Brandishing a Crown Read online

  “Here, here,” Sebastian said, then raised his champagne flute for a toast.

  The men clinked glasses.

  “The summit begins tomorrow, but tonight is for us to relax.” A broad smile filled Amir’s face. “I chose this resort for its privacy, beauty and charming hospitality. It would be shameful if we did not become acquainted with the area and partake of the amenities offered.”

  “I for one, am looking forward to those amenities,” Stefan said with a devilish grin. “And something the locals call Shoshone lamb and navy beans.”

  The men laughed.

  “I think a massage might be in order.” Antoine rolled his shoulders. “The long travels seem to have created a kink in my neck.”

  More laughter followed as the men chatted about the possibility of attending an American rodeo, trout fishing, and hiking. A waiter appeared announcing dinner, and they were escorted into a private dining suite. Crystal chandeliers, a massive oak table, ornate molding and a picturesque view of the winding river added ambience to the artistically presented array of appetizers, meats, vegetables and desserts.

  Stefan lacked a sweet tooth but tried each item displayed, his belly bulging from the fine cuisine. After dinner, drinks were served in a ballroom where they actually mingled with other guests. Stefan was surprised at the warm welcome, his earlier worries dissipating as the drinks and conversation flowed.

  Efraim approached him, cognac in hand. “Amir has arranged a limo to drive us to the town of Dumont for some local flavor.”

  Stefan arched a brow. “Local flavor? That sounds interesting.”

  Efraim laughed. “Yes, no politics tonight. Our friend wants to play.”

  “Aren’t you worried about the threat?” Antoine asked.

  Amir shrugged. “If we let threats stop us, we would lock ourselves away for eternity and accomplish nothing.”

  Stefan nodded, although a frisson of alarm traveled up his spine.

  Hector, always the fussy assistant, pulled Stefan aside. “Are you certain this is a good idea, sir? Perhaps you should remain here where it is secure.”

  “Amir is right. Do not worry so much, Hector,” Stefan said. “This is my opportunity to see another part of this beautiful state and understand the people and their culture before visiting the oil drilling sites.”

  Hector’s gray brows furrowed with concern, but Stefan dismissed him and hurried to join the others.

  Dumont was located at the foot of the mountains and served as a point of departure for camping, fishing, hunting, mountaineering, and wilderness travel. They passed a national park as they drove into the town, then the city hall, a museum of Native American history, a casino, bed and breakfast, sporting goods shop, bike shop, Museum of the West, and various other businesses along the square.

  “Dumont was named after a famous female expert gambler,” Amir said as they climbed out at a rustic building where loud country music floated in the air.

  “Perhaps we should try a game of twenty-one?”

  Sebastian and Antoine exchanged grins. “I intend to people watch,” Sebastian said with a devious wink.

  Stefan grinned. “You mean women watch?”

  “Yes.” Sebastian shrugged. “Purely research, mind you.”

  “Right, brother. We shall see what the west holds,” Antoine said with a chuckle.

  Stefan tensed as their security guards surrounded them. He would have preferred to visit the town uninhibited by the constant barrage of protectors yet knew it was futile to argue. Still, they made quite an entrance as the agents swept them in.

  Locals stared and whispered, some snapping pictures with their mobile phones. A few women gawked and approached for autographs but the security agents warded them off.

  Amir seemed preoccupied, as if he was searching the room for someone, and Stefan wondered if he had made friends on his previous visit to the town.

  Country music blared, the locals participated in some strange dance called square dancing and clogging, but all the men were entertained.

  By 2:00 a.m., jet lag and fatigue set in, and the men filed out, the late night patrons of the honky tonk having imbibed too much to gawk any longer. It appeared that alcohol softened the haze of animosity between the cultures. The fact that Stefan, Antoine and Sebastian had warmed to a few patrons and forced security to grant them some leeway hadn’t hurt their cause, either. Efraim, on the other hand, continued to harbor anti-American sentiment.

  Stefan yawned as the limo deposited them back at the resort. “Thank you, Amir, for showing us all a good night. If the remainder of the trip goes as smoothly, we will be leaving here with the COIN compact signed.”

  The other royals climbed out, each agreeing, but Amir remained by the side of the limo. “I have enjoyed it immensely, my friends. But I have an errand to do.”

  Stefan checked his watch. “At this hour?”

  Antoine poked his twin brother. “You know our friend is a rebel, what the Americans call, a party animal.”

  Amir laughed. “You are right, I am not ready to end the party tonight. I will see you tomorrow at the summit.”

  Amir’s security agent seemed irritated at Amir’s decision, but allowed Amir to settle back in the car, then he joined him, and the limo disappeared again.

  The security agents escorted Stefan and his friends to their private quarters, and Stefan dismissed Edilio so he could retire for the night.

  Before going to bed, Stefan checked to make sure his notes for the next day’s presentation were in order. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned when a pounding sounded at the door.

  “Prince Stefan,” Edilio shouted. “Sheik Aziz says it is urgent.”

  Stefan rushed to answer the door. Efraim bolted inside, his features contorted with worry. He grabbed the remote control and flipped on the television set.

  “What is wrong, Efraim?” Stefan asked, his own heart suddenly pounding.

  “A limo just exploded a few miles from here.”

  The special news broadcast burst onto the screen, cameras focusing on a burning vehicle. Smoke billowed toward the sky as rescue workers converged to douse the flames and save whoever might be inside.

  “That limo,” Efraim said in a choked whisper. “It looks exactly like the one that just dropped us off.”

  Stefan’s blood ran cold.

  The very limo Amir had left in only moments earlier.

  Had Amir made it out alive?

  Chapter Two

  Jane’s cell phone buzzed, jerking her from a restless sleep. She’d been dreaming about high school when she was a science geek and the popular kids had made fun of her.

  They’d tied test tubes filled with condoms on her locker, then spray painted the words virgin forever on the front. The football team had thought it hysterical.

  She had cried the rest of the afternoon.

  The phone buzzed again, and she shoved the covers away from her face, cataloging the memory into forget mode as she reached for the phone. The ringtone signaled this call was work.

  Not that she had many personal calls. That would require a personal life, and plain Jane Cameron didn’t have one.

  Her gaze landed on the clock as she answered the call. 2:50 a.m. What now? “Jane speaking.”

  “Jane, it’s Ralph. Get your butt out to Snake Valley Road. We got us a crime scene.”

  “What happened?”

  “Car bomb,” Ralph said, his voice raspy as if he’d been running. Of course with his extra thirty pounds, he wasn’t in the best of shape anyway.

  “Injuries?”

  “Yeah. One dead.” Ralph wheezed a breath. “Don’t know if there were other passengers, but them security dudes following them royals showed up. Makes you wonder…”

  The hushed exit from the airport replayed in Jane’s mind, and she instantly became alert. She could still see Prince Stefan’s piercing green eyes searching the area as if he suspected trouble. Had he been inside the limo when it blew up?

  She took a deep bre
ath. “The royals were attacked?”

  “Don’t know for sure,” Ralph said. “Sheriff Wolf’s checking to see who was inside.”

  Stunned by how much it bothered her that the prince and his friends might have been murdered, Jane rubbed her hands over her eyes, then sighed.

  She was not caught up in the grandeur of the royal blood like her own mother had been. For God’s sakes, Prince Lutece and his friends were just men. They put their pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.

  Except they wore robes of silk, had private valets to help them put their pants on, and held the future of entire nations in their hands.

  But look where falling for a diplomat had landed her mother. Media attention and notoriety at first.

  Then the man had cheated on her, made a fool out of her for all the world to see, and dumped her.

  “Jane? If you’re not up to this, I’ll call someone else,” Ralph said with his usual passive aggressive tone.

  The hell he would. Ralph had been gunning to have her replaced ever since she’d been assigned to his team. He was major dark ages, thought women belonged in the kitchen waiting on their men hand and foot, and in the bedroom, catering to their every need, not in the lab or carrying a gun.

  Not her style.

  She could outshoot, outtalk and outsmart him, and she intended to prove that.

  “Of course I’m up to it.” Jane stood, shucking off her boxer pajama shorts and reaching for a pair of well-worn jeans among the pile of clothes on her floor. “I’ll be right there.”

  Jane pulled on a T-shirt and boots, yanked her shoulder length hair into a ponytail, stuffed a baseball hat on her head, grabbed her weapon and rushed toward the door.

  All week they’d been on standby in case there was a threat to the dignitaries, and now it looked as if their worst fears might have come true.

  She jogged to her SUV, started the engine and peeled from the drive. The jeep bounced over the country road leading away from her cabin outside Dumont, slinging gravel as she sped down Snake Valley Road. The swirling blue lights of the sheriff’s white Dodge SUV lit the sky as she approached the bomb site, the paramedics and fire engine adding to the chaos.

  A news van—Danny Harold’s station—sat parked next to the ambulance. As she climbed out, deputies were busy roping off the crime scene, and Sheriff Wolf ordered Harold behind the yellow tape.

  Her gaze zeroed in on the charred body lying on the ground, and her throat closed. Was the dead man one of the royals, possibly Prince Stefan?

  STEFAN AND EFRAIM rushed to the conference room to meet the other royals who had been quickly informed of the car bomb. “Was Amir inside the vehicle when it exploded?” Stefan asked.

  Fahad Bahir entered, his face a mask of anger. “I believe so, but I’ve spoken with Sheriff Wolf and only one body was recovered. I’m on my way to the scene now to see if identification is possible.”

  “I will go with you,” Stefan said. “I want to examine the bomb mechanism myself.” Bombs were his expertise in the military. A bone of contention for some Americans, so he didn’t exactly publicize the fact.

  “The press, the police,” Efraim said, wiping perspiration from his brow. “They will demand to know what happened. Where we were, if Amir was inside.”

  “And why he was traveling alone in the middle of the night,” Sebastian added. “Where was he going?” Antoine asked.

  Tension stretched across the room as everyone traded questioning looks. Apparently their friend had not confided in any of them. “We must not alert the press or the summit members until we know if Amir survived,” Fahad said.

  “I agree,” Stefan said. “It could create panic and interfere with the summit.”

  “We must also protect Amir’s family,” Efraim said.

  “There is no need to alarm them until we’re certain what happened to Amir and if he is safe.”

  A chorus of nods solidified the agreement.

  “That message I received seems even more suspicious now,” Stefan commented.

  Efraim shifted. “First, we have to determine if Amir was inside the limo at the time of the explosion. And we need a list of anyone who might specifically target Amir.”

  Fahad nodded. “I will work on that list and coordinate with all the security teams.”

  “Meanwhile we must devise a story to satisfy the media,” Antoine suggested.

  “We shall say Amir had private business to attend to,” Fahad said. “That should mollify the local police until we discover what happened to Amir.”

  Stefan rushed toward the door, anxiety knotting his muscles. They’d come here on a peace mission, and if Amir had been killed, he’d find out who had set off that bomb and the reason.

  “Stefan, keep us informed,” Sebastian said.

  Stefan nodded. “As soon as I know anything, I will call.”

  Fahad reached for his cell phone. “I’m going to alert security. Until further notice, each of you should remain in your quarters with your guards in place.”

  The men reluctantly agreed, and Stefan, Edilio and Fahad raced from the room. Minutes later, fear seized Stefan’s chest as they parked at the crime scene, and he saw the remnants of the charred limousine and the dead man lying on the ground beside it.

  Crime scene tape cordoned off the area. Thankfully, due to the late hour, there were no spectators hovering, only police officers and rescue workers. Although he immediately spotted the news van and broadcaster who had been at the airport earlier, and frowned.

  How had this vulture found out about the attack so quickly?

  A slender woman wearing a ball cap, jeans, and T-shirt that stretched across ample breasts caught his attention as she leaned over the charred body. Although not dressed in a police uniform, her demeanor, the way she stooped and meticulously examined the body, the subtle tilt to her chin as she surveyed the area, indicated she served in an official capacity.

  America and their women, he thought with a mixture of awe and derision. One never knew where you might find one, how she would be dressed, and what man’s job she might have acquired.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man in a navy blue uniform shirt, jeans and sporting a wide pewter belt etched with a howling wolf design, strode toward them.

  Stefan had been warned that the former sheriff of this county had been corrupt and rumors had spread to their security teams that other local law enforcement officers might be dirty as well.

  What about this sheriff? Could he be trusted?

  “Prince Stefan, I’m Sheriff Jake Wolf,” the big man said with an accent that sounded lazy western, belying the tension lining his tanned face. “What are you doing here?”

  Stefan shook his hand and introduced Fahad and Edilio. “We received word about the explosion. What have you found?”

  Sheriff Wolf narrowed his eyes. “One body so far. We’re searching the vehicle and victim for ID now.”

  “Was the victim in the driver’s or passenger seat?” Fahad asked.

  “Driver’s seat.” Sheriff Wolf indicated the surrounding land. “Got my guys searching to see if a passenger might have been thrown or crawled from the vehicle.”

  Stefan and Edilio exchanged a troubled look. Any life loss was tragic, but if the driver was dead and Amir’s body wasn’t inside the vehicle, he might have survived.

  The woman hunched beside the victim pivoted to look up at him, and Stefan was suddenly struck by the startling shade of her eyes as she met his gaze. Not blue, not green exactly, but a mixture. Hazel, he thought as they flickered and changed in the moonlight.

  Then his gaze slid down the ball cap to the dainty nose and full pink lips, and he swallowed hard. He’d expected a mannish woman below that cap, and granted this woman bore no makeup or feminine clothing, but his belly tensed with a sudden spark of attraction.

  She might not be dressed for seduction, but a keen intelligence and innocence lay in her expression. And a sensuality that sent a sliver of desire straight through his groin. “
Prince Stefan?”

  The soft timbre of her voice startled him even more. The gods, she had a bedroom voice. “You know who I am?” he finally asked.

  A tiny smile curved her mouth, friendly at first, then twisting with displeasure. “Of course. Doesn’t all of America?”

  He simply stared at her, speechless, and for the first time in his life, completely out of his element. He had bedded countless women in his years, yet this tomboyish female had his tongue tied in knots.

  How could this be?

  Fahad cleared his throat. “And you are, Miss?”

  The woman rose, putting her almost a good half-foot below his six-two, her gloved hands by her sides. “Jane Cameron, forensics. I’m here with the crime lab to analyze and process the crime scene.”

  Fahad introduced himself and explained his presence. “And we are here to find out about this victim,” Fahad said.

  Fahad’s words jerked Stefan back to the matter at hand, and he shifted his gaze to the dead man on the ground.

  The last thing he needed was a feminine distraction. And the silky strands of hair peeking from the ball cap and spiraling around Jane Cameron’s face and shoulders was definitely distracting.

  “This man is not Sheik Aziz,” Fahad said matter-of-factly. “He was the driver, Bahur Adler.”

  Jane Cameron planted her hands on her hips. Blast it. She also had curves.

  “Forgive me, but under the circumstances, how can you tell?” Jane asked.

  “The medallion around his neck, Bahur always wore it,” Fahad said. “And he was missing the index finger on his right hand. He lost it in a childhood explosion in his country.”

  As if on cue, Stefan’s gaze fell to the man’s right hand. No index finger.

  Stefan breathed a momentary sigh of relief that Amir might have survived. But if he wasn’t here or in the limo, where was he?

  JANE’S BREATH HITCHED as she stared at Prince Stefan. His green eyes hid a well of emotions, but she read fear, worry, caution and distrust.

  Although for a second, those eyes had flickered with something else when she’d first looked up at him. He’d been surprised that she was a female. When his gaze had fallen on her mouth, she’d had to wet her lips with her tongue because they suddenly felt dry.