Brandishing a Crown

by Rita Herron

  Determined to do her part in finding the answers, she carried her evidence box into the crime lab. Stefan followed.

  “Where is that irritating Mr. Osgood?” Stefan asked in a gruff voice.

  “Checking security cameras outside. Maybe the camera captured a picture of the shooter or his getaway vehicle.”

  Sheriff Wolf poked his head inside the door. “Would you like to see your friend now?”

  Stefan glanced at Jane. “You will be safe here?”

  Jane patted her weapon. “Yes. Now go. By the time you return, I might have some information on the shooter’s weapon.” She’d also found a few drops of blood beside the warehouse that could have belonged to the shooter, and partial prints on one of the bullet casings.

  Maybe she’d injured the bastard and he would have to seek medical help.

  Stefan stared at her for another long minute, the tension palpable, then finally exited, and followed the sheriff down the hall.

  Adrenaline had been churning through Jane, but she felt the first strains of it waning, and leaned against the counter with her head in her hands. Dear God, it had been close out there.

  Stefan could have been killed in a second.

  Forcing deep pockets of air into her lungs to calm herself, she counted to ten. Focus on work. Do the job.

  Forget about how startling and intense Stefan’s eyes are. About how your heart had jumped to your throat when you thought he might be hit.

  You can’t allow this case to become personal. And you can’t fall for Prince Stefan Lutece.

  Her resolve tacked into place, she lifted her head and went to work. She asked Tomas to check local hospitals and emergency clinics in case she had seriously injured the shooter. God, she hoped she had.

  With gloved hands, she dug the bullet casings she’d collected from the envelope she’d stored them in, then began to analyze them.

  Tomas retrieved the clothes of the victim to analyze the blood splatter. Jane had studied the scene enough to determine that there was only one shooter.

  Now for more details of the bullet. Each firearm’s interior barrels were rifled or grooved in order to make the bullet spin and increase its accuracy. She examined the markings of each casing she’d found, a process called ballistic fingerprinting, and digitally ran them through ATF’s National Integrated Ballistic Information Network. She not only needed to determine the type of weapon, but also wanted to see if this shooter’s weapon had been used in any other crimes.

  She let the computer program do its work, and waited while it ran comparisons, then frowned when the make and model of the gun appeared on the screen.

  A Russian handgun. This model was constructed for hitting armored targets—second or third class protective vests and vehicles. At 100 meters range, it could pierce thirty layers of Kevlar or 2.8 titanium plate.

  Russian Special Forces used it as a special sniper weapon.

  She pushed back her chair, contemplating what she’d learned. If a sniper used this gun, he could be current or former Special Forces.

  Confirming this was a professional job.

  Someone had taken out a hit on Stefan, which meant that they wouldn’t stop until the job was finished.

  STEFAN PRESSED a hand to Benito’s shoulder, his heart heavy. Benito had been a faithful employee, and although he’d never met his family, the man had a wife back home in Kyros. He phoned Edilio and requested he inform the family of the tragic news.

  He would compensate the man’s wife financially, of course, but money did not bring back a loved one.

  His thoughts turned to Jane as he ended the call, and for some insane reason, his heart swelled with longing. He wanted to see her again. He hated to leave her alone for even a moment lest whoever was trying to assassinate him returned. Was the shooter the same person who had caused the explosion?

  Did he have Amir? If so, why would he not contact them with demands?

  Fearing the worst, that the absence of a call indicated that Amir might already be dead, he struggled for calm. So many people were opposed to the summit, yet he and his friends knew that their compact could not only save their small nations but also aid the U.S.

  He could not give up or retreat now.

  “Thank you, Dr. Holstein,” Stefan said. “I am most grateful for the respect and care you gave my friend.”

  Dr. Holstein adjusted his glasses. “I hope the police find out who did this, Prince Stefan. I’ve heard good things about what your compact is offering, and I pray the remainder of your trip is more peaceful.”

  He hoped so, too.

  He excused himself, then allowed the guard to escort him to the elevator, then down the corridor to the lab.

  The guard opened the door and Stefan stepped inside, suddenly aware that his heart was beating more rapidly, that his palms felt sweaty as if he was some awkward teenager approaching the girl he had a crush on.

  Except this girl carried a weapon, was bossy and independent, and had been injured saving his life.

  “The bullet casings came from a Russian sniper gun,” Jane said without preamble. “It was a professional hit, Stefan.”

  Stefan was not surprised. “Any number of my enemies, or Amir’s, could have Russian connections.”

  Jane nodded. “I also found a few blood droplets that don’t belong to Benito. I ran them, but they didn’t show up in the system.” She paused. “I can’t be certain they belonged to the shooter, but if we catch him, we can compare, and it might help in court.”

  “I see.”

  “I can also ask the FBI to explore international databases,” Jane offered. “I have a friend, Special Agent Frank Priebus, who I trust. He could help us.”

  “Let me discuss it with Fahad. He has his own sources which we would prefer.”

  Jane folded her arms. “Still don’t want the attacks public, do you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She motioned for him to follow her to a microscope and computer. “Here are those particles you wanted to examine.”

  She gestured toward the microscope, and he looked into the lens. Then he scanned the results on her computer screen. Worry tightened his jaw as he analyzed the data.

  “What do you think?” Jane asked.

  “It is as I feared when I saw your report.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “A new type of bomb material that is being experimented with,” he said, watching his language carefully.

  “You mean in the Middle East?”

  He gave a clipped nod.

  “Does it have to do with nuclear weapons?”

  “There are possibilities,” he said quietly. “But it is in early stages. And in this small amount, not lethal as far as being biochemically hazardous.”

  “Damn.” The coloring fled from her face. “So we’re dealing with a Russian sniper and possibly a military connection involved in biochemical warfare?”

  Stefan hated the fear and disgust on her face. This turn of events made matters tenfold worse. It would feed those who believed the COIN members were here on a fishing expedition for knowledge of just such weapons.

  “I am sorry, Jane,” he said, his throat thick. “My friends and I came here on a mission of peace and goodwill. And now…” Benito’s ghostly face flashed in his head. “And now, look what has happened…”

  Stefan wanted to say more, but Osgood suddenly appeared in the doorway, so he ceased speaking. Although he might agree with the man that Jane should not be working this dangerous job, he would not pretend to like him.

  After all, he understood the male psyche. Osgood might criticize her and be a bully, but from the way the man’s eyes roved over her as he entered the room and the jealousy that had tinged his voice when he’d found Stefan embracing her, he realized the imbecile’s attitude toward Jane was his own clumsy way of flirting with her. The man wanted in her pants, as the Americans would say.

  And as long as he was here, alive and with a breath left in his chest, the man would not put his hands on Jane. No one would
.

  Except him, of course.

  JANE STARED up at Osgood, irritated for the intrusion although she had no idea why. She and Stefan certainly weren’t engaged in anything personal at the moment.

  But the agony in Stefan’s eyes when he’d spoken about Benito made her heart clench, and for a brief second, she’d been tempted to comfort him.

  “Did you find anything?” Osgood asked bluntly.

  Jane indicated the ballistics report and explained her findings. “Prince Stefan also identified the suspicious bomb particles as a new type of material that has the potential for use in biochemical warfare.”

  Osgood gave Stefan a suspicious look, and Jane blew out a breath. “How about you? Anything on the security tapes or any witnesses?”

  He shook his head. “This guy knew what he was doing. He shot out the outside cameras facing the car where he was hiding, and the one in the alley.”

  “And the warehouse?

  “Cameras aren’t working. The owner had some financial trouble and security was first to go.”

  “Great.” Jane sighed then crooked a thumb toward Stefan. “I’m going with him back to the resort to pick up my SUV.”

  Stefan stiffened, and Jane braced herself for another argument. “I can call a driver and arrange for your vehicle to be brought to you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can drive the limo,” Jane said, jutting up her chin defiantly. “Unless you don’t trust me to protect you.”

  Stefan’s nostrils flared with anger, making a small smile tilt her mouth. She knew it was a challenge, and she wanted to see how he would handle it.

  “Of course I trust you, Miss CSI Jane Cameron,” he said tersely. “You have already proven your willingness to mindlessly throw yourself in front of harm’s way for your job.”

  It was for you, you buffoon, she thought silently, then realized the mistake in that thinking. Truth was, she’d never had to draw her weapon before. Most of her work had taken place at the lab, not in combat.

  But she would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping him from getting killed.

  “Just doing what I can for the bigwigs,” she said sarcastically.

  His brows puckered together, and she realized he might not understand her sarcasm, but simply shrugged. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Amazingly, Stefan followed her without comment. But she felt the anger simmering below the surface as she asked the guard to escort them to the limo. The police had cordoned off the front of the courthouse and alley, and another guard stood out front for precaution.

  Stefan slid into the passenger seat of the limo, snapped his seat belt, then stared out the window at the police SUV still parked on the curb. Her own gaze found the blood-splattered pavement where Benito had lain, and she realized that Stefan’s eyes were glued to that spot. That Stefan didn’t value one life over another, that even though he had no choice but to accept protection because of his position, guilt plagued him now for his man’s death.

  Sympathy and compassion rolled through her, and she couldn’t resist. She slipped her hand over his and squeezed it. A muscle ticked in his strong jaw, but he didn’t look at her. He simply curled his hand below hers, and held it tightly as if having that human touch meant something important to him.

  As if she did.

  But that idea was ludicrous.

  Still, for a moment, like a fool, she allowed herself to imagine that it was true. That a handsome prince actually could be attracted to a plain Jane like her.

  HUMILIATION WASHED over Stefan at the mere idea that Jane was his protector. He was the man. The military hero. The leader of his country.

  He did not want her taking care of him.

  Her fingers stroked his and something warm and strange rippled through him. No, he didn’t want Jane taking care of him—except perhaps in the bedroom.

  And there he yearned to take care of her as well.

  She parked at the resort, and he beeped his security team to meet them. He refused to gamble with Jane’s life.

  Jane remained on edge, alert, as Edilio appeared with two guards, and the group surrounded them as they entered. Stefan headed straight to the conference room where Efraim had gathered with Sebastian and Antoine.

  Efraim’s brows pinched together as he spotted Jane. “I thought we agreed to be careful who we trusted.”

  Stefan squared his shoulders. “We do. But Miss Cameron and I have an agreement, and I believe we can depend on her.”

  “Is it true?” Sebastian asked. “A sniper tried to kill you?”

  “Yes,” Stefan said. “Outside the courthouse.”

  A rumble of concern ripped through the room. “Do you have any idea who he was or who sent him?” Antoine asked.

  Stefan gestured toward Jane, and she cleared her throat, then explained about the Russian sniper weapon and the blood at the scene. “Sheriff Wolf is checking local hospitals and emergency clinics in case I injured the perpetrator.”

  Stefan directed his comment to Fahad. “I need you to contact your sources for Russian connections. We could be dealing with a Russian mob or gang who is opposed to our summit or one who hires themselves out as assassins.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fahad said. “I have agents checking into the lists each of you gave me as well as the sheik’s personal enemies.”

  Efraim wrung his hands together. “I cannot stand sitting by and doing nothing while our friend may be held as hostage or worse. He may be enduring torture.”

  “Stay calm,” Fahad said. “We have experienced agents investigating the matter. Do not make it more difficult by exposing yourselves to our enemies.”

  Murmurs of frustration, discontent and protests followed.

  “He’s right,” Jane said. “Let the police do their jobs. Meanwhile, you can make it easier if you remain secure at the resort.”

  Stefan knew she was right, but he didn’t like it. The others parted, still grumbling that they were antsy and needed to do something. Stefan did not trust the locals, but he did trust Jane, and he wanted to tie her down and keep her secure in his bedchamber.

  There she would be safe.

  And pleasured.

  “I’ll escort you to your quarters,” Jane said.

  Anticipation streaked through Stefan, but Jane’s look did not indicate that she entertained sexual fantasies about him. Blast it.

  “Then I’m going to return to the lab,” Jane continued, oblivious to his lustful fantasies. “Maybe Osgood or Tomas found something on the other forensics I brought in from the shooting site.”

  Stefan agreed, but only because he wanted to get her alone. He motioned for one of the guards to follow them, then escorted her through a back corridor, then outside through the private garden to his own suite of rooms.

  “You mentioned a list,” Jane said. “Is there anyone who sticks out to you? Someone with Russian ties?”

  Stefan strode to his computer, hit print and waited until the list spilled from the printer. “It is possible.” Jarryd in particular. “Edilio is investigating them now.”

  “Good,” Jane said. “I hope you’ll let me know if we need to alert our local police.”

  “Of course.” Stefan flexed his sweating hands. “I insist you extract yourself from this investigation, Jane.”

  Jane’s startled gaze swung to his. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he said in his most authoritarian voice, the one that evoked obedience from his staff and the military forces he had commanded. “I wish you off the case immediately.”

  “Why?” Jane asked, her voice on edge. “I thought you trusted me. I agreed to keep your concerns about the sheik confidential, and I’ve kept my word.”

  “It is not that,” Stefan said, his gaze zeroing in on her bruised cheek. “This situation is too dangerous.”

  Jane’s face burned with anger. “Stefan, I understand you’ve had a rough day, but my career means everything to me. As long as you’re here on U.S. soil, I will do that job and protect you. And I�
��ll do my best to try to find out who tried to kill you.”

  Stefan wondered why her job was so important. Simply looking at that red flesh wound on her cheek infuriated him. “Your work is more important than your life?” he asked in a low voice. “My work is my life,” Jane said matter-of-factly.

  Unable to resist, he reached up and gently traced a finger along her injured jaw. “Why is that? Why are people not more important? Why are sunsets and long lazy rides on horseback and fine dinners not part of your life as well?”

  “People are important,” Jane said with conviction.

  “That’s why I do what I do. I want to get justice for those who’ve been wronged. But I don’t have time for long lazy rides or fine dinners.” Not that she’d had any recent invitations.

  “You should, Jane. You deserve such pleasures.” He angled his head so he could see into her eyes. “Or does getting close to someone frighten you more than dying?”

  Her eyes flared with discomfort, and he sensed he had guessed correctly. Someone had hurt her before.

  He did not intend to let that happen again.

  “Who made you run from men, Jane?”

  “Stefan,” Jane whispered hoarsely.

  “Who?” he asked, wishing he could rip off their limbs one by one for daring to hurt such a lovely creature.

  She closed her eyes for a moment as if she did not plan to answer, and when she opened them, such a deep vulnerability registered in her eyes that his chest clenched.

  “I don’t have to run from men,” Jane said. “They aren’t chasing me, Stefan. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a beauty queen.”

  Shock bolted through Stefan. “Then the American men are blind idiots.”

  Her breath quickened at his compliment, and heat darkened her eyes, the kind of heat that made a man’s body harden.

  The kind that made his heart swell with longing. “Now, you must excuse yourself from this case.” He traced his finger lower, then over her lips. Lips that were soft and delicate and made him yearn for another taste.

  He had promised he would not kiss her at work. That the next time it would be a proper kiss.