by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
* * *
At precisely nine o'clock, he was back, nothing accomplished and his thoughts still in a whirl about what to do. He knew very well what he wanted to do. But he also knew that Nina was vulnerable right now, had been since she got to Montebello. She was totally without family, if you didn't count those two relatives in Italy he had checked out. They hadn't left that country since they'd been born and probably didn't even care that this little cousin existed. While they were not in any way involved in the threat she faced here, neither were they people she could count on for anything. Naturally she was lonely. Ryan knew he was just handy.
She was attracted to him, he knew. And she was reading more into it than she should. So was he, for that matter.
He slipped the key card into the door and called out to her as he entered. She was sitting in a chair at the table sipping the wine he had ordered for her. Wine she would never order for herself when he was around because she knew he didn't drink. It had become a standing joke during their dinners together that she always asked for water and he would ask for the wine. Then he would switch glasses and she would smile at him, his reward, Ryan supposed, for an alcoholic refusing the evils of drink.
How sad was that, his allowing her to think, after only one denial, that he was recovering? Hell, maybe he was, but he didn't think so. But she could make him feel like a king with one of those proud smiles of hers and he would take them any way he could get them.
"Find out anything?" she asked.
"I spoke with the maitre d' at the Swan and he gave me the name of another one of the waiters working the night Desmond and Farid had their confrontation. Might get an ID on the woman Desmond was with, or at least a better description."
"That's good," she said, but with no real excitement.
He strode over to join her and poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver pot that always accompanied their meals. He even used the little china cup and didn't bother going to find his mug.
"You want half this salad?" she asked, removing the silver cover that kept it chilled. "They always send enough to feed an army."
"Why haven't you eaten already? You weren't waiting for me, were you?"
She shook her head while she improvised another salad bowl, using the cover that came on hers. Ryan reached for the salad dressing. Then he noticed something. A pointy piece of leaf tucked against a slice of cucumber. Bay? No, too thick. But he recognized it. Automatically, he reached out and grabbed Nina's wrist that held her fork. "Don't eat. Wait just a minute."
He poked carefully through the various greens and found more of the unusual leaf. He looked up at her. "Who brought this up? The regular guy?"
"Alonzo? No. I didn't recognize... what's wrong?" She glanced down at her bowl and back up at him. "What's the matter with the salad?"
He pointed to the leaf. "Oleander. Poison that simulates a heart attack. And it doesn't take much of it." He pushed away from the table and reached for the phone.
"Send security up to 612," he growled into the receiver. "Not one of your house dicks. I want Tatro himself and if he's not around, you find him and get him up here now!"
His hands were shaking when he hung up. Sweat broke out on his face and sent a chill right through him. He knew from the look on Nina's face that she didn't need a fuller explanation. Someone had tried to kill her again. And if he had returned ten minutes later, he might have been too late to save her.
"Ryan?" she said, her voice a mere whisper, her dark eyes wide with fright.
"Come here," he said. Not waiting for her to move, he closed the distance between them, pulled her close and held her. He knew that very soon, maybe only hours from now, he would have to let her go for good.
* * *
Nina answered Signor Tatro's questions, but she couldn't keep her eyes off that table holding the deathly dose of salad she had almost eaten. Ryan paced like a caged lion, his frustration palpable.
One of the house detectives who had arrived with the head of security came in to interrupt them. "Signor Tatro, I need to speak with you outside a moment," he said in Italian as he darted a look at Nina, then Ryan.
Ryan had stopped and was listening. He protested in the same language, probably to let the guy know his ploy was useless. "If it has to do with what's happened here, then you don't need to keep it private."
Tatro nodded. "Go ahead. What is it?"
The detective inclined his head toward the corridor. "The waiter who usually serves this floor is missing. He was last seen in the kitchens arranging the food on a cart to bring up here."
Nina spoke up. "We usually eat dinner in the restaurant. I thought nothing of it when I saw it wasn't Alonzo. I assumed the shifts changed in the evenings."
"How is it no one observed the switch?" Tatro demanded. The detective wiped his forehead and sighed. "The corridor leading from the kitchens to the special sixth floor elevator was left unguarded. A key card is always needed to access it. It was thought to be safe."
Ryan interrupted, speaking English again and not addressing anyone in particular. "He must have seen us come back this afternoon. Hair wet and carrying that tote, probably realized we'd been swimming. Figured we might stay in for dinner."
He had resumed pacing, busy reconstructing what might have happened. No one interrupted. He was looking at the floor, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing. "No, wait. He could have been hanging out in the lobby, heard me order up your salad and wine. Has to be how. Then," he said, nodding to himself, "he heads for the kitchen, hoping for a chance."
"The leaves?" Nina reminded him.
"Outside. The flower beds outside." Ryan stopped, turned to the detective and ordered, "Go see if there's oleander." "There is," the detective assured him. "I called down to check."
Ryan nodded again. "So he steps outside, plucks a handful, then goes to the kitchen to wait. If there's an opportunity, he'll take it. If not, he'll wait, do something else."
"Something that will appear a natural death or an accident," Nina added. "Like the fire."
"Exactly," Ryan said, agreeing. "No guns, knives or whatever, but he obviously knows how to kill. Oleander's not exactly a poison of choice, but it can be very effective and, as I said, simulates heart failure."
"How did you know about it?" Nina asked.
"Worked in a plant nursery one summer when I was a kid."
The phone rang just as Signor Tatro stood to leave. Ryan answered, then passed him the receiver. The man nodded, hummed a couple of answers, then barked an order in Italian. When he turned to Ryan, he lowered his voice and spoke apologetically. "The regular waiter has been found unconscious in one of the supply rooms near the elevator. The injury is not serious, they say. If you had succumbed to the poison and the coroner discovered it was not heart failure, this fellow might have been blamed. I shall go and question him now."
"Yeah, you do that," Ryan said. "Meantime, I'm getting Ms. Caruso out of here. Nina, go get dressed. We're going to the palace as soon as they can get us a car over here."
"Ryan, it's almost ten. We should wait until morning."
Tatro agreed. "Please, Signor McDonough. If you will stay, I shall post two guards at your door and more beside both elevators. On my word, no one will get past them."
Ryan was already shaking his head.
Tatro persisted. "I will go myself and oversee a meal prepared for the lady and for you."
Nina scoffed. "Thank you, signore, but I seemed to have lost my appetite. But I do think we should wait, Ryan."
Reluctantly, he acceded. "All right, but first thing tomorrow, we go to King Marcus with this."
"I guess we have to," she agreed reluctantly. "Who knows what this guy plans for us next?"
Not for us, Nina thought, for me. They both knew Ryan was not the target. After tonight's fright, she realized there was no place safe in Montebello, even the palace. After all, her brother had died right there on the palace grounds.
After Tatro and his men removed the dinner tr
ay and left, Ryan locked the door and came to join her on the sofa. He sat close and took her hands in his. He said exactly what she expected him to say. "Nina, you'll have to leave."
She sighed wearily. "I know."
"The king will probably insist on it now. He'll make sure you have adequate protection wherever you go, so don't worry about that."
"I'll go home."
"No, that wouldn't be wise," he told her. "You need to go somewhere no one would expect you to go until we find out who's after you and why."
Well, that was easier said than done, she thought. "You know I don't have any relatives except those cousins in Italy and they're strangers. No friends that don't live in La Jolla. Where would you suggest I go?"
He seemed hesitant to answer, but finally did. "You could go to Savannah. I've still got connections there. Favors owing. I could make some calls, set you up with a safe place to stay, get the locals to keep an eye out for you. Hell, King Marcus even has a business located there, did you know that? Flies over there once in a while."
"But you don't," she guessed, "even though your father lives there?"
"No," he said. "I don't." A statement of fact. No explanation. "Was he terrible to you as a boy?" she asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt. "Or to your mother maybe?"
She saw the answer in his eyes, though he said nothing for a long time. Finally, he answered simply with a small shake of his head. "No."
"So family's never been way up there on your list," she said, accepting what she had suspected all along.
This time he didn't answer. But she didn't miss the flicker of sadness, maybe even yearning, before he carefully concealed it behind that damned mask of his.
He wanted family, she realized. He wanted her. She couldn't see it now, but it had been there in his eyes before when he hadn't purposely hid it from her. The need was in his every touch, intentional or accidental. Or was it only her hope that made her imagine it? She had to find out before she left. "Come with me to Savannah, Ryan."
The silence stretched between them until she thought she would scream.
His stoic gaze slid away. "I can't."
Anger and frustration boiled up and over. She yanked her hands out of his and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I forgot," she said, not caring that she sounded sarcastic and mean. Maybe anger would snap him out of this. "There's that precious job of yours, right?"
When he didn't reply, she added, "I guess it really is who you are."
He looked at her again, his expression as unreadable as it ever had been. Then he got up. "Go to bed, Nina. We should get up early in the morning and get this over with."
Nina left him and went to her room. There was nothing else to say. She had already thrown her pride away, revealed her feelings for him and had been soundly rejected. Tried to help him and he'd turned away.
Somehow that upset her more than the poisoned salad. There was a very good chance they would apprehend the person who did that. But for Ryan and her, there was no chance at all for anything to turn out the way it should.
Once she got on that plane back to the States, no matter which state she went to, she knew they would never meet again.
Chapter 12
Ryan breathed much easier when King Marcus acted predictably and ordered Nina to leave. She would go to Savannah on one of the private jets the royal family kept at hand. Ryan had already called in some favors last night and knew she would be safe once she reached Savannah.
After his pronouncement that Nina must leave, the king looked at Ryan. "Is it your considered opinion that these attempts are of local origin?"
"Looks that way, sir. Ms. Caruso?" He thought Nina should add her bit of information to back that up.
She nodded. "The man who delivered the meal did speak with an accent that sounded local. I know I've only been here a short while, but I did grow up with an Italian father and a Montebellan mother. This person said very little to me, but what he did say indicated to me that he was from here."
Ryan added, "One thing I do know. He could easily have killed her when he delivered the food. From Nina's description, he was certainly large enough to overpower her."
No need to list the ways that might have been done silently if the only object was to see her dead. Even now, Ryan shuddered at the thought of a garrote or a knife. Or someone's hands around Nina's neck, choking the life out of her.
"So how would you explain what he did? Your best guess."
"I think he was hired to get rid of Nina and told to make it seem accidental, Your Majesty. Death by natural cause. Either that, or he intended for the regular waiter to take the blame."
"Do you believe the incidents are related to Desmond's death?" the king asked.
"Anybody's guess, of course," Ryan answered, "but my instinct says yes. We have agreed that she should go to Savannah. No one will know to look for her there."
"Lorenzo will coordinate with our security staff there to assist with protection," the king said, then addressed Nina. "Mr. McDonough will escort you to your embassy now. Your consulate will arrange for guards to travel with you on a private flight. We believe you will feel safer with Americans at this point."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Nina said.
She sounded dispirited and unconcerned, as if it mattered little where she went or who went with her. In spite of his relief at seeing her safely out of harm's way, Ryan couldn't deny an insistent urge to comfort her, to assure her he would always be there for her if she should need him. But, of course, he couldn't do that. He wouldn't be available. He would be here.
"We sincerely wish the best for you, my dear," King Marcus said. "And we are aggrieved that you have suffered such trials since arriving on our island. Perhaps someday when matters are settled and no danger remains, you will return."
Her smile looked shaky and faltered completely as she answered. "I should not have come at all. I clearly see now that my interference in the investigation was uncalled for and unnecessary. Thank you for the invitation, but I won't be returning, Your Majesty."
The king stood, came around his desk and took Nina's hands in his. "Then farewell, little Nina, and be happy."
She curtsied, withdrew her hands and Ryan ushered her out. The king followed to the doorway and called him back. "One further word with you."
Ryan stepped back into the office while Nina walked down the corridor out of earshot. "Yes, sir?"
"You could accompany her. There are others capable of finishing this. Lorenzo will see to it."
Tempted as he was, Ryan knew he couldn't leave until he had closed the case. There were no unsolveds on his record. "I finish what I start, sir." He opened the door, then realized he hadn't been dismissed.
The king looked down the corridor to where Nina stood waiting. "That remains to be seen, does it not?" Ryan knew he wasn't referring to the investigation. Without any further verbal comment, he nodded once.
* * *
Ursula marveled at Jean-Paul's nerve. He had argued against using the poison, saying it was too iffy. Even after the uproar his failing caused last night, he now seemed obsessed with doing the job. A matter of pride, he'd said. She, on the other hand, just wanted to get away from the man. He was sick.
He said he needed a crowd around Nina to do what he had in mind. She was leaving it up to him this time. All those phone calls to newspapers seemed weird. And the story he'd fed them about Nina, outrageous. That she had discovered a plot against the crown! She'd be covered up with press the minute she left the palace. Ursula couldn't see how that would help matters any.
Maybe he was smarter than she gave him credit for. He was right about one thing: accidental death was damned hard to plan.
She was supposed to wait for him here in his room, then pay him before they checked out, both for completing the job and for the room. Right. Ursula adjusted her dark wig, stuffed her filmy nightie into her purse and went down the back stairs.
If Jean-Paul screwed this up, got caught and squealed, she
wasn't about to be hanging around here waiting for the police to come after her. She'd never told him her real name or where she'd been staying before they met. Her tiny flat over in the artists' quarter was paid up through the end of the month. In cash. Nobody could find her there, least of all some loser like Jean-Paul.
* * *
It was a short distance to the American Embassy. The limousine stopped directly in front of the imposing granite building. A steep flight of steps led up to a portico now crowded with a gaggle of paparazzi. "Damn. Who alerted the press? I'm gonna have somebody's head for this!"
In spite of the inconvenience of wading through a badgering crowd, Ryan knew he should find a way to get Nina inside. His contact with her was to end right here. There probably was a back or side entrance, but the reporters would have that covered, too.
"I'm not taking you through that," he said. "We'll call and have guards sent to the airport."
"No, let's do it," Nina argued, reaching to open her door. "You're the one who insists on getting this over with. And for once, I agree! They're just reporters, Ryan. It might even help if they report I'm leaving."
Ryan reached for her arm and stopped her. "I said no."
She tugged away. "Don't be ridiculous. This is a public place with dozens of witnesses. Reporters with cameras, for goodness' sake! Who would be stupid enough to—"
"Okay, okay, I get your point, but I don't like this, Nina."
She sighed. "I'll tell them I'm leaving. If the story's in the papers, the killer will think that I've given up the investigation and gone home."
"We're not certain the threats to your life are connected to the investigation," Ryan reminded her.
"You know as well as I do that they are. All you have to do is watch who buys the next ticket to California. I won't be there anyway, even if they manage to slip by you. So come on," she said. "Let's do it."
Ryan pushed the intercom button and spoke to their driver and the two guards riding with them. "Paolo, you stay with the car. Arletti, Sergio, we surround her. Nobody gets close. Got that?"
