Except to her.
She didn’t know where it came from. She only knew that she’d always had it, from her earliest memories on. And it had become a symbol to her, a sign that whoever gave it to her—even if only a passing stranger—had cared enough to wish her luck.
Which had meant the world to an orphaned child.
But that didn’t explain Singh’s interest. She met Deven’s steady gaze. “Why do you think he wants it?”
“To trap your people, take down your network, I’d guess.”
“That’s what I figured.” But the unwavering way Deven watched her made her uneasy. She studied his hard face darkened by shadows, the piercing look in his eyes.
And a sudden awareness slithered through her, like a shiver crawling under her skin. Something else was going on here. Something ominous.
A deep chill seeped through her bones.
“But you think there’s another reason,” she said slowly.
“I don’t know.”
Was that true? She studied his cryptic eyes, the unyielding line of his mouth. She’d been able to read him once. As a teenager, she’d spent hours memorizing the sexy way his lips quirked, the crinkles that fanned his eyes when he smiled. She’d learned how his forehead creased, how those dark eyes flickered with anger, how his face turned taut with desire.
But he was a stranger now. A man with secrets. A man she didn’t dare trust.
She slid her gaze to the handgun nestled in the waistband of his jeans, then back to that jagged scar. He’d grown even more dangerous since their school days. She’d be a fool to let down her guard.
“I only know that Singh wants it,” he said, his voice even. “And you’ll be safer if you give it to me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Forget it. I’m not giving any medallion to you.”
“Maya, be reasonable. It’s only a good luck charm. It’s not worth your life.”
But Singh thought it was. And Deven had been at Singh’s…A sudden suspicion flared. “So that’s why you’re here. You want my medallion, too.”
His mouth flattened. “I’m here because I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Right. And I’m Mother Teresa.” She ignored his deepening scowl. “Listen, Deven. I don’t need your protection, and I don’t want it. I’ve gotten along fine without you for years. And you can forget about the medallion. I’m not giving it up.”
“Think again.”
He leaned toward her. She bumped back against the brick wall. He braced his hands on either side of her head, trapping her with his big body. The move was threatening, intimate.
Wayward thrills rushed over her skin.
“Give me the medallion, Maya.”
Her pulse raced at his husky tone. Her disloyal heart tumbled hard. “What good will that do? Singh’s already after me.”
“But I can distract him, buy you time. Give you a chance to escape.”
The heat from his body made it hard to think. His masculinity quickened her blood. She struggled to hold on to her anger, her suspicions. After all, she’d come across Deven at Singh’s!
But he was so close, so male. She shook her head, fighting to ignore her traitorous instinct, to forget the exciting pleasure they’d shared. “It won’t make any difference who has the medallion. You said it yourself. I’ve been hurting his business, defying him for years. Even if I get away now, he’s not going to give up.”
He didn’t answer, but his mouth tightened. His eyes turned grimmer yet. And she knew he couldn’t argue with that. Singh would never leave her alone.
“Then there’s only one option.” The words sounded dragged from his mouth. “You’ll have to stay with me.”
“Forget it.”
“That wasn’t a request.” His dark gaze kept her pinned. His big body locked her in place. And she remembered how easily he’d tackled her at the palace, how expertly he’d trailed her through the streets. How he’d anticipated that she would try to escape him—and caught up to her again.
So running from him would be pointless. But she didn’t want him around. The one time she’d let down her guard and allowed him into her life he’d promised her marriage, love…and then fled.
But she also had to be practical. Singh’s criminal organization ran the city of Kintalabad, and his power extended farther than that—throughout Romanistan, throughout the entire Himalayan region, even to other parts of the world. And it was one thing to thwart his smuggling operations. She knew his routes, who to bribe. But this…She had no idea what was going on here, or why her medallion mattered. How could she fight an unknown?
And she had no one else to turn to. She couldn’t ask her friends for help; she would only endanger them more.
She studied the deep grooves bracketing Deven’s mouth, the determined look in his eyes. She didn’t have much choice. She had to trust him.
She just prayed she wasn’t making a mistake.
“All right. We’ll stick together. But just until we find out why Singh wants the medallion, and then I’m gone.”
“Promise me,” he demanded. “I want your word. No climbing out windows, no jumping off balconies. You try to escape me one more time, and I’ll rip that thing off your neck.”
“I said I’d work with you.” Her frustration rose. “What do you want me to do? Sign a contract in blood?”
Tension throbbed between them. His dark eyes smoldered on hers. “No,” he said, his voice turning gravelly. “It’s not your blood I want.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
Her heart lost its beat.
He wouldn’t dare.
Her pulse picked up speed. Sudden heat pooled in her blood. Her body tightened, the thought of his lips on hers rooting her in place.
His big hand clamped her jaw. His callused thumb brushed her throat, making tingles chase over her skin.
And that ticked her off. She was through with this man, through with his lies. She might be forced to work with him, but no way would she let him—or her hormones—take charge.
With effort, she shook off the lust. “I’ve got two conditions of my own, though.”
His eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “Which are?”
“I want to know what you’re doing with Singh.”
“And the other?”
“The medallion stays with me. It’s my medallion, my past. If it means anything, I deserve to know.”
His gaze stayed on hers. For an eternity, he didn’t move. But then he nodded. “Agreed.” He lowered his hand and paused, and that bleak look returned to his eyes. “But be careful, Maya. Sometimes the past holds secrets. And you might not like what you find.”
He stepped back into the darkness, his face again shrouded by night. And she slumped against the wall—shaken by his words, the desire that heated her blood, that tortured look in his eyes.
What had he meant? Had he learned something bad about his past? Was there more to him than she knew?
She closed her fingers around her medallion, battling back a sudden swell of sympathy, annoyed by the effort it took—because no matter how appealing he was, no matter what memories he evoked, she didn’t dare trust him again. Not completely.
He was too secretive, too dangerous.
For all she knew, he could be her enemy.
She straightened, cast him a wary gaze. Enemy or not, she had to keep him close.
But she would also protect her heart.
Chapter 4
Fate had one hell of a sense of humor.
Deven sat beside Maya just off the main square in the oldest part of Kintalabad hours later, still shaking his head in disbelief. It was bad enough to have his cover blown, his mission at risk and Singh in full pursuit. But being around Maya was worse, dredging up memories, stirring up long-buried yearnings he had no right to feel.
He braved a glance at her resting on the brick step beside him. The rising sun made her black hair gleam and cast her skin in a golden
glow. His gaze lingered on the feminine arch of her cheekbones, the intriguing slope of her nose. She had a natural elegance, a mesmerizing sensuality that tugged at him deep in the gut.
Struggling to corral his thoughts, he shoved his hand through his uncombed hair. He was trapped in a cosmic joke, all right, forced to protect the one woman he’d sworn to avoid. But he’d deal with it. He had no choice. Whether Maya wanted to admit it or not, she needed his help to survive.
And he needed that medallion.
So did Singh. His face hardening at the thought of Singh, Deven carefully studied the square for signs of his men. Women swept off the bricks with their handmade brooms. Farmers set up scales and unloaded potatoes and beans. In the distance drums beat and bells rang along with the chanting of morning prayers.
Just a typical morning in Kintalabad as the ancient city lumbered to life. But the peaceful scene didn’t fool him. Singh had an extensive organization, with even the police at his disposal, thanks to the government officials he bankrolled. His men would be combing the city by now—questioning merchants, checking the alleys, posting roadblocks on the outlying roads. Deven needed to hurry, find out what that inscription meant and then hustle Maya out of town.
“You never said what you were doing at Singh’s,” she said, and he turned his attention to her. The soft light revealed the dark smudges shadowing her eyes, the exhaustion etched on her face. After the long hours they’d spent trekking through the city, he wished he could let her rest, but they didn’t have the luxury of time.
“I told you before. I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Both,” he admitted. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t see why. If Singh catches me, it won’t matter how much I know.”
Not to her. Singh would never let her survive. But they had more than their own lives at stake.
Still, he’d promised her an explanation, and she was far too persistent to let it drop. He rubbed his unshaven jaw and debated how much to say. He finally opted for an abbreviated version of the truth.
“I work for a private military company.”
Her eyebrows gathered. “What’s that?”
“We provide bodyguards and equipment—armed reconnaissance planes, helicopter gunships to individuals and companies, even governments sometimes. Basically we’re soldiers for hire.”
“You mean you’re a mercenary?” She sounded shocked.
“Something like that.” He shrugged. “Interpol hired my company to investigate Singh. They needed someone to infiltrate his group, to do undercover work, and since I’m from Romanistan, I was the obvious choice.”
“I see.” Her frown deepened. Her gaze shifted to the plaza, then back. “What are you hoping to find?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You must have some idea or they wouldn’t have sent you in there.”
She was right, but it was safer not to say. “I’ll tell you this much. We know Singh has connections to various terrorist groups. He funnels them money and provides them with arms. We’ve also learned that he’s planning something big, something dangerous.”
“Like what?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. This region’s too volatile to ignore the threat.” Besides the country’s nuclear arsenal, the recently discovered oil deposits made Romanistan a coveted prize. And with the royal family in exile, and the leading political parties in chaos, a powerful thug like Singh could stage a coup—especially if he had a deranged terrorist group on his side.
“And you think my medallion has to do with this plan?”
“It might.”
“But how could it?”
“I don’t know.” He spread his hands, unwilling to give her more details. The less she knew, the safer she’d be. “Look. I don’t have proof, just a feeling. I could be wrong. But this is the only lead I have right now, and I need to check it out. You really don’t know what that inscription means?”
“No.” She drew her knees to her chest and hugged her legs. Her long braid slid over her back. “I showed it to a few people when I was younger, but no one knew what it was. I didn’t bother to ask after that. It didn’t seem important.”
Not important? The irony made his mouth twist. If he was right, that medallion could determine the fate of countless innocent lives.
Of course, the medallion was a long shot. It might have nothing to do with the legendary crown or the Order of the Black Crescent Moon. Still, given the Internet chatter they’d heard…
She cut her gaze to his. “So what’s your plan?”
“Find an Internet café, check online, see if anything comes up.” He also needed to e-mail his Interpol contact and report that his cover was blown. “Singh has an interest in ancient languages. There might be a connection to your medallion.”
“You think it’s that old?”
“I think we need to find out.”
She pursed her lips, fingered the chain around her neck. “Why don’t we ask at an antique store? A dealer might know what it is.”
“Too risky. Singh will be on the lookout for the medallion.”
“We could draw the inscription. We don’t have to say where we saw it.”
He mulled that over. They needed to stay out of sight, not traipse through shops drawing attention to themselves. But if they could get a lead…
“All right.” They’d take the chance. He just hoped they wouldn’t regret it. “We’ll need paper, though.”
“I’ll get some.” She started to stand, but he snagged her wrist, waiting until her gaze returned to his.
“Remember our agreement. No running off.”
Her cheeks flushed. Sudden temper darkened her eyes. “I keep my promises, Deven.”
Unlike him, she meant.
His face turned hot. He worked his jaw, forcing himself to hold her gaze while her eyes burned angrier yet. Then he nodded and released her wrist. She snatched it away and stalked off, her full hips swiveling, temper quickening her strides.
He let out a curse and massaged the dull ache pulsing between his brows. He didn’t blame her for being angry. She had every right to despise him.
He wished he could tell her the truth and explain what had happened that night. How Singh had caught up. How Deven had seen his mother die. How Singh had murdered his former mistress for daring to escape his control—and stealing his most valuable prize.
How Deven had realized that Singh would continue to pursue him, that Singh would destroy everyone Deven knew until he surrendered to him, and that the only way he could keep Maya safe was to leave—and forever stay away.
He’d lost everything that night—his family, his identity, the woman he’d loved…And he’d hungered for her, suffered for her, year after miserable year. It had destroyed him to let her go.
But he’d had no choice. He’d had to sever his ties with Maya quickly, permanently. He’d had to hurt her so badly that she’d refuse to try to find him, or even think of him again.
So he’d abandoned her, using her orphaned past against her, striking her most vulnerable spot. He’d betrayed her trust, her faith.
He exhaled again, fingered the scar Singh had given him that night—a reminder of all that he’d lost. And a deep sense of loneliness coursed through him, that same aching weariness he’d borne for years.
But there was no point explaining why he’d left her. The past was gone. He couldn’t change it. And they could never have a future together. The more she despised him, the more dishonorable she believed he was, the better off they’d both be.
So he had to forget the past, forget the pain, just focus on keeping her safe—and bringing down Sanjeet Singh.
Determined to keep his mind on track, he pulled his attention back to the square. A cow meandered by. A street vendor set up a wok and began to deep-fry food. A group of porters trudged past, their sandals flapping, bags of rice piled high on their backs.
But then Maya strolled back into
view, her full breasts swaying beneath her blue T-shirt, her faded jeans molding her thighs, and he knew that he was doomed.
Fate was mocking him, all right. It was going to be agony keeping this headstrong woman safe—especially from himself.
“I got the paper,” she said, her voice still clipped. She sat down beside him, pulled her medallion free from her T-shirt and her thick braid slid over his arm.
He gritted his teeth, tried to ignore the silky caress. “Draw fast. We need to get out of here.” Before he gave in to temptation, loosened that shining mass of silky hair and did something they both would regret.
“All right.” She glanced at the medallion and began to sketch.
“And don’t draw the whole thing.”
Her head came up. “Why not?”
“In case Singh’s men get the paper somehow. If they have the inscription, they won’t need us alive.”
A glimmer of fear moved into her eyes. But she nodded, continued to sketch and Deven again scanned the square. More vendors arrived, setting out incense, pottery, trinkets to sell to passing tourists as the sun popped over the Himalayas and the day began.
“Is this enough?” She held up the paper, and he slanted his head. She’d sketched the top of the inscription, capturing the wavy lines that resembled Sanskrit.
“Yeah, that’s good. Let’s go.” While she looped the medallion around her neck, he stood, then reached out his hand to help her up.
She hesitated, her eyes on his. And despite her anger, despite his vow to keep his distance, that deep-seated awareness thrummed between them, that unceasing drum of desire.
His heart thudded hard. She grabbed his hand, and he pulled her up, conscious of the warmth of her satiny skin, the lush fullness of her lips, her pulse growing hectic under his thumb. Unable to resist, he tugged her closer, needing to taste her mouth, wanting to trace the line of her jaw with his tongue.
The Royal Affair Page 4
