Alec's Royal Assignment (Man On A Mission Book 3) (9 page)

But it wasn’t just the sex. If that were all, she could take her fill and walk away. No, what she couldn’t walk away from was the way she felt when she was with him. The way he made her feel even when she
wasn’t
with him. As if she were more when he was in her life. As if she could accomplish anything...when he was in her life.

She was strong, but so was he. Bigger, more muscular, yes. But also strong inside, where it counted most. She was determined, but so was he. And that appealed to her. She couldn’t respect a man who wasn’t at least as strong and determined as she was.

She’d killed a man,
but so had he.
No one who hadn’t lived through that experience could really understand. But Alec could. He did. And he hadn’t let her fall into despair over it.
“You did what you had to do,”
he’d told her, and he’d been right. Why hadn’t she seen that on her own?

* * *

Alec had never seen his job as a nine-to-five that he could put away at the end of the day. He never “closed up shop,” never stopped working if he was on something that needed to be finished.

Except today. Come hell or high water, he would be at Angelina’s apartment at five-thirty. Waiting for her. Because he couldn’t
not
be there. Because he knew—even if she didn’t—that yesterday’s events weren’t over. Whoever had arranged the assassination attempt was still out there. Still a danger. Not just to the royal family, but to Angelina, too. He shuddered when he thought about how close she’d come to dying. Not just in the sacristy, but when she’d confronted the cameraman and dragged him away. A second here, a second there, and things could have had a very different outcome.

And yet, he’d been so proud of her. He hadn’t been close enough to hear what she’d said to the cameraman, but he’d seen every move she made, could almost have predicted everything she’d do because he would have done exactly the same thing under the circumstances. He’d grabbed the Glock from the camera that she’d been forced to leave behind, and had joined her in the sacristy as soon as he could.
Not
because he didn’t think she could handle things—he hadn’t been lying yesterday when he told her she had everything under control. But because he’d wanted to be with her for whatever happened.

The clock’s minute hand, the one that had seemed frozen in place for the past half hour, finally clicked onto the twelve. Five o’clock. Time to go.

He said good-night to his administrative assistant and was gone before she could reply, and then he made the five-minute walk to his apartment in less than four minutes. He showered, shaved and dressed swiftly—jeans, a long-sleeved polo shirt in a deep shade of forest green and a brown tweed blazer. He was out the door again in ten minutes, which left him plenty of time to walk to Angelina’s apartment.

He passed the flower shop almost without seeing it, but then backtracked quickly. The flower arrangement that had caught his eye in the window seemed to have been made just for her.
Lilies,
he thought, remembering her middle name.
Perfect.
Lilies of the valley—with their small, white choral bells hanging upside down from their stalks—tiny blue forget-me-nots and jasmine. Sweet-smelling jasmine. He paid for his purchase and waited impatiently while the florist wrapped the arrangement in tissue paper and placed it carefully in a box.

He was a minute late when he finally arrived, but it was worth it when she promptly opened the door, as if she’d been waiting for him. She wore jeans and an ice-blue sweater that matched her blue-gray eyes and reminded him of the robe she’d been wearing last night. As if he needed a reminder.

The complete surprise on her face when she unwrapped his floral offering touched something deep inside him. Had no one ever given her flowers before? Was he the first in this way, too?

“They are beautiful,” she told him with just a hint of shyness. “Thank you.”

“When I saw them in the shop window, they whispered your names to me—Angelina Zuzana. I had to stop, even if it meant being late.” He touched one tiny bell on a stalk of lilies of the valley. “My mom loves these, and always has them in her garden. They’re a perennial, you know. And when they bloom, she goes around singing that children’s song about lilies of the valley.” He smiled at the memory. “My mom was always singing to us when we were kids. She still does to my niece, Alyssa, and she still has her garden.”

“My mother loves flowers, too,” Angelina confessed. “But her garden is a bower of roses she tends as if they are her children.”

“She’s still alive?”

“Oh, yes. Both my parents. I see them every week, if I can. She is not so old—just fifty-four. My father is much older—almost sixty-six. But I...” She trailed off.

Alec wanted to know what she’d been going to say. “But you...?”

“But I am not close to them. They do not...that is...they are very old-fashioned, even for Zakhar. They wanted me to marry young. To give them grandchildren. Especially since my brother died when he was a baby, and I am my parents’ only remaining child. They do not like that I am still unmarried at twenty-nine. And they especially do not like that I am on the queen’s security detail. The danger, you see. If I were to die without giving them grandchildren...”

Alec correctly interpreted this, and stated flatly, “So they don’t know about yesterday, do they? They don’t know you were involved.”

Angelina shook her head. Not sadly, just with acceptance of something she could never change. “I cannot tell them. They would not understand. Not just because it would be a reminder of the danger to me, but...to have killed a man...that is a... It goes against tradition, you understand. Not a womanly thing to do.”

Alec cursed under his breath, but he was starting to understand Angelina a little better. Not just the woman she was, but the forces that had shaped her, and how she’d had to fight to overcome those prejudices. How she’d had to fight for
everything
she was.

In many ways she reminded him of his younger sister. Keira had always fought for acceptance—as the only girl in their family, in the Marine Corps, in the agency she worked for. Had always fought for respect. As he’d told Angelina, when he was younger he hadn’t seen it, hadn’t realized he was perpetrating a stereotype with regard to his sister. But that didn’t mean that was how he saw things now. He’d learned in the years since then, and was still learning.

Yesterday had rocked his world. Shaken it off its foundations. Before yesterday, if someone had asked him whether a woman should sacrifice her career for a man’s, he’d have had no hesitation in saying, “Absolutely!” Not just because he was a man, but because that was the way his father had raised him. Because that’s the way things had been for years and still were for the most part, despite some relatively recent changes in the United States.

What had happened yesterday had clearly shown him how wrong he’d been. Why should Angelina give up a job that meant everything to her, the culmination of a lifetime of sacrifices on her part? A job she was damned good at? But if he wanted a future with her—and right now, he couldn’t imagine
not
having a future with Angelina—what other choice did they have? He wouldn’t be staying in Zakhar. Not permanently. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, because he’d eventually be reassigned. That was the nature of his work. And if he wanted to be promoted, it was almost guaranteed he’d have to relocate to wherever that promotion was—that’s how the federal government operated.

It wasn’t until he’d convinced himself he’d never ask Angelina to make that kind of sacrifice for him that he realized just how devastating a blow it would be to him if he asked her and she
didn’t
choose him.

Chapter 9

T
hey had dinner at Mischa’s in the central district again. Afterward they walked as they’d done the first time, although this time they were able to walk much farther afield since Angelina wasn’t wearing heels. Conversation at dinner had been restricted by their surroundings—neither had wanted to discuss anything related to yesterday since it might be overheard by other diners. But as they walked, they talked freely.

“Where does the investigation go from here?” Alec asked.

Angelina shook her head. “I am not involved in that,” she said softly. “Captain Zale and the heads of the other two security details are in charge of the investigation from this point on.” She started to say something more but changed her mind at the last minute.

“And you’re just going to let them push you aside like that? You’re not even involved in the interrogation of the remaining cameraman?”

“I would like to be,” she said, unable to keep a trace of wistfulness from her voice.

“You should be.”

It seemed a criticism, and Angelina was quick to defend herself. “You do not understand. I am in no position to insist on anything. I am fortunate to still have my job. I am fortunate not to still be under investigation myself.”

He stopped walking to look at her. “For
what
?” His expression of incredulity was a welcome sight. At least Alec thought it an impossibility she was involved in the conspiracy. When she explained, he snorted. “Idiots.”

“No, they are—”

“Yes, idiots, if they think there’s even the slightest chance you had anything to do with the assassination attempt. Don’t they know you at all? I haven’t known you very long, but even I know that much about you.”

“It is not just that,” she continued. “When they finally let me leave last night, the king’s men—Majors Kostya and Branko—implied that even if I was not involved, I was somehow at fault because—” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Because you’re a woman?” Again there was that note of incredulity in Alec’s voice, and it warmed her heart. “No man could have done better, Angel. I know I couldn’t.”

“The king agrees with you,” she added quickly. “I think it is only because of him that I was allowed to return to my post guarding the queen.”

Alec took her hand in his, stared at it for a moment and then pressed a kiss in the palm. Angelina had never had her palm kissed, and she felt it tingle all through her. Then he said, “I’m glad you told me about the king. I like him. And I respect him more than most men I know. If I thought that he—but he doesn’t, and that’s good.”

He hesitated but then seemed to reach a decision. “I’m going to tell you something, something you can’t tell a soul. But I know you won’t.”

“Tell me what?”

“Let’s walk.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. After a minute, he said, “I don’t know what you might have heard about why I’m here.” She opened her mouth but then decided it was better not to say anything. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at her, humor in his eyes. “I’ll bet you’ve heard rumors.”

“It is not a reflection on you,” she rushed to say. “Princess Mara...she is well liked in Zakhar. Everyone knows you were one of her bodyguards when she went to Colorado—it is not a secret.”

“So no one was surprised when strings were pulled to get me here as RSO at the embassy,” he finished for her.

Angelina’s eyes crinkled in embarrassment. “That is how the world works sometimes. Princess Mara made no secret of her indignation over how you were treated at your last posting. The king—he is a great king for Zakhar, you understand. But he is like clay where the women he loves are concerned. His wife and his sister. He will do anything for them.”

“I’ll bet,” Alec said dryly. “Especially if what they ask for falls nicely in line with what he wants.”

Angelina cast him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He smiled, but his smile had more than a touch of cynicism in it. “What if I told you the king had another—entirely different—reason for bringing me here? And what if I told you the real reason I’m here could involve you...indirectly?”

This time she was the one who stopped. “How?”

“Let’s keep walking and I’ll explain.” He turned left, bringing them to the river embankment walkway. The sun had already set, but the lights of Zakhar were reflected in the slowly moving water, making for a romantic setting—if either of them cared about that at this moment. “You told me your cousin disappeared about eight years ago, right?”

A little pang shot through her, as it always did when her missing cousin was mentioned. “Caterina,” she said softly, regretfully. “Her name is Caterina.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Puzzled, she asked, “How do you know that? I did not think I—”

“McKinnon found out for me.”

Even more puzzled than before, Angelina said, “Princess Mara’s husband? Why? I do not understand.”

“The king brought me here because there’s a human-trafficking ring operating between Zakhar and the US, for purposes of prostitution. And we suspect certain people at the US embassy might be involved. Including the previous RSOs.”

Everything fell into place and Angelina felt herself go cold despite the warm jacket she was wearing. “Oh my God,” she said, coming to a complete halt, her eyes riveted on Alec’s face. “Modeling. Caterina received a work visa from the embassy to do modeling in the US.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. “But when I went to the embassy after she disappeared without a word, no one there would speak to me. No one would help me try to find her. Oh my God.”

Alec’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Yeah. We had no idea about your cousin. Didn’t know the trafficking ring had been in operation that long—and we still don’t, not for sure. But it all fits neatly. McKinnon works for a secret US agency—I can’t tell you any more than that, other than the agency is authorized to operate both within and outside the US, which is important for legal reasons. I recruited him to help me in this investigation for that, and because he’s got a legitimate excuse for being here in Zakhar totally unrelated to anything happening at the embassy. And we’re friends—that’s well known.”

He drew a deep breath and let it out. “So the cover story is the king caved to pressure from his sister and pulled strings with the State Department to get me here. McKinnon’s here because of his wife. And together we’re secretly investigating the embassy’s involvement in trafficking in women. Including your missing cousin.”

Emotions she thought she’d long ago buried rose up suddenly, and she frantically tried to hold them back, biting her lip until it bled. Then she knew she couldn’t do it, and she buried her face in her hands as the sobs she couldn’t repress tore through her. Nearly silent sobs—at least she had enough control for that—but Alec put his arms around her, holding her tight as she wept for the cousin she still loved and missed so dreadfully.

“Shh,” he soothed. “I’m sorry, Angel.”

She choked out her cousin’s name and hid her face against Alec’s shoulder, struggling to regain control. “I never cry,” she insisted. “I do not. I really do not.” Despite the fact that she’d cried last night. Despite the fact that she was crying now.

“It’s okay to cry,” he reassured her. “If it was my little sister—if this had happened to Keira—I’d be crying, too.”

* * *

“Help! Help! Someone help!” The voice reverberated down the long, echoing hallway of the old prison on the outskirts of Drago, and two guards came running. Dinnertime for the prisoners was over, and it wasn’t yet time for bed check. But the loud voice could be heard at the guard station and beyond, and the alarm in its tone was real, not feigned, as it called out repeatedly.

“What is it, Toussaint?” one of the guards said brusquely when the two men reached the cell. One hand grasped the key ring on his belt that would unlock the cell door, the other grasped the baton that would subdue the prisoner if this was some kind of ruse.

“Not me,” Toussaint said quickly. “
Him.
The one in the next cell over. The king’s cousin.” The man bent his head and covered his ears. “I could hear him. Horrible. Horrible!”

Both guards moved one cell to the left, and the sight that met their eyes had both men cursing. One man fumbled for the key while the other grabbed his radio. “We need an emergency medical team in cell block D. Now. Now!”

* * *

Angelina and Alec walked back to her apartment with their arms wrapped around each other, as if they didn’t dare let go. When they finally stood in her bedroom, Alec kissed her slowly. Thoroughly. “No rush tonight,” he said softly as he tilted her head back, running his hands through her short, straight hair as if the silky texture pleased him immensely. “I want to take my sweet time. I want to seduce you, Angel. Is that okay?”

Her eyes met his. Those brown eyes so open, so honest. So beautiful to her. “I would like that, I think.” She felt unexpectedly shy. Why she would feel so after last night, when they’d writhed naked in each other’s arms, when they’d taken each other to unbelievable heights was a mystery. But she did.

He gently pressed her shoulders down so she was sitting on the bed, and he went down on one knee in front of her. He untied her shoes slowly, drawing one off, then the other. Her socks followed, and he caressed her bare ankles with his strong hands until she shivered, her nipples tightening uncontrollably, a sudden throbbing in her womanhood telling her his seduction was having an effect. A totally expected effect, after last night.

He reached for the fastening of her jeans and she tried to help him, but he gently pushed her hands away. “No, Angel. This is my seduction. Let me do it my way.”

She acquiesced, wondering where the demanding lover of last night had gone, and who this stranger was who’d taken his place. But then she stopped wondering, because she no longer cared.

Alec removed her clothing piece by piece. Maddeningly, achingly slowly. Pausing each time to kiss the flesh he’d exposed, telling her without words how beautiful she was to him. Making her sigh at how gentle, how tender he could be.

She closed her eyes and floated on a cloud of blissful sensation, letting him do whatever he wanted with her body, because everything he did was exactly what she needed when she needed it.

When he slipped her underwear down her legs and off, placing a kiss on the silky, golden curls he’d exposed, she suddenly realized she was completely naked and he was still fully clothed. A tiny dart of panic went through her, but Alec was prepared for that. “No,” he soothed, calming her fears with a kiss as he moved up and lay beside her on the bed. “Be patient, Angel. Trust me.” His voice dropped until it was barely a whisper. “Just close your eyes again and let yourself feel.”

She closed her eyes.
Trust me,
he’d said. And she did. She would.

She felt the bed respond as his weight was removed, and she heard a rustling sound she imagined was Alec removing his clothes. Then he was back next to her, his hard, naked body warm against hers.

He nuzzled her breasts, cupping them with his hands, and used his tongue to tease the nipples into tight little peaks. Angelina shivered, but not from the cold. She wanted...she wanted... She didn’t know how he knew, but he did.
He must.
Because his hand moved down, down, over her belly, to the curls guarding her womanhood. He toyed with them for just a moment and then slid his fingers between the petals, making her gasp. Then a second finger joined the first. Stroking deep. Deeper, his thumb finding the little nub at the same time, flicking over it until she moaned and her legs thrashed restlessly.

She almost opened her eyes then, because she wanted to see his face. Wanted to know if what he was feeling was anything approaching what she felt. But...
trust me,
he’d said.
Just close your eyes...let yourself feel...

His fingers continued working their magic until she knew she couldn’t hold back any longer. Until she arched and cried out Alec’s name—not the screams of the night before, but a soft moan of exquisite pleasure as she throbbed around his fingers. Endlessly. When he finally removed his fingers, she felt such a sense of loss a whimper escaped her. But then Alec moved between her legs and she felt a blunt probing as his shielded flesh teased the entrance to her body. Teased, then withdrew. Pushed a little deeper, then withdrew again. Never enough. Never deep enough.

The next time he entered her, she arched, trying to pull him deeper, but he held back. His muscles were trembling—she could feel it. But he still refused to complete his possession of her for some reason she couldn’t fathom. “Please, Alec,” she begged as a sigh of longing rippled through her. “Please.”

“Look at me, Angel.” His voice was deep and husky with desire held on a tight leash. And when her eyes flew open, she found him staring down at her with such emotional intensity she caught her breath. He surged into her, so deep she knew he couldn’t go any deeper.

Then he began a rhythm. Slow. Measured. Tortuous. Making sweet love to her, but taking his time. The first climax had been nothing compared to the one that was building now. Just as last night—as wondrous as it had been—was nothing compared to what she was feeling now.

Then she couldn’t think anymore. Didn’t want to. She was on fire, burning up from the inside out. Aching. Needing. But he wasn’t going to let her go...wasn’t going to let her find her release...until they found it together.

* * *

“Why?” she asked him when she could finally breathe again.

He propped up his head on one hand, idly running the fingers of his other hand over the swell of her breast, the curve of her hip. As if he just had to touch her. “Why what?”

“Tonight...last night...do not misunderstand, I loved last night. It was...” She tried to think of a word that would describe last night, but all she could come up with was, “Incredible. I had not imagined there were so many ways to...” She felt herself flushing. “But tonight was different. So very different. Incredible, too, but different.”

She didn’t know how to tell him the two nights appealed to different aspects of her character. There would be times she wanted him as he was last night—the fierce, demanding lover who would accept no less from her in return. Warrior heart calling to warrior heart. And there would be other times she wanted him as he was tonight—the sweet, tender lover. The seducer, who made her feel cherished. Adored.