by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"Yes! And now she's really gone! Do you understand? She has disappeared! She either ditched her escort on purpose, or she was taken. Our people have been trying to locate her since, but she seems to have vanished."
"You think someone took her?" Ryan knew better, of course.
Lorenzo heaved out a deep breath and shook his head. "No. I suppose it's possible, but I don't believe that's the case. She simply walked out of the hotel. One of her guards questioned people in the lobby who saw her leave, but they did not see what sort of vehicle took her away. They questioned the cab companies with no results. And we do know she did not go home."
"You lost her," Ryan said, his voice flat, his anger barely concealed. The thought that someone could possibly have taken her sent chills up his spine. But she was all right, he reminded himself. She was at Point Tipsy with his father's friends.
He nodded toward the table in the dining area where he had left a stack of files. "There's all I have on the Caruso case that's not at the office or the lab. Joe Braca has duplicates of all my keys. I'd put him in charge if I were you."
"In charge?"
"Yes. My final report is right there on top. If you have any further questions Joe can't answer, you can reach me through my father. His phone and fax numbers are on the folder. I quit."
"Christ, Ryan, you're resigning? Now? can't believe it!" But he looked delighted.
"Now," Ryan affirmed. He inclined his head toward the suitcases sitting to one side of the sofa.
Lorenzo followed his gaze, his eyes widening. Then suspicion dawned. "She's called you and told you where she is!"
Ryan shook his head. "I haven't spoken to Nina since I left her lying in ICU just before you sneaked her off to the airport." Damned if he'd give Lorenzo the satisfaction of knowing where she was. At least, not right away. Maybe he would call later and tell him, but for now, Ryan wanted a little payback. "You'll let me know what happens with the case?"
"Of course, gladly. You've narrowed the list of suspects considerably. It's only a matter of time now before we find this woman. She has to be on the island. As you suggested, we have been monitoring the airport and all watercraft since you interviewed Princess Samira and got the partial description." All this he said in a rush, as if not really all that interested in discussing the case. "Now, about Nina—"
"Good luck with the investigation. I hope you find out who killed Desmond, for your sake and for Nina's," Ryan said, cutting off the question. "And thanks for everything. My regards to His Majesty." They shook hands.
"Of course. You're right to go after her, Ryan."
"I guess I don't have much choice about it," he replied. That was meant to instill a little more guilt in Lorenzo, but Ryan was telling the truth. Only it was Nina herself who left him with no alternative. She had made him love her, imprinted herself indelibly on his mind and in his heart and left him with no choice at all.
"Shall I order the rest of your things sent to your father's home?" Lorenzo asked.
Ryan looked at his two suitcases. "I'm afraid that's it."
"You travel light in the world, my friend."
"Considering all the other baggage I've been lugging around for six years, I thought it was best," Ryan admitted.
"Is there anything else I can do?" Lorenzo asked. "Anything at all?"
"No, thanks. Joe's taking care of my leases on the car and the apartment. He's picking me up. My plane leaves at two."
The duke looked concerned, regretful. "I had hoped you and Nina would find something together. But now... You will search for her, right?"
A horn beeped twice. Joe.
"You concentrate on the case," Ryan said as he passed by Lorenzo and picked up the bags. "Let me worry about Nina."
Lorenzo smiled then, a little smugly, realizing his plan had worked after all. He didn't look worried, but he wouldn't call off the search for Nina until he knew exactly where she was. Ryan decided to let him sweat it a little, phone him later—maybe from the plane—and tell him the truth.
"I will see you when I am next in Savannah," Lorenzo called as Ryan tossed the bags into the trunk of Joe's car.
Ryan threw up a hand in farewell. You had to like the guy, he thought, even if he was a royal pain in the ass sometimes.
Joe's car raced them toward the airport while Ryan said a silent farewell to this part of his life, the period of limbo that lay between abject misery and a new beginning.
How long would he have remained here, merely existing, if Nina hadn't come along and made him take a long, hard look at how he was living? Not really living at all, just going through the motions.
Would he lapse back into a similar vacuum if she had decided he wasn't worth the trouble? If he had left it too late and she had given up on him? Ryan didn't think he would.
No matter what happened between Nina and him, Ryan still had to make amends to his dad and to Trish. No way could he deny his feelings any longer. Not his feelings for his father, whom he had obviously hurt, or for the family he had lost. His mother, Kathleen and Christina. He would have to face those memories again, openly this time. And he sure knew the futility of denying what he felt for Nina.
Somehow he had to convince her of how much she meant to him.
He would tell her how wrong she had been about his not having any friends. Lorenzo sure qualified. So did Pete. Ryan himself had been the one trying to hold off on any personal involvement, but he thought he would be able to risk that now.
"You are doing the right thing," Joe said as he made the turn into the terminal.
"What? Quitting? Leaving Montebello?"
"Going after Ms. Caruso. Meeting with your father again. You will phone occasionally, let us know how things work out for you?"
"Sure will, Joe," Ryan said. "You know, too, don't you? About what happened before I came here? Why I was—you know—a little... standoffish?"
Joe glanced over at him. "Everyone knows. There are no secrets on this island, my friend. At least, not for very long." He shrugged. "The duke and I shall uncover this one that you and I have been working on together these past two weeks. You will see."
Ryan nodded. "I don't doubt it for a minute, Joe. But even if I did, I think I would still be going."
Ursula watched Nina Caruso's lover leave his apartment, carrying his bags, immediately after a visit from the duke himself. So the royals had sent McDonough packing. He looked furious about it, too.
No word of Nina Caruso had been published. Rumor said she'd died from that fall. She was no longer in the hospital. She wasn't at the hotel, and she sure wasn't up there in that apartment.
Probably safe to assume she was dead. If she had recovered and left the hospital, McDonough would have been with her.
The way seemed clear now for everything to proceed. Nina Caruso was out of the way, and dead or alive, wasn't a threat now. She obviously hadn't confided anything about Desmond's plans or contacts to the police or the royals. If so, they'd have her home by now. Nina Caruso must have died.
So had Jean-Paul, or rather Ankri Topoli. No wonder he used a fake name! The small notice in the papers said he had accidentally shot himself with his own gun. Now there would no longer be the chore of eliminating him. Yes, the plan could continue now without impediment. Things were working out nicely after all.
* * *
Nina needed to do something, get out and go somewhere, she thought. Cabin fever had set in the minute it had started to rain yesterday. Jip Lindsay had spent several hours teaching her to play five-card stud this afternoon.
"Not fair!" she exclaimed, slamming down her hand. "You've won all my M&M's!" She laughed and shoved all the winnings to his side of the table. "Did you cheat, Jip?"
He grinned and popped a couple of candies into his mouth. "Now what kind of gentleman would cheat a lady?"
Jip had a great face, tanned and lined, set with bright blue eyes and a large broken nose. Nina thought he must have been a truly handsome man at forty. At sixty-seven, he still looked fit. So did his frien
d John, though he was a bit more portly and quite bald. She thoroughly enjoyed their company but was beginning to feel guilty about taking up so much of their time.
"I think I'll go spell ol' Mackeral on watch. He's prob'ly ready for a nap and I need to stretch my legs."
Jip and his buddy, John MacKinnon—whom everyone called Mackeral—were retired cops, neighbors of the McDonoughs for years. Jip was a widower and John, long divorced. But surely they had better things to do than hang out on a virtually deserted island and baby-sit her. She was definitely imposing on Ryan's father —using his cabin—and on the old friends he had appointed to keep an eye on her.
Nina hadn't formed a concrete plan for what she would do when she left the island. She supposed she would go back to her old life in La Jolla.
Curiosity had played a large part in her decision to look up Ryan's father, she admitted to herself. It had led to the explanation of how she knew Ryan, and the whole story just spilled out of her. She had managed to leave out the news that she had slept with Ryan and eventually realized that she loved him. No reason to trouble his father with that.
Bill McDonough was the easiest man to talk to she had ever met, including her own father. However, he was enough like Ryan that he started arranging immediately for her to remain in Savannah. He was so persuasive, she'd agreed to stay for two weeks if he promised he wouldn't reveal her location to anyone who asked.
Before she knew it, she was on a fancy little powerboat, headed for the island with Bill's two best friends. At that point, she hadn't had the heart to dash their plans. This was a mission to them, like old times, so they said.
She had needed a place to stay until she could safely go home, and these men seemed to need a little excitement in their lives. But what had been amusing last week was now growing old. For all the freedom of movement she had, she might as well have gone to the safe house with the king's security people. She should have left them and the embassy guards a note or phoned later.
She followed Jip to the door. "I've decided to call tonight to see if Ryan has caught whoever was after me. You and John must be ready to go home by now."
He scoffed at that and waved away her concern. "Shoot, what are we gonna do at home? Lay around and watch TV?"
"I guess I should call anyway, let those people over there know I'm not dead or something."
"Hey, I bet Ryan's caught whoever it was by now," Jip said.
"I hope so," she replied. "I'm almost out of vacation time and ought to get back to work. Can you run me over to the coast to use the phone? It'll have to be very late. Time difference."
"Use my cell. That'd be a bitch to trace," he said helpfully. "In case anybody's still looking for you."
"Your cell phone works out here?" She had never seen him use it. He nodded.
"You've been keeping in touch with Bill?" she asked. "Has he heard anything? Has anyone asked about me?"
"Nope. Not yet," Jip said, then gave her a crafty look. "So you calling Ryan directly, are you?"
So they suspected—probably hoped—there was something between Ryan and her. Everyone wanted him to come back home, and they might think she could make that happen. She hadn't mistaken that hope in Bill's eyes and had wished she could tell him that she had tried.
"No, I won't bother him. I'll call his assistant." She switched subjects since Jip looked ready to give her advice. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you and John—Bill, too—for helping me out."
He laughed. "Do one of them fancy ads for Bill's boats. The one he's got now looks like a third-grader done it."
She laughed. He was right. "Brilliant idea. Now you start thinking of what you want, Jip. If you won't let me pay you, I'm at least buying you gifts when I get home. Tell John," she called as he jogged off down the beach.
He seemed perfectly comfortable getting soaked in the downpour since he only wore khaki cutoffs and flip-flops. His snow-white hair turned gray as the rain soaked it. He threw up his hand and waved backward to let her know he'd heard her last words.
Nina smiled. She might be getting antsy for a change now, but she had enjoyed her time here in the cozy little three-room cabin. Bill had built it himself when Ryan was a boy, so Jip said. It had been their Sunday place, a getaway for Bill's one day off where he and his son could come and enjoy the beach, fish and do their father-son things together.
There were a few other cabins and cottages, but none within sight, other than the one where Jip and John were staying. There was a long wooden pier built about a half mile away, a crude marina of sorts near that, and an old ramshackle bait shop, now deserted.
The McDonough cabin perched in the dunes on sturdy pilings, out of reach of high tides. The wide front deck had an excellent ocean view. The inside sported simple handmade wooden furniture strewn with colorful cushions printed with seashells.
The only drawback was the Ryan relics that decorated the little cabin. A crude ashtray, globs of red clay with his name and the date scratched in childish block letters on the bottom before someone had fired it. Obviously a long-ago gift for his dad.
He seemed to be everywhere she looked. The place was like a shrine to Ryan, built by a father who liked to come here and remember how close they had been once. She ached for both of them.
The photos were the worst. A shirtless, barefoot, knobby-kneed adolescent standing next to a fish almost as large as he was. A toddler picture that could only be him at around three years old, grinning over his shoulder at the camera, bare-bottomed, the foamy surf curling around little ankles.
Those and other pictures of him at various ages were hanging on the wall or sitting on tables in the main room.
More troubling was the one in the bedroom on the dresser. It was of Ryan as an adult. It was an enlarged snapshot of him, his arm around a beautiful red-haired woman who was holding a little blond girl of four or five. Both Ryan and the woman wore wedding rings.
Nina had seen another, more formal portrait of the woman and child on the mantel in Bill McDonough's living room. Right next to Bill and Trish's wedding photo and a separate picture of a younger Ryan in a police uniform. So handsome. So happy.
He had once been married, no question. And probably was a father. Nina knew she would never ask the circumstances that had made him single again, or why he never mentioned the child. Whatever had happened must have made him wary of any family connections.
If he only knew how hungry his father was to have his son back. But Nina wouldn't be the one to tell Ryan that. Surely he knew it already, and it was none of her business.
She would call tonight and see if there was still a reason for her to remain in hiding. If not, she would thank Bill McDonough for the use of his cabin and then she would leave.
Nina fully realized now that contacting Ryan's father in the first place and then staying on in Savannah had been foolish attempts to hold on to Ryan for a little longer, to know him a little better. It was time to let go now and get on with her life.
No matter what she found out tonight, it would be best if she left as soon as she could. She still had to have Desmond's ashes returned to La Jolla and interred beside Mother.
Yes, there would be plenty to do once she got back home. Maybe enough to keep her mind off Ryan most of the time. She would sell the house, get an apartment, decorate it, get a cat. Or maybe she wouldn't need a cat for company after all. Damn.
Nina turned and looked for the hundredth time at the photo of the grinning toddler who had Ryan's dimple. Even at that age, he wore that look of intense scrutiny, combined with a grin. The one that made him appear to know something you didn't. He had been a handsome baby who just begged hugging.
She was terribly afraid she was going to have one just like him. But she wouldn't worry about that just yet. No point in wavering between hope and dread the way she was doing. Condoms were fairly reliable. And she was only a few days late.
That peculiar feeling in her stomach when she smelled certain foods was probably because she'd b
een exposed to so many new dishes in Montebello and now, here, in the South. She wasn't a very good cook and neither was Jip.
No, it was still too soon to be really worried. And Ryan had been careful.
Chapter 15
Ryan sped for Point Tipsy, loving the way the BoMarty handled. She was ajewel in Dad's crown, that was for sure, a little sixteen-footer named for Trish's children, Bo and Martina. She had only hit the water twice before this trip, on test runs.
The squall had blown out to sea and the sun had come out. An omen, he hoped. He stood so that the wind over the plastic shield hit his face and blew his hair, wet his face with salt spray mist. Home again, he thought. Here I am, home again. It felt a thousand times better than he'd thought it would.
His reunion had proved as swift as it was happy. Lots of laughter, relief, forgiving hugs and no explanations or the recriminations he deserved. Just love and lots of it.
Trish had been wonderful about the whole thing, hurriedly offering him a pair of old cutoff shorts and a new, bright red T-shirt with I Love Savannah on the front. She had bought it at a Stop-N-Go on the way to the airport when they came to pick him up. "C'mon, go change while Bill hooks up the boat!" she had told him, laughing. "Time's a-wasting! That girl's probably bored out of her mind out there with those two old coots."
No one had asked his dad questions about Nina. Who would have expected her to go to Ryan's family? The king's security people had questioned his friends at the precinct. They replied honestly that they were waiting to hear from Ryan about her.
All inquiries would have ceased by now since he had phoned Lorenzo and told him Nina had been located and was well protected. Apparently, she had called Joe yesterday and asked about the case.
Joe hadn't told her Ryan was on his way. Maybe she wouldn't have any defenses up when he got there. Just before he reached the old marina, another boat sped past going toward the mainland. Jip's white hair and Mackeral's shining bald pate identified the two occupants. Dad must have called them. Ryan waved and began to slow for his approach.
So, he and Nina would be alone. He docked, tied up the small craft and hopped out on the landing. Eagerness turned to worry as he sauntered off down the beach and around the asymmetrical point that gave Tipsy its name.