Operation: Monarch

by Valerie Parv

  "I didn't say I wasn't good at it."

  "How high did you climb in the group hierarchy?"

  He hesitated. She hoped he wouldn't insult her with a lie. "If the Hand hadn't appeared on the scene, I'd probably be running the show," he admitted.

  Her breath rushed out in a whoosh. "Some youthful indiscretion."

  He stretched his arm along the back of the seat, making the small hairs stand up on her nape even though he didn't touch her. "I don't make commitments lightly, Serena. I was dedicated to ending the de Marigny hold on Carramer. If Prince Eduard hadn't saved my life, I might still be working toward that goal."

  "How do I know you aren't?"

  She'd hurt him, she saw when his gaze clouded. "I could have told Tiny Tim you were there."

  But he hadn't. She wanted to believe it was because they were in this together, but she couldn't be sure. Because of his parents, he had a personal matter to settle with the captain of the yacht, and having to explain Serena's involvement would only complicate his mission.

  She couldn't hide her doubts. "I want to find the Pascales alive as much as you do," he said softly. "I know how it looks, but I'm not a traitor to the crown. If I turn out to be the true ruler of Carramer, I'll swear fealty to the people of this country and mean it with everything in me."

  "And if the DNA test proves you're not?"

  "Prince Lorne will have my total loyalty. I made that commitment after his father saved my life, and I haven't reneged on it."

  "I believe you." She was probably crazy but she did.

  He slumped a little, enough to tell her that her faith in him mattered. She knew how he felt. Hearing him talk to the brute aboard the yacht as if they were kindred spirits had shaken her. She wanted to believe in him. She only hoped she wasn't letting her personal feelings get in the way of her professional judgment.

  It had never been an issue before. The men she'd dated had either been cops or in related professions like the assistant district attorney, and they'd all understood there were parts of herself she couldn't share. Garth was different. She had a feeling he wouldn't permit any barriers between him and the woman in his life. All or nothing could be his motto.

  Serena felt frightened suddenly. She'd had that kind of closeness once before, when her parents had molded her into an extension of themselves. For a long time she hadn't known where she ended and they began. Garth had goaded her to set boundaries, and she'd guarded them jealously ever since. Now he was the one chipping away at them and he didn't even know it. Or care.

  "I'm coming with you tonight," she stated.

  "This is between me and the skipper of that boat."

  "We've already discussed this. It's between the captain and the law."

  He pivoted to face her. "This isn't only about revenge for my parents' deaths. You saw Tiny Tim's reaction when I mentioned the American base. There's more going on here than rocking the monarchy's foundations. The Pascales were taken away aboard that yacht as part of a more sinister plan. I'd stake my life on it."

  "It may come to that. Garth, you're not doing this by yourself."

  "I'm the only one who can. I may not be active in Carramer First anymore but they still think I'm loyal to them. You did."

  "Low blow. The way you talked onboard the yacht—"

  "Is the way I'll keep on talking until we find out where they're holding the Pascales before they become the next statistic. You said you believe me, well trust me. Letting the skipper of that boat think I'm still one of them is the only way we'll find out what the Hand plans to do in time to stop him."

  "I can't let you."

  "Because it's your job." He sounded savage.

  "No," she said, finally abandoning all pretense of impartiality.

  He looked thunderstruck, and she couldn't tell if it was good or bad. "You do care about me," he said.

  Chapter 7

  "I didn't say that."

  "You don't have to. I can see it in your eyes." He shifted uncomfortably. "Don't you know by now that I'm the last person you should get involved with?"

  What had he said to Tiny Tim? I'm your worst nightmare? Suddenly it struck her as more than a line of tacky dialogue. "It doesn't change anything," she said.

  "Well it should."

  She met him glare for glare. "Are you saying you don't feel anything for me?"

  He let the silence lengthen. She'd decided he wasn't going to answer when his arm dropped around her shoulder and he pulled her against him.

  It had been too long.

  The thought spun through her mind, as terrifying as it was exhilarating. She hated feeling like a teenager again in his arms, but she didn't stiffen or pull away. Either would have told him he was right about her. And she was getting infernally tired of him being right.

  His hand was warm on the side of her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. Goose bumps shivered down her nape.

  She had some crazy notion of getting this out of her system, but the moment his lips skimmed hers she knew it couldn't be that simple. Nothing to do with Garth was simple. Especially not a kiss.

  He took his time, shaping his mouth to hers until she felt light-headed. As his tongue danced with hers, heat swirled through her, fiery as desire, sweet as revenge. Shooting stars ignited in her brain. She kissed him back with thirteen years' worth of stored-up need.

  There had never been anyone like Garth, she thought in the fragment of her mind that remained clear. He was everything she shouldn't want in a man, and everything she did. She freed a hand to slide it around his back. The compact car didn't let them get nearly close enough, and if they went back to the villa they'd be surrounded by people. Now was all they had.

  What was she thinking? She didn't want to be alone with Garth. All she wanted was to kiss him and assure herself she'd long outgrown whatever she'd felt for him once.

  It wasn't working.

  Needs and fears tore at her, and she put them all into the crush of mouth to mouth. His stubble rasped against her skin, the alien texture exciting. She breathed in the mingled scents of costly French aftershave lotion and Garth's seductive brand of masculinity.

  There was more here than desire. His hold on her delivered something novel—a feeling of security, of having someone on her side against the world. More than passion, it spoke of giving and taking. She'd been giving for so long, her whole life. First to her family, then to the people she'd sworn to protect and now to the royal family. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to take something she wanted for herself.

  She took it now, opening to him in a way she distantly recognized as dangerous, but unwilling—unable?—to stop.

  The gearshift stabbed into his thigh and he swore softly. "We have to find somewhere. I want you, Serena, in every sense."

  The part of her that was still sane planted both palms against his chest and pushed. "We can't think of ourselves. Lives are at stake." She tried for a level tone, but her voice shook.

  "There's nothing more we can do until we talk to the skipper." He gave her room but the rapid rise and fall of his chest was a dead giveaway. "What did you think would happen if we kissed? I'd turn into a frog?"

  She turned her head away, glad they were parked in shadow. "If there was any justice, you would."

  "You like justice, don't you? Everything neat and tidy in a package with a bow on top."

  She kept her gaze averted. "It's what I do. What I am."

  "Look at me, Serena. Damn it, don't turn away from me. I can't stand it."

  Slowly she turned, welcoming the fury that blazed through her, although she knew it was directed as much at herself as him. Still she couldn't hold the words back. "You can't stand it? This is all about you, isn't it? It was the last time we kissed, and nothing's changed."

  He passed a hand across his chin. "Everything has changed except how you make me feel. I'm not the hormone-driven teenager I was then. To a boy that age, the woman's feelings barely exist. All you think about is how far you can go before sh
e stops you. How wondrous her skin feels to your inexpert touch, how much softer and silkier it is than your own. How her breasts mold themselves to your hands."

  "Stop it," she snapped, because she could feel it all as he talked. "You were right the first time. This isn't going to work."

  He used a tissue to dab at the makeup the kiss had transferred to her chin, the touch intimate enough to make her catch her breath anew.

  "It was working brilliantly until you started thinking," he said.

  "I should never have stopped."

  "Thinking or kissing?"

  She swatted him on the shoulder. "You puzzle it out. We have to get back to the villa. We have a lot to do before tonight."

  * * *

  Work was also on Garth's mind, but it didn't alter the effect of Serena's kiss. He'd meant it when he said she shouldn't get involved with him. She had her life and career all mapped out and the talent to achieve whatever goal she set for herself.

  She didn't need a known black sheep like him holding her back.

  It didn't take a genius to work out that she'd put marriage and family on hold to roar up the ranks of the R.P.D. According to talk around the royal villa, she was being considered to head up the Solano division, a plum appointment. Handling security for the visit of the American president would probably have clinched it for her.

  Now Prince Lorne had assigned the high-profile job to someone else while Serena baby-sat Garth. Until they had the results of the DNA test there wasn't much he could do to make it up to her, but he didn't have to add to her problems.

  He wasn't being entirely truthful when he said he'd stopped thinking with his hormones when he left his teens. It would take the priest he was disguised as to claim that with any sincerity. The difference was he could control them now, and he would, for Serena's sake.

  He leaned across her and tucked the gaping bodice of the borrowed dress a little tighter into place, reducing the amount of cleavage on show. Controlling himself was easier when she didn't tantalize him quite so much.

  She couldn't help it, he thought. She must have looked sensational in uniform.

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight and the moon was lost in cloud. "Being First Prime of the group has its uses," Garth said as he slid into the car seat beside Serena moments after he finished speaking with the skipper. All she could see of him was the white gleam of teeth and clerical collar.

  She'd shadowed him as he kept his appointment with the skipper of the yacht, waiting gun in hand for something to go wrong. Now it hadn't, she could start breathing again. "Didn't they check your current status?"

  "As far as they would be able to find out, that is my current status. I let them think the First Prime has been lying low on the orders of the Hand. And before you ask if I have, you already know the answer."

  "What did you learn about the Pascales?" she asked instead.

  "I acted as if I already knew where they were and wanted transportation to get there. As I hoped he would, the skipper argued that his job was to snatch them from the cruise and take them to Black Cat Cay, not to run a ferry service for them."

  "Black Cat Cay?"

  "It's a small coral island in the Carramer Strait between Celeste and Isle des Anges. I've dived on a couple of wrecks not far from it. The only habitation is a ranger's hut used by bird-watchers."

  "And the Pascales."

  She started to drive off but Garth stopped her. "You should keep that yacht under surveillance."

  She'd already called it in to Matt. "Any particular reason?"

  "The Hand uses it when he needs to come to Carramer."

  "Do you think the skipper is the Hand?" She couldn't believe it was the crewman she'd dubbed Tiny Tim.

  Garth shook his head violently. "When I mention the Hand, the skipper's manner reminds me of the chauffeurs at Solano Castle."

  "If the yacht is the Hand's limo, it makes sense. I've always believed he lives offshore somewhere. He'd need a way to get to Carramer to do his dirty work."

  "What better than a yacht with an untraceable registration?"

  She gave him a look of reluctant admiration. "You know, you wouldn't make a half-bad cop."

  He yanked the clerical collar off and took a tissue from her supply to scrub at his beard. "It's an improvement on Father Remy."

  Imagining him as a cop was hard enough. He was too much of a rule breaker. But a priest was beyond her, especially the celibacy part.

  "If it makes you feel better, I already asked Matt to put the yacht under surveillance. As soon as I tell him about Black Cat Cay…"

  Garth's hand closed around her wrist. "From the way the skipper and Tiny Tim were talking, the Pascales will be dead long before the cops can get to them."

  "You have a better idea?"

  "We borrow a helicopter from the villa and fly down to Valmont tomorrow. A friend of mine keeps a boat moored at Perla. If we go to the island under cover of darkness, we can snatch the Pascales and get out before anyone knows we're there."

  She regarded him suspiciously. In Carramer there wasn't much demand for covert operations, but as a navy diver he could have undertaken the necessary training. Suddenly the parts of his navy record she hadn't been able to access made sense. "You were a DARE, weren't you?"

  The letters stood for Dive and Retrieval Expert, one of the most highly skilled operatives in the Carramer Royal Navy. His grin gleamed whitely in the darkness. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

  So the answer was yes. Knowing he would have risked his life in situations he couldn't even discuss made her blood run cold, but their work was not hugely different. His element was the sea, hers the land. The only reason she felt fearful had to be on his account.

  He was right, she was starting to care and she couldn't afford to. "I'll have to clear it with the castle first," she said.

  He looked as if he was about to object, then clamped his mouth shut. More than anything else, that told her he hadn't entirely abandoned the discipline of the service. Everything was starting to fall into place: his skill at disguising himself, his eagerness to go aboard the yacht and the easy way he'd won the confrontation with Tiny Tim. "How long were you part of the DAREs?" There was another long pause, and she sighed into it. "I know, you could tell me…"

  "…but I'd have to kill you, and that would be a crying shame," he finished.

  Heat zinged through her. She resisted it. "Who writes your lines? You can't possibly talk like that, even in the DAREs."

  "We don't waste time talking. We prefer action."

  She didn't ask what kind. The promise was in his tone. When this was over, she thought, then drove that thought away, as well. When this was over he would either be the monarch of Carramer, or she'd be back at Solano protecting the present one. Neither option allowed room for a personal relationship.

  The only reason she was so attracted to Garth was that they shared some ancient history, not because of anything current.

  Nothing she would allow, anyway.

  * * *

  When she contacted Prince Lorne by phone he was uncomfortable with her proposal to stage a rescue attempt. But he was also furious that the man he thought of as a father substitute had been kidnapped, despite the palace's security measures.

  Worry fringed the prince's voice. "Maybe after this he'll let me assign him a bodyguard."

  "Dr. Pascale's driver is R.P.D. trained, sir."

  "And what does the fool man do? Dismiss the driver so he can take a walk. If I did anything like that, Alain Pascale would have my head."

  The rapport between the monarch and the doctor who'd delivered him was legendary. She heard traces of it in the prince's tone now. The doctor was also known for speaking his mind regardless of titles or status. She could easily imagine Pascale lecturing the prince on security, while disregarding his own. "I don't think he or his wife have been harmed yet," she said, hoping it was true.

  "What the devil could Carramer First want with the royal p
hysician?"

  "They may think he knows the whereabouts of the package, sir."

  "He can't tell them about something he doesn't know exists."

  "I'm counting on him not revealing that, Your Highness." She didn't have to add that it would keep the Pascales alive a lot longer.

  The prince heard it, anyway. "I still don't like the idea of risking Garth."

  "You do know he was with the navy DAREs?" The information wasn't on the public record but Prince Lorne would have his own resources. She tried not to feel affronted that he hadn't seen fit to share the information with her.

  "He told you that?"

  She couldn't restrain a smile at the prince's obvious surprise. "Hardly, sir. Let's say he demonstrated it."

  "I don't think you'd better tell me in what way."

  "The main thing is, he knows what he's doing." She took a deep breath. "Frankly sir, I don't think I have a prayer of persuading him to remain behind."

  The prince chuckled cynically. "From what I'm told, he isn't known for his blind obedience."

  Her heart leaped. "You've learned something about his navy record?"

  "Enough to seriously doubt that his dismissal was justified."

  She'd suspected it all along, telling herself it was because of her own attraction to Garth. "That's good news, sir."

  He didn't ask why it should be so to her, and she wondered if Lorne suspected there was more between her and Garth than duty.

  "Indeed," he said. "However I'd prefer you to keep my observation to yourself until I receive a full report."

  She kept the disappointment out of her voice. "Of course, Your Highness."

  She looked up as Garth came into the reception room. Instead of going to his own desk, he perched on the corner of hers in what was becoming an annoying habit.

  He'd changed out of the black clerical suit into a chocolate-colored silk robe. He looked so sinfully attractive that her concentration wavered.

  She pulled it back with an effort. "Do we have your authority to go to Black Cat Cay?" she asked Prince Lorne.

  "You're sure there isn't time for the police to set something up?"