Princess

by Christina Skye

  “You haven’t eaten?” Hawk glanced at Izzy, who vanished into the bedroom. “About what happened earlier—”

  “I want you to know that I was just doing my job.” Jess sounded defensive, and the knowledge left her irritated. “I’ve done hundreds of room switches, and no one ever attacked me before.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m a hotel inspector, Lieutenant. I’m called in when a facility receives too many complaints. I waved around a fifty dollar bill until I managed to have a hotel guest bumped to a different room.”

  “Why?”

  “A test. To see if it’s possible, of course.”

  “I still don’t follow you.”

  “My job is to check out possible areas of irregularity or noncompliance with national chain standards.” Even as she spoke, Jess catalogued further problems with the room. Dusting was below par, as was rug and upholstery cleanliness, and the desk needed to be replaced because of surface damages. She made a mental note to add these details when she e-mailed a follow-up to her report. “Now do you see?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Since this particular hotel has a reputation for problems, I was sent in incognito. I’m afraid that you were the guest that got bumped after I waved around the big tip.”

  “So that’s what you were doing in my room.” Hawk winced as he sat down across from her. “Entrapment?”

  “It was nothing like entrapment,” Jess said curtly. “And you don’t need to hide the fact that you’re in pain on my account.”

  “What makes you think—”

  “Don’t worry, your little secret is safe.” Jess noticed his leather jacket hanging from the chair at the desk. Frowning, she fingered the long gash on one sleeve. The man could have died out in the rain.

  Partly to distract herself from that grim thought, Jess grabbed her purse from the floor and fumbled inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stitching up your jacket.”

  “You can’t fix a cut like that one.”

  “All it takes is a very sharp needle, and I carry a whole set of them when I travel.” Because she didn’t have time or money for complicated repairs, Jess thought wryly.

  But she definitely wasn’t veering off into that subject.

  “Look, don’t bother. I’ll manage something.”

  “Like what, duct tape? Glue and staples?” She was already at work, her needle slipping in and out of the soft leather. “I’ll be done in a few minutes, Lieutenant, so relax. Stop giving me orders, while you’re at it.”

  Hawk shook his head and muttered something that she couldn’t quite make out.

  “By the way, what were you doing out on that road?”

  “Relaxing.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Taking a drive down to the beach.”

  Jess’s head swung up. “In the middle of a storm?”

  Izzy reappeared, holding a basket full of fruit. “I’ve got some food here. What’s she doing to your jacket, Mackenzie?”

  “Stitching it.”

  “Can you do that to leather?”

  “Apparently you can.”

  Izzy sat down next to Jess and put two oranges on a plate. “Room service should be here shortly.”

  “Not for me.” Hawk stood abruptly. “I need to be pushing off.”

  “Actually, you’re staying right here so you can eat.” Izzy handed him an orange and a protein bar that looked squished.

  “You call that food, Teague?”

  “It will hold you until the caviar and baked Alaska arrive,” Izzy said dryly.

  Jess watched the byplay with interest. “You’re in the military. So who’s got the highest rank?”

  Izzy took an apple and tossed it up in the air, catching it behind his back. “That depends on who you ask, Ms. Mulcahey.”

  “Very funny, Teague.” Hawk glanced at the door. “How long until that food arrives?”

  “Less than ten.”

  Something came and went on Izzy’s face as he looked at Jess.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “You. You’re very different from your sister.”

  “Everybody says that. Summer’s wonderful, a hundred times more capable than I am. Even if she does tend to get a little . . .”

  “Married to the job?” Izzy murmured.

  “No doubt about it.” Jess’s needle moved swiftly as she closed the tear. “I appreciate your ordering food.”

  “Least I can do. So why did you register as Elena Grimaldi?” Izzy asked.

  “It’s safer that way. Hotel managers develop a second sense about investigators, and sometimes they retaliate after a bad rating. I know one hotel examiner who was stuffed in a trash compactor, and it wasn’t pretty. Another inspector went back for her suitcase after her report was filed.” Jess frowned at Hawk’s torn sleeve. “In her case, the trash compactor looks good by comparison.”

  “Why do these people care so much about a single report?” Hawk cut in.

  “Because management bonuses are based on compliance rates. Even a drop of one star in an investigator’s report can mean thousands of dollars lost. Staff bonuses are cut too, which means big bucks.” She finished the seam and studied the effect. “What are you people doing here? Is this some kind of secret mission?”

  Jess didn’t want to talk about towel allotments and personnel evaluations. She was far more interested in her mysterious new friends.

  “Forget about us. I want to hear more about this retaliation stuff.” Hawk’s face was grim. “Has that happened to you?”

  Izzy left the room again, talking on his cell phone, and they were alone. “First tell me what you were looking for this morning.”

  “What do you mean?” Hawk said tightly.

  “You wanted to know where I’d put something—and you seemed pretty damned concerned.”

  “You must have misunderstood.”

  “I know what I heard,” Jess said quietly, holding out his finished jacket. “You were looking for something important you thought I had. It had to do with my laundry carrier.”

  He ran his fingers along the neat seam. “Drop it, Jess.”

  “More orders, Lieutenant?”

  “Call me Hawk, damn it.”

  Dishes rattled outside in the hall and Izzy reappeared, pushing a cart covered with dishes. “Quesadillas, steak, and fries. Stop arguing and start eating.”

  Jess took a deep breath. Both men were hiding something. Her sister would know how to handle something like this, but Jess wasn’t Summer.

  So she’d eat and then hit the road. She was smart enough to know when she was in over her head.

  “Explain to me again how this thing of yours works?” Hawk was demolishing the last of an exceptionally good quesadilla as he studied Jess. “You’re supposed to be related to the king of Monaco?”

  “Monaco has a prince, not a king. And I’m not necessarily from Monaco. It’s important to keep changing the details, so sometimes it’s Hungary, sometimes it’s Luxembourg, or maybe Spain. Not many people stay current on lesser branches of European royalty.”

  Hawk shook his head. “So people believe you’re some kind of minor princess when you offer them a bribe?”

  “The pink heels and pink silk suit help.” Jess raised an eyebrow. “I’m very good at my job, Lieutenant Mackenzie,” she said in accented English.

  “I have no doubt, and call me Hawk.” He eyed the food untouched on Jess’s plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “I’m working on it.” Jess was feeling edgy, though she couldn’t figure why. The weird stuff happening to her? Or was it this uncomfortable awareness of the commando type sitting across from her?

  “If you’re not going to have those fries, maybe—”

  “Be my guest.” Jess slid a mound of french fries onto his plate. She couldn’t eat, mostly from stress. Since she currently had six dollars and twenty-three cents in her pocket and not a whole lot more in her bank account, she was loo
king at a lot more peanut butter sandwiches and free snacks from the hotels she visited.

  None of which was anyone else’s business.

  “By the way, I meant to thank you for your excellent driving today.”

  “I still hit you. I should have been faster,” she said tightly.

  “It was my fault, not yours.”

  “Okay, you can take all the guilt for the accident.” Jess took a deep breath. “That’s one sweet piece of metal you were riding. A Husky, isn’t it? Four-stroke cylinder and electric starter?”

  Hawk snagged another one of her fries. “You follow motorcycles?” he said in disbelief.

  “Only Ducatis and Huskies. Nothing else comes close.”

  “You won’t get an argument there. I made some modifications on the motor, and the throttle tends to run a little high, but that makes for a nice edge off-road.”

  Jess swallowed, reining in her excitement. “You retooled the system yourself? Now I’m impressed.”

  Hawk shook his head, laughing dryly.

  “Probably you should tell me why that’s so funny.”

  “Because I can almost see you flying along in a beefed-up off-road bike, edging every turn hell-for-leather, and loving every damn second.”

  Jess smiled slightly. “I certainly try.” But lately there hadn’t been many chances to ride. She had been too busy doubling and tripling her assignments in an effort to pay off her debts.

  Hawk rocked back in his chair. “I’ve got a Ducati SS1000 that’s as sweet as they come.”

  Jess let out a little breath as one of her biggest fantasies came roaring to life. “I’d love to take it through a few turns and then open it up on the straightaway.” She gave up trying to be casual. “OK, I admit it. Give me a Ducati and an open road. Life doesn’t get much better.”

  Hawk’s head tilted. “Who got you interested in motorcycles? Was it your father, brother?” His eyes narrowed. “Lover?”

  “None of the above. One summer in high school I worked in an auto shop, and the mechanic—”

  “Wait, let me get this straight. You worked in an auto-repair shop?”

  “Why not? It paid twice as much as the local fast-food joint. In the town where my sister and I were living, that was the full range of choices.” She toyed with a slice of lettuce. “The mechanic had to have cataract surgery, so he gave me a manual and told me to memorize it. The next day I was under the hood, helping him keep his wires and valves straight. I learned a lot about engines that summer.”

  And she had relished the freedom. Jess still remembered every detail of her first ride.

  Wind like a cool caress, the growl of a powerful motor, and the effortless sense of speed that spelled complete freedom.

  “What about your current job? People don’t like to be spied on, generally.”

  “No, they don’t.” Jess sat stiffly, holding her plate. “Sometimes they get nasty.”

  Hawk bent forward. “Nasty how?”

  Jess was surprised at how angry he looked. “One time they shredded my clothes.” She looked away, trying not to remember the sense of violation and helplessness. “Another time they went after my Jeep. They pulled some wires, slit the seats, cut the brake line.” Her car had never worked as well after that and Jess had hoped to trade up to a newer model, but she’d lost her savings overnight and then spent the next two years trying to dig her way out again.

  She was still trying. One more year would do it, as long as she watched every penny.

  “No brakes?” Scowling, Hawk sat forward. His eyes could have scored metal. “You could have been hurt, maybe killed.”

  “I always check my car after I turn in a report, Lieu—Hawk. Don’t worry, I caught the problem in time.”

  Jess realized she was leaning forward, their faces barely a foot apart. With the rain hammering on the window, the mood in the room had suddenly turned personal—and slightly intimate.

  She stood up tensely. “Look, storm or not, I need to get moving.”

  “It’s too late to go anywhere given these road conditions.” Hawk moved in front of her. “Izzy’s reserved the room next door for you.”

  Rain sluiced down the windows, blurring the darkness. All Jess’s tension returned. “I can’t stay. I need to get to Portland. I especially need to leave this hotel.”

  “Just keep your door locked if you’re worried.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “As I recall, a lock didn’t keep you out this morning.”

  “That was different.” Hawk stabbed a hand angrily through his hair. “Look, only a fool would leave in this weather. Somehow you don’t strike me as being a fool.”

  Jess looked out at the darkness. The wind moaned shrilly, whipping rain and twigs against the windows.

  Her common sense was fighting a hard battle with her anxiety.

  “You can trust me, Jess. I’m a light sleeper. All you have to do is bang on the wall if anything worries you.”

  “That won’t work. I won’t be next door or down the hall.” Jess turned, meeting his eyes squarely. “If I have to stay, I’ll be sleeping right here.”

  chapter 7

  “Here? In my room?”

  “Don’t worry, this isn’t a proposition. Cool your jets, because I’ll be the one on the couch.”

  Hawk shook his head grimly. “No.”

  “Well, it’s here or I’m out of here, Lieutenant.” Jess stared out the window. “I don’t intend to be a name on someone’s accident report tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and then began pulling cushions off the sofa, stacking them neatly on the floor. “Maybe you should take first turn at the bathroom.”

  Hawk turned her around to face him. “Stop calling me lieutenant,” he growled. “And believe me, staying in my room isn’t a great idea.”

  “Because you think I’ll jump you?” She smiled crookedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be asleep in five minutes. I won’t hear any state secrets you blurt out in the night.”

  Hawk bit back a curse. Why didn’t she act like any other woman he knew? “I don’t talk in my sleep,” he snapped.

  “Glad to hear it. In that case we should both get some decent rest.”

  “Look, Jess, I don’t sleep very well. I’ll probably be up and down prowling all night.”

  “No problem.” Jess unfolded a blanket and tossed it across the couch. “My sister tells me I can sleep through anything.”

  Was there any way to get through to her, short of a tank or a SWAT team?

  A cell phone chimed shrilly and she grabbed her purse. “That’s probably my sister now. If I don’t answer, she’ll send half a dozen field agents to surround the hotel.” She pulled out her phone, waving her hand. “Stop staring at me. Everything’s going to be fine here. You really need to learn how to chill, Lieutenant.”

  She turned away, talking on her phone, oblivious to his anger.

  State secrets? And when had he morphed into the protectee? The scenario was so unsettling that Hawk grabbed his knapsack and headed for the bathroom, scowling.

  “Slow down, Jess. Why are you still at the hotel? You’re supposed to be on the road to Portland by now.” Summer Mulcahey sounded harassed, trying to make sense of what Jess had just told her. “You always leave after you file a report.”

  Jess struggled to open the big queen-size sleeper sofa. “Something came up. A storm and . . . other things.”

  “They had to be something big for you to break a cardinal rule. Hold on a moment.” Jess heard her sister turn away from the phone, asking for an update on a forensic report.

  Jess didn’t understand the rest of the conversation, which was carried on largely in some kind of jargon known only to the FBI. When her sister returned, she sounded more harassed than ever. “Sorry, Jess. Tell me what went wrong tonight.”

  “Okay, but don’t go ballistic on me.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had an accident.” Jess blew out a breath. “A very minor accident.”

  “What do you mean, a min
or accident? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” Jess winced a little as she spread a blanket over the lumpy mattress. Her head and back were bothering her, but she didn’t mention that. “A bump on the head. A few stitches, but nothing major. I thought I killed a man on a motorcycle, but he turned out to be fine.”

  Her sister’s voice turned shrill. “You had stitches? Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Sum.” Jess frowned as the shower began to run. “Look, the man is fine, and so am I. By the time we got things sorted out after the accident, it was too late to drive anywhere.”

  “I suppose that car of yours bit the dust. I keep telling you, if you need money for repairs, I’ll send some and—”

  Jess’s face tightened. Summer was older by only a few minutes, but she had always been overprotective. Even though Jess knew her sister’s motives were good, they had a way of pushing all her sibling irritation buttons. “My Jeep is old but in excellent shape. You know I do all the work myself. No mechanic is going to rob me blind.”

  “Don’t I know it. I keep wishing you’d have a look at my Explorer.” Summer took a deep breath. “I just . . . worry, Jess. All day I’ve felt off, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s that spooky twin thing again, isn’t it?”

  “I can always tell when you’re in trouble, Sum. Like when you were down in Mexico with Gabe on that assignment.”

  “Not over a cell-phone line,” her sister said quickly. “So now that I know you’re safe, tell me about this man on the motorcycle.”

  “He’s taking a shower right now, but he’s fine. A little bruised, actually. Funny, he told me the trauma came from an old accident.”

  “You’re sharing a hotel room with him?” The shrill edge was back in Summer’s voice.

  “Don’t worry, he knows your friend Izzy, so everything will be fine.”

  “Izzy Teague is there? You saw him with this man?”

  Jess heard someone ask Summer a question. She barked at them to wait, which wasn’t like her. “He just appeared after the accident, Summer. The man is completely gorgeous, by the way.”

  “Put Izzy on the phone,” Jess’s sister ordered.

  “No can do, Sum. He left.” Jess bit back a yawn. “I’m going to sleep now. It’s been one heck of a day and I’m dead on my feet.” Jess looked up as the bathroom door opened, and her heart did a double back somersault.