Royal Captive (13 page)

Arnie dropped the pebble. “It’s not worth articulating.”

“Please.”

He made a face, held up his palms as if to say he was washing his hands of this. “Fernando.”

Lauryn looked as if she knew exactly who the man was talking about, but Istvan had to ask, “Who is he?”

“Nobody knows exactly. Very few people have ever seen him. He’s a purchasing agent for the biggest buyers.”

Excitement stole into Lauryn’s voice. “Reclusive.”

“I happen to know that he’s laid up for a while in Brazil. He had another one of his plastic surgeries.

Facial reconstruction, fingertips lasered off again, the whole works. Not many people know about this.”

“How can he help us?” The guy definitely sounded like a step in the right direction.

“He wouldn’t. He’d have you shot if you so much as asked questions about him.” Lauryn grinned.

“Glad to see the prospect of that makes you so happy,” he groused at her.

“It’s not that. You could be him!” She laughed out loud now, obviously thrilled with whatever idea she’d come up with. “Only a handful of people know what he looks like. And he’s constantly changing his appearance to stay ahead of the authorities.”

“If there was a one-of-a-kind heist, even if done on commission for a buyer that wasn’t his, Fernando is the kind to want to take a look at the loot anyway. He’s not the type to shy away from a bidding war if he sees something he wants.”

“I’ll be Fernando.” He caught on at last. If nobody knew what the guy looked like and nobody knew that he was out of commission for a while, Istvan could enter the world of underground stolen artifact trafficking impersonating the man, find what he wanted and hopefully get out before anyone figured out what he was doing.

“Brilliant.” He flashed an answering smile to Lauryn, her optimism rubbing off on him. “Can you set up some meetings for me, as Fernando, with the top people in the business on the island? I have a list,” he told Arnie, not wanting him to think that they expected him to do all the work.

The man picked up another pebble. “Maybe.”

“You know you can. You know everyone.” Lauryn moved closer to the man, true affection reflecting in her clear eyes. “Everyone trusts you.”

“Because I don’t betray them,” Arnie said in a sour tone. “If I do this. I’m going to have to leave here. I can never come back.”

The smile slid off Lauryn’s face. And Istvan understood that this was some sort of safe haven for the man, an escape he’d likely planned for years, a retirement he’d set up for when he would withdraw from the business.

“I know I’m asking you to risk your life,” he told the man. “If you help, know that you have a place in Valtria and my protection.” That was as close as he wanted to come to admitting who he was.

Arnie didn’t look impressed. He looked ready to walk, in fact. But then Lauryn squatted in front of him, took his hands in hers and said, “Please.”

His shoulders slumped as degree by degree the man gave up resisting. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Lauryn threw her arms around him in a warm embrace that twisted Istvan’s guts for a second. He should have felt grateful and relieved. But he couldn’t get past the annoyance at their frequent and ample display of affection. Could these two keep their hands off each other for a minute?

“You’ll be Fernando.” Lauryn stood at last and turned to Istvan, practically jumping with excitement. “I’ll go with you. On the rare occasion when Fernando does business personally, he always travels with one of his mistresses.”

“No,” Istvan and Arnie said at the same time.

“You should stay at the village.” Arnie nodded toward the two dozen small houses in the valley, white-washed walls and blue roofs, a postcard image of Mediterranean tranquility. “I can keep an eye on you here.”

“On second thought—” Istvan turned to her. “I think it would be all right if you came with me. You could be of help. Definitely.”

“I love banana fields.”

They were on their way back to Porto Paphos, the car rattling over a road that looked like the moon’s surface. Lauryn gazed out at the countryside, pointing out a shepherd or an old chapel now and then to keep the conversation going. Despite their first real breakthrough, the prince seemed to be in a mixed mood, saying little beyond cursing the deepest potholes.

“I don’t think your Arnie likes me,” he said absently, seeming unimpressed by the beauty of the banana fields.

They were in an SUV, a comfortable car with more than enough space, yet his physique and presence seemed to fill it to the brim. He was masculine without putting on any macho displays, handsome without seeming to be aware of it and intelligent without the need to show off his smarts at every second to impress her. He was also grumpy at the moment. And he could be bossy. Definitely a strong tendency there. Still, nobody could say he wasn’t interesting.

“If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have helped,” she told him.

“Maybe you didn’t notice the way he was looking at me.”

Maybe. But she’d certainly noticed the way the prince looked at Arnie. Of course, considering the business Arnie had been in prior to his retirement, perhaps Istvan’s dark looks were understandable. “He doesn’t like it that you’re taking me into danger. I’m his only niece. He’s allowed to worry.”

The car slowed as Istvan turned toward her. “He’s your uncle?” The look on his face was comical. It was the first time that she’d seen him truly confused.

“What did you think?”

He turned back to the road and accelerated. “Old partner or whatever. There isn’t much resemblance.”

Her uncle and her father had been dead ringers for each other. She took after her mother.

“Decent of him to help us. We’d be up the creek without a paddle if he didn’t.” He was beginning to sound appreciative. “Maybe he was right. You could stay. It’d be safer.” He pulled onto the highway, the road much smoother here, and the car picked up more speed. “You could pack your things at the estate and I’ll have a car bring you up to the village tonight. Looked like a nice place.”

She actually did have things to pack. Before they’d headed out this morning, he had called a store and told them her dress size. They delivered an armload of clothes including accessories within the hour. Apparently, they were used to such calls coming from the Duke of Oskut’s estate.

Right now, however, there was too much going on for her to enjoy the thought of her new wardrobe. Like the prince’s sudden newfound mistrust. She’d really hoped they were past this. “An hour ago, you thought it was a great idea for me to come with you. Now you don’t trust me enough to take me along? You do know you’re driving me crazy?”

“You’ve been through enough danger in the past two days. It wouldn’t hurt to at least try to stay safe and get some rest while you’re at it.”

“I’m going.”

He considered her for a second before returning his attention to the road. “You really shouldn’t.”

“Oh, well. We’re past that now.”

He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t even think about it.” She bristled, her mood mirroring his. “What?”

“Putting me under house arrest again.”

He said nothing, obviously remembering how easily she’d sneaked out the first time. He didn’t look pleased at the memory. Tough cookies.

Long minutes passed in silence as he drove. There were plenty of tourists out on the main highway, not all of them used to driving on the left side of the road, judging by the guy who pulled out from a side street straight into oncoming traffic. Horns blared.

The prince cleared the obstacle with ease. Then he drew a breath of resignation. “So you’ll be my mistress.”

There was something in his voice as he said those words that didn’t sit well with her. “We’ll be pretending,” she reminded him.

B
Y THAT NIGHT, THEY HAD
an appointment with Geoffrey Bellingham, the man Arnie had told them about. Bellingham agreed to a breakfast meeting the following morning. Turned out the guy was a British expatriate who had his operations set up on the north side of the island.

Istvan and Lauryn moved into a five-star hotel as if only having arrived, and shared a suite. Two of the most beefed-up royal guards dressed in black suits and black shirts took the next room as bodyguards. Fernando traveled with staff, so that fit right into their cover. Istvan would have preferred his cousin’s familiar estate which provided more room and privacy, but they would be checked out thoroughly by Bellingham’s men. He needed to act like the man he was impersonating, and five-star resorts seemed to be Fernando’s usual home away from home when he traveled.

His guards were in their own room at the moment, Istvan picking over the remains of dinner that had been delivered to the suite, waiting for Lauryn to come out of the marble bathroom that was on par with those at the Valtrian Royal Palace.

His cell phone rang. The call came from his cousin’s estate, from the men he’d left behind. While he was going after Bellingham, he put an investigative team on his other suspects on the island. He didn’t dare contact local law enforcement for help. He didn’t know who could be bribed, which officer the bad guys might have in their pockets—according to Arnie, most of them.

“We have initial results, sir.”

“Proceed.”

“Costas is in jail. Has been for four months.”

That left four more to worry about if Bellingham didn’t pan out. “How about the rest?”

“Petrov is visiting family in Russia. Nobody’s seen him for a month. He’s said to be attending his sister’s wedding.”

As good an alibi as any. “And the other three?”

“Halil is keeping a low profile. Has some trouble with his crew. His second in command made moves to overtake the business.”

So maybe Halil had other problems now and wouldn’t attempt a major job.

“How about Berk and Canda?” According to the preliminary reports, both were of Turkish origin and known for their part in the black market artifact trade on the island. That gave them a possible link to the ship.

“Can’t find either of them.”

“Look harder,” he said as the bathroom door opened.

Lauryn wore sensible cotton pajamas, well-fitting but not revealing. Part of him wished she’d picked something sexier from the pile the store had sent over. He hung up the phone. At least she hadn’t come out wrapped in a robe to her chin, although in hindsight, he should have known she wouldn’t. A shy woman couldn’t have worn those Catwoman outfits that seemed to be her favorite.

She was comfortable enough in her own skin to dress any way she pleased. He liked that about her.

“So you’ll be pretending to be my mistress,” he spoke aloud the thought that waltzed circles in his mind while he’d been waiting for her. “Can you act? If either of us takes as much as one misstep, our lives are over.”

One perfect eyebrow slid up. “If you’re going to try to use that cheesy excuse to talk me into
practicing,
I’ll be seriously disappointed.”

Protesting would have only served to make him look guilty. And he wasn’t about to admit that, yes, there was a sense of expectation in the back of his mind, his body buzzing now that she was there in the room with him, the enormous bed within reach.

“We have to look and act the part,” he said simply.

She watched him for a long second, assessed him. Then her lips curved into a seductive smile. When she moved, there was a world of promise in her undulating curves. Slowly, tantalizingly she walked up to him. She straddled his lap, ran her fingers through his hair, never taking her eyes off him. She took his face between her hands, dipped her lips to his and kissed him.

There was nothing shy, tentative or simpering about her. She knew what she wanted and she took it as if he belonged to her. He found the kiss the most erotic of his life, and for the first time considered that maybe his brothers were right and he should spend more time in the company of women than in the company of centuries-old bones.

They’d accused him on more than one occasion of passing through the sea of ladies always present at court like a sleepwalker, barely noticing any of them. He was well awake now, conscious and alert. His body responded fully, passionately, his hardness pressing up against her soft core. His hands went to her waist to hold her in place.

Practicing
seemed like a brilliant idea all of a sudden. He was looking forward to lots and lots of practice. It was the only path to perfection after all, as his father had been fond of saying.

But she was pulling away already, looking unaffected save for the smirk on her freshly kissed lips. “I think we can both make it look authentic.”

He took a moment to collect himself. If she could walk away from this, then so could he. “How are your stings?” he asked when his breathing was semi-steady.

His had stopped burning, but they still itched.

“If that’s a pitiful attempt to get me out of my pajamas so you can check, it’s not going to work.”

He couldn’t help a grin. “What can I do? You’re too smart for me.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She sauntered to the obscenely large bed and lay right in the middle, then tossed a pillow at him.

“What’s that for?” He knew he was slow on the uptake, but he couldn’t help it. His mind was still addled; all he could think of was joining her on that bed and finishing what they started. That was the last thing he should have wanted under the circumstances, considering who she was and why they were here.

“For you on the couch. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. You need to be fully rested for tomorrow.” She gave him a cheeky grin.

“Y
OU SHOULD HAVE STAYED
at the hotel,” Istvan told her.

They were on their way to see Geoffrey Bellingham, sitting in the back of a limo while his guards rode up front. Bellingham took breakfast appallingly early. Istvan stifled a yawn. He’d barely slept the night before. Lauryn was not easy to ignore when sharing the same suite.

“We’ve covered this. We’ll do the social thing with this guy, but I’m sure I won’t be invited to the negotiating table. While you’re with him, I’ll wander around and see what I can see.”