Princess

by Christina Skye

  “Ma’am?”

  Jess swallowed as the ground dipped. “Y-Yes?”

  The doctor grabbed her arms and pushed her back against the driver’s-side door. “You’re sheet-white, and I think you’re in shock.”

  “No, I’m fine.” Jess watched fog trail across the road and wondered why the drifting strands made her dizzy.

  “You can’t drive anywhere until I’ve checked you out.” The doctor had two fingers on her wrist, his eyes narrowed. “Take a deep breath.”

  Jess complied, which made her feel more light-headed than ever. “Okay, but I’m going as soon as you’re done.”

  The doctor leaned down beside her, brushing some kind of swab over her forehead.

  “You’ve got quite a bump, along with some bleeding. You must have hit something when you stopped the car. Your arm has a gash, too, I see.”

  Jess looked down, surprised to find blood on the sleeve of her sweater. Maybe she had hit the window or the dash. Funny, but she couldn’t remember.

  “I’ll clean you up, but you need to come back to the hotel with us.” The doctor continued to work on her forehead, unruffled and thoroughly professional.

  “I can’t go back to the hotel. I’ve already turned in my report, so it won’t be safe.” Jess focused on the doctor’s head, which was slowly morphing into two separate images.

  The man on the fender sat up, looking at her with sudden interest. “What report?”

  “Never mind,” Jess snapped.

  “You two can sort this out later. For now you both need to rest.”

  “I’m not staying. No way.” Jess staggered to her feet, shoving at the doctor’s hands. “He’s fine now. So am I.” She knew something about legal procedure following a car crash. You couldn’t leave the scene of an accident without rendering aid and complying fully with any requests from the police or investigating authorities.

  But where were the police?

  She frowned at the doctor. “Why aren’t the authorities here yet? I need to give them a statement.”

  “No police.” The man on her fender looked at the doctor and shook his head.

  Warning lights flashed in Jess’s head. Why was he so anxious to avoid the police? If he was a spy, maybe she shouldn’t have tried so hard to save him.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “We’ll discuss police statements and determination of fault later. Right now both of you are getting in that van. Then we’re heading to the hotel so I can do a complete workup. Are either of you experiencing shortness of breath, blurred vision, or headaches?”

  Jess shook her head. The man on her fender grunted a no.

  “What about chest pains or dizziness?”

  “We’ll both live,” the man said grimly.

  “He’s right.” Jess leaned around the hood of the car. She wanted a better look at the motorcycle rider in case he made later claims of severed limbs or cerebral hemorrhage. In the headlights of the doctor’s van he looked pale, and the dark bruise at his forehead made her feel a moment’s contrition. Going back to the hotel was exactly what he needed. If she trusted him, Jess would have gone along with him willingly.

  But everything about the man felt wrong. In addition, she had her filed report to worry about.

  “You better get moving, Doctor. He doesn’t look so good.”

  A gust of wind struck her face. She shivered as more rain began to fall. She decided to drive only a mile before she stopped to let her head clear.

  Just far enough to escape her pursuer.

  He was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Jess rubbed her neck, which had begun to ache. Actually he had the kind of hard jaw and rugged features that some women might find intriguing.

  Not her.

  She swayed a little, gulping in cold air.

  “Are you going to faint?” He sounded disgusted.

  “Me?” Jess laughed, hands on her hips. What kind of a lightweight did the man take her for? She never fainted.

  She walked around the car, one hand on the fender, determined to tell him precisely what she thought of him and his nasty mouth and his bad driving, but her head throbbed and suddenly she couldn’t shape her words into sentences.

  Then she swayed, toppling straight forward, her face buried in his lap.

  chapter 5

  Half an hour later, Hawk’s medical examination was finished.

  He was in fair shape, all things considered, and the blood on his jacket wasn’t his own. It belonged to the walking, talking ball of bad luck and ill will who was now asleep in the bedroom next door.

  Just his rotten luck.

  He was working under a tight deadline on a critical mission, and now he’d stumbled into the path of a crazy woman.

  He frowned down at his chest as he wrapped a big elastic bandage across his ribs, then fastened it securely.

  “No stunt diving or skateboarding, Lieutenant Mackenzie.” The young doctor sent to take care of Hawk looked as if he’d seen everything. “Tomorrow you go for X rays.”

  “Sure,” Hawk muttered. Like hell he would.

  The doctor’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “I’ve got to admit, the woman has style. She did a perfect swan dive right onto your crotch. Some men might enjoy that experience.”

  Hawk said one short phrase that made the doctor raise an eyebrow. Hawk had had enough problems for one lifetime involving Elena Grimaldi—or whatever her real name was.

  “And don’t get yourself mowed down by any more out-of-control vehicles.”

  “You get paid for medical advice like that, Doc?” Hawk shrugged on his shirt, wincing a little.

  “Damn straight I do. And since you’re determined to be a smart-ass, remember that you could have been killed tonight. That new prototype safety helmet you were using saved your hide. So did your skill handling that motorcycle of yours.”

  “It wasn’t just me and the helmet,” Hawk said tightly. “The woman had the right moves. That van was way out of its lane, and she had no other choice but to hit the shoulder. I tried to avoid her, but then I spun out on an oil slick. If she hadn’t cleared out of my way when she did, I’d be steak tartare decorating her tires.”

  “Then I guess you owe her an apology. Meanwhile, I see no sign of any new damage to your ribs, but don’t push it, Lieutenant. You’re walking a thin line here. The new medication seems to be doing its job, but if you sustain further trauma . . .”

  He didn’t finish.

  “Message received.” Hawk checked his watch. “I wonder what’s keeping Izzy. You could set the atomic clock by him.”

  The doctor shook his head at the sound of knocking. “The man is definitely spooky.” Picking up his medical bag, he checked the peephole. “Denzel Washington, in the flesh,” he muttered, opening the door.

  The man in the doorway did bear a striking resemblance to Denzel Washington, except his eyes were older and harder. “Sorry I’m late.” He studied Hawk intently. “You still alive, Mackenzie?”

  “Barely.” Hawk finished buttoning his shirt as the doctor quietly left. “You didn’t have to come, Teague. The doctor said I’m good to go.”

  “I like to do my own site assessments.” Ishmael Teague surveyed the hotel room and then positioned a leather briefcase on the nearby desk. “Where’s our mystery woman?”

  “Fast asleep next door. She banged her head when she hit me. The doctor said she could be in some pain when she wakes up.”

  “If so, we’ll deal with it.” Izzy shot the locks on his briefcase and pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve gone over your digitals from the cliff. The print came from an expensive British-made boot sold exclusively in Europe and via the Internet. I’ve gone through channels to request a list of all purchases made in the last two years, but that could take several weeks.”

  “So the print was a dead end,” Hawk said irritably.

  “Not exactly.” Izzy pulled a sleek laptop out of the briefcase. “While we’re waiting for their list, I figured I’d hack into their server and hav
e a look.”

  “Highly illegal, my friend.”

  “It would be if they ever found out. Their encryption wouldn’t have stopped my ten-year-old nephew,” he said in disgust. “I found out there were nineteen U.S. sales in the last two years, and I’m running down the names now.”

  “You can add this to the mix.” Hawk put his plastic evidence bag on the desk. “I picked up this piece of gum right before the accident. It was on the ground near the last set of tracks.”

  “So we may have a DNA sample. Nice work, Mackenzie. I’ll run it through some tests as soon as I’m done here.”

  As Izzy’s fingers skimmed his keyboard, Hawk walked over to the big window overlooking the coast. Lights bobbed up and down on a fishing trawler steaming slowly north, where clouds huddled on the horizon like listless sheep.

  “I want to go back for one more look tomorrow. I still can’t shake this hunch that they’re nearby, Izzy. After that I’m mapping all residents in a five-mile radius of the cliff. Somebody out there may have noticed something that night.”

  “It’s worth a shot.” Izzy glanced at the file on the screen. “Here are all the people who purchased those boots. We’re checking them against existing criminal and terrorist databases.”

  “Names are good, but how long until you get pictures?”

  “Tomorrow. My people are paying a visit to everyone on the list, just to narrow things down.”

  “You mean, in case they’re sick or dead.”

  Izzy nodded. “Never skip the one-on-one, because that’s where you find the reliable intel.” His eyes narrowed. “What happened out there tonight?”

  “Bad weather, bad visibility and bad luck. The woman did all she could to avoid hitting me.”

  “Too bad she didn’t succeed. How’s the pain?”

  “I’ll survive.” Hawk stabbed a hand through his hair. “Look, let’s skip all the touchy-feely stuff.”

  “No can do, pal. If something happens to you, it’s my ass in the sling.”

  “I’m holding it together, Teague. There won’t be any unnecessary risks. You have my word on that.”

  Izzy frowned at the door to the neighboring room. “Any lawsuits or publicity right now would be devastating. So what the hell are we going to do with Cinderella?”

  “We could get her shipped off to a reality TV show in Tahiti,” Hawk said grimly. “She’ll mow down her opponents before they guess what hit them.”

  “That bad? What about her sister, the FBI agent?”

  Hawk shrugged. “Probably a lie. She was a little hysterical at that point.”

  “You sure she’s still asleep?”

  “Check for yourself.”

  Izzy walked quietly to the bedroom door and peered inside. Suddenly his body stiffened. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s what’s wrong. I mean, what are the odds?” Izzy turned slowly. “She wasn’t lying, Mackenzie. Her sister is an FBI agent, and a damned good one.”

  “How do you know—”

  “Because I worked with her on my last assignment. And the woman lying on the bed in there is unmistakably her twin sister. Cinderella’s real name is Jess Mulcahey.”

  “You trust her sister?”

  “Yeah, I trust her. But she’s not going to like finding out that Jess is anywhere near a government operation.”

  “I don’t get it. If her real name’s Jess Mulcahey, why the Elena Grimaldi business?”

  “Beats me.” Izzy paced the room slowly. “I found the name listed in the on-line hotel registry. It turns out that she’s visited over twenty other hotels in this chain over the last six months. The whole thing’s damned peculiar.”

  “If you think that’s peculiar, you should have seen her worn-out sneakers next to the pink silk suit she had hanging in her closet. I’m no expert on women’s clothes, but the combination seemed weird.”

  “I’ll ask her sister for details when I call.” Izzy sat down in a big leather chair and steepled his fingers. “Any problems from the accident?”

  Hawk turned away, prowling restlessly. “I’m fine, just like I told the doctor.”

  “No new side effects from the medicine?”

  “None.”

  “Blurred vision or dizziness?”

  “There’s nothing, Teague.”

  “I wish I could believe you, but I can’t. I spoke to your medical team tonight, and they’ve got some bad news.”

  “Don’t tell me. Blindness, convulsions, and death,” Hawk said irritably. “I’ve got a week to live.”

  “Funny. But you can expect some major headaches.” Izzy frowned. “The headaches will get worse, too.”

  “Damn, can’t you bring any good news?” Hawk kept his tone light. Since his headaches had already become more frequent, this latest information wasn’t a total surprise.

  “What else?”

  Izzy rubbed his neck.

  “Spill it, Teague.”

  “They’re talking about pulling you.”

  Damn the whole lot of them. “I’m fit and able. Pulling me would be a mistake.”

  “Exactly what I said in my last report.” Izzy drummed his fingers on the desk. “You’ve got twelve hours more, then I’m to reassess your capacity.” Izzy tossed Hawk a bottle of pills. “Meanwhile, the geniuses at HQ said to give you these.”

  “More experimental stuff?” Hawk shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He started to toss the bottle back, but Izzy glared at him.

  “Keep them, damn it. When you need them, take them. Otherwise you’re out of this mission.”

  Hawk shoved the pills into his pocket and turned back to the window, his shoulders stiff.

  “What about the other symptoms?” Izzy said quietly.

  “Hell, Teague, can’t a man have any privacy?”

  “Not when you’re on a mission, as you well know.” Izzy closed his laptop. “I was trained as a medic, remember? I’m fully briefed on the action of the new medications they’ve put you on. But I need to know if the problems are getting worse.”

  Hawk put his hands on the window, angry and knowing he shouldn’t be. “You want the gritty details? You want me to tell you I feel juiced up like an out-of-control fifteen-year-old with sweaty palms and a hammering pulse?”

  “So your sex drive is affected because of the growth factors?”

  “Hell, my sex drive is through the roof, Teague. The damned meds make me eat, breathe, and sleep with sex on the brain.” Hawk laughed harshly. “Being in pain is about the only thing that keeps me balanced. And now if we’re done with the medical interrogation—”

  “Done. For now,” Izzy said coolly. “If things progress beyond your control—”

  “They won’t.” Hawk glared out at the rain. “I’m not fifteen, and nothing pushes me where I don’t want to go.”

  “Glad to hear it. In that case, I’ll get this gum back to the lab for analysis.” Izzy closed his briefcase and studied Hawk. “I meant what I said about the headaches. If your symptoms turn severe, diminishing your field capacity, you are to report that fact immediately. Is that understood?”

  Hawk rolled his shoulders and gave a noncommittal grunt.

  “I’m waiting for a clear answer.”

  “Yes, damn it.”

  “Are you wearing the brace, Lieutenant?”

  Hawk turned from the window and yanked up his shirt. “Right here.” Irritated, he tugged at the heavy elastic bands. “Even if it does feel like sh—”

  Fabric rustled at the bedroom door. Both men looked up as Jess appeared, her face pale and a purple streak at her forehead. “He called you lieutenant.”

  “Ma’am, you should be—”

  Her eyes were very dark as she studied the long bruises on Hawk’s chest. “Lieutenant? In what branch of the service?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Hawk snapped.

  “Tell me.”

  “He’s Navy.” Izzy’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all you need to know.

 
; chapter 6

  Hawk shot to his feet. “You should be in bed.”

  “I’ve been in bed.” Jess couldn’t pull her eyes away from the deep bruises covering his chest. They left her queasy and guilty. “I need answers. Did I do that to you, Lieutenant?”

  “The answer is no.” Hawk turned away, pulling down his shirt with a grimace. “You didn’t.”

  “Maybe I should introduce myself.”

  Jess paid no attention to the other man in the room. “Later. If not , then what did happen to you?”

  Hawk shoved his shirt into his pants. “It has nothing to do with you. That’s all you need to know.”

  “What did he mean about your headaches getting worse?”

  “Never mind that, either,” Hawk snapped. “Let’s see your arm.”

  She fingered the new bandage carefully. “It doesn’t hurt any worse than the last time I hurt it.”

  “What ‘last time’?”

  “Two years ago, when I fell off a banquet table in Seattle.” Jess rolled her shoulders. “I get klutzy sometimes and—no, don’t ask me for the gory details.” She turned, studying Hawk’s friend. “I take it you’re not Denzel Washington.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “I recognize your voice.” Jess thought for a moment. “You’re the man on the phone.”

  “The name’s Izzy Teague. And I knew you and your sister were twins, but seeing you up close still packs a wallop, Ms. Mulcahey.”

  “You know my sister?”

  Izzy nodded, his eyes unreadable.

  He looked the type for government work, Jess realized. A professional who was silent, efficient and deadly. Both men looked like poster boys for commando work.

  While she was working, her sister had that same total focus.

  Hawk pulled his helmet off the chair near the window. “You should sit down.”

  Jess shook her head. “What happened out there?”

  “You fainted, among other things.”

  “I never faint.” Jess took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I did faint. Things are pretty much a blur in my mind. I didn’t eat because I was trying to finish my inspection, so I could leave. Then I came out of the shower and . . . found you there.”