Royal Wedding Threat

by Rachelle Mccalla

  FOUR

  Jason turned and left Ava alone to pack her bag. He needed to breathe—preferably in a room that didn’t smell floral and feminine. Still unsure how badly he’d been injured, he pulled his arms back and flexed his muscles again. Sore. Very, very sore. But nothing froze up or refused to move. Nothing felt broken.

  He examined what he could of the sparse apartment, searching for clues that might explain why someone would want to kill the wedding coordinator. An event gone bad, perhaps? Surely any offended party would sue before resorting to murder. Jason scoured the room and noticed a desktop with a smattering of documents littering the surface.

  Postcards of the kingdom of Lydia—unaddressed, unsent. Ava must have bought them to share with friends back home in the United States. Brochures of various florists, musicians...nothing he wouldn’t have expected a wedding planner to have on her desk. But perhaps she’d offended one of the vendors represented on the brochures. Would an angry dressmaker resort to murder? Jason scooped up the brochures. They were worth looking into.

  As he shuffled the glossy pages into his hands, Jason found something different—a photograph, fairly large but unframed, a close-up of a woman’s face. It was by far the most personal item Jason had seen on the desk. He stopped shuffling pages long enough to look at the woman. She was pretty, her brown hair in loose curls tumbling around her face, her eyes twinkling, her full lips spread in a broad, happy smile.

  “I need everything from that desk, too.”

  Jason turned to see Ava standing in the doorway, her duffel slung over her shoulder. He realized the woman in the picture looked a lot like Ava. A sister, perhaps? Ava stepped toward him, a second bag gaping wide. She held it out, and he dropped the brochures with the picture on top of the other items into the bag.

  Ava gave a little yelp, reached for the picture, then shook her head quickly and closed the bag instead.

  At the same moment Jason heard a vehicle outside. He turned to see an bulletproof royal-guard sedan come to a stop double-parked beside the car he’d driven earlier. “Let’s go.” Jason grabbed his body armor and uniform shirt, but Ava’s reaction to the picture didn’t sit well with him. “Who’s in the picture?”

  A horrified expression flashed across the wedding planner’s face, followed by reddening cheeks. “Where did you find that?”

  “It was on your desk with the brochures.” Intrigued by her response and wondering if he was onto something, he prodded further. “Is it your sister?”

  “I’m an only child.” She pulled the door open and waited for him to step into the foyer.

  “It’s got to be a relative of some sort.” Jason hovered next to her as they opened the outer door. Two guards stepped from the car—Titus and Adrian, two of the recent transfers from the Lydian army. They looked ready for war in their helmets, with automatic rifles—not the usual image he liked his royal guards to project, but given the circumstances, he almost felt relieved by their rough-and-ready approach.

  “Why does it matter?” Ava asked as they stepped down the stairs to the sidewalk, where she peered anxiously in both directions.

  Jason tried to shrug, but his back protested, so he said simply, “She’s pretty.” Nodding to his men, he led Ava quickly across the street and into the bulletproof car.

  “Well, thank you,” Ava said as he opened her door first and took her bag from her shoulder.

  Jason raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “The picture?” Ava pointed. “It’s me.” She sat inside the car and pulled the door shut after herself as Jason shook off his surprise and hurried back around to the driver’s side. With no sign of the Jetta anywhere, his men got back into their car, ready to follow him back to the palace.

  Jason shot Ava a quick, assessing glance as he started the car and pulled carefully away from the curb. Maybe the lovely girl in the picture really was Ava, but that raised even more questions in his mind—such as why any woman who could look so pretty would choose instead to make herself appear so severe. “I’ve never seen you smile,” he realized aloud as he drove back toward the palace, watching his mirrors carefully for any sign of the attack Jetta, grateful for the presence of his men in the car behind them.

  “I make it a policy not to,” Ava told him bluntly.

  “Why not?”

  She sighed and settled back against her seat. “It’s a long story.”

  “Is it?” He stepped on the accelerator as he pulled away from a stoplight. “Well, get ready to tell it. I want to hear all your stories.”

  “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “Somebody wants to kill you. You’re going to help me figure out who it is.”

  * * *

  Ava stared at the street ahead and bit her lip. She would not cry. No way was she going to let the maddening captain of the Lydian Royal Guard see her cry.

  But at the same time, she felt terrified at the thought of sharing anything about her past. Couldn’t the bomb squad analyze the residue they’d found on the street and track down the killer that way? Wasn’t that how crimes were solved on television? Why should she have to spill all her painful secrets?

  She should have thrown away the engagement photo instead of cutting Dan out of the picture and saving the rest. Why hadn’t she? It was a flattering picture of her, true, but it wasn’t as though she was going to use the head shot for promotional purposes. She didn’t even look like that anymore.

  With a guilty swirl in her stomach, Ava realized she hadn’t tossed the picture because she’d wanted a reminder of what it had felt like to be happy—not simply because she doubted she’d ever be that happy again, but as a caution should she ever allow herself to trust anyone as much as she’d trusted Dan. Happiness was stupid, a fool’s fancy.

  That was why she’d kept the picture.

  Too soon, they arrived at the palace. Jason parked the car inside the garage. His men who’d followed them parked their car and met him in the expansive cobbled driveway.

  “Accompany Ms. Wright to apartment 8-B in the palace-wall apartments. Theresa Covington was going to send over a housekeeping team to check her in—they should be there by now.”

  Offended that he was dumping her so abruptly, Ava glared at the captain. “You’re not coming with me?”

  “I have important things to do.”

  Ava looked at the guards. She couldn’t be sure, but she was nearly certain one of them had cracked the joke about tossing her in the river. And the other one had laughed when he’d said it. She didn’t want to be left with these men. Captain Selini might be impossibly stubborn, but she knew she could trust him. He’d saved her life twice that day—once on purpose, even.

  She grabbed the captain’s arm as he started to walk away. “What am I supposed to do?” she hissed at him, not wanting the other guards to guess she didn’t want to be left with them.

  “Whatever you usually do.” The captain’s grin was half challenge. “You’re a very busy woman. You’ve got an important wedding in eight days and another four months after that.” He quoted her words back at her, one eyebrow raised as if to dare her to deny his claim.

  He’d won—and he knew it. She could tell by the triumphant angle of his smirk.

  Ava blew out a frustrated breath. “Come on, you two,” she told the guards, readjusting her bag over her shoulder as she marched toward the sidewalk that led to the apartments on the rear palace wall. Her ankles hurt almost as much as her feelings, but she wouldn’t let these men see her pain.

  She’d learned a long time ago not to let her feelings show. Why should two attempts on her life change anything?

  * * *

  Jason wasn’t really surprised to see Ava appear in his office doorway shortly after lunch. She’d fixed her hair and makeup, donned a zebra-print top and white slacks that covered her ankle injuries. She
appeared ready to behave like her usual impossible self.

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Jason said by way of greeting.

  “What?” She narrowed her eyes warily.

  “For you to get your tiger stripes back in place.” He meant the words as a subtle jab, but the by the way Ava threw her shoulders back, he guessed she took them as a compliment. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  “I need to go out.”

  “My men can drive you. I’ve assigned Titus and Adrian to take care of you.”

  Ava glanced down the hall, then stepped into the room and pulled the door closed solidly behind her. “I don’t want them following me.”

  Jason should have guessed she wouldn’t want to cooperate—if only because she always had to argue. “You need protection. Someone’s trying to kill you.”

  “And do you really think your men would stop them?” She leaned over his desk as she had so many times before. But this time, instead of yelling, she kept her voice low, almost pleading. “They don’t like me. I want you to come with me.”

  Jason exhaled with exasperation. “I have things to do. I’m the captain of the guard. We’ve got a royal wedding in just over a week, and a bomb went off outside our gates this morning. I’m busy.” He glared at her.

  When she glared silently back at him, he added, “I don’t like you any more than they do.”

  “Good.” Ava stood straight. “Anyway, everything’s in place for Alexander’s wedding. It’s Princess Anastasia’s timeline that worries me. I should have the venue established by now.”

  “Sardis Cathedral,” Jason volunteered. “The same as every other royal wedding in the history of Lydia.”

  “Not every royal wedding in the history of Lydia,” Ava corrected him sharply. “Before Castlehead was abandoned, the kings and queens were always married—”

  “We’re not going to Dorsi.” Jason stood and crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to wince at the pain in his aching back. “I don’t want to hear you speak of it again. It’s absolutely beyond question.”

  “You don’t want me to speak of it again?” Ava raised an eyebrow. When Jason nodded, she continued, “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t ever bring it up again if you’ll accompany me to the island and hear the plans I’ve laid out for Anastasia’s wedding.”

  Jason clenched his teeth, torn. He hated to let the woman have her way, even one tiny bit. However, he had planned to spend the rest of his afternoon—and even his evening, if necessary—grilling her about her past, searching for any hint of who might be trying to kill her. Alexander’s wedding was coming up far too soon for them to fire Ava and find someone else, but at the same time, if someone was trying to kill her, the whole palace was in danger. The bomb outside that morning had proved that.

  Going to Dorsi would provide him with the necessary time and isolation to talk to Ava freely and ask her every question he could think of. It would also get her out of the city, away from where the attempts on her life had taken place and—should trouble attempt to follow them—far from the royal family he’d vowed to protect.

  If it carried the bonus of convincing her to drop the Dorsi request once he’d heard her out, so much the better.

  He uncrossed his arms. “Fine. We’ll go to Dorsi. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Good. You’ll have to promise me you’ll do whatever I say—the island is dangerous.”

  Her triumphant glare didn’t falter. “As long as you hear me out, I’ll do whatever you say.”

  * * *

  Ava brought along the duffel bag containing all the brochures and papers from her desktop. She adjusted the strap over her shoulder as she followed the captain down the dock to a royal-guard speedboat. If Captain Selini wanted to ask her about possible suspects, she’d be ready with the brochures. They could analyze any and every vendor she’d ever worked with—as well as those she’d rejected—and root out possible suspects among them. Anything to keep the captain busy and too distracted to ask about her personal life.

  There was no reason for Jason Selini to know anything about her past. Everyone she’d ever known or loved or cared about was half a world away, in Seattle, her hometown. The distance was far too great for any of them to be suspects. No, surely some angry cake decorator had gone off the deep end and decided to target her for not fully appreciating his buttercream frosting.

  The captain hopped aboard and extended one hand toward Ava. She ignored the proffered help and planted one foot on the boat, determined to prove that, while she might be injured, she was by no means helpless.

  As her foot touched the gleaming white step, the boat shifted, bobbing in the water. Ava hadn’t anticipated the motion, but, firmly intending to recover her balance on her own, she pushed off the pier with her other foot. The captain had hopped into the boat with grace. She could do so, as well.

  The boat, however, wasn’t cooperating, and the bulky bag over her shoulder didn’t help. She careened forward, swung her arms wide and nearly punched the captain as he reached to steady her.

  She landed hard against his shoulder and yelped.

  “Steady now?” Jason asked, his hands surprisingly gentle on her arms as he held her upright.

  She glanced up into his face, furious when she spotted amusement sparkling in his gray eyes. “I would be fine if—” She tried to think. Surely somehow her blunder was his fault, or could at least be blamed on him.

  “If you’d taken my hand when I’d first offered it?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

  Ava glared at him and pulled away, perhaps a bit too suddenly. Only Jason’s grip still secure on her arms kept her from tumbling backward.

  “If this boat didn’t rock so much!” she shot back at him.

  “Boats do that.” He watched her a moment longer, letting go of her arms but standing close, ready to catch her again if she tipped.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, flustered that she’d crashed into his shoulder and further distraught that he had such nice shoulders for crashing into. If she was going to embarrass herself, she’d have preferred to do so in front of someone who wasn’t so strong and handsome.

  “Can I help you to your seat?” Jason offered.

  Though she would rather have walked herself, Ava wished to avoid crashing into those shoulders again, so she took hold of his hand this time, though she glared at him the entire way to the seat and especially once she’d sat down. And she didn’t say thank-you, because she didn’t feel thankful at all. In fact, she quite resented needing his help.

  To her relief, the captain ignored her as he got the boat started and pointed them out to sea. Ava watched carefully, still not completely trusting him to take her to the forbidden island of Dorsi.

  The Lydian capital city of Sardis sat on the Mediterranean coast, on the tip of the tiny kingdom nestled between Greece and Albania. The island of Dorsi was the most remote of the dozens of islands that formed an archipelago extending out from the mainland. Once a peninsula connected by land to Sardis, the islands had been washed free by centuries of storms.

  Dorsi had once been known as Castlehead, but after hurricanes and crumbling shorelines had rendered the former Lydian palace uninhabitable, the royal family had relocated to the palace in Sardis. Because of the island’s history and Princess Stasi’s own adventures there with her fiancé, Kirk Covington, the affianced pair wanted to be married in the ruins of the palace cathedral.

  In Ava’s mind, the island was the perfect spot for a private wedding, which was what the youngest princess wanted. And Ava always gave her brides what they wanted—that promise, and her ability to fulfill it, made her one of the top wedding planners in Seattle, before she’d left everything to come to Lydia.

  Kirk Covington had warned her of the supposed dangers of the
island. Dorsi was said to have been contaminated by land mines during the World Wars, though Ava had never heard explained what enemy had placed them, since Lydia had remained neutral throughout those conflicts. Besides that, the massive blocks of limestone that teetered in ruinous towers were rumored to fall at the slightest provocation, especially when disturbed by those who didn’t belong there.

  The island itself was such a formidable rock that there didn’t seem to be any decent spot to anchor, and if that weren’t deterrent enough, the periphery of the island was dotted every twenty feet or so with fearsome signs, warning potential visitors of certain death should they venture there.

  But no rocks had fallen when she’d visited the island with Kirk and Stasi. Indeed, the peaceful Mediterranean shores had looked to her like the perfect location for a private wedding, just foreboding enough to keep the paparazzi at a distance. She only had to convince Jason Selini to agree with her. Perhaps if she cooperated with his investigation questions, he’d be more willing to see things her way.

  FIVE

  Jason wove the boat between islands, choosing an indirect route to Dorsi for a number of reasons. He wanted more time to talk to Ava, not because he cared to be with her a moment longer than necessary, but because he needed answers, and she adeptly avoided providing them.

  In addition to that, he felt sobered by the back-to-back attempts on her life. Whoever had tried to kill her that morning clearly wanted the job done quickly. There was every likelihood he’d been watching the palace and even a slim chance the would-be killer might try to follow them out to sea.

  By weaving through the islands, Jason would increase his chances of identifying any watercraft that might be following them, or lose such a tail in the process. But every time he glanced behind them, Jason saw only innocent-looking sailboats, speedboats and Jet Skis manned by vacationers and retirees bent only on enjoying the glorious Lydian seashore on the lovely early-summer day.