Cover images (left to right): Silver Semi Auto Handgun by ThePropShoppe, courtest of iStock; Aged and Weathered Crown © Roy Konitzer, courtesty of iStock.
Cover design copyrighted 2008 by Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.
American Fork, Utah
Copyright © 2008 by Traci Hunter Abramson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect
the position of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.
First Printing: October 2008
978-1-60861-519-3
For Diana, Christina, Lara, and Luke
May you each find your happily ever after.
Acknowledgments
My sincere thanks goes to Rebecca Cummings for helping me begin this adventure and for helping me through the long editing process. Thank you to the many others who helped make this novel what it could be, especially Nikki Abramson, Lynn Gardner, and Jennifer Spell.
Thank you to the CIA Publication Review Board for reviewing this novel . . . twice . . . to ensure that I stay out of trouble and for your continued timely support.
As always, I want to express my appreciation for the wonderful people at Covenant who continue to afford me the opportunity to do what I love and for their constant support. My special thanks goes to Kat Gille, Rachel Langlois, Robby Nichols, and Kathryn Jenkins for your many efforts in the editing and marketing processes.
Finally, thank you to my family and friends, who continue to encourage me in my pursuits. I don’t know what I would do without you.
Chapter 1
Janessa Rogers stepped into the plush lobby of the Marriott hotel in Caracas, her stomach jumping with anticipation. She still couldn’t believe she was here. The welcome dinner for the annual World Trade Summit was one of the most important social events of the political world. She had mingled with her share of dignitaries during her three years with the Central Intelligence Agency, but never before had she attended an event of such magnitude.
Her ability to speak several languages had resulted in her invitation. Officially she was just a guest, one who could help facilitate communications if an additional translator was needed. Though she knew the US ambassador to Venezuela liked to send her to social events to help reinforce her cover, she suspected the invitation had also been a peace offering of sorts. Thoughts of the Rominez tragedy flashed in her mind, and she struggled to push the images aside.
She wasn’t going to think about that now, she decided as she listened to the myriad of languages being spoken in the lobby. She moved past the seating area and check-in counter, her eyes sweeping the area in a subtle analysis. She could hardly wait to tell her family about the event—she was already taking mental notes so that she could describe everything in detail.
Janessa stepped into the elevator and smoothed her gown of vivid green. When the doors slid open, she glanced at her watch, seeing that she was only forty-five minutes late. While her new superior at the embassy would likely frown on her tardy arrival, she knew that arriving any earlier would make her stand out as an American. After being in the country for more than a year, she would rather have Donald yell at her than to ignore the social customs she had long since adapted to.
Janessa showed her invitation and passport to the security officer at the ballroom door, grateful that tonight she would be just another face in the crowd. Those acquainted with her would recognize her as a representative from the US Embassy, but only a select few knew that she was actually an intelligence officer.
When she stepped inside, her smile was instant. The air hummed with salsa music, though it was barely audible over the multitude of voices. Stunning women shone like gems among the crowd made up of high-level government officials, heads of state, and a few splashes of royalty.
Janessa turned to scan the room, awed by the familiar faces—faces that before now she had seen only on television and in newspapers. Reminding herself that she was supposed to blend in, she struggled not to be intimidated. Growing up, she had always known she wanted to travel and experience life away from her family’s farm in Iowa, but she never expected to be standing in the same room with so many of the world’s influential politicians.
She took a calming breath, hoping that she looked like she belonged. Her rich, flame-colored hair was swept up in a complicated twist, and her ivory complexion left little doubt that she was a foreigner. Still, Janessa knew from experience that her talent with languages often caused people to mistake her for a European rather than an American.
Janessa spotted Donald across the room, looking very uptight and distressingly bureaucratic in his three-piece suit. Maybe all those years serving in Washington, D.C., had kept him from appreciating the finer benefits of working for the government, like enjoying a great party.
Donald noticed Janessa as well and motioned for her to join him. She gave a barely perceptible nod before starting to work through the crowd laced with friends and acquaintances. After taking only two steps, she saw someone she knew and stopped to chat. During her third conversation, she passed the bar and lingered long enough to order a soda. She finally emerged next to her boss twenty minutes later.
She sipped her drink as she took her position next to Donald.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” The creases in his face deepened into a frown. The thirty extra pounds he sported from working behind a desk for the past fifteen years were concentrated around his middle, and his dark hair was peppered with gray.
Janessa ignored his tone and refused to look at her watch. Instead, she glanced at the waiters hovering nearby. “I imagine dinner will be served shortly.”
Clearly annoyed that she’d deliberately misunderstood his question, he lowered his voice. “You do realize that you were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
A sigh escaped her. She really hated breaking in new bosses. “I realize that the invitation said the party would start an hour ago.” She glanced toward the door where a steady stream of guests continued to arrive. “I also realize that if you arrived at that time, you were the only one here.”
His breath came out in a little huff. “Regardless, there has been a change of plans. The Meridian government asked for some help with their security tonight for Prince Stefano and Prince Garrett. The ambassador requested that you help out. Levi will give you the details.”
Janessa ignored the little tug of disappointment she felt as she prepared to shift into work mode. César Navas, the police chief, and his wife, Felisa, made their way to her side before she had the chance to look for Levi. Janessa slipped into Spanish as she greeted them and introduced them to Donald.
A few minutes later, Janessa excused herself to go about her duties. She had yet to see either of the princes, but she followed her instincts and headed for the edge of the dance floor where a crowd had formed, including several photographers.
She expected that the photographers in the room were in heaven with the numerous politicians and celebrities mingling in the crowd. She had certainly seen plenty of pictures of both the Meridian princes over the years in newspapers and tabloids, so she had a good idea who she was looking for. She glimpsed Prince Stefano on the dance floor with a prince
ss from Sweden. At age thirty-two, he was every bit the handsome European prince, tall and dark—and he didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the hovering press.
Turning back toward the crowd, she spotted Levi and stepped beside him. Like Janessa, Levi Marin was adept at fitting in with the crowd. He was just under six feet tall, and his dark hair and olive complexion made him look more like a native of Venezuela than the United States.
Janessa glanced around the room once more before asking, “Where is Prince Garrett?”
Levi simply nodded to the crowd. “He’s been cornered since he got here.”
Janessa caught a glimpse of him between two women who were probably in their late twenties. Prince Garrett was twenty-nine and a bit taller than average. His naturally athletic build was more noticeable in person, though the paparazzi had certainly made every attempt over the years to exploit his unforgettable good looks and the intrigue that invariably surrounded the royals.
He smiled and chatted with the women nearby, his rigid posture giving him an air of arrogance and indifference. He looked perfect. Too perfect. She imagined he was accustomed to having people cater to his every whim and wondered if he had any real understanding of what life was like for the commoners of the world.
Janessa studied him a moment and concluded that underneath the polished sheen and flawless manners, he was about ready to die of boredom. “What’s the layout?” she asked Levi, referring to the location of the other security personnel.
“Their security forces are covering the perimeter, and each prince has two bodyguards nearby. Basically, you’re an insider.”
Janessa nodded, understanding perfectly. Her responsibility was simple. Look like everyone else, act like everyone else, and eliminate any threats that got past everyone else. She looked over at Prince Garrett again, her sympathies stirred as he tried to tactfully put some distance between himself and the woman to his left.
“That’s Monique Cuvier, the French ambassador’s daughter,” Levi said, following her stare. “She’s been coming on to him all night.”
“Perhaps you should introduce me to the prince,” Janessa suggested.
Levi nodded. He worked his way through the crowd surrounding the prince with Janessa close behind. They emerged in front of Prince Garrett just as the French ambassador put a hand on his daughter’s arm and began escorting her away from the prince and across the room.
Levi spoke in English, setting the tone for the conversation. “Your Highness, this is the friend I was telling you about. Janessa Rogers, this is Prince Garrett of Meridia.”
“Your Highness.” Janessa gave a deferential nod, acknowledging his royal presence. The stiffness was still there but now with a hint of curiosity. The intensity of his stare surprised her as his eyes locked on hers. His eyes were the color of dark chocolate and were set in an aristocratic face with sharp cheekbones and a fall of dark hair across one side of his forehead.
“Miss Rogers, I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Prince Garrett greeted her, his English perfect, his voice rich and smooth with the cadence of a Meridian accent. He took her hand in his and studied her openly. She struggled not to fidget under his stare which was both direct and unnerving.
Someone in the crowd pushed forward, and Janessa barely managed to keep her footing. Uncomfortable with the crowd surrounding the prince, Janessa went with her instincts. Her eyes still on his, she tilted her head toward the dance floor. “Would you care to dance?”
The prince looked from Janessa to Levi and back again, apparently surprised by her directness, but he gave a slight nod and said, “It would be my pleasure.” With her hand still in his, he led her to the dance floor.
Janessa’s eyes swept the area as she and the prince moved forward, and she nodded her approval when Levi positioned himself close by. She noticed Prince Stefano still dancing a few yards away and turned to gauge where his security detail was positioned. Then Prince Garrett turned her into his arms, and her mind simply clicked off for a very dangerous moment. She settled her hand on his shoulder and found herself staring up into those dark eyes.
She reminded herself that she was one of many who had been in this position and focused once more on her responsibilities. “I’m sorry to be so forward, but you looked like you needed some space.”
His dark eyebrows lifted, and surprise lit his eyes. “Did it show that much?”
“Only from a distance.” Amusement laced her voice. “Dinner should be served shortly. If you have a preference of whom you would like to sit with, I’m sure it can be arranged.”
“Excellent. Now then, do I understand correctly that you work for your government?”
Janessa nodded, and the aloof expression on his face was quickly replaced by delight. The smile transformed his features, making him more real somehow.
“In that case, perhaps I should sit beside you for dinner.” With the grin still on his face, he leaned closer—close enough for her to see the little gold flecks in his eyes. “For protection.”
“If you wish.” Janessa returned his smile as a camera flashed nearby. She reminded herself that this man was routinely photographed with women all over the world, though rarely with the same one twice. Remembering that he had been attending law school in the United States, she turned the conversation to that. “Have you already graduated from law school?”
He nodded. “Two weeks ago. I’ll leave for Meridia after the trade summit.”
“I imagine you’re anxious to get home.”
Before he could answer, the music ended and the announcement was made that dinner was being served. Round banquet tables were covered with baskets of bread and a variety of traditional Venezuelan side dishes. Uniformed waiters circulated the tables carrying trays of meat ready to be carved.
Prince Garrett took Janessa’s arm and guided her to a nearby table as she once again checked the location of his security forces. She took her seat, finding herself sitting across from César and Felisa Navas and next to Donald.
Janessa made the proper introductions, barely managing to suppress an annoyed sigh when Monique Cuvier sat on the other side of the prince. Janessa’s eyes quickly swept over the woman. Once she was satisfied that Monique didn’t have any place she could easily conceal a weapon, Janessa glanced at Prince Stefano, who was seated at the next table. She noted the heavy security stationed nearby for him and some of his dining companions, and then she turned her attention back to the man beside her.
She wondered briefly what it would be like to be royal, and she shook her head at the thought of the extremes that must exist in such a life—the incredible wealth married with the constant imposition of the press and public. Even now more than a dozen security personnel were scattered around the room to ensure the safety of both Prince Garrett and his brother.
Prince Garrett shifted in his seat as Monique slid closer to him and hooked an arm through his, despite the fact that he was trying to eat the salad that was now before him.
Sensing his tension, Janessa leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I can have her moved to another table if you wish.”
Garrett’s grin flashed unexpectedly, and he whispered back, “I have a better idea. Do me the favor of playing along.”
Janessa didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant. Monique began speaking to the prince in French. “You will have to save me a dance after dinner.”
“I would love to,” he responded in her native tongue, “but I’m afraid my girlfriend is the jealous type.”
He then slid his hand over to Janessa’s, lacing his fingers through hers as he lifted her hand to his lips. He spoke in English now as he turned to face Janessa. “Darling, how is your dinner?”
Janessa had barely managed to keep from laughing when he kissed her hand. She knew this was simply his way of dealing with a difficult situation and decided it wouldn’t hurt to help him out. “It’s delicious, thank you.”
As Donald and the Navases cast speculative glances her way, Monique sent
Janessa a frosty stare before releasing the prince’s arm. Prince Garrett gave Janessa an appreciative look as he leaned closer and whispered into her ear. “I told her you’re my girlfriend. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m here to serve.” Janessa lifted a shoulder, noticing that he’d left out the part about her being jealous. Unless Donald had read her file, no one at the table would have any reason to suspect that French was one of several languages in which she was fluent.
For a moment, insecurity washed over her as she saw herself as an insignificant commoner pretending she belonged among royalty. Annoyed at her train of thought, Janessa turned her attention to the dinner in front of her, determined to enjoy herself as she engaged in conversation with the prince and the Navases.
Numerous questions were directed at Prince Garrett over the course of the meal, and Janessa could see him stiffening degree by degree as his posture once again became rigid and formal. She thought she could feel his impatience with the tedious conversation, but each time she looked at him, she saw only his perfect manners and an air of formality. Between dinner and dessert, a waitress arrived and served after-dinner drinks.
Janessa looked at the red liquid in the glass that was placed in front of her. It was possible this was a fruit drink, but since it was in a glass commonly used for wine, there was a good chance it was alcoholic. She turned to César and asked in Spanish, “What is it?”
“You’ll like it,” he told her absently.
Though she worked undercover for the CIA in many different settings, her religious standards were one part of her cover that never changed. The chief of police was aware that she was a Latter-day Saint, and in the past he and his coworkers had gone out of their way to serve her drinks that were in keeping with her beliefs. Yet she couldn’t help feeling wary of the drink in front of her. She asked César again, “But what is it?”
“Sangria.”
Leaning forward, Janessa spoke quietly. “Doesn’t it have alcohol in it?”
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