Kitabı oku: «Personal Protection», sayfa 2
“That’s what I needed to hear.” Hendricks pressed a sturdy index finger into the blotter on his desk, the gesture making Ivan think that warning finger would be pressed against his chest—royalty or not—if he dared to misuse one of Hendricks’s officers. “If I hear that anything freaky happens to my officer while she’s working with you, I promise I will bring the full force of this department down on your head.”
“Understood. A good officer protects his troops. I respect that. And I will respect her.”
Hendricks nodded. “Then let’s do this, Your Highness.”
Ignoring the urge to rub at the tension cording the back of his neck, Ivan nodded his appreciation. He was still getting used to answering to prince and Your Highness, although the proud posture and cautious, controlled movements that had been drilled into him during his stint in the military and on a UN coalition team in Bosnia served him well in conveying the air of authority he needed to project. The suit and tie he wore were better fitted and more expensive than the clothes he’d worn when he’d been a happy, anonymous commoner. He’d put on the hand-me-downs he’d worn growing up in the poor mountain village where his aunt and uncle had raised him if it meant he could go back to being an ordinary guy without the death threats and suspicions about the people closest to him churning inside his brain. He’d trade his penthouse suite for his old studio apartment in Moravska if it meant he’d no longer have the future of an entire country resting on his shoulders.
But those shoulders were broad and strong from the years he’d worked in the mines. The military had disciplined him, and a technology degree had given him a better life. He would do whatever was necessary to save the fledgling monarchy and put the discontents who would bring their country to its knees again out of business forever. Saving his own skin would be an added bonus.
He adjusted the glasses that pinched his nose and looked across the desk into Joe Hendricks’s golden-brown eyes. “You understand my need for secrecy?”
“I do.” The man with the salt-and-pepper hair that receded into twin points atop his coffee-colored skin leaned back in his chair. “The fewer people who know about this charade, the better. Only you, me and the officer you select will know exactly what’s going on. I’ll serve as her undercover handler on this assignment.” He rose from his chair and crossed to a set of blinds and opened them, revealing a bank of windows that overlooked a hallway and a beehive of desks and cubicle walls beyond that where uniformed officers, detectives, administrative staff and even a couple of criminals handcuffed to their chairs—including the lowlife who had attacked Officer Valentine—worked or waited. “If there’s any chance the threat is legit, and one of those people—what did you call them?”
“They call themselves Lukin Loyalists. I call them the remnants of the mafia thugs who used to control our government. Lukin is a nickname we gave the citizens who were part of the underground resistance during World War II. These people are nothing like those brave souls.”
“I thought I heard on the news a while back that the Loyalist situation had been resolved.”
“So we thought.” Ivan inhaled a deep breath and slowly released his frustration with the entire situation. “There are still some philosophical disagreements, but we’ve given them a voice in the new government. The minority whip in our Parliament is a Loyalist. He denounced the assassination attempt in the capital.”
“There could be some fringe members of the party who feel their leadership has sold them out.”
“Seven people died in that blast in St. Feodor, including a friend of mine. Whoever these people are, I take their threats seriously.”
Hendricks agreed. “If one or more of these Loyalists are in Kansas City, planning an assassination attempt, then I want to know about it. I want to prevent any attack if possible and minimalize casualties—including you and my officer.”
He pointed through the blinds to two female officers, one wearing a crisp blue uniform. She was engaged in an animated conversation with Aleks. Ivan grinned. Leave it to his friend to find someone new to practice his charms on. It was hard to remember a time when he’d been that carefree and able to stay squarely in a happy moment to enjoy it to the fullest.
The two of them looked very much alike, both with jet-black hair and blue eyes behind the glasses they each wore. Although Ivan stood half an inch taller, Aleks packed more muscle onto his frame. As the prince, he wore his hair cropped military short and kept his beard trimmed close to the angles of his jawline while his friend took his curly facial hair to a shaggy professor look. They’d done their requisite two-year stint in the army after university, where they’d met and become friends. After that, their paths had diverged—one remaining in the military, and the other going back to graduate school—until they’d come together again in service to the new government. They shared looks, history, pride in their country. And yet, the prince’s world was vastly different from that of Aleksandr Petrovic. The orphan and the prince. The charmer and the disciplined soldier. Ivan’s jaw clenched as his smile faded. Had he sentenced himself to a life of loneliness by answering the call of duty and giving himself over to the needs of his country and its people?
Ivan studied the female officer as she laughed at something Aleks said, and he felt a stab of envy at the normalcy of their interaction. But he reminded himself of the reason why he was here—to find a bodyguard he could trust without question, and an investigator who could help him identify the traitor in his inner circle. Knowing Filip Milevski and the rest of his security detail would be returning in the next fifteen to twenty minutes, Ivan rose, buttoned his jacket and joined Captain Hendricks at the window. He needed to evaluate the officers’ suitability for the assignment before selecting his undercover partner.
The uniformed officer sat in one of the chairs lining the hallway, while Aleks stood beside her holding a paper cup of coffee. She touched her hair and ate up Aleks’s attention. She was light, fun, perhaps not a strong enough presence to portray a convincing royal consort.
Meanwhile, the other woman, probably a detective, judging by her gray slacks and jacket, was plugged into her earbuds, and was scrolling through information on her phone as she paced the hallway outside the office’s glass windows. Her expression remained stern as the uniformed officer caught her attention and tried to share the joke with her. The detective shook her head and continued her pacing. The woman’s gravitas would certainly come through as they made their public appearances. She’d be a beauty if she smiled. But the tight lock of her mouth indicated a rigidity that might make it hard for her to adapt to the spontaneous opportunities for secret conversations he expected to arise as the investigation unfolded. And thus far, not much about being a prince was going according to any organized plan.
Captain Hendricks buried his hands in his pockets. “Either one of those women would make a fine liaison officer between you and KCPD.”
They were both no doubt competent law enforcement officers, although neither type initially appealed to him. Not the way Officer Valentine’s earthy vitality and tempting mouth had switched on his male radar. However, he wasn’t here to meet the love of his life. If the woman could act her part as half of a convincing couple, then so could he. His life and the future of his country might depend on making the right choice here. A lightweight or a hard case. “They both have undercover experience?”
“Yes. Detective Wardyn is a few years past her last UC assignment, but she’s a seasoned investigator. Officer Rangel is fairly new, but she has a higher marksmanship score.”
Brains or brawn? He needed both.
“Then I suppose we should bring them in for a conversation. I don’t want to reveal too much to either of them. The fewer people who know the specific details...”
And then a dusty ponytail and long black coat came into view as Officer Valentine shot up from her chair and circled her desk to point her finger in the face of the fat man who was mouthing off at her.
“Tell me more about her.” Ivan nodded toward the argument that was not ending well for the handcuffed man. The grungy woman slapped a photograph on the desk in front of the man and forced him to look at it.
“Officer Valentine?” The captain chuckled at something Ivan failed to understand. “Looks like she’s brought in a perp for processing.”
Perp. Perpetrator. Ivan quickly translated the American slang and determined that Officer Valentine was a brave woman. The man she’d handcuffed made two of her, even with the heavy coat she wore. And yet she...
Ivan felt the hint of a smile relaxing the tight lines beside his mouth. “What about her? Does she have a military background? Earlier, she used a move on her prisoner that I learned during hand-to-hand combat training. Skills like that might be more useful than marksmanship when it comes to a protection detail.”
“Carly Valentine? You think she can be your princess? Or, you know, personal bodyguard?” Hendricks didn’t seem to be a man who was used to stuttering over his words, and he quickly shook off his surprise at Ivan’s interest in the woman. “Valentine does a lot of UC work for us. She’s a natural on the streets but—”
“Can she look professional when she is not in that costume?” Ivan paused for a moment, wondering if he should trust logic over what his instincts were telling him. “That is a costume, yes?”
“Let’s hope so. You want to meet her?”
“Yes. There is something about her that seems like we could have worked together before. Under different circumstances. It might make our cover story more believable.”
“It’s your call.” The captain crossed to his desk and picked up the phone to call his assistant. “Brooke? I need to see Carly Valentine in my office ASAP. And pull up her personnel file for me, please. Thanks.”
Ivan was still at the window, watching as Carly Valentine answered the phone at her desk. Her shoulders sagged before she glanced back toward the captain’s office. She spoke to the man sitting at the desk across from hers. After he nodded, she unlocked the perp from his chair and handed him off to the other officer, who led the prisoner out of sight down a long hallway.
Officer Valentine brushed off the sleeves of the oversize coat she wore, sending up a puff of gray dust in a cloud around her. The shake of her head told Ivan she was nervous about being summoned to the captain’s office. She tried to tuck the loose waves back into her ponytail but stopped to inspect her hands. Another officer pointed to her face and Ivan could read the curse on her lips at the streak of soot her fingers had left there. She peeled off her fingerless gloves, quickly wiped her hands and face on a wad of tissues, and then steeled her shoulders before crossing to the captain’s outer office. Her coat billowed out around her like the dusters cowboys wore in the American Western movies he loved to watch.
Joe Hendricks stood at his desk, reading information off the computer screen. “I’ve got Valentine’s file here. She did have MP training in the National Guard. Looks like her stint with them ended earlier this year about the same time she earned her associate degree in criminal justice studies. She’s been with the department four years. That’s not as much experience as either of those officers in the hallway.”
Didn’t matter. “What does she do for you?”
“Right now, she’s working an undercover assignment. She’s attached to our human trafficking task force.”
“Human trafficking? As in prostitution? Sex slavery?”
Hendricks nodded. “She’s on the streets, identifying runaways and at-risk individuals.”
Ivan turned back to the window. “And the man she brought in?”
“I’m not sure. But with Valentine, I’m guessing she caught him with his hands on the wrong person. She’s a natural-born protector. Can’t imagine what kind of fierce mama bear she’d make if she ever decides to have kids.”
“Fierce mama bear?” She was in the hallway right outside the office now. Her gaze met and held his through the window. Her eyes were green like the mountain meadows of his homeland—and narrowed with suspicion.
“That’s our Valentine.”
She blinked, breaking the momentary connection between them. Oblivious to Aleks’s curious interest as she walked past him and the other two female officers, she tossed her long ponytail down the center of her back and strode into the assistant’s office.
Grimy. Plain. Fierce. Intriguing. Very good at playing her part.
A woman he just might have something in common with.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Brooke.” Carly Valentine closed the door behind her and crossed the small office over to her friend’s desk. Her pulse thrummed in her ears with more nerves than the adrenaline charge that had raised her heart rate when Dougie Freeland had whacked her in the temple with his big, bulbous head. “Can you give me a clue? What did I do?” She thumbed over her shoulder to the bull pen where the detectives and uniforms worked when they were in the office. “Did those guys in the elevator complain about me or my gruesome twin out there? I swear I didn’t let Dougie touch them.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Brooke Kincaid looked up from her computer and smiled. The gesture was meant to reassure her, but that smile shifted into an apologetic frown, leaving Carly feeling anything but. “I’m still not sure what’s going on, other than I’ve pulled service records and promised that anything I see or hear can’t leave this office. By the way, are you okay?”
“Nothing that an ibuprofen won’t cure. I’ve been hurt worse wrestling with Frank and Jesse.” Although, unlike the man she’d brought in for booking, her older brothers hadn’t meant her any real harm. They’d simply been picking on her for getting in their space or being the annoying little sister who’d done her best to keep them fed and dressed in clean clothes after their mother had died. Carly nodded toward the hallway where she’d passed the other two female officers and the geeky-looking guy who’d been flirting with Emily Rangel. “Does it have something to do with them? Am I getting transferred? A reprimand in my file?”
“I don’t think it’s anything bad.” Brooke stood, resting a hand on her pregnant belly as she circled the desk to get close enough to whisper. “The guy in there with Joe is an honest to gosh prince from a little European country called Lukinburg.”
“Lukinburg?”
“I looked it up. There’s a delegation here from his country negotiating trade agreements. They’re even hosting a ball, a fund-raiser for scientific research, while they’re here in the US.”
“A ball? Like dancing and sparkly gowns? Men in tuxedos?”
“The same.”
“What’s he doing here at the precinct?”
Brooke crinkled up her nose and sat back on the edge of her desk before answering. “Everything’s all hush-hush. The prince called early this morning and asked to see Captain Hendricks as soon as I could fit him into the schedule. You should have seen it when he arrived—he has bodyguards.”
“I met them in the elevator. That explains why they said, ‘Save the prince’ when Dougie went wacko on me.”
“He called me madam and he bowed when he introduced himself—Ivan Mostek. He’s no Atticus...” Brooke smiled, referring to her husband, the detective who oversaw the task force Carly was assigned to. “But he’s hot. He’s not soft underneath that suit and those manners. I think he could take care of himself if he had to.”
Hearing Brooke refer to anyone besides her husband as hot was something new. Bowing and madam-ing certainly didn’t sound like the visitors they usually got around here, either. Carly’s heart rate wasn’t slowing down. “He runs his own country? And he wants to see me?”
She glanced down at her dirty clothes and ruined steel-toed boots that she’d borrowed from her older brother Frank, who ran a construction business. It was already ninety degrees at lunchtime, and she’d been out most of the morning working her contacts. Dougie had taken exception to her interfering with his gross habit of flashing and had peed on her. The fact that there had been so much traffic through the old burned-out Morton & Sons Tile Works warehouse near the Missouri River had been reason enough to follow Freeland inside. But when she found him strutting his wares with a young prostitute she was certain was underage, Carly had broken her cover and placed him under arrest. Tackling him in a pile of charred debris from the fire and rolling in dust and ash that had been there for four years had turned her disguise from homeless to filthy.
She held up her hands, admitting the obvious. “I’m hardly looking my best.”
“Or smelling it.” The phone buzzed on Brooke’s desk and she pushed to her feet. “That’s Joe. He said there’s a time crunch on whatever Prince Ivan needs. You’d better get in there.” Brooke’s nose crinkled up again and she clapped her fingers over her mouth, looking as if she might be sick. “You’re a little ripe.”
Carly instinctively retreated a step. “Sorry about that. Dougie didn’t come quietly when I arrested him.”
“The baby seems to make me really sensitive to smells right now.” She turned her head to the side to inhale a deep breath, then reached out to Carly. “Better let me take your coat, at least.”
Nodding her thanks, Carly quickly shed her brother Jesse’s old duster coat from his cowboy days. That phase had lasted about two months, once he realized that a real working cowboy got a lot dirtier and smelled a lot worse than the ones he’d seen in the movies. Not all that different than what she was smelling like right now. She didn’t have to be pregnant to know how Dougie’s crude attempt to scare her off had left its mark on her.
She plucked the white T-shirt she wore away from skin that was damp with perspiration and tucked it beneath the belt and holster on her jeans with the holes in the knees. Then she adjusted the chain that held her badge around her neck as if it was a piece of jewelry that could dress up her poor girl from the streets look and gave Brooke a hopeful smile. “I don’t look too scary?”
“It’ll have to do.”
Brooke turned her toward the captain’s office just as Joe Hendricks opened the connecting door with an impatient whoosh of air. “Valentine. Good. You’re here.” He shifted his attention to Brooke while Carly sidled past him into his office. “We’re not to be disturbed. Not even if his men call.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door closed behind her and Carly stopped in her tracks as the man with coal-black hair that she’d seen through the windows rose to greet her. The tailoring of his suit emphasized the width of his shoulders and tapered waist, making him appear taller, though she guessed he was about six feet in height. He practically clicked his heels together and offered her a curt nod. Bowing. Wow. Had any man ever been so formal about meeting her before? “Officer Valentine. I am pleased to meet you.”
“Hey.” Was she supposed to say something more? Shake his hand? No. Not in the shape she was currently in. “Nice to meet you.”
The captain gestured to one of the two guest chairs while he circled around to his side of the desk. “Take a seat, Valentine.”
With a nod, Carly tore her gaze from their guest and perched on the edge of her chair. Partly because it helped her sit up straight and gave her a stronger posture, and partly because she was painfully self-conscious about her soiled clothes leaving a stain on the beige fabric. “Will this take long, sir? I promised Gina Cutler that I’d cover her citizen self-defense training class after work, so she and Mike can go to birthing class.” It seemed that several of her friends were well beyond her in the get-married-and-start-a-family department. “I’d like to grab a shower before then. I think the class would like me to, as well.”
Her attempt at humor fell on deaf ears. “This will take as long as it needs to.” The captain loosened the tie that cinched his collar and gestured to the man seated beside her. “I’d like to introduce you to His Royal Highness, Prince Ivan Mostek of Lukinburg.”
Carly pushed to her feet. “Wait. Should I have curtsied?” She skimmed her hands over the hips of her frayed jeans and frowned at the stains on her boots. “I’m so sorry. I would have changed into my uniform if I’d known I was meeting a dignitary. I just came in off an undercover assignment. I had to blend in with the homeless community in No-Man’s Land. I...” She threw her hands up, helpless to deny the truth. “I’m dirty and I stink.”
The prince stood when she had risen from her chair. With a perfectly straight face, he said, “All I smell is the smoke from a fire. I trust you were not hurt.”
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” A nervous laugh snorted through her nose, and embarrassment warmed her face. “Of course, you’re a gentleman. You’re a prince. I’ll be okay. I mean, my pride is shot to...” Carly bit down on that word and the heat in her skin intensified. She was pretty sure that one didn’t curse in front of royalty. “I’ll have a few bruises, but nothing serious. Thanks for asking.” She turned to the captain, silently begging for backup. “Sir, tell me to shut up.”
Now the captain chuckled. Great. Way to impress the boss and visiting royalty.
“At ease, Valentine,” Hendricks ordered. As he had before, the prince waited for her to sit before he took his seat. She didn’t deserve that kind of chivalry with the impression she was making, but his patience with her had a surprisingly calming effect on her nerves, enabling her to concentrate more on what the captain was saying rather than the humiliation she was feeling. “Lukinburg’s capital city, St. Feodor, is the sister city of Kansas City. Prince Ivan and his delegation are here for a week to negotiate trade agreements, do a cultural exchange with the Nelson-Atkins Art Museum, meet with local and state officials, host a charity ball at their embassy—you get the idea.”
“Uh-huh. What does that have to do with me?”
“The prince has a proposition for you.”
Carly turned her attention to the man beside her. Good grief, his eyes were as blue as she’d imagined when she glimpsed them through the office window a few minutes earlier. The lenses in his glasses didn’t dim their intensity one bit. Whatever this guy had in mind, it wouldn’t be the worst offer she’d ever gotten from a man. Brooke was right, Ivan Mostek was attractive in a polished, faintly arrogant sort of way. In fact, if she met him in a bar, she’d be...lusting after him from afar because she had no clue how to come on to a guy, especially one who looked like he’d stepped out of the self-made CEO section of Forbes magazine and was way out of her league. But she’d definitely enjoy her beer and appreciate the scenery from a distance. Still, she knew Captain Hendricks wasn’t setting her up on a date. She broke the connection with those penetrating blue eyes and looked to her captain. “What sort of proposition?”
“Captain, if I may?” The prince leaned onto the arm of his chair, close enough to catch a whiff of a scent that was much more pleasant than her own. Something clean, all business, masculine. “Due to instability in my country, as we transfer from a corrupt dictatorship to a democratic society, I am required to step up security. Not every Lukinburger is eager to support the new government.”
Ivan articulated every word and avoided contractions. He’d practiced that delivery, so his English would be clearly understood. His tone was less guttural than German, more articulate than Russian, deep in pitch and seductive like fancy poetry. She wondered what that voice sounded like in his native language, whatever language a Lukinburger spoke. Lukinburger? The urge to laugh tickled her thoughts. That made her think of a hamburger. And this guy was nothing but prime steak.
“You find something amusing, Miss Valentine?”
That tone was a little less mesmerizing and a little more His Imperial Majesty, and she shook off the inappropriate detour of her thoughts. “Uh, no. No, sir. But I saw your geeky science guy and bodyguards on the elevator. That’s not security enough?”
“Geeky science guy?” He repeated the phrase, a question in his eyes. Right. Language barrier.
“You know, nerdy? Thick glasses? Needs a haircut? I bet if he trimmed that mountain man beard and got the bangs out of his eyes, he’d clean up as good as you.”
“I assure you he has showered.”
He hadn’t understood the slang she’d used. “Clean up as in he’d be attractive if he, you know, took care of himself a little more. Like you.” The blue eyes narrowed. Great. She’d just admitted she thought the prince was attractive. Or had she just insulted his friend? “No offense. Clearly, the guy’s a charmer. Making a woman laugh is a good thing.” Heat crept into her cheeks again. “I’m rambling again. I’m a little self-conscious right now. I don’t know the etiquette...am I allowed to have a regular conversation with you?”
“No matter the etiquette, it has not stopped you yet.”
Her blush intensified. “Sorry.”
“Do not apologize. You are very observant, Officer Valentine. A good soldier should be. I understand that you served in the military before joining the police force?”
“That’s right. Army National Guard. That’s how I paid my way through school.”
“I, too, served in the army of my country. I admire that sense of duty.” His compliment altered the heat she felt into a bud of self-confidence. As he went on, steering the conversation toward work further distracted her from her embarrassment. “The man in the hallway is my friend, Aleksandr Petrovic. He is a trusted adviser to me. He has, as you Americans say, a nose for business.”
“You mean a head for business? It’s a nose for news, a head for business,” she pointed out. When his eyes narrowed, she pressed her fingers against her lips and apologized, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t interrupt.”
“No. I must use your language correctly.” His fingers spanned her wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth. The light touch sent tendrils of warmth skittering beneath her skin before he released her. She was just as sensitive to the calluses on his manicured fingers, and surprising strength of his hand that she’d associate more with a working man like her father and brothers than a fairy-tale prince. But the charm was certainly there as he bowed his head to her again. “Thank you for the correction.”
“You’re welcome. You were saying?” Man, was she blowing it in the public relations department. “Your Highness?”
“Ivan will do fine when we are in private like this.”
She was supposed to call a prince by his first name? In what universe? Had she taken a harder hit to the head from Dougie than she realized?
“Just as with our embassies in Washington and now Kansas City, we are coordinating with the Department of State and local law enforcement to ensure that our visit here is a safe one—both for ourselves and for your people. Your captain is indulging a personal request while my chief of royal security and his team are meeting with others in your department.”
“That makes sense.” Carly turned to Captain Hendricks again. “Are you looking for volunteers to work extra duty shifts?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what? Why the private meeting?”
Prince Ivan touched the arm of her chair to recapture her attention. “I need a personal bodyguard. An American who can assist with my understanding of local idioms, someone who knows the city and can provide security specifically for me while I am here.”
“You mean a liaison officer between your men and KCPD?”
The men exchanged a look. This time she bit down on the urge to keep talking and waited for one of them to explain why she was here.
Captain Hendricks steepled his fingers together on top of his desk. “The prince believes there is someone inside his delegation who is feeding intel to the dissidents who tried to kill him in Lukinburg. He doesn’t know who it is. He’s not sure who he can trust.”
Carly nodded as understanding dawned. “You’re looking for an outsider. Someone who isn’t a part of your inner circle.” The captain and the prince were looking for a cop who could convincingly portray a member of his security team. Maybe a reporter covering his visit. Or even waitstaff or a maid at their hotel. “You want me to sniff around, see if I can find out anything. I can probably get in and out of your functions without drawing any attention to myself. I’m pretty good at blending in.”
“You misunderstand. I want you to be my escort at those functions.”
Carly realized her jaw was hanging open, and quickly snapped it shut. “What?”
“His girlfriend,” the captain clarified. “He’s looking for a female police officer who can be his date at public events. The cover story is that he has an old friend who works at KCPD, someone he met during a military training exercise, and a romance blossomed. His trip to the States has reunited you. She’ll provide a level of security no one will question. Someone who can be seen with him, or even stay the night in his hotel room without anyone questioning why you’re there.”
“Undercover girlfriend? Stay the night?” She snorted a laugh when she heard what the captain was proposing. Then she saw the look in his dark eyes and stopped abruptly. “You’re serious? No. No, sir. Do you see what I’m wearing? Do you see how I look?” She pointed to the bull pen. “I’m in the middle of another case. Emily or Detective Wardyn or any other number of female officers would be a better candidate for that kind of assignment than I would.”
