Alec's Royal Assignment (Man On A Mission Book 3)

by Amelia Autin

  “I’ll call him to satisfy the legalities, ask him to send the official word through channels to Keira, delegating her to assist you and me in this investigation. But yeah. Keira, and anything else we ask for from the agency will be forthcoming. No problem.”

  Alec watched McKinnon walk away at a pace that told him the other man was in a hurry to be there for his children’s bedtime. And just as the king’s words earlier had sent a pang through Alec’s heart at the unexpected vision of children—his children, Angel’s children—he realized with another shaft of pain he had no idea where Angelina stood on that subject. They’d never discussed it.

  He could rationalize their relationship was too new—it wasn’t the sort of topic that popped up in conversation between a man and woman who were just beginning an intimate liaison. Oh, by the way, how do you feel about kids? wasn’t the question a man asked a woman right after he made love to her, even if he could manage to speak, which wasn’t all that likely. Rationalization aside, though, he didn’t know what Angelina’s answer would be, didn’t know if children factored into her future plans.

  But even if she wanted them—even if she wanted them with him—he could never be an absentee father. And that was a huge deterrent. He might be able to reconcile having a long-distance relationship with Angelina after he was transferred—assuming she’d agree to something like that—but his conscience would never accept bringing children into the world who didn’t know they were wanted. Cherished. Loved. Study after study had proven fathers played a crucial role in the behavioral and mental development of children. And that meant being there for his children.

  Yeah, sometimes fathers couldn’t be there when circumstances intervened. Military service, for instance. Soldiers couldn’t pick and choose their battles, couldn’t know when they’d be called up and sent overseas. But he couldn’t deliberately father children he knew in advance would grow up without him for the most part. No way.

  Which meant either convincing Angelina to give up her job, give up her life for him—follow him to his next posting, and the next, and the next—or surrendering to the idea of never having children with her.

  Neither choice was acceptable. Neither choice was one he wanted to live with. And what was even worse, he had no way of knowing Angelina’s opinion of either option because he was too afraid to ask.

  * * *

  Angelina and Alec left the palace separately. She knew he didn’t like it, could tell by his mulish expression that someday soon he would rebel against her determination to keep their affair secret from everyone who knew her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t like that word. Affair. Didn’t like the connotation. She and Alec weren’t having an affair. They were...

  What are we? she asked herself as she drove back to her apartment, where Alec would rendezvous with her after stopping off at his place for a change of clothes. Lovers, she settled on finally. We are lovers. That sounded a little better. “Affair” sounded cheap. Tawdry. “Lovers” sounded more acceptable. More permanent. Not as permanent as “husband and wife,” but...

  That’s when it hit her. She didn’t want to be Alec’s lover. She wanted to be his wife. She wanted that commitment from him, and wanted to commit to him in return. She wanted permanence. That little band of gold signifying their pledge to each other to be true and faithful. She wanted forever and a day, like the legend upon which her country was built.

  Alec had exploded into her life with the force of a bomb, changing everything. Including her. And now, the thing she’d long told herself she didn’t want, the thing she’d long reconciled herself to being unable to have...now she wanted it. Fervently.

  Which meant only one thing. She was in love with Alec. Alec, who’d never said he loved her.

  * * *

  The first thing Alec did when he walked into his apartment was perform a quick electronic sweep. He’d never found any listening devices, but he always checked anyway—better safe than sorry. Then he glanced at his watch and mentally calculated the time difference between Zakhar and Denver, Colorado, where his sister worked. Satisfied he wouldn’t be calling too early or too late, he punched a series of numbers into his telephone and waited a little impatiently for the call to go through.

  “Keira Walker,” came the crisp voice in his ear.

  “Hey,” he replied. “It’s Alec.”

  “Hey yourself. So how come you only call me when it’s work related? What kind of way is that to treat your only sister?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Are you kidding?” She laughed her musical laugh. “Trace called Baker Street a half hour ago,” she said, using Nick D’Arcy’s nickname within the agency, a tip of the hat to Sherlock Holmes because D’Arcy was so omniscient. “Then Baker Street called me less than a minute after he hung up with Trace.”

  “So he gave you the green light to help in this investigation?”

  “And then some. His words were, ‘Whatever your brother asks for. And even if he doesn’t ask for it, if you think he needs it, give it to him. I’m not passing up the chance to take Vishenko down—not after all these years.’”

  “Wow.” Alec laughed softly. “Remind me to thank him.”

  “So, what do you need? Besides whatever there is to find on Aleksandrov Vishenko, which I’m already working on. Oh, and by the way, did you know the FBI has a wiretap warrant on Vishenko? A warrant that was recently extended?”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “If you had a need to know, Alec, I’d tell you. But you don’t. The agency has its own ways of finding things out. Just trust me when I tell you the warrant exists. Whatever they get from that wiretap, we’ll know.” That silenced him for a moment, until Keira repeated, “So what else do you need?”

  “I’ve got seven names. I need everything you can find out about them. Work history, credit reports, financial data, bank accounts, especially any foreign bank accounts they might not want anyone to know about. You name it, I want it. And I want it yesterday.”

  “No problem. Give me the list.”

  He read the names and occupations from his notebook. “All except the first one used to be employed at the US embassy here in Drago. I have no idea where they’re posted, but if they were dirty here, it’s possible they’re doing something similar wherever they are now.”

  “If they got away with it once...”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” He hoped it wasn’t true, but the odds were against that. “The first name on the list is still here—make him your top priority,” he told his sister. “Because if there are still fraudulent work visas being sold through my embassy, he’s the guy. And I want to shut him down now.”

  “Got it,” she said. “Any by the way, those foreign bank accounts they might not want anyone to know about? Shouldn’t be a problem. We can start digging without warrants, but at some point in this investigation you’re going to need one on each of your suspects. Especially for those bank accounts.”

  Alec thought about it for a moment. “What are my options? I’m really concerned about this getting out. McKinnon said Vishenko used to have at least one FBI agent in his pocket, and still might for that matter. Not to mention who knows all else. I don’t want anyone to know they’re under investigation until the indictments come out, especially Vishenko.” While Alec knew that might not be possible, he at least wanted to maintain secrecy until Caterina Mateja was brought in safe and sound.

  “Who knows about your investigation so far?”

  “Besides the president and the secretary of state? And the king of Zakhar? Just a handful of people, including McKinnon and your husband. And now you and D’Arcy.”

  “D’Arcy has connections at the Department of Justice. Let me give him a call, see who he wants to approach at the DOJ about this. I’m thinking you want wiretaps on all these peopl
e, not just Vishenko. Right?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but yeah.”

  Keira chuckled softly in his ear. “Well, Baker Street did tell me to give you whatever you need, even if you don’t know you need it,” she murmured. “I guess that counts as one you owe me,” she said, using terminology from their childhood. Then she became all business again. “You’re going to need evidence to substantiate your warrant requests. Do you have any?”

  Alec remembered what he’d learned at the meeting earlier tonight. “I might. I’ll get McKinnon working on that first thing in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. This is enough for me to start on. I’ll get back to you when I have anything to report. Encrypted reports sent to the embassy are okay? Or should I call?”

  Alec thought rapidly. “Encrypted reports are probably okay, but call me before you send one so I know it’s on the way. Supposedly, the only men involved in the fraud at the embassy are the seven names I already gave you, but you never know. I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

  “Works for me.”

  Now that his business was finished, Alec glanced at his watch again and saw how late he was going to be, but still took a minute to ask, “So how’s my favorite niece?”

  “Your only niece is a walking, talking nightmare, a disaster waiting to happen. I shudder to think what she’ll be like when she grows up. But don’t tell Cody I said so. She takes after her daddy in everything. She can charm her way out of anything—or at least she thinks she can—just by smiling that winsome smile.”

  “Give her a kiss for me anyway.” Alec hung up the phone, smiling at the thought of Alyssa. If he could have a daughter like her...

  * * *

  Angelina parked her little red Fiat across the street from her apartment building, locked it and hurried inside. She was worried Alec might be there before her, but she had time to get her mail and ring for the elevator before Alec walked through the front door carrying a garment bag slung over one shoulder.

  He crossed the foyer with his brisk stride, slid one arm around her waist and pulled her tightly into his embrace for a long, lingering kiss. She thought about resisting for less than two seconds. Then she didn’t think at all. When he finally raised his head, he said, “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I left you at the palace.”

  Angelina glanced around to make sure no one was watching. But the lobby was empty. She smiled at Alec, a smile of promise and expectation. Then the elevator doors opened with a ding. She grabbed Alec’s arm, pulled him inside with her and punched the button for her floor before leaning in for another kiss as the elevator doors swished shut.

  Only then did a man move from the shadows where he’d been waiting for Lieutenant Mateja to return. He looked up to confirm what floor the elevator stopped on and smiled to himself. He pulled out a little notebook and made an entry, glancing at his watch to record the exact time. Then he headed out of the building, whistling a gay little Zakharian folk tune, a satisfied expression on his face.

  * * *

  Angelina watched Alec dress for work. She’d never really had the opportunity to watch a man go through his peculiar morning routine—so different from a woman’s morning routine. They’d woken very early and had gone running together, working up a satisfying sweat. Then they had shared a shower, something that was becoming a treasured ritual.

  She’d observed Alec shaving earlier, as he lathered up and scraped the stubble from his face, meticulously maneuvering the razor over the tricky patches— especially his chin—and she’d experienced momentary regret. Right before they’d pulled on their sweats and gone jogging in the pre-dawn, he’d kissed her. She’d felt that stubble as he’d nuzzled her cheek, sending shivers of awareness throughout her body. An unshaved masculine face was a potent sexual weapon.

  But then, nearly everything about Alec was a potent sexual weapon.

  To distract herself from that suddenly uncomfortable awareness, she asked, “So what is my assignment this morning? What do you want me to do?”

  “It might not sound like much,” he said as he checked the action on his gun before returning it to his shoulder holster, “but I want you to write down everything you can remember about Caterina. Every detail, no matter how small. I want to know what makes her tick. What motivates her. After that’s done, I want you to talk to my sister. Keira can try to track your cousin down, and knowing everything about her will help.”

  “But I have not seen Caterina for eight years,” Angelina exclaimed. “She was sixteen when she left Zakhar. How can what I knew of her before she disappeared tell your sister anything about her now?”

  “People don’t change,” Alec told her, placing a comforting hand against her cheek. “You might not believe it, but most people are who they’re going to be as adults by the time they’re six years old. Numerous studies support this. So if you’re a shy child at six, you’ll be a shy adult. You might be able to overcome the outward, visible signs of shyness, but you’ll still feel shy inside. The same goes for other character traits. Something in your memories of Caterina could be the key to finding her—that’s what I told the king last night, and I meant it.”

  “This is good,” she told him seriously. “This I can do.” It was a challenge, but now she was fired up. Everything she could remember about Caterina—even the most painful memories—would be written down. She would even call upon her parents to jog her memory, if necessary. She would capture every little detail and try not to think of Aleksandrov Vishenko wanting her cousin dead. Getting closer by the minute. It was a race against time, but she would do whatever she could to win. If Alec believed this was the best way—the only way—then that was what she’d do.

  He glanced at his watch. “Gotta go,” he said. “McKinnon will be at the embassy in twenty-one minutes exactly—he’s punctual to a fault. So kiss me as if you mean it, and get started on your assignment. Call me at the embassy if you need something.”

  Two minutes later, he still hadn’t left, and he removed his mouth from hers with reluctance. “Guess you meant it,” he murmured.

  Chapter 15

  The minute Alec walked out the door, Angelina picked up the phone. She was supposed to be on duty with the queen this morning, and though she’d officially been relieved of that duty, she wanted to let the queen know personally.

  She identified herself to the palace operator when her call was answered, and waited patiently until she heard the queen’s voice on the phone.

  “Angelina?” Queen Juliana said. “I’m glad you called, because I wanted to talk to you. Andre told me about your new assignment, and I’m so glad you’re involved in this investigation—although not the reason for it. Your cousin... I know how much she meant to you. Means to you,” she quickly corrected. “Please don’t worry about anything except finding her before Aleksandrov Vishenko does.”

  Angelina was touched by the queen’s concern. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Juliana,” the queen reminded her. “When it’s just us, it’s Juliana. Remember?” Then she returned to the issue at hand. “Andre and Alec—they’re focused on the big picture, the human-trafficking case. And they’re right in a way. It has to be shut down and the men responsible brought to justice. But bringing Caterina home safely is just as important, and not only because she might have evidence against Vishenko and might be willing to testify against him. You need to bring her home safely because...well...because what happened to her should never happen to any woman. Ever.”

  * * *

  “Trace McKinnon was here to see you, sir,” Alec’s bright young administrative assistant told him the minute he entered the outer office. “He stopped in, said he was early for your meeting and would be back at eight on the dot.” She looked at Alec’s calendar, then added, “He’s not on the schedule.” There was just a hint of reproach in her voice.


  “Yeah, I know,” he told her ruefully. “I just arranged it last night. But I knew I didn’t have anything else scheduled for this morning, not until my eleven o’clock meeting.”

  He started for his office door but then turned to ask a question. Before he could, his administrative assistant volunteered, “It’s been swept already. I was here when the team came in.”

  Alec knew she wasn’t referring to a cleaning team but rather to the electronics team that swept his office daily for listening devices. “You must have come in very early.”

  Her laugh held a trace of shyness. “I have a date tonight, and I was hoping I could leave exactly on time...maybe a few minutes early, if it’s okay with you.”

  Alec smiled to himself. His administrative assistant, Tahra Edwards, was the person he’d had in mind when he told Angelina that a shy six-year-old would grow up to be a shy adult. Tahra—whose name rhymed with Sahara—was bright, articulate and a real go-getter where her job at the embassy was concerned, but painfully shy when it came to dealing with the opposite sex.

  She was far from plain, but lacked the sophisticated veneer most young women her age wore like a shield. She was the kind of woman who appealed to his brother Liam.

  “Fine with me,” he said now. “You’re not a clock watcher, and you’ve put in more than your share of OT these past few weeks helping me get up to speed. So feel free to leave early. Anyone I know?” A tinge of protectiveness made him ask the question. Not that he was responsible for Tahra, but still. Any decent man would be concerned, he justified to himself. She’s as vulnerable as a lamb among wolves.

  Tahra shook her head. “I don’t think so—he’s Zakharian.”