Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (7 page)

Stefan scowled as he faced into the wind, their small speedboat cutting across the water at a rapid clip, bisecting the azure waters as they approached the shoreline of the small island. His men had located the scavenger band’s leader, who’d been more than willing to talk to them. The previous night’s storm had yielded more gifts from the sea, and he had much to sell.

Stefan had much to sell, too. And now so did Nicki, unwittingly. The information she had on her video cam, if proven to be a connection to Prince Ari’s airplane, was both good and bad news. Good, if Ari was found alive or dead, without foul play involved. Bad, if the king and queen had indisputable cause to do a full scale search in this area—area which was not Garronois territory, but Turkish. The nightmare of navigating the politics of those permissions, and the inherent insinuation that the Turkish government hadn’t done all they could to find Ari’s plane or the remains of the son of one of its neighbors and supposed allies, was not a possibility he relished.

Worse, Nicki knew where that wreckage was. So if someone wanted that information buried, she’d be the first person in line to be buried as well.

He grimaced. There were a lot of ifs in that statement, and he more than most knew the danger of getting too caught up in ifs. Part of what made him successful was his ability to focus only on what mattered to the job at hand.

And what mattered at this moment was keeping Nicki out of access to anyone but him, until they returned her safely home to Garronia.

Home.
His lips twisted on the word. The palace wasn’t really his home, but it was the closest he’d probably get in this lifetime. His father had been a distant cousin to the king, but Stefan hadn’t known the royal family well until after the accident that had taken his parents’ lives. King Jasen had taken him in without question or conversation, welcoming him into the palace even though he’d been an idiot teen, angry at the world. The king and queen and had showered him with faith and understanding, and they’d asked for nothing in return but his unstinting service. He would give them that. He would always give them that.

Beside him, Nicki was mute on the edge of her seat, clearly excited to be along for the op but trying hard not to show it. He tightened his jaw, thinking of what she’d heard in the conference room at the palace. He’d not been wrong. She shouldn’t have been asked to do this. But she wanted so badly to succeed…

He frowned, a new thought striking him. What was behind Nicki’s urgency, exactly?

Stefan knew enough not to imagine it was solely because she was swept up in her attraction for him. So why? By all accounts, she was successful at her work. She was strong and fierce, and her friends and family adored her. Arguably, he hadn’t read Nicki’s dossier as closely as Emmaline’s, after Prince Kristos had begun showering the girl with attention. Nicki had been a distant third in his concern behind the wide-eyed Emmaline and the shrewd-tongued Lauren. She was content to be in the background. Particularly if that background had a wall she could climb.

Nicki must have sensed his attention, because she turned at that moment, catching his expression. She grinned widely then, letting some of her excitement leech out before grabbing at the edge of the speedboat as the driver abruptly banked. They’d arrived.

Their trip had taken them around the southern tip of the island, facing out to sea. Stefan couldn’t see any of the mainland from this vantage point, though it was only a few miles distant, and instead his attention focused on a small collection of huts that peeked out of the thick vegetation, virtually undetectable unless you were looking for them.

When they reached the sand, Stefan handed Nicki a broad scarf. “Hair and face,” he instructed, and she complied without comment. Much of Turkey embraced western ideas regarding a woman’s need to cover herself in public, but Stefan wasn’t taking any chances with these outliers. And Nicki didn’t bat an eye—again, she was following orders, and delighted to do so. Her bright eyes took in everything, and her mouth stayed firmly shut.

They trooped up to the scavenger dealer and after quick orders delivered in Garronois, Stefan and one man continued on while Nicki, flanked by guards who were trying to act like anything other than her protectors, stopped at a lean-to bristling with junk. She and the guards would pretend to paw through the offerings while Stefan met with the dealer. Without another word, he and his lone guard moved on.

The dealer sat outside his hut, beneath a large fabric shade. He was fat in the way once-strong men often were, layers of softness obscuring but not negating the tough core beneath. He nodded as Stefan walked up, then focused on his team.

“Who is the woman?”

“Guest. Didn’t trust her alone on the boat.”

The man smiled, displaying cracked teeth. “Always good idea, that. Not worth being wrong.” He spoke Turkish, and he gave his full attention to Stefan. “Big man, big boat. Your men clearly thought I had something of value to offer you. What do you need?” He didn’t offer specifics, but Stefan suspected everything was on the table—guns, ammo, jewelry, drugs.

“Information.” He pulled out a printed photo of Ari’s wristwatch adorning the wrist of the fisherman. They’d staged the photo to have the watch in close proximity to the man’s face. “Six months ago you sold this watch to that man,” he said, stabbing his finger at the photo. “Do you remember?”

The older man squinted at the photo and appeared to consider his options. “I sell a great many things.”

“And you sold this honorably,” Stefan said. “The man said you’d received it in exchange for several items from a man. This man?”

He held out a picture of Ari and waited. The photo was of Ari working on his plane, dressed in what amounted to rags for him. But he was clean and healthy, obviously the son of a rich man. With luck the dealer didn’t realize exactly who he was, but—

The man shook his head. “That man? No. That is not who sold it to me. He was a small man, not Greek. Maybe Egyptian. Crazy in the head.” He touched his temple. “That man in the photo would not have traded the watch for a leaky boat and food. He is too smart for that, eh? Too smart to sell a watch at all, I’m thinking. There would be a story there.”

Stefan pocketed the photo. “The Egyptian man, you ever see him again?”

The scavenger shrugged. “No, but didn’t expect to. He was drunk—gave me his flask too.” He grinned. “Idiot. Didn’t know what he had, either the booze or the watch. Maybe he got it from your friend, eh?”

Stefan smiled right along with him, but his heart knifed sideways. “Flask—you have it?”

“Not for sale.” The man gestured to the table, his shrewd eyes missing nothing as Stefan turned. He didn’t have to search hard. The flask had primacy of place on the man’s side table, sticking out from the trash like a rose among thorns. It was six inches tall and three inches wide, a mixture of metal and waterproof leather.

And, in the bottom right corner, there was a defect. A part of the leather had been burned away…where the flask had once been stamped with the symbol of Garronia.

Stefan’s next move wasn’t so much planned as instinctual. Rationally, he knew the man could be telling the truth. There could have been a mysterious Egyptian man, drunk from Ari’s own flask. That man could have killed Ari, taken his valuables and pawned them off. It was all totally reasonable.

He launched himself at the big man anyway.

The man saw it coming. He barked an order as Stefan’s guards turned, three men coming out of the next lean to with semi-automatic rifles. They were too late, and Stefan was already on the dealer, knocking him back off his chair with a roundhouse punch and divesting the dealer of his own gun. He pushed the weapon up against the man’s temple before the dealer finished bouncing off the woven mat.

“First, call off your men,” Stefan snapped. “Then, tell me the truth. I have money, friend. Money and nothing but goodwill for you. I kill you, and your men won’t mourn, they’ll take all your money and goods and set up their own shop. I don’t want that and neither do you. But I am going to need the truth.”

Chapter Six

Nicki stood frozen in the lean-to, the guards on either side of her aiming their pistols out at men who were now aiming back at them. Both sets of guns looked powerful enough to cause a lot of damage, but no one fired.

The big man in the hut—she assumed it was him—yelled something and all of the men eased up slightly. Then the hut’s guards stepped back and lowered their guns, backing away.

“What’s going on?” she asked between her teeth.

“Let’s get into the sightline of Ambassador Mihal. He’ll want to see you are unharmed.” Tamas’s words were low and quiet. “Don’t worry. This means the negotiation is going well.”

She stared at him but did as he directed, moving into the doorway of the hut but no further. She was still protected by the flimsy frame of the hut and the less flimsy frames of her bodyguards. Stefan flicked his gaze toward her and then turned back to face the big man. They both stood close together. On the table between them sat a black neoprene bag—which contained money, she was nearly certain. The big man started gesticulating wildly and Stefan regarded him steadily, calm as always. She couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, and Tamas remained silent. She didn’t need to know, she reminded herself. She only needed to do what was required.

And what was required was apparently that she stay in Stefan’s sightline.

While she stood, her eyes scanned the hunks of debris that counted as viable artifacts for sale. Clothing, oddly enough. Shoes. Some jewelry, but all cheap stuff. Radios and electronic components scavenged from God knew where. Towels and soap. All the island luxuries she supposed. There was nothing that appeared worth stealing, and even if she’d been so inclined, the presence of all the large men and large guns proved a significant deterrent.

She didn’t have long to wait, fortunately. Within about five minutes, Stefan stood back from the man, gesturing to the moneybag. The man nodded and watched him with beady eyes as Stefan signaled to Tamas. The two guards moved out, with her in the middle, and they left the tiny collection of huts behind. Stefan joined them less than ten minutes later as they slowly made their way along the beach.

“We stop here,” he said abruptly as they followed the shoreline. “Tamas, stand watch with the others. Nicki, get the blue camera out of the bag. The blue one, not the black.”

She gaped at him as the men fanned out. Tamas handed her another black bag. “I don’t know what this is,” she said quietly as she pulled the camera out.

“Point and click like you’re a tourist. We’ll need proof you were on this island for legitimate reason if our friend back there gets cute and tries to cause trouble. He won’t betray his own hand, but he’ll betray ours if there’s money in it.”

“Oh.” She still didn’t understand. The camera wasn’t behaving like her normal one. It generated readings she couldn’t decipher, but she willingly moved it around the gorgeous view, from the forest to the beach to the shoreline and open waters.

“Turn back toward me, click it off,” Stefan said. “Now take this one.”

He handed her the camera she’d been using on the yacht, a standard video cam. “Take a second sweep. Keep away from the direction of the scavenger camp.”

She did as he asked, realizing suddenly that the first camera added to her purpose here. She was the cover, but she could do useful things as the cover. Even if she didn’t understand them.

“We good?” Tamas asked the question after she finished the second sweep, and Stefan nodded.

“They would’ve attacked already if they were going to,” he said. “We’re in the clear. Debrief on the boat. At this point, we leisurely head back with Nicki snapping random photos, full view. No guns.”

Nicki snorted. “Like they don’t know you have guns under your tunics.”

“We aren’t the only ones snapping pictures,” Stefan murmured. “Satellites and drone technology haven't reached a lot of Turkey, but we can’t take that chance. To all the world, we visited a well-traveled scavenger hut, took lots of pretty pictures of birds and beach, then headed back to our boat.”

“And what did we—” Nicki clamped her lips shut. She didn’t need to know the information at this exact moment, she told herself. She could follow directions and be a good team member.

Beside her, Stefan chuckled.

They were back aboard the yacht within the hour, and Stefan dismissed the men, leading Nicki to a small cabin on the second level. The room bristled with communications equipment, and he flipped several units on. Within moments, Cyril was on the screen.

“Report,” the chief advisor said, flicking his glance to Nicki. Then they both turned to Stefan, whose face had hardened.

“Who is with you?” Stefan asked.

Cyril didn’t hesitate. “I’m alone. King Jasen is due here in ten minutes.”

“You can speak to him, then, and decide what you need to share. The dealer saw Ari,” Stefan said, his words clipped. “Timing was roughly a year, and from his description Ari was seriously injured, appearing concussed at a minimum, brain damaged possibly. He was raving and disoriented. He did not identify himself, and did not identify that he’d crash landed his plane.”