by Julie Miller
“Is the prince safe?” Joe Hendricks asked.
Carly looked up at Ivan, who was doing his best to avoid bumping into anyone and aggravating his wound. She knew he needed medical attention. Still, he was moving like a soldier advancing through enemy territory, his hand on her back moving her forward as much as she was leading him. “He’s hurt.”
“A minor injury, Joe,” Ivan insisted, dipping his head close to her phone. “I am fine.”
“He will be as soon as I can get him out of here.”
“My hotel,” Ivan suggested while Captain Hendricks ended the call with a demand to keep him posted. He steered her around the next clump of pedestrians. “It is downtown. Do you have your car?”
She shook her head. “It’s at the precinct. Brooke’s husband dropped us off. I’d planned to be riding with you.”
He punched in Filip Milevski’s number and gave his security chief a sit-rep about losing Eduard, the name of the cross streets where they were now and that he was with her. She didn’t need the phone on speaker to hear Filip’s tirade about running off and getting so close to the bomb—or to hear the warning about staying put and letting Filip and Danya come to them. “Do you have a car?” Ivan challenged, cutting him off when she heard her name among the angry words. “Then you are not driving me anywhere. You deal with the police, and I want someone to stay with Eduard’s body.”
A glimpse of stillness among the rush of activity filling the streets and sidewalks drew her attention and slowed her pace. A chill skittered down her back, despite the heat and humidity and man standing so close beside her. “Ivan?”
“You do not think a man shouting, ‘End Ivan!’ is threat enough? Call the hotel and make sure that Aleks, Galina and the others are safe.” He ended the call and slipped the phone back into Carly’s pocket. “What is it?”
“Ten o’clock. On the other side of those parked cars.”
When she stepped toward the curb, Ivan’s arm folded around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She was certain the curse he muttered in his native language was something blue and damning.
The man in the hood had reappeared. Despite the material shading his face, there was no mistaking the “I’m watching you” signal he sent, gesturing with two fingers to where his eyes would be before pointing at them. Carly reached behind her back, nudging Ivan aside to pull her gun. But when she blinked, he’d disappeared. Moving west, she thought. But she didn’t have eyes on him anymore. “Damn it. I can’t leave you to pursue him.”
She felt Ivan’s fingers on her wrist, keeping her gun in its holster. “There are too many people here to draw your weapon.”
True. She’d probably cause more panic if she did pull her gun and race after the suspect. Plus, going after him meant leaving Ivan completely unprotected. Or worse, he’d insist on coming with her, putting himself in the line of fire. “Did you see where he went?”
He pointed to the west. “That way. But I lost him behind the cars. He had a backpack. He probably stuffed his coat inside and blended into the crowd.”
Being out of uniform with no radio, she turned back to the officer directing traffic and identified herself. She gave the officer a general description of height and build, plus the hooded coat and backpack, and asked him to put out an APB on the suspect. Although she guessed that Ivan was right about the man changing his outfit and clearing the area.
“Let’s keep moving.” She reached back to lace her fingers together with Ivan’s. “How are you doing? You’re not bleeding out on me, are you?”
“If you will not complain about the scratches on your hands and face, then I will not complain about my injuries.”
She halted again, lifting her hands to see the black-and-violet bruising and raw skin on her knuckles. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
“I notice everything about you.” He touched the tip of his finger to a tender spot on her jawline. “My doctor will be treating you as well, when we reach the hotel.”
Suddenly, she realized how much her body ached after flying across the concrete, and just how much worse her injuries might be if Ivan hadn’t shielded her with his body when the bomb had gone off. “Thank you for protecting me.” She sensed she was due for a physical and emotional crash once the adrenaline of these past several minutes wore off. But that time wasn’t now. And Prince Blue Eyes needed a stern reminder about the rules of this charade. “I’m the bodyguard, remember? The relationship is for show, but the gun and the badge and my job are real. If you ever do anything like that again, I will—”
A car spun around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of them. The passenger side window went down and Ralph Decker, the reporter who’d photographed them at the hospital leaned across the front seat. “Need a ride?”
“What do you want?” Carly asked, suspicious of his timely arrival.
“To do you a favor.” Decker pulled his hands from the steering wheel and shrugged. “Unless you want to fight your way through this crowd and get stuck in traffic for another hour.”
Carly spotted Filip on the far side of the street, doing just that, fighting to get through the crowd. Ivan had seen him, too. He opened the back door for Carly and nudged her to get in. “We accept your offer, Mr. Decker.”
Carly braced her hands against the door frame. “We don’t really know this guy.”
“Please, Carly. We need to see the doctor.” She shivered at the whisper of Ivan’s lips against her hair and responded to the plea in that accented tone. Although she suspected this was more about getting her away from the danger than getting himself to his physician, Carly relented, climbing in and sliding across the back seat. If she was far from any threat, then he would be, too. Ivan slid in beside her. Clearly, he believed now, more than ever, that the person behind the threats was getting help from someone inside his delegation. Perhaps it was easier to trust this relative stranger than someone he knew had the means to betray him to his enemies. “This does not mean I am giving you an exclusive, Mr. Decker. Nor do I give you permission to take any photos of Carly and me today.”
“Understood. But you can’t tell me there’s not a real news story here. Something a lot bigger than this affair you’re having. An explosion and an attempted assassination? I can’t help but ask a few questions.”
“This was a mistake.” Ivan reached for the door handle.
Carly stopped him. This time he had no argument when she unholstered her gun and held it up for Decker to see in the rearview mirror. “He’ll behave himself.”
Decker grinned and shifted his car into gear. “You make a convincing argument, Officer.”
She gave him the name of Ivan’s hotel. “Go.”
As they drove up the hill toward downtown, she saw Filip break free from the mass of pedestrians and run across the street to the spot they’d just vacated. He was joined by Danya now. Both men were breathing hard from exertion, both watching the car as it sped away. Filip dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead with a bright white handkerchief. When he pulled the cloth from his face, he looked pissed. Danya’s hands were fisted at his sides. She didn’t have to read lips to know he was cursing.
But were they angry that she’d taken over their job to keep the prince safe? That a coworker had been murdered?
Or that Ivan had survived the blast?
Chapter Nine
Carly thanked the doctor who had bandaged her left hand and cleaned the scrapes on her jaw and elbows. While Ivan washed up in the adjoining bathroom of his hotel suite, the doctor packed his bag and exited the bedroom where she’d peeled off her ruined blouse for him to check her injuries.
With the door propped open, the white noise of heated conversation she’d heard from the main room sharpened into words she could understand. Most of them, anyway, since some of the arguing seemed to be in Lukin. Seizing the opportunity to eavesdrop on potential suspects, she clutche
d the torn blouse to her chest, ducked behind the door to keep it from fully closing and listened.
Galina’s shrill voice reprimanded someone. “We should be thanking God or fate or whatever you believe in that the prince was not in that car.”
Filip didn’t like to be lectured. “He should have stayed with me!”
“And been trampled? Shot?” Galina countered. “It’s unfortunate enough we lost Eduard. But if Ivan had been killed, this entire trade mission would have been ruined—maybe even our alliance with the United States, our sister city status with Kansas City. It could have thrown Lukinburg into chaos.”
Aleks couldn’t resist diving into the thick of the argument. “Our relationships with any foreign nation would be at risk. They’d all be saying, ‘Keep your political troubles and unhappy citizens at home in Lukinburg.’”
“This is not my fault,” Filip argued. “She altered the prince’s schedule.”
“And if she hadn’t, the prince would have been in that car when it blew up, too.”
“You don’t know that,” Danya Pavluk grumbled. “Maybe the bomber wouldn’t have had the chance to plant the device if we’d stuck to our plan.”
“What plan would that be?” an American voice asked. Ralph Decker had hung around to eavesdrop, too. The reporter had a knack for showing up when least expected. Was that luck on his part? Good reporting? A source inside Ivan’s delegation feeding him intel? Could he have any agenda beyond covering a story?
“Mr. Decker,” Galina snapped, then softened her tone to polite decorum. “Once again, I will ask you to leave. We thank you for your assistance today.”
“The prince said he wanted to thank me personally. I’m curious to find out what he meant by that.”
Danya muttered a curse, as if Decker had just made a point for him. “See? There are too many loose ends. Filip, you need to run a tighter ship.”
Filip didn’t bother to mutter. “Are you questioning my authority?”
Carly smelled a hint of icy fresh soap a split second before Ivan reached around her to close the door. “Learn anything new?”
More than not sensing his approach, Carly was startled to turn and discover a shirtless prince. Was that allowed? Showing off broad shoulders? Drawing her attention to a muscled chest dusted with a V of crisp, dark hair that trailed in a line over his flat stomach down to the button of the black dress slacks he wore?
A split second of heated admiration passed before she realized that he’d asked her a question. She blinked, wishing it were that easy to cool the spark that seemed to ignite deep inside whenever he got close like this. “Only that no one out there is taking any blame for what happened.”
“I doubt anyone would admit that their assassination attempt was thwarted by you.” He handed her a clean white T-shirt. “Are you sure this is sufficient? I can order you a new blouse from the gift shop downstairs.”
“That isn’t necessary. Unlike you, I’m not going anyplace fancy this evening.” He took her blouse and tossed it in the trash before crossing to the closet to pull a white dress shirt off the hanger. She gasped when she saw the crosshatched ridges of pink scar tissue peppering his back beside and below the square white bandage that covered the gash he’d gotten from the explosion this afternoon. I have been hurt worse than this, he’d said when she’d pulled the shrapnel from his wound. If the view from the front had been stunning, the view from the back squeezed at her heart and made her hurry across the room before he could don his shirt. “Ivan. What happened to you?”
She touched her fingertips to the scars. He shivered as she traced the marks. The scar hidden by his beard was a scratch compared to these injuries. His muscles tensed beneath her hand before he released a deep breath. “Souvenirs from the bombing in St. Feodor. I threw myself over the body of...a friend...to protect him from the shrapnel.”
“Just like you did with me today.” She splayed her fingers over the longest and most jagged of the scars, indicating he’d suffered burns in addition to the deep wounds. “You are not to do that for me again. Is that understood? You were seriously hurt. How could anyone want to...? I’m so sorry.”
With a deep, stuttering breath, he turned to face her. He dipped his face close to hers, his blue eyes focused on her mouth. “Perhaps you had better stop petting me unless you intend to make me late for tonight’s festivities.”
“How would I...? Oh.” Her gaze darted to the bed. “You mean...”
He touched her cheek, smiling as he followed the heat creeping into her face. “If our timing was better and my responsibilities were not so great, I would let you touch me in whatever way you wish. Does it shock you that I want you that way?”
She hugged the T-shirt close to her chest, fighting to assuage the inevitable response that stung the tips of her breasts and tightened the muscles between her thighs. “It shocks me how much I want you, too,” she admitted. “I’ve never had such intense feelings with any man.”
He feathered his fingers into her hair and cupped her warm cheek and neck. “Brave, honest, tempting Carly. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
“Not exactly. Most of my experience with men comes from annoying big brothers and taking down bad guys. You’re a prince compared to the guys who usually hit on me.” Her blush deepened when she heard the double entendre. The heat building inside almost made her light-headed. She needed more than the cooling caress of his hand to right the emotions tumbling inside her. “Thank you for taking the brunt of that explosion and collision with the concrete this afternoon. Those marks on your back should be on me.” She leaned into him, winding her arms around his waist in a ferocious hug.
His arms closed around her, securing her against him. “Never. You are becoming important to me.” He pressed a kiss to her hair before he leaned back against her arms and framed her head between his hands to study her. “This feels real to me. Perhaps, like two soldiers in the thick of battle together, our bond has formed quickly. Deeply.”
She braced her hands against his bare chest, delighting at the discovery of how the crisp, curly hair tickled her palms, and his nipples sprang to attention beneath her curious exploration. “There were never any soldiers like you when I was deployed.”
“Like what?” His voice thickened with a husky timbre that danced against her eardrums and quickened her pulse.
“Like I can’t keep my eyes and hands off you. Like I already know everything important about you. Like I can tell you anything, ask anything, do...” Her hands stilled on his warm, muscled chest. “Am I foolish for thinking like that?”
“If so, then we are both fools.” He leaned in and she stretched up to meet his kiss.
But a sharp knock at the door interrupted the moment. Galina was summoning Ivan to return to his princely duties. “Your Highness? We need you out here to make some decisions.”
With a regretful sigh that caressed her skin like a warm breeze, he rested his forehead against hers. “What was I saying about timing?”
As they pulled apart, Carly rested her hand along his bearded jaw and whispered her regret. “I know you’re only in my life for a week, but I don’t want this—us—to be a charade.”
He sealed his lips over hers, completing the interrupted kiss with a firm stamp that left her feeling wanted and wanting more. “Neither do I.”
Ivan stepped back, pulling the T-shirt on over her head. He freed her messy braid from beneath the collar and draped it over her shoulder. How could putting clothes on feel like he was undressing her? The heat that flared between them whenever they dropped their guard and got close felt intimate, she supposed—whether clothes were going on or coming off, whether they kissed, or he simply brushed his calloused fingertip across her cheek as he did now, pulling away. He shrugged into his shirt, looped a tie around his neck, grabbed his suit jacket, then took her hand, opened the door and led her back out to the main room with the oth
ers.
Carly pulled her jacket on over the oversize T-shirt. It might be irrational, but she wanted to hide the soft cotton clinging to her skin, as if it were something sensual, protective, private between her and Ivan. Wearing his undershirt instilled her with a symbolic sense of caring that she’d never felt when she’d borrowed clothing from her brothers.
Taking in each of the senior staff gathered around, Ivan buttoned his shirt and tucked it in, running the impromptu meeting even as he prepared for his next command performance. “What needs to be done?”
Aleks handed him a bottle of water and asked, “How are you feeling? The doctor said you required stitches.”
Ivan took a long drink before resealing the bottle and handing it to Carly. No one had offered her anything. “My back is a little tender, but I assure you I will make a full recovery.”
“Will it leave a scar?”
“A small one.” Did Aleks know about the other scars Ivan bore? Marks of survival. Marks of strength and toughness she wondered if Aleks, or anyone else in this room, completely understood. “Miss Valentine’s injuries are minor, as well. Thank you for asking.” Was it possible she’d just heard a snarky reprimand in Ivan’s autocratic tone?
Aleks apparently had. He turned to Carly and gave her a deferential nod. “My apologies. I am pleased to hear that. We owe you greatly for helping our Ivan today.”
“I’d hate to lose him.” Ivan glanced over the jut of his shoulder at her, giving her a questioning look. Yes, there was a personal meaning to that statement. “It definitely helped to have the home field advantage today.”
Aleks snapped his fingers. “That is a baseball phrase. I have learned a great deal from your father about American sports. I only wish we had enough time to see a Royals ball game in person.”
“Perhaps on another visit, we will make the time,” Ivan said.
Another visit? Was it possible she’d have the chance to see Ivan again after this week and her protection assignment was done? As quickly as hope rushed through her veins, it faded. He’d probably be king the next time he came to the US. There would be even more demands on his time, more people surrounding him. She’d still be a commoner who couldn’t dance or pick out a proper dress on her own. Suddenly, her entire future shrank down to this week with this man. Ivan Mostek was everything she hadn’t even known she wanted in a man. Strong of character. Caring. Brave. Undeniably sexy. Even if they did find the mole and she kept him alive, their time together was destined to end. The finality of that, the ticking clock counting down to the time he would leave her, made every moment together more intense—and too precious to waste on niceties like dating and decorum. If she truly loved this man, as she suspected she did, then she had only a few days to be with him—to love him—before she lost him forever.
