Royal Captive (17 page)

She glanced through the crack in the curtain and for a second watched the man who’d been following her all along, one of Berk’s goons no doubt. Tall and bulky, he looked the quintessential seedy tough guy, with a scar running along his cheekbone, a bump in his nose where it had healed badly after a fight and greasy hair combed back from his eyes.

She cast the bodice aside, took the keys she’d lifted off Berk and pressed them into the chunk of wax, then cleaned them off to make sure nothing stuck to them. Next came the papers she’d lifted from the man’s pocket. She used her cell phone to carefully photograph each page. Then she put everything away and carried out the bodice. She made a show of bargaining, as was expected, but ended up leaving the thing behind.

Her work done, she walked around some more, politely refusing vendors who did their level best to lure her inside their small shops, calling loudly and offering the most incredible deals. She moved within a hundred feet of where Istvan and Berk were sitting, making a game of picking out Berk’s men who were standing guard at regular intervals. She found almost a dozen and made a point of remembering their faces. They were his crew, the ones he would send after her and Istvan if something went wrong. It was better to be able to recognize them from afar.

When it looked as if Istvan and Berk were finishing up, she weaved her way back to them, stopped behind Berk and touched his shoulders, smoothed down his lapels, gave the man a sugary smile. “I love your country. Everyone is so nice.”

Istvan stood up so quickly that his chair nearly tipped back. “You know how to find me,” he told Berk, then grabbed Lauryn’s elbow and dragged her along without a word. His steps were controlled, as was the emotion on his face, but enough tension radiated off him to tell everyone who watched that he was displeased with his woman.

The gazes of Berk’s men followed them, some looking on with an amused smile.

Then one looked toward Berk’s table. Some silent communication must have passed between them because the man began walking down an aisle parallel to theirs, keeping them in his sight.

I
STVAN WATCHED
L
AURYN
come out of their hotel bath room, again in those sensible pajamas, and go straight to the table to pour herself a glass of water. He was still fully dressed, although resting comfortably, his arms under his head as he reclined on the bed, his legs crossed at the ankles. They’d had a productive day, all in all.

They both deserved a break.

He glanced toward the window. The last time he’d checked, Berk’s goon was gone. He let the guy follow them back to the hotel. Let Berk have that information, let him think he had the upper hand and that Fernando and his guards weren’t as sharp as they thought.

The chunk of beeswax had been picked up by his backup team, the keys already being made. The copies of the two pieces of scrap paper in Berk’s pocket lay on the nightstand. On one there was an address. He’d al ready sent a man there to check it out. A tailor shop, not much more than a small room with a window front, his man had reported after the premises had been entered and searched. Nothing suspicious had been found.

“How did I do as the misbehaving mistress?” Lauryn brought the glass of water over and set it on her nightstand.

“You have misbehaving down pat. The mistress part needs work.” He sat up and reached out and pulled her down to the bed.

She moved away from him, putting some distance and a throw pillow between them. “Listen. About this afternoon…”

Thinking about that afternoon put his body on alert and then some. Sitting on the bed with her and thinking about their passionate kisses kicked the heat up another notch. “I agree. It’s high time we finished. I apologize for the interruption.”

She threw him a look of exasperation. “You know that’s not what I was about to say.”

His body was buzzing with anticipation. As usual, her seductress act had gone only too well. Her touching him had filled him with need. Her touching Berk had filled him with thoughts of murder.

“Anyway. About this afternoon…” She looked away. “That was a mistake.”

“Says who?”

“Reality and common sense.”

“Both overrated.”

“You can’t be involved with someone like me.” She turned back to him and folded her arms in front of her. “Think of the press.”

He’d already thought of that. Anyone involved with the royal princes came under a magnifying glass. Her past, her family, would never stand up to scrutiny. They’d crucify her. And Chancellor Egon would crucify him for the bad press. More than ever, the monarchy had to be beyond reproach. The Freedom Council stopped at nothing to malign the royal family and turn the people against them, stooping to outright lies if needed. Lauryn’s past, even if nothing more than rumors, would be used against them mercilessly.

He rarely railed against the confines of his title, certainly not like Lazlo and some of his other brothers. But he did now. Something to be dealt with later. He swiped the pillow from between them and pulled her close, pulled her down to the bed with him and settled her in his arms, kissed her temple, then the tip of a small, pink ear. “I don’t see any press in sight.”

She turned her head, but she didn’t move away. “You want a temporary mistress.”

“I want you, any way you’re willing.”

“Since when?”

“Since you broke the Brotherhood’s code.” Probably even before. Possibly from the first moment he’d set eyes on her, but he thought telling her that might give her too much power.

She struggled with a smile as her eyes opened. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I bet.” She pulled away to pick up the paper that held the information she’d lifted from Berk. The address was a dead end, but she’d also photographed some kind of a drawing.

“What do you think it is?” he asked.

“A map, but of what?” She traced the lines. “Could be roads and hills. Could be a map of the early Christian catacombs right here in Paphos.”

“Could be a map of hallways inside a building.”

“We need at least one point of reference. Without that, the map is no help whatsoever.” She put the paper back, frustration drawing small lines around her full lips, lines he wouldn’t have minded kissing away.

He reached out to fold his fingers around her slim wrist and pulled her closer.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice pained.

“Why?”

She looked as if she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said, “There is something here.” She drew a slow breath, looking away from him. “At least for me there is. If I open this door, it’s going to hurt to walk away.”

“Then don’t.” He caught himself as soon as he said the words. What the hell did he mean? Damned if he knew.

“I’ll have to. Sooner or later. We live in different worlds.”

He hated that she was right. Because, to be honest, there was something here for him, too. A pull he might have underestimated earlier. That she could coolly analyze the situation and so easily walk away from what could be burned him.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch tonight.”

She moved all the way to the other side of the bed and turned her back to him. “Suit yourself.”

Two hours later, he was still staring at the ceiling, which was just as well. At least his mind wasn’t fuzzy from sleep when his phone rang.

The head of the team he’d left at Alexander’s estate was on the line. They were following up on a number of things, as Istvan had requested.

“Our man who was following Berk called in. The guy went straight to Canda in Limassol. They hopped into a car and headed off toward the countryside,” he said.

Canda was another possible link on Cyprus on their list. “Are they being followed?”

“We have two men on them. The one who shadowed Berk and the one who shadowed Canda. They’ll report back to me as soon as there’s any change.”

“Where are they now?”

“Five kilometers from Dali.”

He was dragging his clothes on already. “I’m coming.”

“Me, too.” Not surprisingly, Lauryn already had one of her Catwoman outfits on, blinking the sleep from her eyes, running her fingers through her copper hair to tame it enough for a ponytail.

He didn’t have time to argue as she grabbed the sketchy map and shoved it in her pocket. He rapped on the door to alert his guards in the adjoining suite. They caught up while Istvan and Lauryn waited for the elevators. Probably slept with their clothes on, judging by the wrinkles.

They took two cars for safety. Having backup could come in handy. He turned on the GPS and contacted the man who’d been following Berk. “Anything new?”

“They drove into Dali and pulled into a courtyard. Not sure what happened in there, but they came out with a black van and backup.”

“How many?”

“Two jeeps with four men in each. Could be more in the back of the van.”

“Heading which way?”

“North.”

“Morphou Bay,” Lauryn said once he’d hung up.

“Probably.” If his asking around spooked the thieves because they had something to hide, they could be getting ready to move the artifacts off the island. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Syria was too close, just a boat ride away, so was the African coast. It would be all too easy for the thieves and the crown jewels to disappear forever.

It started to rain, a rare event in the summer. The phone rang. He pushed the on button.

It was one of his men who followed the two crew bosses. “They pulled over and got out. They’re walking into the woods.”

“Where are you?”

“On the main road to the bay. You’ll see the cars. We’re going after them.”

He hung up, then called the investigative team at Alexander’s estate, gave them the location and ordered them to meet him there as soon as possible. Then he stepped on the gas. “There are guns in the glove compartment,” he told Lauryn. “Take what you need and get ready.”

“I’m not much for weapons.” She opened the compartment gingerly.

Great, an ex-criminal who didn’t like violence. He should have figured. She was unusual in every other way, as well. And he would have lied if he said he didn’t like that about her. She had a lot of layers, a lot of secrets to explore and investigate. He would enjoy discovering what lay at her core, as much as he enjoyed discovering the secrets of the earth. His favorite activity was peeling back layers. He had a feeling he would never be bored with her around.

But to have her around, first they had to survive the night.

He watched as she hesitated over the weapons.

“For self-defense,” he told her, but she didn’t look reassured.

She took the smallest one, handling it in a way that told him there was very little chance of her ever firing it, which was fine. He didn’t plan on putting her in harm’s way. He would leave her in the car.

Soon the vehicles by the road came into sight. He parked farther down, in the cover of an abandoned shack, then called his men, who were already hidden in the woods, for an update.

Neither of them picked up.

He called again.

Nothing.

The muscles in his shoulders grew tighter and tighter, as he waited. And still nobody answered.

“I’m not staying in the car,” Lauryn told the prince before he could have told her to.

“It’d be safer,” he argued without any heat, preoccupied with worry because his men weren’t answering his calls, and also smart enough to know that nothing could convince her.

Good. She liked smart men. That her feelings for him were rapidly moving beyond “like” she ignored for now.

“As it would be safer for Your Royal Highness to remain safe.” She used his official title to remind him who he was and what his life meant not only to himself but to others. She better remember, too, and not sink too far into some imaginary fairy tale that could never be real. “We could wait for backup to get here.”

“You should.”

She glared at him through the darkness. The head lights had been cut as soon as they’d arrived. The only illumination came from the moon above and little of that with rain clouds drifting through. At least it had stopped drizzling.

There were four of them, including Istvan’s two guards. A dozen men would be coming from the estate where the original war room had been set up. Lauryn figured they couldn’t be more than an hour behind them.

“Spread out?” she asked.

“Stick together,” Istvan answered.

And soon she realized why as the guards took up protective positions around him. They were probably under order not to let the prince out of their sight.

They moved forward quietly through the woods. There was hardly any light at all as they walked, the trees filtering what little moonlight the clouds let through.

“I have a penlight,” she offered, digging into her pocket.

“I have my lighter, but even that’s too dangerous.” Istvan kept moving forward. “We don’t want to alert them that we’re here.”

She could barely make out the tree trunks, let alone the path. Their only chance of finding the men was catching sight of their lights up ahead, but even after long minutes ticked by, they saw nothing.

Then the guard who led the group tripped and swore under his breath. “Careful here.” He bent and looked at the boulder in their way. A strange-looking boulder.

Not a boulder at all.

“Man down,” the guard clarified.

Istvan stepped forward. “Ours?”

A second passed while the man checked the body, peering closer, tilting the face to the dim moonlight. “Yes.”

“We’ll come back for him.” Istvan’s voice was tight.

He took her hand and helped her over the body, and she let him even though it wasn’t necessary. She was used to getting around in the dark and moving around obstacles.

“One of the men could escort you back to the car,” he offered.

She considered it for a fraction of a second. She’d been a thief, sure. But she’d avoided violence all her life. The sight of it never failed to shake her. She would have to get over that tonight. “No, thanks.” She hung on to his hand.

Soon they came to some sort of meadow that was dotted with rocks, some the size of beach balls, others taller than a man. Then the path went from dirt to paved with small rocks. They came to an even flatter area after that. No boulders here, but partially collapsed walls cordoned off by construction tape and a posted sign.