Royal Captive Read online

  So her ex-boyfriend or partner or whatever joined the priesthood. If any woman had the power to drive a man to extremes, she was it, he had to admit. Although the thoughts she’d been inspiring in him of late were less than holy.

  The potholes in the road kept his thoughts from going too far in that direction. The area must have seen some nasty rains in the past couple of days. Car traffic was probably negligible up here, so nobody had hurried to fix the problem.

  They reached the monastery at last and he could see a man come through the wooden gate just as he pulled the car up to park. The guy was in his late fifties, dark-haired and, from what his rolled-up sleeves revealed, in excellent shape. He wore drab slacks and a simple shirt instead of a monk’s robe. Women probably thought him handsome.

  Istvan grunted, not the least happy when Lauryn flew from the car and straight into the man’s arms. He swung her around in the air with a deep belly laugh. He hugged her tightly, not seeming to care one whit that he was way too old for her and entirely inappropriate.

  Istvan stepped out of the car and cleared his throat with some force. And they turned to him at last, the man keeping his arm comfortably around Lauryn’s shoulder, keeping her close to him.

  “This is the friend I told you about over the phone,” Lauryn said, in no hurry to pull away from the guy.

  “Arnie.” The man stepped forward and offered his hand.

  “Istvan.” He felt a ridiculous need to make his handshake firmer than usual but resisted.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” The man finally moved away from Lauryn, but she immediately went after him and laced her arm through his as they started up a path that went around the monastery walls, higher up the hill, toward three giant crosses that looked over the valley.

  “Lauryn said you lost something of significant value and high profile.” The man looked at Istvan’s face closely, the calculating look in his eyes indicating that he saw straight through the disguise. “I have a fair idea what it may be, but we don’t have to spell it out if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  He found the man’s words patronizing, although they were said in an easy enough tone. Best thing to do was to be courteous, considering that he depended on the guy’s goodwill at the moment. He simply nodded.

  “There aren’t that many people who could pull off the job,” Lauryn put in.

  “And even fewer who could commission something like this. I’m leaning more and more toward the idea that it was a commissioned job. Nobody in their right mind would risk so much without already having a buyer,” Istvan added, picking his steps carefully on loose gravel. “If we could figure out who the buyer is— I don’t suppose you heard anything.”

  “I’m out of circulation these days,” the man said noncommittally.

  Istvan waited. Lauryn wouldn’t have brought him here if she didn’t think they could gain some valuable information. “Anything you could think of would be helpful.”

  Arnie seemed to be considering, so Istvan left him to it. As the path narrowed, there was no room for him to walk side by side with him and Lauryn, so he fell behind. A mistake, since his gaze was immediately captured by her lithe figure and the sinuous way she moved up the incline. She could thoroughly capture and hold a man’s attention without half trying. The woman was nothing but trouble.

  She had certainly captured Arnie’s at one point in the past as the man had hardly let her go since they’d gotten here. Even when they reached the top and he sat by the foot of the tallest cross, he pulled Lauryn down close to him. “You trust this one?” he asked her.

  “Until further notice.”

  “Don’t overwhelm me.” Annoyance surged through Istvan. Who was the ex-thief here anyway? That she would question his character went beyond belief.

  Arnie turned to him. And the glint in his hard gaze said that if Istvan proved to be trouble, he could and would be taken care of before he had a chance to hurt Lauryn. Great. How did he end up being the bad guy all of a sudden?

  He said nothing, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to make the man hurry. Arnie had to make up his mind on his own. All Istvan could do was wait. And as he did just that, sitting by the other cross and leaning his back against its base, peace filled him little by little. The valley spread out before him was an oasis of serenity. The monastery had an aura that seemed to blanket everything.

  His breathing evened, his muscles went slack. He didn’t even mind the flat looks Arnie gave him now and then as the man examined him from under hooded lids.

  “There is someone I used to know,” Arnie said at long last. “Seems like he backed out of a major deal unexpectedly a couple of days ago. Caused a few ripples. He’s not the sort of man who does that. Could be that something better came along.”

  “Or he got spooked by something, or fell out with someone on his crew. Any number of things could have happened,” Lauryn responded. “But you don’t think that’s it.”

  “You always hear gossip.” Arnie shrugged. “On this one, I hear nothing. That has to mean something. He’s not a crew boss, by the way. He’s a middleman. He passes things along.”

  “How can we find him?” Istvan asked.

  “You can’t.”

  “Could you find him?”

  The man shook his head. “Not anymore. I don’t run with that crowd these days.”

  “Do you know anyone who could?” Lauryn asked and then stood and started pacing.

  “Nobody who would help you, not even if I vouch for you. It’s a tight club, you know that. They don’t like outsiders.” He picked up a pebble and turned it between his fingers.

  He was still thinking. That was something. At least he didn’t say, “Sorry, can’t help,” and walked away.

  Lauryn stopped. “You have an idea.”

  Arnie dropped the pebble. “It’s not worth articulating.”

  “Please.”

  He made a face, held up his palms as if to say he was washing his hands of this. “Fernando.”

  Lauryn looked as if she knew exactly who the man was talking about, but Istvan had to ask, “Who is he?”

  “Nobody knows exactly. Very few people have ever seen him. He’s a purchasing agent for the biggest buyers.”

  Excitement stole into Lauryn’s voice. “Reclusive.”

  “I happen to know that he’s laid up for a while in Brazil. He had another one of his plastic surgeries.

  Facial reconstruction, fingertips lasered off again, the whole works. Not many people know about this.”

  “How can he help us?” The guy definitely sounded like a step in the right direction.

  “He wouldn’t. He’d have you shot if you so much as asked questions about him.” Lauryn grinned.

  “Glad to see the prospect of that makes you so happy,” he groused at her.

  “It’s not that. You could be him!” She laughed out loud now, obviously thrilled with whatever idea she’d come up with. “Only a handful of people know what he looks like. And he’s constantly changing his appearance to stay ahead of the authorities.”

  “If there was a one-of-a-kind heist, even if done on commission for a buyer that wasn’t his, Fernando is the kind to want to take a look at the loot anyway. He’s not the type to shy away from a bidding war if he sees something he wants.”

  “I’ll be Fernando.” He caught on at last. If nobody knew what the guy looked like and nobody knew that he was out of commission for a while, Istvan could enter the world of underground stolen artifact trafficking impersonating the man, find what he wanted and hopefully get out before anyone figured out what he was doing.

  “Brilliant.” He flashed an answering smile to Lauryn, her optimism rubbing off on him. “Can you set up some meetings for me, as Fernando, with the top people in the business on the island? I have a list,” he told Arnie, not wanting him to think that they expected him to do all the work.

  The man picked up another pebble. “Maybe.”

  “You know you can. You know everyone.” Lauryn mov
ed closer to the man, true affection reflecting in her clear eyes. “Everyone trusts you.”

  “Because I don’t betray them,” Arnie said in a sour tone. “If I do this. I’m going to have to leave here. I can never come back.”

  The smile slid off Lauryn’s face. And Istvan understood that this was some sort of safe haven for the man, an escape he’d likely planned for years, a retirement he’d set up for when he would withdraw from the business.

  “I know I’m asking you to risk your life,” he told the man. “If you help, know that you have a place in Valtria and my protection.” That was as close as he wanted to come to admitting who he was.

  Arnie didn’t look impressed. He looked ready to walk, in fact. But then Lauryn squatted in front of him, took his hands in hers and said, “Please.”

  His shoulders slumped as degree by degree the man gave up resisting. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Lauryn threw her arms around him in a warm embrace that twisted Istvan’s guts for a second. He should have felt grateful and relieved. But he couldn’t get past the annoyance at their frequent and ample display of affection. Could these two keep their hands off each other for a minute?

  “You’ll be Fernando.” Lauryn stood at last and turned to Istvan, practically jumping with excitement. “I’ll go with you. On the rare occasion when Fernando does business personally, he always travels with one of his mistresses.”

  “No,” Istvan and Arnie said at the same time.

  “You should stay at the village.” Arnie nodded toward the two dozen small houses in the valley, white-washed walls and blue roofs, a postcard image of Mediterranean tranquility. “I can keep an eye on you here.”

  “On second thought—” Istvan turned to her. “I think it would be all right if you came with me. You could be of help. Definitely.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I love banana fields.”

  They were on their way back to Porto Paphos, the car rattling over a road that looked like the moon’s surface. Lauryn gazed out at the countryside, pointing out a shepherd or an old chapel now and then to keep the conversation going. Despite their first real breakthrough, the prince seemed to be in a mixed mood, saying little beyond cursing the deepest potholes.

  “I don’t think your Arnie likes me,” he said absently, seeming unimpressed by the beauty of the banana fields.

  They were in an SUV, a comfortable car with more than enough space, yet his physique and presence seemed to fill it to the brim. He was masculine without putting on any macho displays, handsome without seeming to be aware of it and intelligent without the need to show off his smarts at every second to impress her. He was also grumpy at the moment. And he could be bossy. Definitely a strong tendency there. Still, nobody could say he wasn’t interesting.

  “If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have helped,” she told him.

  “Maybe you didn’t notice the way he was looking at me.”

  Maybe. But she’d certainly noticed the way the prince looked at Arnie. Of course, considering the business Arnie had been in prior to his retirement, perhaps Istvan’s dark looks were understandable. “He doesn’t like it that you’re taking me into danger. I’m his only niece. He’s allowed to worry.”

  The car slowed as Istvan turned toward her. “He’s your uncle?” The look on his face was comical. It was the first time that she’d seen him truly confused.

  “What did you think?”

  He turned back to the road and accelerated. “Old partner or whatever. There isn’t much resemblance.”

  Her uncle and her father had been dead ringers for each other. She took after her mother.

  “Decent of him to help us. We’d be up the creek without a paddle if he didn’t.” He was beginning to sound appreciative. “Maybe he was right. You could stay. It’d be safer.” He pulled onto the highway, the road much smoother here, and the car picked up more speed. “You could pack your things at the estate and I’ll have a car bring you up to the village tonight. Looked like a nice place.”

  She actually did have things to pack. Before they’d headed out this morning, he had called a store and told them her dress size. They delivered an armload of clothes including accessories within the hour. Apparently, they were used to such calls coming from the Duke of Oskut’s estate.

  Right now, however, there was too much going on for her to enjoy the thought of her new wardrobe. Like the prince’s sudden newfound mistrust. She’d really hoped they were past this. “An hour ago, you thought it was a great idea for me to come with you. Now you don’t trust me enough to take me along? You do know you’re driving me crazy?”

  “You’ve been through enough danger in the past two days. It wouldn’t hurt to at least try to stay safe and get some rest while you’re at it.”

  “I’m going.”

  He considered her for a second before returning his attention to the road. “You really shouldn’t.”

  “Oh, well. We’re past that now.”

  He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing.

  “Don’t even think about it.” She bristled, her mood mirroring his. “What?”

  “Putting me under house arrest again.”

  He said nothing, obviously remembering how easily she’d sneaked out the first time. He didn’t look pleased at the memory. Tough cookies.

  Long minutes passed in silence as he drove. There were plenty of tourists out on the main highway, not all of them used to driving on the left side of the road, judging by the guy who pulled out from a side street straight into oncoming traffic. Horns blared.

  The prince cleared the obstacle with ease. Then he drew a breath of resignation. “So you’ll be my mistress.”

  There was something in his voice as he said those words that didn’t sit well with her. “We’ll be pretending,” she reminded him.

  BY THAT NIGHT, THEY HAD an appointment with Geoffrey Bellingham, the man Arnie had told them about. Bellingham agreed to a breakfast meeting the following morning. Turned out the guy was a British expatriate who had his operations set up on the north side of the island.

  Istvan and Lauryn moved into a five-star hotel as if only having arrived, and shared a suite. Two of the most beefed-up royal guards dressed in black suits and black shirts took the next room as bodyguards. Fernando traveled with staff, so that fit right into their cover. Istvan would have preferred his cousin’s familiar estate which provided more room and privacy, but they would be checked out thoroughly by Bellingham’s men. He needed to act like the man he was impersonating, and five-star resorts seemed to be Fernando’s usual home away from home when he traveled.

  His guards were in their own room at the moment, Istvan picking over the remains of dinner that had been delivered to the suite, waiting for Lauryn to come out of the marble bathroom that was on par with those at the Valtrian Royal Palace.

  His cell phone rang. The call came from his cousin’s estate, from the men he’d left behind. While he was going after Bellingham, he put an investigative team on his other suspects on the island. He didn’t dare contact local law enforcement for help. He didn’t know who could be bribed, which officer the bad guys might have in their pockets—according to Arnie, most of them.

  “We have initial results, sir.”

  “Proceed.”

  “Costas is in jail. Has been for four months.”

  That left four more to worry about if Bellingham didn’t pan out. “How about the rest?”

  “Petrov is visiting family in Russia. Nobody’s seen him for a month. He’s said to be attending his sister’s wedding.”

  As good an alibi as any. “And the other three?”

  “Halil is keeping a low profile. Has some trouble with his crew. His second in command made moves to overtake the business.”

  So maybe Halil had other problems now and wouldn’t attempt a major job.

  “How about Berk and Canda?” According to the preliminary reports, both were of Turkish origin and known for their part in the black market artif
act trade on the island. That gave them a possible link to the ship.

  “Can’t find either of them.”

  “Look harder,” he said as the bathroom door opened.

  Lauryn wore sensible cotton pajamas, well-fitting but not revealing. Part of him wished she’d picked something sexier from the pile the store had sent over. He hung up the phone. At least she hadn’t come out wrapped in a robe to her chin, although in hindsight, he should have known she wouldn’t. A shy woman couldn’t have worn those Catwoman outfits that seemed to be her favorite.

  She was comfortable enough in her own skin to dress any way she pleased. He liked that about her.

  “So you’ll be pretending to be my mistress,” he spoke aloud the thought that waltzed circles in his mind while he’d been waiting for her. “Can you act? If either of us takes as much as one misstep, our lives are over.”

  One perfect eyebrow slid up. “If you’re going to try to use that cheesy excuse to talk me into practicing, I’ll be seriously disappointed.”

  Protesting would have only served to make him look guilty. And he wasn’t about to admit that, yes, there was a sense of expectation in the back of his mind, his body buzzing now that she was there in the room with him, the enormous bed within reach.

  “We have to look and act the part,” he said simply.

  She watched him for a long second, assessed him. Then her lips curved into a seductive smile. When she moved, there was a world of promise in her undulating curves. Slowly, tantalizingly she walked up to him. She straddled his lap, ran her fingers through his hair, never taking her eyes off him. She took his face between her hands, dipped her lips to his and kissed him.

  There was nothing shy, tentative or simpering about her. She knew what she wanted and she took it as if he belonged to her. He found the kiss the most erotic of his life, and for the first time considered that maybe his brothers were right and he should spend more time in the company of women than in the company of centuries-old bones.