Brandishing a Crown

Chapter Two

Jane’s cell phone buzzed, jerking her from a restless sleep. She’d been dreaming about high school when she was a science geek and the popular kids had made fun of her.

They’d tied test tubes filled with condoms on her locker, then spray painted the words virgin forever on the front. The football team had thought it hysterical.

She had cried the rest of the afternoon.

The phone buzzed again, and she shoved the covers away from her face, cataloging the memory into forget mode as she reached for the phone. The ringtone signaled this call was work.

Not that she had many personal calls. That would require a personal life, and plain Jane Cameron didn’t have one.

Her gaze landed on the clock as she answered the call. 2:50 a.m. What now? “Jane speaking.”

“Jane, it’s Ralph. Get your butt out to Snake Valley Road. We got us a crime scene.”

“What happened?”

“Car bomb,” Ralph said, his voice raspy as if he’d been running. Of course with his extra thirty pounds, he wasn’t in the best of shape anyway.

“Injuries?”

“Yeah. One dead.” Ralph wheezed a breath. “Don’t know if there were other passengers, but them security dudes following them royals showed up. Makes you wonder…”

The hushed exit from the airport replayed in Jane’s mind, and she instantly became alert. She could still see Prince Stefan’s piercing green eyes searching the area as if he suspected trouble. Had he been inside the limo when it blew up?

She took a deep breath. “The royals were attacked?”

“Don’t know for sure,” Ralph said. “Sheriff Wolf’s checking to see who was inside.”

Stunned by how much it bothered her that the prince and his friends might have been murdered, Jane rubbed her hands over her eyes, then sighed.

She was not caught up in the grandeur of the royal blood like her own mother had been. For God’s sakes, Prince Lutece and his friends were just men. They put their pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.

Except they wore robes of silk, had private valets to help them put their pants on, and held the future of entire nations in their hands.

But look where falling for a diplomat had landed her mother. Media attention and notoriety at first.

Then the man had cheated on her, made a fool out of her for all the world to see, and dumped her.

“Jane? If you’re not up to this, I’ll call someone else,” Ralph said with his usual passive aggressive tone.

The hell he would. Ralph had been gunning to have her replaced ever since she’d been assigned to his team. He was major dark ages, thought women belonged in the kitchen waiting on their men hand and foot, and in the bedroom, catering to their every need, not in the lab or carrying a gun.

Not her style.

She could outshoot, outtalk and outsmart him, and she intended to prove that.

“Of course I’m up to it.” Jane stood, shucking off her boxer pajama shorts and reaching for a pair of well-worn jeans among the pile of clothes on her floor. “I’ll be right there.”

Jane pulled on a T-shirt and boots, yanked her shoulder length hair into a ponytail, stuffed a baseball hat on her head, grabbed her weapon and rushed toward the door.

All week they’d been on standby in case there was a threat to the dignitaries, and now it looked as if their worst fears might have come true.

She jogged to her SUV, started the engine and peeled from the drive. The jeep bounced over the country road leading away from her cabin outside Dumont, slinging gravel as she sped down Snake Valley Road. The swirling blue lights of the sheriff’s white Dodge SUV lit the sky as she approached the bomb site, the paramedics and fire engine adding to the chaos.

A news van—Danny Harold’s station—sat parked next to the ambulance. As she climbed out, deputies were busy roping off the crime scene, and Sheriff Wolf ordered Harold behind the yellow tape.

Her gaze zeroed in on the charred body lying on the ground, and her throat closed. Was the dead man one of the royals, possibly Prince Stefan?

STEFAN AND EFRAIM rushed to the conference room to meet the other royals who had been quickly informed of the car bomb. “Was Amir inside the vehicle when it exploded?” Stefan asked.

Fahad Bahir entered, his face a mask of anger. “I believe so, but I’ve spoken with Sheriff Wolf and only one body was recovered. I’m on my way to the scene now to see if identification is possible.”

“I will go with you,” Stefan said. “I want to examine the bomb mechanism myself.” Bombs were his expertise in the military. A bone of contention for some Americans, so he didn’t exactly publicize the fact.

“The press, the police,” Efraim said, wiping perspiration from his brow. “They will demand to know what happened. Where we were, if Amir was inside.”

“And why he was traveling alone in the middle of the night,” Sebastian added. “Where was he going?” Antoine asked.

Tension stretched across the room as everyone traded questioning looks. Apparently their friend had not confided in any of them. “We must not alert the press or the summit members until we know if Amir survived,” Fahad said.

“I agree,” Stefan said. “It could create panic and interfere with the summit.”

“We must also protect Amir’s family,” Efraim said.

“There is no need to alarm them until we’re certain what happened to Amir and if he is safe.”

A chorus of nods solidified the agreement.

“That message I received seems even more suspicious now,” Stefan commented.

Efraim shifted. “First, we have to determine if Amir was inside the limo at the time of the explosion. And we need a list of anyone who might specifically target Amir.”

Fahad nodded. “I will work on that list and coordinate with all the security teams.”

“Meanwhile we must devise a story to satisfy the media,” Antoine suggested.

“We shall say Amir had private business to attend to,” Fahad said. “That should mollify the local police until we discover what happened to Amir.”

Stefan rushed toward the door, anxiety knotting his muscles. They’d come here on a peace mission, and if Amir had been killed, he’d find out who had set off that bomb and the reason.

“Stefan, keep us informed,” Sebastian said.

Stefan nodded. “As soon as I know anything, I will call.”

Fahad reached for his cell phone. “I’m going to alert security. Until further notice, each of you should remain in your quarters with your guards in place.”

The men reluctantly agreed, and Stefan, Edilio and Fahad raced from the room. Minutes later, fear seized Stefan’s chest as they parked at the crime scene, and he saw the remnants of the charred limousine and the dead man lying on the ground beside it.

Crime scene tape cordoned off the area. Thankfully, due to the late hour, there were no spectators hovering, only police officers and rescue workers. Although he immediately spotted the news van and broadcaster who had been at the airport earlier, and frowned.

How had this vulture found out about the attack so quickly?

A slender woman wearing a ball cap, jeans, and T-shirt that stretched across ample breasts caught his attention as she leaned over the charred body. Although not dressed in a police uniform, her demeanor, the way she stooped and meticulously examined the body, the subtle tilt to her chin as she surveyed the area, indicated she served in an official capacity.

America and their women, he thought with a mixture of awe and derision. One never knew where you might find one, how she would be dressed, and what man’s job she might have acquired.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in a navy blue uniform shirt, jeans and sporting a wide pewter belt etched with a howling wolf design, strode toward them.

Stefan had been warned that the former sheriff of this county had been corrupt and rumors had spread to their security teams that other local law enforcement officers might be dirty as well.

What about this sheriff? Could he be trusted?

“Prince Stefan, I’m Sheriff Jake Wolf,” the big man said with an accent that sounded lazy western, belying the tension lining his tanned face. “What are you doing here?”

Stefan shook his hand and introduced Fahad and Edilio. “We received word about the explosion. What have you found?”

Sheriff Wolf narrowed his eyes. “One body so far. We’re searching the vehicle and victim for ID now.”

“Was the victim in the driver’s or passenger seat?” Fahad asked.

“Driver’s seat.” Sheriff Wolf indicated the surrounding land. “Got my guys searching to see if a passenger might have been thrown or crawled from the vehicle.”

Stefan and Edilio exchanged a troubled look. Any life loss was tragic, but if the driver was dead and Amir’s body wasn’t inside the vehicle, he might have survived.

The woman hunched beside the victim pivoted to look up at him, and Stefan was suddenly struck by the startling shade of her eyes as she met his gaze. Not blue, not green exactly, but a mixture. Hazel, he thought as they flickered and changed in the moonlight.

Then his gaze slid down the ball cap to the dainty nose and full pink lips, and he swallowed hard. He’d expected a mannish woman below that cap, and granted this woman bore no makeup or feminine clothing, but his belly tensed with a sudden spark of attraction.

She might not be dressed for seduction, but a keen intelligence and innocence lay in her expression. And a sensuality that sent a sliver of desire straight through his groin. “Prince Stefan?”

The soft timbre of her voice startled him even more. The gods, she had a bedroom voice. “You know who I am?” he finally asked.

A tiny smile curved her mouth, friendly at first, then twisting with displeasure. “Of course. Doesn’t all of America?”

He simply stared at her, speechless, and for the first time in his life, completely out of his element. He had bedded countless women in his years, yet this tomboyish female had his tongue tied in knots.

How could this be?

Fahad cleared his throat. “And you are, Miss?”

The woman rose, putting her almost a good half-foot below his six-two, her gloved hands by her sides. “Jane Cameron, forensics. I’m here with the crime lab to analyze and process the crime scene.”

Fahad introduced himself and explained his presence. “And we are here to find out about this victim,” Fahad said.

Fahad’s words jerked Stefan back to the matter at hand, and he shifted his gaze to the dead man on the ground.

The last thing he needed was a feminine distraction. And the silky strands of hair peeking from the ball cap and spiraling around Jane Cameron’s face and shoulders was definitely distracting.

“This man is not Sheik Aziz,” Fahad said matter-of-factly. “He was the driver, Bahur Adler.”

Jane Cameron planted her hands on her hips. Blast it. She also had curves.

“Forgive me, but under the circumstances, how can you tell?” Jane asked.

“The medallion around his neck, Bahur always wore it,” Fahad said. “And he was missing the index finger on his right hand. He lost it in a childhood explosion in his country.”

As if on cue, Stefan’s gaze fell to the man’s right hand. No index finger.

Stefan breathed a momentary sigh of relief that Amir might have survived. But if he wasn’t here or in the limo, where was he?

JANE’S BREATH HITCHED as she stared at Prince Stefan. His green eyes hid a well of emotions, but she read fear, worry, caution and distrust.

Although for a second, those eyes had flickered with something else when she’d first looked up at him. He’d been surprised that she was a female. When his gaze had fallen on her mouth, she’d had to wet her lips with her tongue because they suddenly felt dry.

Then an odd look had crossed his stoic face. Not just surprise, but as if he might be pleased at what he saw. As if he found her attractive…

She swiped at a drop of perspiration beading on her upper lip.

Ridiculous. The heat and lack of sleep must be getting to her.

Not only would he laugh at the idea of her being attracted to him, but she didn’t want any part of the limelight.

She’d had enough of that after her mother’s death. Plain Jane in front of the camera, news reporters dogging her, strangers staring and prying, whispering and gossiping.

How could that odd little girl be the model-beautiful Genevieve Cameron’s daughter?

“We’ll transport this man’s body to the morgue for an autopsy,” Sheriff Wolf said, interrupting her trip down memory lane. “And we’ll need contact information so we can request his medical records to verify his ID.”

“Of course,” Fahad said. “I will make the necessary calls immediately.”

Jane noticed Ralph speak to the coroner as he arrived. Prince Stefan visually scanned the area where the vehicle had exploded. Remnants of metal, plastic and glass littered the asphalt, filling the air with the stench of smoke, charred metal and burned rubble.

“Did the driver suffer?” Prince Stefan asked quietly.

Jane studied the dead man’s remains. “The explosion probably killed him instantly, then the body burned post mortem.”

The prince nodded. “Have you discovered evidence of another victim inside the vehicle?”

“Let me examine the limo and I’ll let you know.” She frowned. “Why the interest?”

Prince Stefan gave her a cautious look, then lowered his voice. “Our group used this limo earlier. It is important we know if this bomb was intended for us.”

“You think you could have been the target?”

Prince Stefan shrugged. “One of our men took it after the rest of us retired. I need to know if he was inside.” He touched her arm gently. “But we do not wish this news to be public. You understand, Miss Cameron? It could cause panic, and we do not know who we can trust.”

His fingers sent a jolt of heat through her. A sexual kind of heat that she didn’t want. Yet his words stirred caution. Had they received threats?

“Call me Jane,” she said. “And don’t worry, Prince. I dislike the media myself and will protect the investigation. They won’t learn anything from me.”

He studied her for a long moment as if debating whether or not to believe her, but finally gave a clipped nod.

More disturbed by his presence than she wanted to admit, Jane pulled away. “Now, I need to examine the vehicle. We might find clues as to the identity of the killer from the type of bomb and material used.”

“And the detonation device,” Prince Stefan said.

Jane raised a brow. “You know about detonation devices?”

A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “My military expertise was with explosives. But I’d rather you not make that public, either.”

Jane bit back a sardonic smile. Dammit, he wasn’t only sexy as hell, he was intelligent. She felt as if he’d lit some kind of fire in her belly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

She spotted Ralph eyeing her and strode to the limo. Hopefully, she’d be able to assure the prince that this bomb had nothing to do with the royals, then he could leave, and she wouldn’t have to deal with him again.

He was far too dangerous and tempting for a girl like her. Drooling over him would do nothing but lead to heartache, rejection, and put her in front of the media.

One place she never intended to be again.

STEFAN TENSED as Jane pulled away from him and rushed over to the limo to examine it. Something had passed between them when he’d touched her. A charged heat that had surprised him.

One Jane obviously didn’t feel. In fact, she seemed unfazed by him and unimpressed with his position.

He started toward the vehicle, but Sheriff Wolf stepped between him and Jane. “I’m sorry, Prince, but this is a crime scene. You’ll have to stay back.”

Edilio lifted a hand. “Sheriff, the prince is well educated in explosive devices. He can assist your people.”

Sheriff Wolf scowled. “We can handle it on our own. Ms. Cameron is one of our best.”

Jane pivoted from where she was examining the car, then crossed the distance to them. “The passenger seat in the front looks clean, but the backseat has blood on it.

Her expression turned grave. “I’m sorry, but it does appear that there was a second person in the car when it exploded.”

Chapter Three

Stefan’s chest constricted. Had Amir survived and escaped, or had he been blown to bits in the explosion?

Sheriff Wolf followed Jane back to the limo, and Stefan tailed him, hoping Jane was wrong. But Jane pointed to the seat and floor where she had sprayed Luminal, and Stefan saw the blood. Not just a few drops either. Enough to indicate someone could have been seriously hurt.

Sheriff Wolf spoke into his radio. “The blood suggests that a passenger was injured in the explosion. I want the search teams to cover a three-mile radius of the area.”

Jane waited until he finished issuing his orders, then waved her lab assistant over. “Tomas, we need to find the blast point, then let’s move out one foot at a time and collect everything we can find. Gum wrappers, pieces of metal, cigarette butts, glass—anything could have traces of the residue on it. Photograph and catalog it, then we’ll take it to the lab for analysis.”

The younger man nodded, hoisted his camera and went to work.

A balding man with a drooping left eye and a cheap suit approached Jane, then gestured toward Stefan. “What’s he doing here?”

Stefan tensed at his surly tone, but Jane simply gave him a level look. “The dignitaries traveled in a similar limo earlier. Security team is just covering their bases.”

Stefan hated compromising Jane by forcing her to lie, but security measures required it. He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Prince Stefan of Kyros. And you are, Sir?”

“Ralph Osgood, CSI and Jane’s superior.”

Stefan disliked the man immediately. Most likely he used his rank to bully Jane and anyone else around him.

Osgood stuck a toothpick in the side of his mouth and chewed on it. “Prince Lutece, you need to stay behind the crime scene tape. You could be compromising evidence.”

Edilio stepped up to defend him, but Stefan shook his head, warning him to let him speak for himself. “As you suggest,” Stefan said with more politeness than he felt.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped back behind the crime scene tape. But what he really wanted was to examine the bomb himself.

He’d have to consult with Jane at the lab after she analyzed their findings.

Perhaps if he used his charm, she’d allow him to look at the evidence.

JANE FELT the tension radiating from the prince in his forced politeness to Ralph, but the smile he graced her with twinkled with an unspoken camaraderie as if he knew his good looks and smooth voice had won her over.

She had agreed not to share news with the press, but that was because she didn’t trust the media not to mess up a good case.

Not because of the prince’s mesmerizing green eyes.

Because she was a professional. And no one, not even the prince himself, would dissuade her from following protocol and doing her damnedest to solve this case.

Thankfully he moved behind the crime tape out of her direct vision, but she still felt his eyes watching her, studying her movements. Did he know something more about this bomb than he’d revealed?

If one of the royals had been inside when the bomb ignited, why wouldn’t he want them to alert the police?

Tomas was searching for forensics on the north side of the vehicle so she stooped to examine the underside of the car. The easiest bomb to make was one that involved gunpowder, a plastic bag and a wire. A blast-off mechanism was required, but the bomber could have used something as simple as a kid’s rocket toy. He would have put it near the engine, then run wires from the ignition to the bag. When the car started, the electrical spark would ignite the gunpowder, which would have ignited the bomb.

Except the limo didn’t explode when the engine started.

This bomb exploded mid-ride, meaning someone must have set a timer or been nearby watching to trigger the device.

She inspected the ignition, the engine and the gas tank and collected trace from all areas. The scent of burned metal and copper permeated the air along with the lingering odor of charred metal, burned rubber, blood and human skin.

Ralph was processing the car’s interior, so she used her flashlight to scan the ground along the deserted road. A cigarette butt caught her eye, and she bagged it, then gathered several pieces of metal, wires and plastic that could have been part of the explosive.

When she glanced up, Prince Stefan was still trailing her with those intense eyes, and she had the uncanny feeling that he was holding something back.

A glint of metal suddenly flickered in the moonlight. She frowned, waved her flashlight across the sagebrush and prickly pears, and spotted something that looked like a cell phone in the midst of a patch of Indian paintbrush.

With her gloved hands, she knelt, pushed apart the scarlet leaves and foliage and retrieved the phone, then flipped it over. It could have belonged to the passenger from the limo. Maybe they’d lift some prints that would lead to the bomber.

Or at least the name of the passenger. Then they could look at motive.

Unless the driver had been the target.

They couldn’t dismiss that possibility, although if this limo had transported the royals earlier, the more likely prospect was that the intended target had been all or one of the dignitaries.

She punched the connect button to make a call, but the battery on the cell phone was dead. The lab would have to do its magic, search for prints, the phone log history.

She bagged the phone and carried it to the evidence box. Prince Lutece’s eyes flared with interest as their gazes connected, and he wove along the edge of the crime scene tape until he stood only inches from her.

“You found something?” he asked in a gruff voice.

She nodded. “A cell phone. Could be nothing, or it could have belonged to the missing passenger.” She held up the bag and his jaw tightened.

“You recognize the phone?” she asked quietly.

A muscle worked in his throat. He was stalling. Debating whether to lie or how much to reveal.

Well, damn. Maybe the missing person was a friend of his. But she was not here to play games.

“Listen, Prince,” she said, purposely inflecting sarcasm into the title. “I don’t care what your position is. If you know the identity of the second person in the car, you need to speak up. Withholding information about a crime is a crime itself.”

Anger sharpened his tone when he spoke. “I do not need a lecture on the laws of your country.”

“And I don’t need you breathing down my neck if you aren’t going to cooperate. Do you know who this phone belongs to?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. He simply breathed deeply, so deeply that the sound sent a tremor through her. He was afraid he did know.

And he also feared that he couldn’t trust her.

The image of the panic on his face in the earlier news clip of his arrival rose in her mind in vivid clarity, sending a chill through her. He had received a threat. Maybe all of them had.

“I told you that I wouldn’t reveal information to the press,” she said in a low voice. “You have my word that I will be discreet.”

“It is not just the media that concerns me,” the prince said.

He didn’t trust the police?

She didn’t know how to assure him. Their last sheriff had been corrupt. Others had been rumored to be dirty, too, but she had no idea how deeply the corruption went or who might be involved.

And the prince’s arrival, along with the other leaders of the Middle Eastern and Mediterranean nations, had stirred distrust and suspicion on numerous levels.