Royal Captive

by Dana Marton

  His mind ground to a screeching halt, as did his feet. His guards nearly ran into him because they’d been following so closely, but he paid little attention to the puzzled looks they gave him.

  On the head of the ruler.

  He’d corrected her last night, but now as he heard her say the words in his head again, he got stuck on that small difference. On, as opposed to in. What if she’d been right the first time around? What if the Royal Brotherhood left clues to their treasure right on the royal crown?

  What better place to hide that message? The crown was always well-protected. No one but the royal family had access. Until now.

  At the moment, the royal crown was on the ship ahead of him. He broke out running, everyone following behind.

  “The crew?” he asked the Port Authority official who came to greet him. Suddenly he felt as if he didn’t have a second to waste.

  “Held in the canteen on the ship, under armed guard, Your Highness.”

  He strode across the plank onto the ship, then straight to the containers in the general area where he believed the one they were looking for was located. “You and you—” He pointed at two of the guards behind him.

  “Climb this stack, get as high as you can. We’re looking for a container that has one of its top corners peeled back.” The small explosion Lauryn had created to get them out of there also marked the container, making his job easier now.

  They couldn’t just look for a door with two bullet holes in it. Most of the containers were crammed too closely together to squeeze in and check the doors on every one of them.

  The men immediately dispersed and did as he’d ordered. He couldn’t help but notice how much slower and clumsier they moved than Lauryn.

  He had to wait at least half an hour before one of the men shouted down. “I got it.” Then he led the group on the ground to the right location.

  The container in front of his had been moved some how. As if to allow someone entry.

  He was going to wait for his brothers with the opening of the container, but he was unable to hold back now. He threw open the doors and strode in, adrenaline pumping through him. He would get everything back.

  The treasure was all safe. He willed it so.

  But he could see within two steps that the contents had been disturbed. The tops of several crates had been tossed to the floor. He jumped up on the first, his skin burning where his clothes rubbed against his abdomen. He barely noticed the pain from his lingering jellyfish welts.

  Empty. The realization echoed through his brain.

  He smacked his fist into the wood. “Search every crate,” he ordered the Valtrian guards, while motioning Port Authority back. He worked alongside his men.

  “Empty,” one called out.

  “Nothing here,” said another.

  “Bare-root roses packaged in sawdust,” came the first response that was different.

  Valtria’s signature purple roses, a common export item, the official contents of the container that the ship’s captain had declared toward customs as cover, Istvan guessed.

  “Keep searching,” he said, although he knew by then that all the effort would come to naught.

  He turned away in disgust. He should have come earlier. He should have come right away last night. But he’d been tired, and he knew Lauryn had been tired. He’d wanted to see her safe and settled.

  Then a familiar shape caught his eyes, Lauryn sauntering across the shipyard, dressed in all black, self-possessed and full of confidence. Catwoman had nothing on her. He came off the ship to meet her, ordering his men to search the entire ship and get the crew ready for interrogation.

  He caught some of the Port Authority officers on shore looking her over and didn’t approve one bit, frowned at the gawkers. Normally that was enough of a warning for anyone to heed a prince’s displeasure, but currently had no effect whatsoever. Next to her, nobody even noticed him.

  “Everything’s gone,” he told her matter-of-factly, determined not to show that part of him was glad she’d come back even as he wondered why she did, or if she had anything to do with the treasure’s disappearance.

  He didn’t know when she’d left the estate. He didn’t know when the crates had been emptied. Her involvement was more than possible. But if she’d come to Valtria for the crown jewels and now she had them, she’d be on her way, wouldn’t she?

  There was no figuring the woman out.

  “I got here an hour ago. Everything was already gone by then.”

  He didn’t even bother asking how she’d gotten on a ship under full guard.

  “They probably handed off the stolen goods before the ship pulled into port,” she told him.

  And he had to admit that the ship having had a rendezvous off shore seemed the most likely explanation at the moment. They might have had the transfer set up for Cyprus, but changed that when their prisoners escaped, suspicious that someone might be onto them. Then, because the ship’s manifest included Porto Paphos, they had to pull into port anyway.

  Lauryn sneaking on the ship at dawn was one thing. But surely the guards would have noticed if someone tried to remove a dozen crates’ worth of treasures. It wasn’t as if that war chest could have been smuggled off the ship in someone’s back pocket.

  But even if Lauryn wasn’t part of the group who’d made off with everything, she had left the estate during the night and she had come here. She had sneaked onto the ship and had checked the container. All that didn’t exactly help when it came to trusting her.

  “The pickup team probably had a local fishing boat that could come to shore anywhere and wouldn’t be subject to inspection,” she was saying.

  She was right. She was sharp and quick. The smart thing was to let her help. Frustration coursed through him as he considered their new situation. “Which means the things they took could be anywhere on the island.”

  They were both careful not to mention what exactly they were looking for. The Port Authority men stood too close. Although a press release had been issued about the break-in at the Royal Treasury, it had been played down and no specific items had been mentioned. Istvan preferred to keep the extent of the heist under wraps while he investigated.

  He watched Lauryn, her eyes narrowed but unfocused, her mind probably going at the speed of light. He didn’t trust her motivations, but he couldn’t deny that she could be an asset to him.

  So when she said, “I’m going to stick with you until we see this through. But don’t try to lock me up again,” he simply nodded.

  THEY WERE HOLED UP IN a villa in Porto Paphos, owned by one of Istvan’s cousins, the duke of something or other. Her rooms had an unobstructed view of the sea out front and of an amazing pool out back. The grounds were shaded by date palms and inhabited by more cats than Lauryn had ever seen in one place. She liked cats.

  They were all over the island, but seemed to especially prefer the estate.

  Valtrian guards, borrowed from the embassy, took up residence on the lower floors, securing the building.

  The top floor was reserved for her and the prince. They each had a suite of their own, plus another to be used as a war room. It was already furnished with giant maps of the island, two computers and stacks and stacks of papers. They had received a list of art and antiquities dealers on the island—legitimate and illegitimate—the name of every cop who could be bribed, the location of every nook that could be used as a hiding place for someone trying to lie low with stolen treasure.

  When a prince asked questions, people responded.

  Everything and everyone responded to the prince.

  Including her body.

  Those kisses in his bedroom—where they could have led… It didn’t bear thinking about. Except that, despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about him. She’d run because her own response to the man had scared her. Her casual attitude to his touch, to his seduction, had all been pretense once she recovered from melting completely.

 
She’d also run because no matter how much he was getting to her, she couldn’t allow him to get the upper hand. No man was going to control her, not in any way. He needed to understand that, the sooner the better.

  Putting her under house arrest, indeed.

  But then she saw him at the harbor. And felt his frustration, shared it. She could have started investigating on her own. But the truth was, she needed his help. And if she was totally honest, she liked working with him.

  And so she had walked up to the prince. She could only hope she wasn’t going to regret it.

  She listened to Miklos on the phone, on speaker. He and Janos had arrived earlier that morning, helped to search the ship, then arranged for a quick extradition of the crew to Valtria and took them back, along with the ship’s captain. Miklos would be handling their questioning there. The princes were adamant about keeping as much of the case under wraps as possible.

  “The crew is not talking. Yet,” Miklos added with optimism. “I’m working with them. Janos found a couple players in Valtria with good enough teams, we think, to pull off the heist. One boss is the guest of Great Northern Penitentiary at the moment. We’ll go after the others. Shouldn’t take too long between the five of us.”

  “The twins are back?” Istvan asked with surprise.

  “Lazlo cut his honeymoon a few days short,” Miklos said as if it was no big deal. “Rayne got sick or some thing in South Africa, so Benedek was bringing her back anyway. My lovely wife says the kids are about to have a little cousin, but I can’t get anything out of Benedek.”

  “Leave the men to me,” Istvan responded with sudden force. “Enough of our people died at the treasury. I will handle the investigation.”

  “The Brotherhood—”

  “Is out of business,” he cut Miklos off with a quick glance at Lauryn.

  Which set off her radar. The brotherhood? What about the Brotherhood of the Crown? Istvan had been reluctant to share anything every time the subject came up. Why? The Brotherhood of the Crown had ended with those princes’ deaths two hundred years ago. Unless…

  She turned to look at the maps to make sure her face didn’t give her interest and suspicions away.

  “I can fly back and forth,” Istvan added.

  “You’re on Cyprus. Focus on the connection there.

  Unless you want us all to come back over and work from Porto Paphos together.”

  “No.” His response was sure and immediate. “I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of here.”

  Stubborn, she thought. Wanted to do everything by himself. She would have loved to have siblings. She would have loved that kind of support, to have someone care about her problems. Maybe he was the type who could never admit that he needed help.

  Then something in Istvan’s face made her think. His voice had been brusque, but worry sat in his eyes.

  He wants to keep his brothers safe.

  Her heart softened with understanding. He wanted them out of harm’s way. And harm was a near certainty with the investigation. She’d heard the gunfight in the treasury. She’d seen the rifles the ship’s crew had carried.

  “Be careful. Duty and honor, our lives for—” Miklos was saying.

  Istvan grabbed for the phone and pushed the off button before his brother could finish.

  Too late, she smirked to herself, keeping her face averted. Duty and honor, our lives for the people and the crown had been the oath of the Brotherhood of the Crown. Well, well, well. Was it possible that the Brotherhood had been resurrected? She put an ambiguous expression on her face as she turned to look at the prince.

  He paced the war room, his brows knit in a frown.

  “Why are you still here?” He stopped and addressed her suddenly.

  She figured the question was coming. She didn’t have any illusions. Most likely, the only reason he’d agreed to let her help was because he wanted to keep an eye on her and it was easier if he kept her close.

  She thought about what he would want to hear. You tell people what they want to hear and they’ll believe you all day long—a lesson her father had taught her. But as she looked into his dark eyes, which watched her closely, she decided to go with the truth.

  “I need to be clearly, publicly, visibly on the right side of this one. I worked hard on building a reputation in this business. If there’s even a shadow of a doubt that I had anything to do with this heist, my career is over and I can never get it back again.”

  He remained silent as she weighed her words.

  “The world of arts and artifacts is my life. It’s the only thing I know. After my father’s death, I swore I wouldn’t live on the dark side of this business. I sweated blood by the time I could make an honest living from it. If I lose that, I have nothing.”

  He was still silent, but she stopped there with her explanations. Either he chose to believe her or he didn’t.

  “All right,” he said after a while. “We’ll work together. But a word to the wise, Lauryn. I live and breathe for my country and family. Without that, I have nothing. I will do anything to protect our future as well as our heritage.” He paused, his gaze reaching to her soul. “If I say you stay in your room, you stay in your room. Don’t cross me again.”

  From the moment she’d set eyes on him, her image of him was that of the gentleman prince. But now she could see that there was a dangerous edge to the man. A thrill ran through her unexpectedly. She quashed it.

  For too long, she’d liked thrill and danger too much. That was the lifestyle she’d inherited from her father, a lifestyle that had brought both of them to misery and ruin. These days she made a point of staying on a slow and steady path.

  Even if she was contemplating a short side trip at the moment.

  “Do you have any idea how we should proceed?” Istvan asked.

  “Maybe,” she said with caution. “I know someone on the island who’s not on your list. Someone who would actually help us instead of running when he saw us coming.”

  “Who is he? Where can we find him?”

  She hesitated. Their partnership was still tenuous. The prince was unlikely to respond well to her conditions. But she cared too deeply about the man she was talking about to reveal his identity without proper reassurance.

  “I want your word that his identity will not be revealed to the authorities, nor will he be prosecuted for any involvement with the current heist or in connection to any information you might find out about any of his past activities.”

  Istvan stiffened. “I will promise no such thing. Who is this man? An old partner of yours? An old lover?” His words were clipped, his gaze hard.

  “Your word that he will not be pursued in any way.”

  “Give me a name.” He stepped forward, that warrior in him coming out again.

  She stiffened her spine. “Not without your word.”

  “I could make you tell me,” he threatened.

  And she didn’t doubt him. Even if she judged him to be too much of a gentleman to harm a woman, he was on a mission for his country, and he had plenty of men downstairs to do his dirty business for him. “Not even under torture,” she said, just to make herself clear.

  “I can’t promise anything if he had a part in the theft.” Istvan shoved his hands into his pockets, the vein in his neck pulsing with effort to restrain himself.

  “He didn’t.”

  “How can you know that with certainty?”

  “He knew I was going to Valtria. He knew what I was going to be doing there.”

  “And he would never put you in any danger? He wouldn’t chance that you might be implicated? Are you sure you’re that important to him?”

  She didn’t need to think about that. “I’m sure.”

  He took his time thinking over her offer. “If he’s not involved in the heist in any way, I’ll guarantee his anonymity,” he said at last.

  She watched him, considering whether she should trust him. A fine team they made, neither trusting the other. Yet they
must achieve their purpose. Too much rode on retrieving the royal artifacts for both of them not to try their hardest.

  “You have my word as a royal prince,” he added, reading her hesitation. “Now, where is this mysterious man?”

  “I’ll take you to him.”

  HE HATED WEARING A disguise. Istvan smoothed his index finger over the new fake mustache he’d acquired. To go out in public without it carried too much of a risk. He couldn’t chance being recognized now. And he couldn’t take a royal escort with him either. Lauryn had been adamant that only the two of them could go wherever she was taking him.

  “How much farther?”

  The car rattled as he drove down a dirt road through the most breathtaking countryside Cyprus had to offer.

  They were heading south from Porto Paphos through fields of sparse vegetation, nothing but a few olive trees here and there and the odd group of goats as far as the eye could see. Rocky hillsides broke up the landscape that possessed a stark beauty.

  “Almost there.” She hadn’t yet given him a name or a destination, informing him of each turn of the road only as they came to it.

  Then, when he was beginning to think they would never get to wherever they were going, he went up a small rise and could see bigger hills in the distance, with plenty of green covering the sides and large crosses dotting the ridge.

  “There it is.” She pointed.

  He had to lean forward to figure out what she was talking about. Then, finally, he saw it. Another mile or so ahead, an ancient-looking building complex was carved into the rocky hillside. Little more than caves on the very top, the structure grew more and more elaborate as it reached the foot of the hill and spread out. The domed tops of the attached buildings and the double cross on top gave it away, as well as the men in brown robes that he could make out once they got closer.

  “Don’t tell me you’re taking me to a monastery.”

  Her smile grew. She picked up the cell phone she’d received from Istvan. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Can you meet us at the gate?” she asked who ever picked up the other end. “They don’t let women inside the walls,” she explained to Istvan after she’d hung up.