by Amelia Autin
Zakhar was fifty years behind the times in many ways, especially regarding women. The Zakharian National Forces had only opened to women after King Andre Alexei had ascended the throne of Zakhar four and a half years earlier. The men she worked with were just waiting for some sign she wasn’t up to the job. Which meant she could never be anything less than the perfect professional officer.
Angelina towered over the petite queen she guarded so faithfully. Her five feet eleven inches without shoes made her nearly as tall as most of the men on the security detail. And her skill with weapons of all sorts—not to mention her skills without weapons—made her perfectly qualified for her assignment as one of the queen’s bodyguards.
She was a formidable adversary with a hard-as-nails reputation she’d worked diligently to earn. More than one man on the queen’s security detail had lost to her during hand-to-hand combat training exercises. She’d even taken down Captain Zale once, though that was probably more from surprise than anything else. She’d never managed to do it a second time, although she’d tried. Repeatedly.
Now, watching the American heft a suitcase off the baggage carousel, Angelina felt an unusual twinge of physical attraction, a jolt of sexual desire in her belly...and lower. It wasn’t something she usually felt. Wasn’t something she usually let herself feel. But there it was.
Auburn-haired Alec Jones wasn’t nearly as handsome as Princess Mara’s husband, Trace McKinnon, who was standing next to him. But he had a male attraction all his own, and was in superb fighting shape—something that appealed to Angelina on the most basic level. Even though he was covered with clothing, she could see the muscles that pulled his jacket taut across his broad shoulders.
She had an instant’s vision of him naked—honed to muscle, sinew and bone, much as she was—and wondered what it would be like to take him to her bed instead of the man she’d picked to rid her of her virginity at the age of twenty. Curiosity had been followed by disappointment nine years ago, but—Angelina’s blue-gray eyes gleamed momentarily—she didn’t think sex with this man would be disappointing. Far from it.
Just as quickly as the thought occurred to her she banished it, but not without regret. She’d long ago resolved that any kind of romantic involvement, not to mention sex, was incompatible with her job in the Zakharian National Forces. Especially given the patronizing attitude toward women held by most of the men in the rank and file as well as the officers. Sex with any man—even a non-Zakharian—was the last thing she should be thinking about. She wasn’t about to risk her reputation, or her job, for a man. No matter how sexy and irresistible he was.
* * *
Alec turned abruptly and spotted a woman across the airport watching him. Intently. She was tall, blonde and slender, with a touch-me-and-die air about her. He didn’t know why, but she pushed all his buttons without even trying, and he felt himself responding to her. Hard. Fast. He laughed under his breath and ordered his body to stand down. But he wasn’t surprised when his body refused to obey.
The woman and the man with her were both dressed in the kind of clothes he usually wore when on duty—what he was wearing now, actually—including a jacket to hide his shoulder holster. And there was something about them that seemed eerily familiar, something that reminded him of his own expression when he unexpectedly spotted himself in a mirror in public. A watchfulness in their eyes. An alertness in the way they held themselves, as if ready for anything. Bodyguards? he wondered. He glanced around but didn’t see anyone they might be guarding. Still...
“Five will get you ten, those two are bodyguards,” he murmured to McKinnon as they walked in the direction of the pair, not even needing to indicate to his friend who he was talking about.
McKinnon laughed softly. “No bet,” he said. “I made them as bodyguards, too, five minutes ago.” He looked closer as they approached the couple, and his laughter faded. His mouth took on a grim cast and he cursed softly before adding, “I know them. Both of them. Which means they’re not here by accident.”
Since the eyes of the four had already met and held, the two Zakharians didn’t bother trying to evade Alec and McKinnon as they came up to them.
The man read the expression on McKinnon’s face, and said quickly, “Your wife, she was concerned for your safety. But she knew you would refuse protection, so she asked the queen what could be done...secretly. The queen asked us as a special favor if we would keep an eye on you when we were free to do so.” He shrugged, and a small smile played over his lips. “So we are here. Have you ever tried to refuse your queen anything?”
Alec grinned, caught McKinnon’s eye and tried but failed to stifle his smile. Substitute the words your princess for your queen, and he knew McKinnon wouldn’t have been able to answer in the affirmative. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Alec Jones. I’m the new regional—”
“Regional security officer for the US embassy,” the man completed the sentence for him. “Yes, we know. I am Captain Marek Zale,” he added. “And this is Lieutenant Angelina Mateja. Queen’s security detail.”
Alec shook both their hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
Angelina said abruptly, “You were once assigned to guard Princess Mara when she first went to Colorado, yes? You and your brother. She has spoken of you both with affection.”
Alec was mesmerized by both her face and voice, not to mention her body. For once he didn’t have to look down to talk with a woman—Lieutenant Mateja was only a couple inches shorter than he was, and somehow that was especially appealing. She didn’t wear any makeup, not that he could see, but she didn’t need it. Hers was an understated beauty of blue eyes so pale they were almost gray, baby-fine skin that begged for the caress of a man’s fingers and good bone structure that would age well. All surrounded by a sassy cap of straight corn-silk blond hair.
And her voice? The slightly accented English and the word order to her sentences reminded him of Princess Mara, but she spoke in a deep, rich contralto that made him think of warm, gooey caramel melting on top of vanilla ice cream. As for her body, she was lithe and lean, but there were curves for a discerning man to appreciate. And Alec was a very discerning man.
“Yeah,” Alec answered Lieutenant Mateja’s question after a few seconds. “Liam—my younger brother, that is—and I, and this guy here,” he said, indicating McKinnon with a tilt of his head, “we were all the princess’s bodyguards the first six months she taught at the University of Colorado in Boulder.” He slid a sideways glance at McKinnon. “Then she married McKinnon—” there’s no accounting for taste, his bantering tone and expression conveyed “—and the State Department decided she no longer needed DSS protection, so Liam and I were pulled off the job.”
Alec focused on Lieutenant Mateja again, wondering—as most men wondered when they encountered an attractive woman—what she’d be like in bed. He smiled inside as he imagined making love to someone he didn’t have to bend down to kiss. Someone he could stretch out next to on the sheets. Someone as toned and taut as he was. But he was careful not to let his imaginings show on his face.
She already pushed his buttons, and now that he’d heard her voice, he was even more attracted to her than he had been earlier, and that was saying a lot.
It had been a while for him. His career with the DSS meant he was often posted outside the United States—DSS special agents had to be available for assignment anywhere in the world on short notice. And his last posting had been in the Middle East. Look but don’t touch was the watchword for a prudent man in the Middle East where local women were concerned. As for Darla, the incident at the coffeehouse had put paid to any possibilities where she was concerned.
Then, when he’d been hustled out of the country, he hadn’t been back in the States long enough to pick up the threads of his social life before being posted to Zakhar. So it had been a while. Longer than he cared to acknowledge.
But now tha
t he’d met Angelina Mateja, Alec was suddenly looking forward to his new assignment with a renewed—and very male—interest.
Chapter 2
Alec woke well before dawn. Crossing several time zones in his flight from Washington, DC, to Zakhar meant that his sleep-wake pattern wasn’t geared for local time. It would only take him a couple of days—three at the most—to adjust. But until then...he just had to suffer.
Despite the early hour, his body told him in no uncertain terms it had enough sleep. So he slipped from his decently comfortable bed, tugged on the appropriate clothes, tucked his spare SIG SAUER in the ankle holster he quickly strapped on and headed out for some much-needed exercise. Tiring his body out would help it adjust faster. Then all he had to do was force himself to stay awake until nightfall, and he was halfway there.
Alec was assuming the apartment lease held by the outgoing RSO—an apartment conveniently only five minutes away from the embassy—but until he officially took over the reins the day after tomorrow, the other guy was still in residence. The embassy had arranged for him to bunk temporarily at this little bed-and-breakfast near the center of Drago. The widow who ran it had given Alec his set of keys last night, and he quickly grabbed them off the nightstand before treading noiselessly down the stairs and out the front door.
This part of the city was mostly shrouded in darkness so early in the morning, with only an occasional street lamp to guide the way. There was light from the airport on the outskirts of town and the palace on the hill, but most of Drago was dark, its inhabitants quietly sleeping.
Alec wasn’t overly concerned. Violent crime in Drago—in all of Zakhar, for that matter—was rare. The average tourist didn’t have to worry about getting mugged.
He’d also studied a detailed map of Drago on the flight over, and had committed it to memory. It was one of the little knacks he had. His sister, Keira, called him the human Global Positioning System because, after studying a map, he could find his way just about anywhere and never got turned around or lost. Helpful for someone who travels the world, he reminded himself with a glimmer of a smile.
Now he turned left and headed toward the river, jogging at a steady pace. The air was cool, almost cold, and for a minute Alec regretted he hadn’t dressed warmer. But then he dismissed the thought. His body would warm up quickly once he really got going.
Little threads of mist floated near the ground, and the closer he got to the river the stronger and more eerie the mist became. He finally reached the embankment and turned left again. There was a wide walkway here that followed the river’s meandering course for miles. What had obviously once been hard-packed dirt from centuries of use had been paved with porous asphalt to accommodate all-weather users. He held by his father’s maxim with regard to running—go as far out as you possibly can, until your body calls it quits... Then turn around and head back. He figured this walkway would help him accomplish just that.
Alec had been jogging for roughly ten minutes when he heard the soft slap of running shoes on asphalt coming up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. He slowed, then turned around and jogged in place for a few seconds until a figure materialized out of the mist and darkness, closing the gap between them quickly.
He smiled when he recognized the tall, slender woman on the footpath. “Lieutenant Mateja,” he acknowledged.
She’d obviously been running for some time. Perspiration darkened the underarms of her gray sweatshirt, but her breathing wasn’t even ragged when she briefly returned his smile and answered, “Good morning, Special Agent Jones.”
Alec swung into step beside her. “The name’s Alec.”
She considered this for a moment and then nodded her assent to his implied offer. “Alec,” she agreed. “I am Angelina to my friends.” She hesitated for a moment, then added abruptly, “It is a good omen, your name. A good omen for the job you do. Defender of the People. That is what Alec means.”
“How do you know that?”
“The meaning of names is a hobby of mine. Since I was a little girl, you understand. Names have always fascinated me. I remember when...” She hesitated.
“When...?” he prompted.
“When the king was a boy—he was the crown prince then, of course—his names caught my imagination. Andre Alexei. Manly Defender. That is what his names mean. A good omen for Zakhar, I thought, for a man who would be king someday, yes?”
“If you believe in that sort of thing.”
“He has borne that out,” Angelina insisted earnestly. “He is a man with strong convictions. He would lay down his life for what he believes. His example inspired me. His sister, too. If not for them, I would not be where I am today.”
The conversation had gotten a little too intense a little too quickly for Alec, so he teased gently, “And what does Angelina mean? Angel-face?”
She flashed a startled glance in his direction, as if gauging the intent behind his compliment. Eventually an uncertain smile played over her lips, but something about her expression made Alec think she didn’t often get personal compliments. Or maybe she didn’t allow herself to accept personal compliments very often. And isn’t that curious? he thought. A beautiful woman like her?
“So tell me,” he coaxed as they ran companionably side by side. “If it doesn’t mean Angel-face, what does Angelina mean?”
“Messenger of God.” She looked uncomfortable, as if she thought he might think she was trying to lay claim to something she didn’t deserve. “But my parents did not pick my name for that reason. They named me Angelina Zuzana because those were my grandmothers’ names. Zuzana means lily.”
“Angelina Zuzana. Beautiful names for a beautiful woman.”
She didn’t respond at first, and Alec could tell she was also uncomfortable being called beautiful. But then she said, “Thank you.” Exactly like a woman who’d been raised to be polite...even if she didn’t believe you.
A momentary silence hung between them until Alec asked casually, “If you’re so into names, what does Liam mean? Liam’s my younger broth—”
“Your brother, yes, I know. You are close?”
“Yeah. But I don’t see him very often. We’re usually on opposite sides of the world. Guarding Princess Mara together was a gift. I’m grateful for it but don’t expect it to happen again. So do you know what his name means?”
“Strong-willed Warrior.” Angelina laughed softly, clearly more at ease when the conversation didn’t revolve around her. “Your parents, they named you well for the profession you chose, both of you.” She considered this for a moment. “Or perhaps you chose the profession because of your names?”
Alec couldn’t have cared less about good omens or bad where names were concerned, or why he and Liam had picked their line of work, but he did care about keeping Angelina talking to him in this friendly way. So after a moment he asked, “What about Keira? That’s my baby sister’s name.”
Angelina darted a glance toward him, her eyes flickering over his hair. “Does she resemble you?”
He smiled ruefully. “You mean, does she have red hair, like me? Yeah. Sort of red-gold. Short and curly. Very pretty. Not really like my hair, thank goodness.” He ruffled his short crop of auburn hair.
“Then your parents must not have known,” she replied, breaking into a real smile without breaking stride. “I am not positive—it has been years since I studied the meaning of names—but I think Keira means Black-Haired.”
Alec burst out laughing. “I guess they missed the boat on that one.”
“Missed the boat?” Her forehead crinkled in question.
“That just means they made a mistake, that’s all.”
“Oh. Thank you for explaining.”
“Other than her brown eyes, Keira doesn’t really look like me or like Liam. She looks more like our older brothers...but don’t te
ll them I said so.”
“Why is that?” she asked swiftly.
“Well...” Alec considered the question. “Neither Shane nor Niall have red hair,” he said, unable to hide that his own red hair was a sore spot with him, “and they have all the looks in the family—and Keira, of course. Shane and Niall look nothing alike, but Keira is like the best of both of them. In a feminine version, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I came along two years after Niall, and Liam followed not quite a year later. Everyone thinks we’re twins ʼcause we look so much like each other.” His lips quirked ruefully. “Right down to our hair. Our mannerisms, and the way we talk, too. And of course, we both went into the US Marine Corps and the DSS. So I guess it’s natural people think we’re twins.” He paused for a moment. “Then two years after Liam, my mom had Keira.” He chuckled. “My dad always kidded that my mom broke his perfect record—four boys and then one girl.”
Angelina smiled perfunctorily at his little joke, but Alec could see she wasn’t really amused. Kind of like Keira, he thought suddenly. Keira had never cared for the way their dad thought less of her because she was female. Wasn’t that why Keira had always fought with brothers who were physically bigger and stronger than she was, to be respected as an equal? Wasn’t that why she’d followed all four of her brothers into the Marine Corps? And wasn’t that why she’d nearly died a few years back, because she was trying to prove to the agency she worked for that she was as good or better at her job than any man?
Alec suddenly realized they’d been jogging for a couple of miles, and Angelina had kept pace with him the entire way. She wasn’t winded at all. Her feet kept time with his in a steady cadence, like the beat of a heart. His heart. The thought disturbed him in a way he’d never been disturbed before, but he didn’t know why.
“What about you?” he asked after a minute’s reflection, trying to bring his thoughts under control by making small talk. “Brothers? Sisters?”
