Personal Protection

by Julie Miller

  Brooke cleared her throat before she spoke. “Of course, sir. My pleasure.”

  “Captain Hendricks,” he acknowledged. Then Ivan bowed to Carly. “I look forward to our next meeting, дорогой.”

  There it was again. The foreign word rhymed with the frog boy. Only it sounded secretive, sensual, anything but insulting, in his deep, accented voice. She wished she had anything half as clever to say. “Me, too.”

  Ivan and his entourage left, closing the door behind them and heading past a dozen curious glances from the main room to the elevators before Carly released the breath she’d been holding and turned to Brooke. “Dorogoy. What’s that?”

  Brooke typed the word into her computer and pulled up a translation program. “Darling. Sweetheart. It’s an endearment.”

  An endearment. She should have guessed as much simply from the tone of his voice. Oh, he was good at this. Carly seriously needed to step up her game if they had any chance of making this undercover mission work. She also had to remember that the charm and kisses would be fake. She was no fairy-tale princess, and he wasn’t really her prince. But he was just shy enough of handsome to make him really interesting to look at. He treated her like a lady, even when she reeked of the streets. And he needed her. It was a potent combination guaranteed to turn her head.

  Right then and there she sent her heart a warning that she couldn’t have real feelings for Prince Ivan Mostek of Lukinburg. This was a job.

  Joe Hendricks’s gruff voice sent the same message. “Valentine, you’re done for the day. Process your perp and get out of here. Brooke? We need to arrange a leave of absence for Carly. Dismiss Rangel and Wardyn and meet me in my office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He went back into his office and Brooke grabbed a notepad and pen from her desk. She handed Carly her coat and stood there, searching for the right thing to say. “You’re going to explain this to me?”

  Of course, she was. Just as soon as she figured out what to say. “Ivan and I go way back. To my army days. I didn’t put it all together when you said Lukinburg earlier. I had no idea he was in town. In the country, even.” Rambling was never a convincing way to establish a solid cover story. She was supposed to be a better liar than this. “Meeting him...again...was definitely a surprise.”

  Brooke nodded, still looking confused. “For all of us.”

  She hated lying to her friend. Not that she didn’t trust Brooke completely. But orders were orders. The truth couldn’t leave Hendricks’s office. Still, she needed a friend who had some relationship experience right about now. “Do you have a place you go to get manis and pedis?”

  “Sure. I can get you the number.”

  “And where exactly does one purchase a ball gown?”

  Brooke frowned as if she’d spoken gibberish. “Why?”

  “Apparently, for the next week... I’m dating a prince.”

  Chapter Three

  Carly folded her cotton socks down over the tops of the worn leather boots she’d just tied off. She was happy to be in shoes that fit again, happy to be in a tank top and cutoffs instead of a coat that was way too hot for August, happy to be showered and clean and back in the comfort of the home she shared with her father.

  Her room, bathroom and the laundry room were down in the basement, while her dad lived on the second floor where her two older brothers had stayed before leaving home to get their own places. Carly didn’t mind the low ceilings and cold concrete beneath the carpeted floor. She had enough windows to bring in the summer sunlight, and walls thick enough to give her privacy and quiet from when her brothers and their friends stopped by for a visit. Plus, the freedom to decorate everything down here as she wanted—from the antique oak furniture to the turquoise paint on the walls to the bookshelves crammed with cookbooks, travelogues, romances and fantasy novels that had entertained her for countless hours and were too dear to part with—allowed her to create her own haven from the dangers and stress of her job and the loneliness of her misfit life.

  She crossed to the oval mirror above the dresser and pulled a comb through her hair, plaiting the damp waves into a loose braid and securing it with a band. She dabbed some lip balm on her mouth and hurried up the stairs, anxious to get to the kitchen to start dinner before her dad discovered the cherry pie she’d put in the oven. Carly and her father, whom she’d been named after, shared a love of sports, books and sweet things. But while Carly included regular exercise in her daily routine to counteract those sugar indulgences, Carl Valentine was more of an armchair athlete as the back issues he’d struggled with since a work accident some time ago affected him more and more with each passing year. If he got to the pie first, he’d fill up on that and skip dinner. It was a nice compliment to her baking abilities, but hardly the healthy diet she wanted for a man who needed to watch his weight.

  Besides, she deserved a piece of that pie and a scoop of ice cream herself after a very long, very weird, very unsettling day.

  “Dad? Did you get the grill started?” She hurried through the living room into the kitchen, stopping to pull a pair of hot mitts from a drawer as the timer went off on the oven. “Dad?”

  She heard a high-pitched whir of machinery coming from the backyard and paused, cradling the hot plate in her hands. Was that a power saw? That meant company. The odds of getting a slice of cherry pie after dinner just diminished.

  The back door leading onto the deck smacked shut as she set the pie on the cooling rack. “Hey, Carly Barley.”

  With a mock groan, she tilted her face to the muscular man with the wheat-colored crew cut. Her big brother. “Frank. What are you doing here?”

  “I had some free time. Thought I’d come over and make those repairs on the deck that Dad’s been whining about all summer. He’s out back watching the charcoal, making sure we don’t burn down the house.”

  Carly eyed the sawdust sprinkled across his forearms, sticking to the perspiration there. When he reached for the piping hot dish, she nudged him back onto the rug in front of the door, ordering him to brush himself off and wash his hands before he touched any of her food. “Invited yourself to dinner, did you?” She opened the refrigerator to pull out a five-pound package of thawed hamburger and an armload of veggies and condiments.

  “Invited myself to find out what’s going on with you.” When she set everything on the counter beside the stove, Frank was leaning his hip against the lower cabinets, drying his hands. He tucked the towel around the handle of the oven door before crossing his thick arms in front of the Valentine Construction T-shirt he wore. “Are you still available to play on our coed softball team this Saturday? We need you at second base.”

  Was she free this weekend? She hadn’t been informed of Prince Ivan’s schedule yet. Was she supposed to forgo her normal life, as well as her regular work hours, to be available for his protection detail 24/7? She was guessing a community league softball game wasn’t on his itinerary. She opened the pantry to pull out the spices she needed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you.”

  “I knew it. There is a guy.” Frank pounded his fist on the counter. “Damn it, I just lost a bet.”

  “What are you talking about? What bet?”

  “Jesse texted that some fancy dude came by the precinct offices to see you.” Jesse would be her other big brother, a jack-of-all-trades with an ear for secrets and a mouth that often got him into trouble. His current job as a bartender at the Shamrock Bar, an establishment frequented by several of her colleagues, put him in the perfect place to fine-tune those gossiping skills. “Some officers were in the bar after their shift, talking about this guy. They say he kissed you in front of everybody. I bet ten bucks Jesse was makin’ up a story.”

  “You bet against me?” Embarrassed that her own brother didn’t believe in her feminine appeal, she channeled her frustrated anger into the onion she was chopping. “You don’t think a ‘fanc
y dude’ would want to kiss me?”

  “I didn’t think any guy would...” He seemed to suddenly realize that the woman glaring at him held a sharp knife in her hand. He wisely backed off a step. “You know how Jesse’s always... I mean, the fact that some guy is hittin’ on you at all...” His cheeks flushed brick red above the golden scruff on his square jaw. “Jesse also said you were cooking dinner tonight. That you called him to bring beer for the sauce. I’ve never eaten anyone’s food better than yours. That’s why I’m here. To eat.”

  “Pretty weak save, Frank.” She split the onion between a saucepan and a sheet tray before pushing him aside to wash her hands. “Now tell me again why you can’t keep a girlfriend?”

  “I’m sorry.” He followed her to the bag of potatoes and back to her cutting board, still trying to make amends for his jab at her ego. She came by her questionable social skills honestly. Although, whether a lack of tact was imprinted in the Valentine DNA, or a by-product of being raised in a motherless household, it was a mystery for the ages. “Do you need me to check this guy out? He’s not messin’ with you, is he? Those cops said they could tell he had money. He had guys opening doors for him. Drove off in a limo. Guys like that think they can throw around some cash, and girls will—”

  “Stop before you stick that big foot of yours any farther into your mouth.” Carly didn’t consider herself a diminutive woman, but next to Frank, she was downright delicate. That had never stopped her from standing up to him, though. “One, I am a woman, not a girl. I can kiss whoever I damn well please. And two, why is it so far-fetched that a man might like me?”

  Despite the square jaw and workingman’s build, Frank could still pull off that sweet little boy expression that had gotten her to do more than her fair share of chores growing up and made her forgive him just about anything. “I love you, sis.”

  Carly shooed him out the back door. “Get out of my kitchen. Make sure there are no power tools on the picnic table and the deck doesn’t collapse by the time dinner is ready. And try to have a little more faith in me, okay?”

  Then maybe she’d have a little more faith in herself that she could pull off this assignment.

  * * *

  IVAN STEPPED OUT of the limousine onto the sidewalk. He buttoned his jacket and straightened his tie before sliding his hand into the pocket of his slacks, burning his fingers against the latest gift that had been left for him in his hotel suite. Unlike the flowers, gift baskets and bottles of wine, this one had no color, no wrapping, no welcoming message. It had no words at all on it. Just a set of numbers scrawled across an old black-and-white photograph.

  Another death threat.

  Carly needed to see it. Someone he trusted needed to know the danger he was facing—the danger a lot of innocent people might be facing if he couldn’t unmask who was behind this terror campaign. Who wanted the Prince of Lukinburg dead?

  A startled gasp tore him from his thoughts. He took a deep breath that expanded his chest. He nodded to an elderly woman with hair that was as curly and white as the small dog she held by its leash. “Madam.”

  With her eyes wide and the poodle dancing back and forth across the sidewalk, she eyed him and the black car behind him. “Are you a movie star?” With a squeak of excitement that made the dog yip at her feet, she pressed her hand to her chest. “Did Carl win one of those lottery giveaways?”

  He arched an eyebrow at the question he did not understand and smiled. “I am here for Miss Valentine.”

  Other car doors opened and shut as advisers and security gathered around him. “For Carly? All of you?” The woman scooped the dog up into her arms and stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Is this one of those television shows where you pull a prank on somebody? Am I on TV?”

  “Why? Have you seen any cameras?” Aleks teased, climbing out of the limousine behind him. Like Ivan, his gaze swept the neighboring houses. Just a normal evening in American suburbia, it seemed. But while Ivan’s gaze continued to study their surroundings, Aleks straightened his tie and grinned at the older woman. “How do I look?”

  Ivan allowed them their laughter before he made proper introductions. “I am Prince Ivan of Lukinburg.”

  Her eyes widened with recognition. “I saw you on the news, getting off your plane at KCI.”

  “We are visiting your beautiful city.” He extended his hand. “And you are...?”

  “Gretchen Pischnotte. You’re really a prince?” He nodded. “What are you doing in this part of town? I’ve known the Valentines for years. Carl moved in with Carly and the boys right after their mama died.”

  Carly’s mother was deceased? Yet another unfortunate detail they had in common.

  Schooling his curiosity to ask for more information about the woman who would be his secret weapon against the traitors who wanted him dead, Ivan fixed a smile on his face. He lightly clasped the older woman’s fingers as she gave him a little curtsy. But before she released him, her dog nuzzled against Ivan’s hand and licked him. His smile turned genuine. When was the last time he’d been able to run with a dog, or simply pet one? He scratched his fingers over the dog’s head. “Who is this little guy?”

  A shadow loomed up beside him. “Madam, I need you to move away from the vehicles. Now.” Filip Milevski’s stern tone made Ivan’s stilted conversation sound suave and charming, by comparison. With Filip’s right arm blocking Ivan across the chest, pushing him back toward the car, the chief of security pointed up the street. His jacket gaped open, revealing the gun holstered beneath his left arm.

  The older woman’s skin blanched. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No—”

  Filip inched his bulk in front of Ivan. “He is not signing autographs or taking pictures this evening. Move along.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Pischnotte.” Ivan bristled at the curt dismissal. With a fearful glance up at Filip, the woman dropped her dog to the ground, and they hurried along the sidewalk that circled the end of the street. She stopped to chat with a man wearing some sort of workman’s uniform. He was digging holes in his front lawn. Perhaps not his lawn, since there was a white van in the driveway with a company logo on the side panel. But he seemed to know Mrs. Pischnotte. With a tired sigh he leaned against his shovel as she took his arm in a fearful grasp, pointing at them in an animated conversation. Ivan pushed Filip’s arm away, his glare conveying his displeasure at the needless bullying. “Was that necessary? The idea of this visit is to build a good rapport with our sister city, not show them we are a bunch of thugs like the previous regime. I hardly think an elderly woman is a threat to the throne.”

  “Is it necessary to be here at all, Your Highness? What about the man she’s talking to now? The family next door? I haven’t vetted any of these people to see if they’re on any kind of watch list. We do not know if the Loyalists’ threats have followed us from home.” The photograph burned a hole in Ivan’s pocket. Perhaps he’d been wrong to keep his security team out of the loop. But a member of that team was as good a suspect as any other passenger who’d been on the plane with him. At least the note confirmed his suspicion that there was a traitor among the royal delegation, someone feeding inside information to the dissidents. No one else would have access to his briefcase. No one else could have taped the photo on the mirror in his penthouse bathroom. “You are not the first leader I have served. I am responsible for your protection. Deviating from your schedule and leaving the hotel to visit your mistress on a whim—”

  “You will not refer to Miss Valentine as my mistress, and certainly not in that condescending tone.” He waited for Filip to lower his gaze and bow his head slightly. The big man needed the reminder of the hierarchy and just who worked for whom. The fact that Ivan didn’t know exactly how this relationship between him and Carly was going to work made him hesitate. All he knew was that she was doing him a favor, and he would not tolerate the snide subtext in Mi
levski’s words. “She is to be treated as an honored guest to the throne.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Filip snapped his fingers for the other bodyguards to split up to do a reconnaissance of the tree-lined street. He made a show of buttoning his jacket, his shoulders bristling with irritation at not being in control of the situation or location. “This is an uncharted part of the city. There are no police officers patrolling the area.”

  “There is a police officer inside that house.” Ivan pointed to the white columns and soft yellow siding on the porch in front of the Valentine home before gesturing to the other houses. “It is a fine neighborhood. The homes and yards are well taken care of.” He nodded to the couple in the driveway next door, who’d paused in the middle of loading two boys and bags of baseball equipment into the back of their minivan to watch the interchange between the delegation and their neighbor. “It is hardly the mean streets of the inner city.”

  “Springing surprises like this on me makes it difficult to plan safe travel routes and make sure my men have time to scout ahead for potential security breaches.” Filip waved his hand toward the curve of houses at the top of the street. “This is a dead end. Hardly a street I would have chosen in case we have to make a quick getaway.”

  It was no surprise that Aleks made a joke to diffuse the tension in the air. “Yes, because that killer poodle was an assassin in disguise. It’s a veritable hotbed of terrorist activity here on—” he craned his neck to read the road sign at the corner “—Maple Street.”

  “Aleks...” Ivan chided, even as he welcomed the levity. Filip didn’t share his friend’s sense of humor. He wondered if he’d heard Milevski laugh even once since being put in charge of the royal security detail. Still, a growly chief of security with an obsessive need to control Ivan’s every movement meant negotiating time alone with Carly would be practically impossible. He desperately needed the normalcy of an informal conversation with someone he knew didn’t want him dead just as much as he needed private time to discuss suspects and expand the cover story between them so that no one in the prince’s inner circle would suspect the ruse. He smoothed things over with Filip as best he could without surrendering the opportunity at hand. “I will endeavor to give you more warning in the future. But understand that I wish to see Miss Valentine as frequently as possible while I am here in the United States. We have a lot of catching up to do. And my schedule, as you well know, is incredibly busy. Since I have this evening free, I thought it would be fun to surprise her at home.”