by Raye Morgan
“Sit down,” he said again.
“Sorry,” she said crisply. “I don’t have time. I have to go find a policeman to have you arrested.”
He looked at her for a moment, then rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Kelly, sit down.”
She gazed at him defiantly. “No.”
He gave her a world-weary, heavy-lidded look. “Do I have to tackle you again?”
She hesitated, watching as he sat on the long black rock and began to go through her things.
“Hey, you can’t look at that,” she said, stepping closer.
“I thought you were going to see if you could find a cop to stop me,” he noted casually as he flipped through the pages of her notebook. “This is quite a little document of my life for the last two days,” he noted. “But pretty boring.”
“The truth hurts,” she quipped.
His mouth twisted. That wasn’t the only thing that hurt. The leg that had taken a bullet almost a year ago still wasn’t totally healed. It ached right now. He’d been standing on it for too long.
And yet he was probably better off than he’d had any reason to hope he would be when he’d returned from overseas. He’d been torn and wounded, in soul as well as in body, and the bitterness over what had happened that last day in the Philippines still consumed him. That had always been worse than the physical pain. The bullets that had torn through the jungle that day had shattered his life, but the woman he loved had died in his arms.
Was that it? Was that what Kelly was after? Was she just another writer looking for a story? He eyed her speculatively.
At first he’d thought she must have worse things in mind. There were plenty of people from his past who might want to take him out. But he was pretty sure that wasn’t what she’d come for. She wasn’t the right type. And all this note taking suggested she was looking for information, not trying to do him actual harm. At least not at the moment.
In the VA hospital, there’d been a reporter who had hung around, wanting to know details, fishing for angles. He’d seen the article about the “returning heroes” that had featured Joe as well as a group of other men, and he’d sensed there was something more there. He’d wanted to write up Joe’s story, wanted to use his life as fodder for a piece of sensational journalism. He hadn’t actually known about Angie, but he’d known there had to be something.
Joe hadn’t cooperated. In fact, things had gotten downright nasty there for awhile. There was no way he would allow Angie to be grist for anyone’s mill. And anyway, the last thing guys like him needed was publicity. Something like that could destroy your usefulness, wipe out your career. If people knew who you were and what your game was, you were dead. Incognito was the way to go.
He was confronting this issue right now. His body was pretty much healed, but his mind? Not hardly. Was he going to be able to go back to work?
That was the question haunting him. He wasn’t in the military any longer, but there were plenty of contractors who were ready to pay him a lot of money to do what he was doing before, only privately. And—let’s face it—he didn’t know much of anything else. But did he still have the heart for it? Had losing the woman he loved destroyed all that?
It hardly mattered. In just a few hours, his little girl—a little girl he’d never met—was arriving on a flight from the Philippines. He should be preparing for that. Once Mei was here, Joe had no idea what his life was going to be like. Everything had been on hold for months. Now he was about to see the future.
He still had no answers. But he knew one thing: he wasn’t going to let anyone write about him. No way. “So it was information you were aiming for after all,” he said, paging through the notebook and feeling his annoyance begin to simmer into something else.
“Well, not really,” she began, but he went on as though she hadn’t spoken.
“Too bad you weren’t around when I was smuggling contraband across the border,” he said sardonically, looking up to where she was standing. “Or when I was inviting underaged girls over to my place for an orgy. Or hiding deserters in my rec room.”
She finally slipped down to sit beside him in the rock. “I don’t believe you ever did any of those things.”
He winced. “Damn. I just can’t get any respect anymore, can I?”
She gave him a baleful look. “You’re wrong about me,” she said calmly. “I’m not trying to dig up dirt on you.”
His eyes were hooded and there was a hard line around his mouth. “No? Then what are you trying to do?”
She hesitated. What should she tell him? How much could she get away with and not let him know the truth? It was too soon to tell him everything. Much too soon. And once he knew what she was here for, she had every reason to think that he would like her even less than he did now.
He was waving her notebook at her, his knuckles white. “This is me,” he said, and to her surprise, his voice was throbbing with real anger. “You’ve taken a piece of me and you have no right to it.”
She blinked, disconcerted that he was taking this so seriously. “But it’s me, too. My writing.”
“I don’t care.” He flipped the notebook open again and ripped the relevant pages out. Looking at her defiantly, he tore them into tiny pieces.
Her heart jumped but she held back her natural reaction. Something in the strength of his backlash warned her to let it be for now. Besides, she knew she hadn’t written down anything very interesting as yet. It didn’t really matter.
He dropped the scraps into her hand. “Let’s see you try to put that back together again.”
“Don’t worry,” she said brightly. “I don’t need it. I can remember what I wrote.”
“Really. Without this?” He held up her microcassette recorder. “And without this?” He added her tiny digital camera to the collection.
She bit her lip. Once again he was threatening to go too far. Tearing up some notes was one thing. Tampering with her electronics was another.
With a reluctant growl, he handed her back her things.
“Whatever,” he said dismissively. “Do your thing. But just stay out of my way, okay?” He turned, running fingers through his thick hair and looking for his surfboard.
She quickly stashed her things away in her front pockets again, watching him anxiously. This seemed a lot like disaster in the making. He now knew who she was, so she couldn’t very well follow him. If he found out she was questioning his neighbors, she wasn’t sure what he would do, but she knew it wouldn’t be pretty.
So she was stuck. Kelly couldn’t do anything surreptitiously. Any new research would have to be done right out in the open and to his face. And for that she needed to have a civil relationship with him. That didn’t seem to be in the cards, the way things were working out.
Without looking her way again, he began to stride off through the sand, his board under his arm.
She watched him go for a moment, watched the fog begin to swallow him up, her heart sinking. This couldn’t be all there was. This couldn’t be the end of her research. She might never know the truth now. Was he the prince or wasn’t he? She had to find out. Gathering herself together, she ran after him.
“Wait!” she called. “Joe, wait a minute. I…I’ll tell you everything.”
He kept walking.
“Wait.”
She caught up with him and managed to get him to glance at her again. “Have you ever heard of a little island country named Ambria?” she asked, searching his eyes for his reaction to her words.
He stopped in his tracks and turned, looking at her. And then he went very still. Everything about him seemed to be poised and waiting, like a cat in the jungle, preparing to strike.
“Ambria,” he said slowly. Then he nodded, his eyes hooded. “Sure. I’ve heard of the place. What about it?”
There was something there. He’d reacted. She couldn’t tell much, but there was a thread of interest in his gaze. Should she tell him what she thought she knew? She was trembling on the brink, but held
back. The time wasn’t right.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, flushing and looking away to hide it. “I just…I’m Ambrian. Or I should say, my parents were. And I work for the Ambrian News Agency in Ohio.”
He was searching her eyes, his own dark and clouded. “So?”
“I saw that article about the returning heroes six months ago where you were one of the soldiers featured.”
He nodded, waiting.
“And…well, I got some information…. I’m following a lead that you might be Ambrian yourself. I’d like to talk to you about it and…”
He frowned. “Sorry.” He turned from her again. “I’m not Ambrian. I’m American. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
No. She didn’t believe that. She’d seen the flicker behind his eyes.
“Wait,” she said, hurrying after him again. “I really need your help.”
She paused, realizing there was absolutely no reason he should want to help her. She had to add something, something that would give him an excuse to get involved.
“You see, what I’m doing is researching people who were forced to leave Ambria by the revolution twenty-five years ago. A lot of people were killed. A lot of the royal family was killed.”
He looked cynical. “Well, there you go. I wasn’t killed. And neither was my mother.”
Kelly glanced up in surprise. “Who was your mother?”
If he had a mother—a real mother—that could change everything. Her entire investigation was riding on a theory snatched out of thin air. At least that was what they’d told her at headquarters.
Her mouth felt very dry. What if she’d come all the way out here for nothing? Could she stand the ribbing she would take when she went back to her office? Could she hold her head up in meetings, or would she know they were always thinking, Don’t pay any attention to Kelly. She’s the one who went on that wild-goose chase after a lost prince who turned out to be not lost and not a prince. Crazy woman.
She cringed inside. But only for a moment.
Backbone, Kelly, she told herself silently. Don’t give up without a fight.
Holding her head high, she went back into attack mode.
“Who was your mother?” she asked again, this time almost accusingly, as though she was sure he was making it up.
His mouth twisted and he looked at her as though he was beginning to wonder the same thing herself. “You know, I don’t get it. What does this have to do with anything? It’s all ancient history.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m researching it. I’m trying to illuminate that ancient history and get some people reconnected with the background they’ve lost.”
Meaning you, mister!
He was shaking his head. “I don’t need any lost family. Family isn’t really that important to me. It hasn’t done me all that much good so far.”
“But—”
Joe turned on her angrily. “Leave me alone, Kelly Vrosis. This is an important day for me and you’ve already wasted too much of it. Stay out of my way. I’ve got no time for this.”
“Wow,” she said, controlling herself, but letting her growing anger show. “And here I thought you were a good guy. The article I read made you sound like a hero.”
He stared at her, his face dark and moody. “I’m no hero, Kelly. Believe me.” He worked the muscles in his shoulders and grimaced painfully. “But I’m not a villain, either. As long as I’m not provoked.”
“Oh, brother.” She gave him a scathing look. “You can’t call someone who’s never been tempted a saint, can you?”
He studied her, his eyes cold. “I’m not really interested in your philosophy of life. And I still don’t know who sent you here.”
“I came on my own,” she insisted.
He stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”
He was striding off again, but this time she stayed where she was, blinking back the tears that threatened. There was no doubt about it, no tiny glimmer of hope. He’d closed the door. This investigation was over. There wasn’t much more she could do.
CHAPTER THREE
JOE GLANCED AT his watch. It looked as if he still had a couple of hours to kill before heading to the airport. He knew he should be home preparing the place for the arrival of his little girl, and preparing his own psyche for how he was going to deal with her, but he was too rattled, too restless to stay in one place for long. He turned into his favorite coffee bar a couple blocks from his house and got into the line at the counter.
Yeah, coffee. Just the thing to settle his jangled nerves. What was he thinking? A good stiff shot of whiskey would have been better.
But he wasn’t going to be drinking the hard stuff anymore, not while he had his daughter living with him. Everything was going to be different.
It had been hard enough just getting her here. Angie’s mother, Coreline, had been against their marriage from the beginning, and she’d done all she could to keep Joe from bringing his baby home after Angie died. He’d been prepared, now that he was mostly healed, to go to the Philippines and fight for custody, but word had come suddenly that Coreline had died, and that baby Mei would be sent to him right away, along with her nanny.
Thank God for the nanny! Without her, Joe would be in a panic right now. But luckily, she would stay for six months to help him adjust. In the meantime, he would make arrangements for the future.
His baby was coming to be with him. It was all he could think about.
The only thing that had threatened to distract him had been his strange encounter with Kelly Vrosis earlier that morning. Hopefully, his demeanor had discouraged her enough that he wouldn’t see her again.
He took his drink from the counter and turned, sweeping his gaze through the crowded café, and there she was, sitting in the shadowy back corner. She’d cleaned up pretty well. Instead of the baggy clothes, she was wearing a snug yellow tank top and dark green cropped pants with tiny pink lizards embroidered all over them. His own crisp button-up shirt and nicely creased slacks added to the contrast of the way they had both looked that morning.
As his gaze met hers, she smiled and raised her hand in a friendly salute.
“Hi,” she said as he came closer. Her smile looked a little shaky, but determined.
He grimaced and went over to her table, slumping down into the seat across from her.
“What are you having?” she asked, just to be polite. “A nice latte?”
He held up his cardboard cup. “A Kona blend, black. Extra bold.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I should have known.”
He didn’t smile. “You’re doing it again,” he said wearily.
She looked as innocent as possible, under the circumstances. “Doing what?”
“Following me.”
She pretended shock. “Of all the egos in the world! I was here first.”
He gave her a look. “Come on, you know you are.”
“Hey, I’m allowed to inhabit all the public spaces you inhabit until you get a court order to stop me.”
He groaned. “Is it really going to take that?”
She stared at him frankly, pretending to be all confidence, but inside she was trembling. She’d almost given up a bit earlier, but it hadn’t taken long to talk herself into giving it another try. Now here she was, trying hard, but it seemed he still wasn’t buying.
“Kelly, don’t make me get tough on you.”
Was that a threat? She supposed it was, but she was ready to let that go as long as she had a chance to turn his mind around. She leaned forward earnestly. “You know how you could take care of this? Make it all go away like magic?”
He looked skeptical. “Maybe I could have you kidnapped and dropped off on an uninhabited South Pacific island,” he suggested.
“No. All you have to do is sit down for an interview and let me ask you a few questions.”
That hard line was back around his mouth and dark clouds filled his blue eyes. “So you are a writer.”
>
“No, I’m not.” She was aching with the need to find a way to convince him. “I’m not interested in writing about you. I wouldn’t write about you. I know it would be dangerous for you if I did, and I would never do anything to hurt you.”
He studied her, uncertain what the hell she was talking about. She was pretty and utterly appealing, and he wasn’t used to being mean to pretty girls. But did he have any choice? He needed to be rid of her.
“Listen, I came all the way from Ohio to find you. Let me talk to you for, say…one hour,” she suggested quickly. “Just one.”
He frowned at her suspiciously. “What about? What is it that you want to know?”
She brightened. “About you. About where you come from. Your background.”
He shook his head. This didn’t make any sense at all. “Why? What do you care about those things? I thought you were finding places for refugees from your island to go or something. What does all that have to do with me?”
“Because I think…” She took a deep breath. “Because there’s plenty of evidence that you might be…”
“What?”
She coughed roughly and he resisted the urge to give her a good pat on the back. When she stopped, she still looked as though she didn’t know what to say to him.
“What could it be?” he said, half teasing, half sarcastic. “Maybe Elvis’s love child?”
“No.” She licked her dry lips and forced herself onward. “Have you…have you ever heard of…the lost royals of Ambria?”
That damn island again. This was the second time she’d mentioned Ambria and she was the second person this week to bring up that little country. What the heck was going on? He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “What about them?”
“I think you’re one of them.”
His brows came together for a second. “No kidding? Which one?” he added, though he didn’t really know a thing about any of them, not even their names.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know that for sure. But I think Prince Cassius would be the right age.”
Joe shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. “I want to understand this. You came to California just so you could follow me around and decide if you thought I was this prince?”
