A Silverhill Christmas (4 page)

“A package?” Tori squeaked the words out past her tight throat. She hadn't told anyone about her plans, except Dana.

The clerk dipped below the front desk and placed a bulky manila envelope on the counter. Tori ran her fingers along the edges. “Who left this?”

“I'm sorry. I don't know. I came on duty five minutes ago, so it wasn't in the past five minutes. And I can't tell when the previous clerk entered the note on the computer.” She slid two white cards next to the package. “I'm giving you an extra key card, Ms. Scott.”

Tori nodded and swept the cards and the package from the counter. She sank onto a wicker sofa in the lobby and ripped into the envelope. Flower petals showered onto her lap, their cloying scent making her gag on her empty stomach.

She dumped the lei onto the cushion next to her and fingered the dead, rotting flowers. This lei didn't mean aloha and welcome. Had Alexi sent this? He'd always favored dramatic gestures.

Sighing, she struggled to her feet and dumped the envelope into the nearest trash can. Oh, well, it's not like she wanted to continue skulking around the island hoping to get a glimpse of her son. She'd leave the skulking to Rio.

Tori wound her way back to the path that led to a bank of elevators beyond the pool. A few couples, returning from late dinners, crisscrossed the hallways and expansive floors, open to the outside. But when Tori reached her floor, silence greeted her.

She hadn't seen the other inhabitants of this floor
since she got here. They probably chose this out-of-the-way wing for privacy.

Same reason she chose it.

She slid the new key card into the slot and waited for the green light to flash. She frowned. Not even a red light flashed. She tried again and got the same response—nothing.

She switched cards and tried the second one. Again, nothing.

Grinding her teeth, she kicked the door. The desk clerk had given her the wrong key cards, and now she had to haul her butt all the way back to the lobby. And she wanted nothing more than to peel off her disgusting clothes, hop in the shower, and down a little twenty dollar bottle of wine from the minibar.

In frustration, she grabbed the doorknob. It not only turned, but the door inched open. She guessed the key card worked after all, but the lights must be broken.

She leaned her hip against the heavy door and pushed. Before she could flick on the hall light, something came at her out of the darkness.

A scream barreled up from her lungs. A rough hand clapped over her mouth while a heavy arm wrapped around her stomach.

She struggled, pounding her heel against a bare shin, but the vice clamped tighter around her midsection. She gagged as garlic-scented breath whispered against her ear.

“Do you want to die, Princess?”

Rio clenched the steering wheel as he hit the highway back to his little bungalow. That's not how he'd planned to end the evening with the Princess of Glazkova.

He had no intention of allowing her to jump into her ex-husband's snake pit, but he could've coaxed some in formation from her about her son's nanny. The nanny could lead to other chinks in the Zherkov armor. Maybe pinpoint a disgruntled employee, someone willing to turn on Alexi for immunity and a chance to escape a life of crime.

Time to make nice.

He wheeled his car into the next turnout and made a U-turn back to Tori. And just to make sure his return trip meant business and not pleasure, he clicked open the glove compartment to grab his cell phone. Good thing he hadn't taken his cell with him on the surveillance or he'd be looking for a new phone.

His CIA contact, Ted Boyce, picked up on the first ring. Must've been waiting for him. “Ted, I have some interesting news.”

“Hope so because the Agency is wondering if you took this gig to get an all-expenses-paid trip to Maui.”

Rio snorted. “Yeah, I've been having such a relaxing
time. You can tell your buddies that I ran into Zherkov's ex-wife.”

Ted drew in a breath. “Ding, ding, ding. You hit the jackpot, bro. What's she doing there and how'd you manage to hook up with her?”

Not so fast.
Rio wasn't ready to give up all of Tori's secrets. He didn't want the Agency jumping the gun on anything. He could still out-CIA the CIA. He cleared his throat. “She's here because he's here.”

“Can we use her?”

The edges of his phone bit into Rio's flesh as he gripped it. That's exactly why he didn't want the CIA to get its grubby paws on Tori. “I'll keep you posted.”

His lips twisted as he slid his phone shut.
Way to keep it professional, McClintock.

Rio pulled up in front of the hotel and slid from the car. The valet parking attendant scurried toward him, holding out a ticket between outstretched fingers. “Are you a guest at the hotel, sir?”

“No. Does that mean I can't leave my car here?”

A smile flickered across the younger man's face. “You can leave it here, but it costs more.”

“Of course it does.” Rio snatched the ticket from the valet's hand and stalked toward the registration desk.

People with leis draped around their necks milled about the lobby. The sweet, heavy scent from the plumeria conjured images of lazy nights on the beach with a fruity cocktail in one hand and a sultry woman in the other.

Rio shook his head. That twenty-foot jump into the ocean must've fogged his brain…or maybe his companion on that jump had something to do with his line of thinking.

The desk clerk smiled as he approached. He didn't
play the part of friendly tourist very well, but he pasted on his best gee-whiz grin. “I'm meeting a friend here. Could you please tell me her room number?”

With her smile still in place, the woman shook her head. “I'm sorry. We can't give out our guest's room numbers. If you give me your friend's name, I can call the room.”

Damn.
No way Tori would be using Zherkov for her last name. Rio chuckled and rolled his eyes. “To tell you the truth—” he peered at her badge “—Marissa, I met the young lady at a bar earlier tonight. Didn't catch her last name.”

She pursed her lips and raised her brows. “I suppose I can do a search on her first name, as long as it's not too common.”

“Tori.” Rio let out a long breath. “She's staying in a suite if that helps.”

“It does.” The clerk clicked some keys on her keyboard and picked up the phone. She listened for several seconds and then shrugged. “Your friend isn't in her room, or at least she's not picking up.”

A trill of alarm rushed up Rio's spine. He abandoned the horny tourist act and reached into his backpack for his wallet. He smacked a CIA ID badge on the counter and narrowed his eyes. “Ma'am, it's vitally important that I get that room number…now.”

With eyes wide, she scanned the badge and his picture. Then she drew back and fumbled for a piece of paper. Nice and polite never did work for him, but forceful and threatening always did the job.

“You don't need to write it down. Just tell me the number.”

It took her two tries to babble out, “Fifty-one twenty-
five. Take the elevators past the pool and across from the spa.”

He slung his backpack over one shoulder and jogged across the pool deck. Damp grass squished between his toes as he made his way to the darkened spa and the bank of elevators.

Maybe Tori didn't answer her phone because she was afraid it might be Alexi. But if she wanted access to his compound, she'd have to talk to her ex sometime. She could be in the shower.

Rio punched the elevator button with his fist until the doors whisked open. On his way into the car, he bumped shoulders with an intoxicated man stumbling from the elevator. The man grabbed his date's arm and scowled at Rio.

“Watch whereya goin'.”

Rio skewered the drunk with a lethal gaze, and he tripped against the woman. She tugged his arm. “Let's go, Adam.”

The doors closed on the couple, and Rio's muscles tensed as he rode up the five floors to Tori's suite. The elevator deposited him on an open floor facing the beach and the ocean. He crossed the tiles toward an alcove that looked like it contained two rooms.

As he drew near to fifty-one twenty-five, a low voice rumbled from the door, which was ajar. A woman's voice responded, high-pitched, frantic.

Adrenaline pumped through Rio's body and he charged the door, kicking it open. The door hit a body, and a large man broke away from Tori, his hands dropping from her throat. Rio bared his teeth and drew back his fist.

“Stop.” Tori grabbed his forearm.

Rio glanced down into her green eyes and she had
the temerity to scowl at him. Hadn't he just saved her life? Twice now? Or was it three times? He dropped his fist.

“It's okay. I know this man.” Tori stepped behind Rio. “And he was just leaving.”

Tori's attacker grunted as he eyed Rio's still-clenched hand. “Who's this guy?”

“I don't know. A guest at the hotel, I suppose. Are you staying on this floor?”

Rio bent a kink out of his neck and flexed his fingers. He almost blew his cover in front of one of Alexi's men. He scanned the burly man from his greasy hair to his dirty running shoes. Definitely one of Alexi's goons.

“Yeah, I just came up to get my wife a sweater when I heard the commotion in here. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm okay.” Tori straightened her spine. “Just a little disagreement.”

The man's face split into a grin, displaying rows of bad teeth. “A disagreement.”

Rio shrugged and backed away to the door across the alcove, delving into the pocket of his shorts, pretending to search for his key card.

“You'll pass along my message?”

“Sure, but don't get your hopes up.” The man turned and ambled toward the elevator while Tori shut her hotel room door.

Rio watched from the corner of his eye until Alexi's man disappeared into the elevator, and then he spun around and banged on Tori's door.

Her muffled voice came from behind the door. “Who is it?”

“It's me.”

She flung open the door, her brows drawn over her
nose. “You almost stepped in it, cowboy. If Alexi's thug reported back to my ex that I was in town with a bodyguard in tow, I'd never get near that compound. Not to mention your own gig would blow up in your face.”

“You're welcome, princess.” He brushed past her in to the spacious suite and dropped his backpack on the coffee table. “The next time you're getting manhandled by a giant with greasy hair and an acne-scarred face, I'll keep on walking.”

Tori's shoulders slumped as she closed the door and locked it. “Thanks. I'm glad you came to the rescue even though you could've screwed up my plans. That guy scared the crap out of me.”

“What did he want and how'd your ex know you were in Maui?”

“One of his guys saw me in Lahaina and tracked me back to this hotel. Not that I was trying to hide from Alexi, and I explained that to my uninvited guest.”

Rio sucked in a breath. “Has Alexi been tailing you?”

“No. Believe me, the hike left early enough this morning that I would've noticed if someone were following me.”

“So did you get a chance to tell Alexi's guy that you're in Maui to see your son?”

She nodded, running fingers through her tangled curls. “I tried to assure him I didn't want any trouble but told him I needed to speak to Alexi.”

“But you are looking for trouble.”

Tori crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder against the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize.” Rio bent forward and opened the door to the mini bar. No beer, just little bottles of wine that he could finish off in a few gulps.

“Really?” She pushed off the door and joined him at
the minibar. She reached over his shoulder, her hair a whisper against the back of his neck. She snagged two bottles of chardonnay from the fridge and waved one in his face. “Want one?”

“Sure, but don't look so cheerful. I'm still not agreeing to your plan.”

She tossed back her hair and twisted open her bottle with a crack. A red mark marred her creamy skin, and Rio traced his finger along her jaw.

“Did he do that?”

Tori shivered. “He got kind of carried away when he slapped his hand over my mouth to stop my scream.”

Scumbag.
Rio's fingers wrapped around the sweating bottle so tightly, it almost slipped from his grasp. He cupped Tori's face with his other hand.

“Are you all right? Do you want some ice?” He held up the wine. “A cold bottle?”

“A drink will do me.” She put her lips to the bottle and took a swig, but her hand shook and she swayed on her feet.

Rio set his wine bottle on top of the minibar, placed Tori's next to it and rested his hands on her shoulders. The cotton of her T-shirt, stiff with salt water and sand, stuck to the rough pads of his fingertips. “You need a warm shower and probably something to eat, right?”

“Those were my plans before tall, dark and ugly bust ed in here.” She pulled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth, squaring her shoulders beneath his touch.

Rio almost pulled her into his arms to comfort, to protect, but her glittering green eyes warned him to back off. This woman would fight the devil himself to stay on her feet and keep trudging onward. Working on her own obviously came naturally to her. She'd probably already
exhausted every legal channel to get her son back from Prince Alexi.

Now she'd decided to look into a few illegal channels.

If she wouldn't accept a shoulder to cry on, Rio could at least offer her something more practical. He spun her around and gave her a shove toward the cavernous bathroom. “Go take a shower and I'll order from room service. Anything you won't eat?”

“Crow.”

Rolling his eyes, Rio grabbed her wine bottle and one of the glasses on the credenza. He dumped the contents of the bottle into the glass and handed it to her. “Nobody's going to force you to eat crow.”

The door snapped behind her and Rio picked up the phone and punched in the extension for room service. He ordered a couple of cheeseburgers and fries. No crow.

While Tori cranked on the shower, Rio wandered around the spacious sitting room. Tori must've gotten a lot of money in the divorce, but he figured she'd trade it all to get her son back.

He'd seen this type of predicament before—American woman marries a foreigner, lives in his country, has his children. And then when the marriage goes south, the wife can't leave the country with her children.

The fact that Tori married royalty and royalty-gone-bad made her situation much worse. What had she been thinking when she said
I do
to Mad Prince Alexi?

Rio pulled back the drapes and slid open the door to the balcony. The soft, warm breeze whispered against his skin, carrying with it a whiff of some sweet flower and a salty tang from the ocean that he could taste on his tongue. He sipped his wine and soaked up the scenery.

“Nice view, huh?”

Rio shifted his gaze from the dark ocean where lights from a few dinner cruises and other pleasure craft bobbed and blinked to the glass sliding door and Tori's reflection. She clutched a white robe around her body and had wrapped up her hair in a towel that made her look like the Chiquita banana lady.

He turned and propped his shoulder blade against the doorjamb. “Feel better?”

“I do. You should try it.”

Rio shrugged off the door. “I wasn't the one manhandled by Alexi's thug. I ordered some cheeseburgers. Is that okay?”

“Sounds great.” She patted the knot in the sash across her stomach.

“Can I ask you a few questions about Alexi?”

Tori bent over at the waist, rubbed her head with the towel and then flipped her head up, her wet hair already spiraling into curls. “What do I get out of it?”

“If I can bring in Alexi and turn him over to the CIA, you'll get your son back.”

“Ha!” She tossed the wet towel into the bathroom and shoved her hands into the pockets of the hotel-issued robe. “Once the snare tightens around Alexi, he'll give orders for Max to be sent back to Glazkova. And there's nothing the CIA or anyone else can do about that. Max has to be with me when Alexi goes down.”

“I might be able to arrange that.” Rio crossed his arms and dug his fingers into his biceps.
Why'd he go and promise that?
Ever since his mother had died, he'd vowed never to play protector again.

Tori whipped her hands out of the pockets and clapped them together. “Now we're on the same page. What do you want to know?”