Russian Enforcer's Royal Engagement (Russian Enforcers Book 7) (14 page)

“I should have killed you,” Jack grunted.

“You’re right about that,” the man grinned, then started to squeeze the trigger.

Jack, sick and tired of this guy’s interruptions, kicked out with his foot, hitting the asshole in the knee. With a cry of pain, the madman went down, and Jack kicked out with his other foot, sending the gun flying, then knocked the guy out with one well-aimed punch to the face.

“And this time, stay down,” he snarled.

Diana had snatched her sweater from the floor and was checking the corridor for any sign of more unwanted guests. “All clear,” she called out.

Calmly, Jack removed the intruder’s wallet to check his ID.

And it was when he took a good look at the man’s name that the truth finally hit home. Startled, his gaze flicked to Diana.

“Who is he?” she asked.

Instead of responding, he simply handed her the ID card.

This wasn’t happening…

From the expression on Diana’s face when she learned the truth he knew his eyes hadn’t deceived him. She’d slung a hand to her face and directed a look of sorrow at him so clearly heartfelt it touched him to the core.

“Oh, Jack,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

CHAPTER 32

Armand Equine was working in his garden. Ever since his semi-retirement he enjoyed spending time with his pots and plants. When his wife was still alive this small patch of green, only a stone’s throw from the royal palace, had been her domain. Gardening was her life, and when she died, he’d allowed the garden to die with her. Neglecting the flowers she’d planted and the plants she’d put in place had turned this once small strip of bliss into a devastated area, completely overgrown with weeds.

One night, coming home from work, he’d sat on the bench overlooking his private jungle and had realized this was no way to honor his wife’s memory, and he’d slowly begun to put some order back in the chaos. The doctors had only given him six more months to live and he wanted to spend them as close to Emily as humanly possible. What better way to be near her than to put his hands in the same soil she’d worked for so many years, to nurture the same plants she’d so lovingly planted with her own delicate fingers?

He frowned at an aphid that was crawling up the stem of a begonia and cursed under his breath, then took the tiny insect between thumb and forefinger and crushed it to death, just like he’d crushed so many criminals in his forty-year career.

He sat back on his haunches when he heard car tires crunch the gravel driveway of his modest home, then looked up in surprise when King Francois’s bearded face came into view as the monarch rounded the house. It was the first time in the four decades he’d served the House of Montinia that the king paid a house call.

Instantly on his feet, he walked up to his employer and lifelong friend. “Your Highness. To what do I owe the honor?”

One look at the king’s face told him something was terribly wrong. There was a somberness in the king’s demeanor that alerted him of things to come. His face fell.

“Jack called me from Moscow,” the king began without preamble.

Armand closed his eyes. Of course. He should have known.

“Did you send my boy over there on purpose?” the king asked, emotion clear in his voice.

Armand held up his hands. “I swear I never—”

“He was almost shot and killed, do you know that?” The king stabbed him in the chest with his finger and Armand staggered back. “Your cousin’s handiwork. Alastair Equine. But then you probably knew this was going to happen.”

Armand could only shake his head. “I had no idea…”

“That Alastair was working for Yuri Gornakov? Apparently he has for quite some time.”

Armand remained silent, the guilty expression on his face a dead giveaway.

“How could you, Armand?” the king thundered, outrage blended with hurt. “I thought we were friends! Why did you do it? For the money? I could have given you anything you wanted.”

Armand hung his head. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Alastair promised me no violence would be used.”

“Well, that was probably before he tried to kill my son,” cried the king, balling his fists. For a moment Armand thought the ruler would strike out, but then he controlled himself and turned away. “I don’t understand. Explain to me what’s going on, please. I need to know.”

“I—I can’t,” Armand riposted miserably.

The king gave him a long, level look that shook him to the core. “You will tell me, Armand, or I won’t be held accountable for the consequences.”

Armand shivered, knowing full well what the ruler of the tiny kingdom was referring to. Even though the death sentence had been abolished in Montinia, there was one exception: the crime of treason. The judgment hadn’t been passed in decades, but it was most definitely applicable to Armand’s transgression. Plotting to kill a member of the royal family would put Armand’s head on the chopping block. Or at least its twenty-first-century iteration.

“In the name of our friendship,” the king added in a low rumble. “If that still means anything to you.”

It pained him to see the disapproving look on his friend’s face. King Francois was the sole reason he was here in the first place. Forty years ago, Armand had personally been selected by the king to head up his small security force. They’d struck up a friendship that endured to this day, especially since both men had been hit by tragedy, losing their beloved wives to disease. It had forged an unbreakable bond. At least until now.

He finally broke down. “It’s my nephew.”

“Your cousin, you mean. Alastair. The blue-eyed Brit who targeted my family.”

“No, my nephew.” He pointed to the set of garden chairs. “You better take a seat, Your Highness, if you will.”

The king lowered his form onto the wrought iron chair, intrigued. “Your nephew? You mean…”

“Malcolm, yes. My sister’s boy.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Cocaine. He’s managed to clean out Armelia’s inheritance like a locust and it has left the family in ruins. I’ve been doing what I can to support her but whatever money the boy can lay his hands on disappears up his nose in no time.”

“What about sending him to rehab?” the king rumbled.

“No good, I’m afraid. He’s been admitted into rehabilitation countless times but keeps relapsing. As a last resort we finally decided to send him to Adelboden Practice.”

The king nodded. “Fine institution. Switzerland, right?”

“Yes. It is rumored to have the best track record. It is also extremely costly. Sending Malcolm there would end up costing the family hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” the king cried. “I would have gladly helped out.”

Armand gave his friend a pained look. “I couldn’t.”

The king nodded, understanding dawning. This was a private family matter and had caused Armand a great deal of shame. He didn’t want to trouble other people with the burden of his nephew’s addiction.

“So when Alastair came to me with this plan to help his employer—”

“Yuri Gornakov.”

“I figured, why not?” He hung his head in abject defeat.

“You thought it was a way to make money fast and easy.” He frowned. “I’m still saying you should have come to me, my friend. You know you can trust me to be discreet about such matters.”

“I never thought Alastair would take things this far. All he needed was access to Diana’s account. That’s where this would end. He never told me he would barge in here with a dozen men and take everybody hostage.” He gestured with his arm. “Blow the place to smithereens.” He shook his head. “But once I was in, there was no other way than to play along.”

“But why send Jack and Diana to Moscow?”

“Alastair told me that Yuri wanted to meet Diana. To finally be reunited with his daughter.”

The king eyed him curiously. “Even after all these years you still have a soft heart, Armand. Some people would even call you naive. Did you really believe Yuri Gornakov was a family man? That he would simply give Diana a hug and a kiss on the cheek? After all he’s done?”

Armand eyed him sadly. “I did. Alastair made him sound so sincere…”

The king sighed. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I think I can understand your motives for doing this.”

Armand looked up, wiping away the tear that had appeared in his eye. “Jack is like a son to me, Francois, you know that. I would never do anything to harm that boy.”

“I know,” said the king, placing a hand on his friend’s arm. He looked thoughtful. “This has devastated Jack. He’s very fond of you, as you well know.”

“I’ll do anything to make amends,” stated Armand emphatically.

The king nodded, then rose to his feet, holding on to the back of the chair for support. That was something else they had in common. They were both old and suffering the ailments commonly associated with their age. “I’m glad we had this little chat.”

“I’m so sorry,” Armand stammered brokenly.

“Effective immediately, I’ll accept your resignation.”

“Of course.”

The king pondered for a moment, then said, “I think we need to keep this between us, my friend. Please don’t discuss this with anyone.” He hesitated. “Let me see what I can do about your nephew.”

Armand looked up in surprise. “You’re not thinking…”

The king gave him a long, level look. “I am thinking that if I’d been a better friend to you this would never have happened. If you had to go to such lengths to take care of your family I’m not the friend I thought I was.” He cut off Armand’s protestations with a gesture. “I’ll pay for Malcolm’s stay at Adelboden Practice. In return there’s something I need you to do for me.”

“Anything,” said Armand, wiping away a tear. “Anything at all.”

CHAPTER 33

Diana somberly packed up her stuff. After the terrible events of the past few days, it was now obvious to her that she’d brought Jack nothing but trouble ever since their serendipitous meeting. First his ancestral home had been bombed, raided and his family held hostage, then he was kidnapped and almost shot and killed.

Furthermore, she’d briefly consulted the internet while Jack was busy dealing with the madman who’d almost shot them, and had seen a groundswell of news tidings about her budding relationship with the young prince. The House of Montinia was being crucified by the tabloids and even the serious press for associating with Mafia Princess Diana Petrov, aka Anastasiya Gornakov.

And then there was the drama of Armand. The man who’d broken into their hotel room, the hostage-taker with the piercing blue eyes and the British accent, had turned out to be none other than Armand’s cousin Alastair Equine. A notorious gangster in his homeland of England, the man had devised a plan to tap his uncle for information about attacking Montinia and stealing Diana’s money.

It was obvious that being with Diana had brought the young prince nothing but disaster. It was time to finally sever the ties and remove herself from his life. She really didn’t want to be responsible for the downfall of the House of Montinia or the further disruption of the fairylike little country.

Enough was enough. Because she now knew that she loved this man, she couldn’t go on destroying his life. While Jack dealt with the police and, more importantly, with Yulian Gornakov’s men, she had quietly packed up her stuff, and now snapped the suitcase shut.

She hated to leave him—had really hoped they could spend Christmas and New Year together in this wintry city, but with a heavy heart she realized theirs was a match not meant to be. She’d caused him enough harm. Time to say goodbye.

With a deep sigh, she heaved the suitcase from the bed and extended the handle, then rolled it to the salon. She’d already called a cab that would bring her to the airport and had managed to change her flight so it would take her to the US and back home to Brooklyn.

With a heavy heart she stepped out into the corridor and rolled the suitcase to the elevator. She remembered how happy she’d been when they arrived. And as she rode the elevator down, she stared down into the lobby at the Christmas tree, her heart sinking and tears starting to trickle down her cheeks.

She really loved this man, and would miss him terribly. Soon he’d read her letter and he would understand why she had to leave. Perhaps he’d even be relieved.

She reached the lobby and moved to reception. The woman behind the desk greeted her in a chipper voice. Diana addressed her in Russian, a language she and her brothers still commanded, and the woman’s face lit up even more, visibly surprised that a tourist would speak her mother tongue.

“I hope you had a pleasant stay, Mrs. Romanov,” the woman intoned as she checked the computer.

“A bit too short,” she admitted, trying to sound casual. She choked up when she heard the Christmas carols ringing through the lobby. She’d really looked forward to spending the holidays with Jack.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” suddenly echoed a voice behind her. With a lifting heart, she turned and found herself gazing into the most beautiful face in the world.

She blinked, and saw him standing before her with a bulky package in his hands. He must have just arrived, snow dotting his black overcoat and hair.

“I-I wrote you a letter,” she replied feebly. “I think it’s best if I return home. I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is, and—and—and…” She blinked again, and this time she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said in a soft rumbling voice.

She walked up to him, not wanting to hold this discussion in front of the reception desk clerk. “I’ve seen how the press has been engaged in a war against the House of Montinia…all because of me,” she explained, placing her hands on his chest, giving him a pleading look. “I can’t be responsible for ruining your reputation, Jack. For destroying your family’s good name.”

“My reputation was never very good to begin with,” he countered.

“But it is,” she insisted. “And I don’t want to destroy everything your forefathers have built.”

He smiled, then, for the first time. “You’re not responsible for any of that, darling. As you’re not responsible for the way I feel about you.”