what his ultimate plan might be. You’re our first line of defense and our main source of intel. I want to get ahead of this guy.”
“So do I.”
Ivan extended his hand. “Thank you, Joe.”
They shook hands. “This may have started out as a courtesy to a visiting dignitary. But now they’ve threatened my town. They’ve hurt one of my citizens. It’s personal.”
After Hendricks left, Carly resumed her pacing from the untouched coffee to the door and back again. “Do you recognize the handwriting on that photograph with Saturday’s date?”
Ivan propped his hands at his waist, anchoring the center of the small room as she moved past him. “There is not enough to tell, no.”
“And the fruit? Who gave you the fruit?”
“There was no card. I assumed it had come with something else. The welcome gifts were all from local officials, companies I am meeting with, the embassy.”
“Someone either snuck them in or doctored them after delivery.” Her gaze flickered up to his as she walked by again. “Is there a log of every single person who enters your suite at the hotel?”
“Filip would have that.”
“And we don’t know if he would tell us the truth. If any of your people would tell us the truth.” She caught the edges of his jacket and hugged herself more tightly inside it. “Have you at least run a background check on everyone in your entourage? Would any of them have a connection to these Loyalists? A family member? A lover?”
He regretted that he couldn’t guarantee the answer to that question, either. “Filip—”
“Filip is in charge of that, too.” She exhaled on a stuttering breath, and for a split second, he thought she was crying. But there were no tears, only a white-knuckle grip on his jacket and shoulders that were visibly shaking. “It’s so damn cold in this hospital.”
He caught her by the arm when she walked past and drew her up against his chest. Ignoring the token protest of her hands bracing between them, he wound his arms around her, rubbing large circles against her back. He wrapped her up, jacket and all, absorbing every shiver, warming her with the heat of his hands and body, standing strong for her when she was ready to crumble. He rested his cheek against her temple, tangling strands of her hair in his beard as he whispered into her ear. “Take a deep breath, dorogoy. It is the adrenaline crash after so much stress and worry. You have had a long day and are very tired. You will get through this.”
Seconds, maybe minutes, passed before she moved. Then her arms snaked around his waist. He felt the imprint of ten fingers fisting into his shirt and pressing into the skin underneath as she burrowed into him, snugging the crown of her head beneath his chin. Ivan widened his stance, letting her move as close as she wanted to be. Comforting this woman—warming her, calming her—seemed like the most useful thing he’d done in the past few months. Feeling capable again, like he was the right man for this particular job, soothed some of the tension he carried inside. He treasured Carly’s faith in him and prayed that her trust wouldn’t be misplaced. “I am sorry that your brother—”
“Shh. Dad’s right. No apologies. It’s ninety degrees outside tonight, and I can’t get warm. Just hold me a little longer.”
He smiled against her hair, liking that she told him what to do, completely ignoring royal decorum and the fact he was about to lead an entire country into the twenty-first century. She didn’t need him for who he was supposed to be—she just needed him. “If you insist.”
Ivan held Carly until the shivering stopped and comfort changed into a subtle awareness of her sleek, athletic body relaxing against his. Her small breasts pebbled beneath the nubby friction of his jacket catching between them. The scent of her hair reminded him of the laughter they’d shared beside the grill, dancing on her patio. The clutch of her fingers in the back of his shirt eased their grip and flattened against his spine, mimicking the stroke of his hands on her.
A warm sensation pooled around his heart that had nothing to do with the exchange of body heat. He was falling for this woman. He wished he could simply be a man and not a prince, that, like at this moment, her needs were more important than his responsibilities. They were both creatures of duty, both accustomed to hiding any weakness, both isolated by the need to keep their true mission a secret. She had beautiful green eyes, those crazy, sexy legs and a penchant for speaking her mind that made him want to discuss all kinds of topics with her, from politics to what she liked to cook best to how she’d react if he kissed her. A real kiss. Not for show, not for anybody but the two of them. Would she blush again? Would she take charge, or would he have the pleasure of training her how to do that, too?
Carly took a deep breath and pushed away from him, cutting off his errant thoughts. “Where does strychnine come from? Who’d have access to it?”
It took a second for him to switch topics with her. The woman wanted to work.
Ivan retreated a step, tamping down the nerve endings that were prickling with disappointment at not being in contact with her anymore. “There are remote stashes of chemical weapons in my country that contain this poison. We are in the process of disassembling them. If one has the proper clearance, you could access them.”
“How would you get it into the United States?”
“On a jet with diplomatic clearance,” he was embarrassed to say. “In small quantities, it could pass for powder in a toiletry bag.”
Her eyes narrowed as she considered another option. “Strychnine is the deadly ingredient in rat poison. That’d be easy enough to purchase stateside. You could liquefy it and turn it into an injectable liquid.”
Rat poison? Those sensitized nerves went on alert again, but this time for a different reason. “Would it be used for killing moles, as well?”
“They’re similar critters. I imagine the poisons would have the same ingredients. I’d have to do some research. Why?”
Ivan replayed a conversation from the evening before. “One of your neighbors, an older gentleman—my bodyguard Eduard talked to him—said he was baiting traps to kill moles when we arrived.”
“Mr. Furness?” She shrugged. “I don’t know him all that well. He couldn’t have poisoned my brother, though. That fruit went straight from you to me to Frank. It never left the house.”
“You do not know Mr. Furness as well as say, Mrs. Pischnotte?”
“Mrs. Pischnotte has lived across the street for years. I’ve known her since I was a little girl, back when her husband was still alive. Mr. Furness isn’t really our neighbor. He works for a company that’s house-sitting for the Abshers. Sometimes, he shows up. Sometimes it’s another guy. I’ve met a couple of them when I go running.”
A full-blown alarm raised the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Then Furness lied. He told Eduard that everyone on your street has lived there for years. Including him.” He shook his head, searching for a more hopeful answer. “Maybe it was a language problem and Eduard misunderstood.”
“Or your bodyguard lied.”
“Why would he...?” Of course. What did he truly know about anyone in his inner circle? Before that bomb had gone off in St. Feodor, he’d trusted every one of them. Now he trusted no one. He was glad to have a fresh set of eyes to look at them as suspects instead of employees or friends. “Eduard is new to my security team. Filip thought we needed some younger blood. I confess I do not know him as well as Filip or Danya.”
Carly snorted through her nose. “You mean Mr. Personality?”
He frowned at the nickname. “Sarcasm?”
“Oh, yeah.” She paced the room again, but this time he could see the thoughts running through her head, energizing her, instead of the stress leaking through her pores and sapping her resilience. “What Danya Pavluk lacks in charm, he makes up for in grouchy negativity. He has a big chip on his shoulder. He’s not friendly. He’s really unhappy about something for him to be so grumpy.”