Forever Betrayed: Forever Bluegrass #3 (6 page)

“I just don’t understand this place. Princes and princesses going by their first names and eating dinner at the local café with not a single person thinking it’s out of the norm. Then there are all the assassins, terrorism, and a woman picking me up from the airport with a massive rifle in the backseat.”

“Abby?” Dylan instantly asked. Mila nodded as they came to a stop in front of the B&B. “She was out target shooting with her parents when Veronica asked her to get you. As for the royal family, well, we don’t really care. They’re just part of the town. I grew up running around their house and think of Dani and Mo as my aunt and uncle. All of us Davies cousins do.”

Mila opened the front door and Dylan carried the bags inside. “How is helping me messing with Prince Zain?”

“Just a little guy humor. Where’s your room?”

Mila pointed up.

“Second floor?”

Mila pointed higher still.

“Third floor?”

Mila pointed higher again.

“I should have let Zain bring you home,” Dylan mumbled as he started climbing.

CHAPTER SIX

“Give me all the details,” Zain demanded the second Kareem slammed the gas pedal down.

“It started off as a small number of people who were protesting the lack of jobs, but then they got on social media and soon five turned into fifty-five. The king ordered guards to passively observe to make sure no property damage was done and no one was hurt.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Zain said, confused. “Rahmi has a very low unemployment rate.”

Kareem flew down the country road, heading toward home. “I don’t know, but it was trending online and there are pictures of young people in the street, lighting fire to palm trees and the Rahmi flag.”

Zain didn’t reply. Since he grew up outside of the palace, he had a different take on how to be royal and what his responsibilities were. While Dirar was a great ruler, he was just a different kind of ruler—one who didn’t get out among his people to understand what they needed. But Zain had. Every summer he lived in Rahmi and every time he visited, he slipped out of the palace with a wig, sunglasses, and average clothes to hit the bars. He walked the streets and chatted with the patrons who all knew him under a fake name.

People were worried that the oil reserves were going to dry up in the next generation or two. In fact, Zain had commissioned an independent study to evaluate just how much oil was under Rahmi and her waters to see if the fears were founded. The people wanted to see more diversity in the economy, but none of them complained about employment. And certainly none of them were worried right now. They were worried for their grandchildren. And certainly there had never been any talks of rioting.

Kareem pulled up to Zain’s parents’ house. Nabi, the head of security for the royal family, was standing on the stairs waiting for him. Zain rushed from the car and took the stairs two at a time. “Update?”

“King Dirar is talking to your father. The riots have grown in size to around one hundred. The crowd consists mostly of people under the age of twenty-five. The town is on lockdown and citizens are arming themselves to protect their homes and businesses.”

“What are you hearing?” Zain asked as their strides ate up the long hallway heading back toward the offices. Nabi was renowned for ferreting out information.

“We’re not really sure who these people are. The palace guards snagged a couple from the street without gaining attention and they had no identification on them. They only said they were citizens of Rahmi and their voices would be heard.”

“Could they be from Surman?” Kareem asked as they entered the conference room.

“I wouldn’t put it past Queen Suri,” Zain muttered. The queen had been a pain in Rahmi’s side for years, especially after she became a widow four years ago. She spoke of peace, but her actions were anything but. Surman was ready to come out of Rahmi’s shadow to claim power in the region. There were rumors Suri was strengthening ties with her neighbors, even the dreaded Tahjad, to make a play for the shipping rights to the area. Sometimes enemies made strange bedfellows, though so far there had been no public sign of them becoming friendly.

“Zain, thank you for joining us. As your guard said, we are running on the idea that this is Suri’s doing,” Zain’s father said as Dirar nodded his head onscreen.

“We believe it’s her way of undermining your summit. I’m sending Jamal to you as soon as the riots have died down,” King Dirar told him.

“Jamal? Why?” Zain asked.

“I want the representatives from Surman to know you have the full power of the royal family behind you. Jamal will be a silent observer. This is still your summit, but he will be there to take action if Surman oversteps.” Zain gritted his teeth and gave a single nod of his head. His uncle took that as acquiescence to this plan. “Good. Now, I have a riot to detain and a queen to call out.”

“Wait,” Mo told his brother. “You must keep an open mind until you have learned all the facts. We don’t know if this is Surman for sure. We need proof before you go after a queen.”

“And, Uncle,” Zain cut in, “if we make a big deal about a relatively small event, then we could threaten global support for our nanotech lab. No country will sign on to be partners if they think Rahmi is unstable. This story needs to be spun into a wild college party or something. The country’s future economy depends on our allies—even those who aren’t our allies—as seeing us as a stable country worth investing in.”

Dirar took a deep breath. “It will be done. But Surman’s days are limited. As soon as I have proof they are behind this, I am going after them.” Dirar slammed the computer shut and the screen went dark.

Zain looked at his father. His hair had started to turn silver the last few years and now he ran his hand over his normally impeccable hair, causing it to mess.  “Where the hell is Nash?”

“I don’t know, Dad. He’s not responding to any of my communications. I thought Dirar would have told you,” Zain said, surprised that even his father didn’t know where the man being groomed to take over security in Keeneston had gone. Ahmed and Nabi had trained Nash, but the king had ordered the promising young soldier back to Rahmi and no one had heard from him since.

“No, he didn’t.” Mo picked up the phone and spoke into it. “My office. Now. Kareem, you can leave. Thank you for getting my son here so quickly.”

Kareem knew better than to talk back to Mo and bowed his head. “Yes, sir. Call if you have need of me.”

No one said a word until the door was shut behind Kareem. “Zain, I want only those we trust with you at all times. I know Kareem is a good guy and seems to have a mind for politics since his father is an ambassador. He isn’t as savvy in security as we are accustomed to. I worry about him being responsible for your life,” Mo said seriously.

Nabi smiled tightly. “He’s a good kid. But I agree that he is a diplomat, not a guard. We all know that. The king forced us to take him as a favor to his father who got stuck with the embassy job in Tahjad.”

“Then why don’t we use him as a diplomat?” Zain asked. “Tahjad hates us. We hate them. We understand that. Kareem will understand how to navigate those waters. We want Tahjad to partner with us on the nanotech lab. At the very least, we need to get them to agree to stop pirating our ships.” The more Zain thought about it, the better he liked this plan. Tahjad was a small country across the sea from Rahmi that bordered with Surman. Unfortunately for Tahjad and Surman, they didn’t have the oil that Rahmi did and their economies were shaky at best. The three countries had fought for generations. That is, until Zain’s great-grandfather ordered his second son to marry the queen of Surman. Since then, there had been an uneasy peace. However, no royals, even second, third, or fourth born, were being sacrificed to marry the Tahjad king. It’s a country known to make their money selling arms on the black market and pirating ships.

“Offer them an olive branch,” Mo thought out loud. “Give them the honor of being invited to send a team of their top scientists to the lab. We will not tax them or expect any payment for five years, after which we'll take a reduced cut. How does that sound?”

“I like it. In return for them not bothering any of the ships coming to or from Rahmi. Although, I don’t know if they have any scientists left. Hopefully, they’ll take it. It will ease the fears of some of our allies if we get Tahjad to become a partner,” Zain said before a knock sounded on the door.

“Enter,” Mo called out and a second later Ahmed strode into the room. While Mo had aged somewhat, Ahmed defied the effects of time. He still looked like he could snap a man in half without blinking. Only a couple of gray hairs had even dared to appear at Ahmed’s temples.

“The riots?” Ahmed asked. He was always one to get straight to the point.

“Yes. We’re moving Kareem to work as a diplomat. I know you’re retired from the security force and are just a boring farm owner here with me, but I was hoping you would help us out some this week," Mo said seriously, yet with a slight smirk to his oldest friend.

Ahmed didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The excitement in his eyes said everything. He was happy to be back on the security team.

“Thank you,” Zain said as he tried not to smile. Not that Ahmed would ever smile, but since he was trying so hard not to show his excitement, Zain figured he’d better not either.

“Of course. You’re still my prince. Nabi and I will go over everything. Let me offer this one bit of advice. I know Abigail is here to help give tours and drive people around, but if you fear you need more security I would like her to be appointed to my team.”

“She’s your daughter, Ahmed. I would never ask you to put her life in danger,” Mo said solemnly. “You are already putting your life on the line to protect my son.”

“I would never allow her life to be in danger. I will watch out for her, but she is the best shot and the best at hand-to-hand combat here,” Ahmed said proudly.

“As you wish,” Mo said softly. Zain could tell the summit was no longer an event his father was going to stay out of. Not when friends were now involved in a potentially dangerous situation. If Surman was really out to disrupt the summit, then that meant they would have no qualms bringing the riots to Keeneston. Mo wouldn’t risk Deacon, Dylan, and Abby. Not even counting Ryan Parker, the head of the Lexington FBI, or his younger brother, Jackson, an FBI hostage rescuer. It didn’t matter that they were all adults now. They were the children of Mo’s best friends, and he would make sure they were safe, just as Zain would because they were his best friends.

Ahmed bowed his head and quickly left the room with Nabi. Zain wished his brother, Gabe, were here, but he had been sent on a diplomatic mission to South America. Zain started running over the agenda. He needed to carve out time to meet privately with both Surman and Tahjad first thing. “Dad, how much do you think Jamal will be in the way? I mean, it’s not that I don’t love my cousin. He is like a brother to me, but he’s, he’s . . .”

“A spoiled child. Yes, I know. Dirar and Ameera were so thrilled to finally have a child, they spoiled him to no end. They still do. At least he had to sit through those lessons with you and your brother every summer. I hope he will remember them. If not, I don’t mind reminding him of his duty. It’s about time he grew up. He shows promise; he just needs to stop being coddled.”

Zain moved toward the door. He needed to talk to Veronica. She was going to love a call this late at night. “Dad, can you do me one more favor?”

“What?” Mo asked as he moved to sit in his leather office chair.

“Can you tell Mom to chill out. She had that look again tonight.”

“What loo . . . oh. Why would she have
that
look tonight?”

Zain felt exasperated. “I was at the café with friends and the new German interpreter. Her luggage was lost, and Syd brought her some clothes. Abby invited her to stay for dinner. But then Mom came in with that look, as if any second I would run to have Judge Cooper marry us and in nine months have a baby. I don’t have time for that right now.”

“Of course, son,” his father said, but now he was giving Zain
that
look.

“Ugh,” Zain groaned as he headed to his house. He paused. Oh no. His parents’ house was full. That meant with Jamal’s unexpected visit, he would be bunking with Zain. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate, he now had to get ready for a major houseguest—a demanding one at that.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, Mila woke to the sound of a bustling household. She’d spent the night dreaming of standing between Zain and Dylan—an angel and a demon. In her dream, she had wanted to turn to Zain, but the demon, Dylan, whispered, “Zain isn’t available, but I am.”  She had told him no, it was Zain she wanted. There was a goodness about him that spoke to her. But then Dylan smiled and Mila was suddenly Eve in the Garden of Eden being handed an apple. “Mila,” she had heard Zain whisper before she took a bite. Her heart just wasn’t into it. While Dylan was sexy as sin, there was an air of isolation and secrecy she’d never get through. Mila had handed the apple back to Dylan and ran toward Zain who had held his arms open to her.

Sounds of people talking had woken her before her dream finished. Mila heard snips of conversation through her open window in accented English. She brushed the hair from her face and looked out the window. She didn’t see anything but could tell the voices were coming from the backyard. It was probably the other interpreters having coffee on the back porch.

Mila shook the dream from her mind. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t as if Zain were even available. Even if he had been, she wasn’t exactly princess material. Mila tried to hide her disappointment at those realizations. It didn’t matter that she liked everything about him. He was untouchable, and she was invisible. Mila padded the long length of the room to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day. She wanted to see if anyone knew of a car she could rent or find someone to drive her around town. If luck were with her, one of the other interpreters would know something about it.

She showered in a hurry, blasted her hair with the drier, and slipped into a Syd outfit.
Outfit
was too casual to describe the fabric that softly hugged her curves. It was nothing short of an elegant ensemble. The white skirt with tiny blue and yellow flowers hit her at mid-thigh and swished as she moved. The white, sleeveless shirt had a ruffled collar that trailed down both sides of her throat to form a V-neck before the ruffles tapered off. Mila felt so pretty she didn’t bother with makeup. She didn’t need it. She glowed in the clothes as she hurried downstairs.

Mila made her way to the kitchen and stopped when she saw Poppy at the kitchen sink. “Good morning. I was looking for the rest of the interpreters. I heard them outside just a little while ago.” Mila took a muffin and poured a glass of orange juice.

“I’m sorry, hon. But they left ten minutes ago for Desert Farm. I think they said something about getting the lay of the land, but I couldn’t be sure. My French isn’t very good. I’ve only picked up some from Anton.”

“Anton?” Mila asked as her heart sank. She’d missed her ride. They were doing exactly what she needed to do.

“Miss Violet’s husband. He’s from France and was the cook at Desert Farm until he retired and married Miss V.” Poppy leaned forward and looked out the window. “There he is now. It looks like he’s making his way out to his car. You might catch him if you hurry. He’s probably heading out to the farm, too. He’s been advising the chefs on the meals for the French president.”

Mila chugged her juice and shoved the muffin in her purse. “Thanks!” she called as she ran out the front door. She jumped down the steps and looked at the house next door. An old man with only half a head of white hair was opening the door to a black Lincoln town car.

“Mr. Anton!” Mila called out as she waved her arm. Nothing. Anton just fumbled with the keys. “Excuse me, Mr. Anton!” Mila shouted. Nothing. “Mr. Anton!” Mila yelled as loudly as she could.

“What?” the man asked as he looked up, surprised to hear his name being called. He finally looked at her and waved. “Oh, and a good morning to you, too, Poppy.”

Mila looked behind her. No Poppy. “Wait, Mr. Anton, Poppy said you could help me.”

“What is it, Poppy? I’m heading out to Desert Farm . . . you’re not Poppy,” he accused when Mila finally got close enough for him to see her.

“No, I’m not. I’m Mila Thiessen. I’m the German interpreter for the summit. Poppy said you might be able to take me out to Desert Farm.” Mila looked nervously as Anton pulled out thick glasses and looked at her before putting them back into his pocket. Didn’t he need those for driving?

“Of course. Of course. Hop in. I’m going there now,” Anton said as he slowly angled himself into the car.

Mila opened the door and slid into the soft seat. “Poppy said you were the chef at the farm. Are you helping with the meals?”

“Sure am. These young bucks get too crazy with the spices. Someone needs to take them in hand or they would end up with cilantro in the chocolate mousse. Why are you heading out there? The summit doesn’t start until tomorrow or have I gotten my days mixed up?”

Mila smiled at the man as he inched backward out of his driveway. “No, you’re right. It starts tomorrow. But I like to see the rooms where the conference will be held and know the layout of the building. The chancellor will not want to ask Prince Zain where the bathroom is. I memorize the layout of the area so there will be no surprises.”

“Prince Zain? I still can’t get used to hearing people call him that. He’ll always be that little rascal who liked to steal my tarts. Wait, are you the one who had dinner with him last night?” Anton put the car in drive and coasted down the street. Literally. Mila didn’t see him push on the gas pedal. The car just slowly started rolling down the gently sloping hill.

“Yes. But it was really Abby who invited me to dinner. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” He smiled broadly at her. Mila smiled back as she tried not to look at the fact the speedometer had yet to reach five miles per hour. “What do you think of our young prince? I’m sure you had dreams of being a princess when you were little,
oui
?” Anton asked as the car slowly built speed thanks to the law of gravity. It might make it to ten miles per hour by the bottom of the hill.

Mila shook her head. “No. I never wanted to be a princess. I wanted to be a superhero. I thought I could fly. I even had a secret word I would chant and it would turn my clothes into my superhero outfit and give me the ability to fly.”

“You wanted to rescue people?” Anton asked.

“Yes. My father worked for many ambassadors and some countries we visited . . . well, I wanted to save them all. I wanted to be able to fly overhead and make it rain so the crops wouldn’t die. I wanted to fight the warlords and protect the people. There were so many things that I wanted to do,” Mila’s lips curved into a gentle smile as she looked out the window at the world creeping by.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to make a quick stop along the way. Won’t take but a second,” Anton said as he slammed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward and the world outside became blurry.

Mila clung to the door until her knuckles turned white. The car slid, seemingly on two tires, onto Main Street as people leapt out of the way. She closed her eyes and hung on. Before she knew it, the car came to a screeching halt and she just prayed they hadn’t hit anyone. She didn’t think they had, but she couldn't be sure. Anton honked his horn and Mila opened her eyes. They were sitting in front of the Blossom Café. The door opened and Zinnia hurried out.

Anton rolled down Mila’s window and called out, “What are the current odds?”

“Six to one against,” Zinnia said as she looked innocently at Mila. “Hiya, hon. How are you doing today?”

“Good. Just heading out to the farm to get used to the setup before the chancellor arrives tomorrow morning.”

Anton leaned over Mila as she pressed back against her chair. “Twenty for,” Anton said as he handed over the bill. “We’ll see you tonight. Violet and I are going to make you something special.”

“Sounds good. I’m about worn out, and the week hasn’t even started yet. Have a good day, hon,” Zinnia called out as she hurried back inside.

“What was that about?”

“Oh nothing. We just cook for Poppy and Zinnia at night after the café closes and all the guests are taken care of,” Anton told her as he resumed his snail’s pace out of Keeneston.

“No, I mean the bet.”

“What bet?” Anton asked with such confusion Mila blinked twice.

“The bet you made with Zinnia.”

“I didn’t make a bet with Zinnia.”

“Yes, you did.” What was happening? She had seen him make a bet. He had leaned over her and handed Zinnia money.

“No, I didn’t. I’m a good Christian man. We don’t bet. At least that’s what the missus says.”

Mila slapped her head with her hands and kept her face buried in them. At this rate, she might arrive at Desert Farm in time for the summit to begin the next day. She just hoped it wouldn't be as a crazy woman. She should just jump out of the car and end this now. Besides, she would get to the farm faster if she just walked.

“You should have Zain take you on a tour of the property,” Anton said as he tried to find the gas pedal.

“I’m sure the prince has better things to do than show me around,” Mila said as nicely as she could as a kid on a bike passed them.

“I’ll see what I can do. And make sure he shows you the hidden rooms and passageways. They’re his favorite. He and his brother, Gabe, and Abby would race through there all the time when they were growing up.”

“Abby is very nice. That’s neat they’ve known each other their whole lives,” Mila said, even though she didn’t feel it. Zain was a walking, talking dream come true and, no matter how nice Abby was, it didn’t mean that when Mila closed her eyes at night she hadn’t dreamt that he was with her instead.

“Yes, but don’t let that smile fool you. She can kill you more ways than I can debone a duck.”

Mila’s eyes bugged out. “What?”

“Abby is deadly. And protective. If things ever went south, I’d want her on my side. Oh, here we are,” Anton said as he finally turned into a drive and came to a stop. Two men stood there with guns at their waists. One looked as if he was from Rahmi. He was dressed in a black suit that matched his black hair. The other was in jeans and a black FBI polo. Keeneston should have put the men on their website. The abundance of sexy men in this town would make it a top travel destination in no time.

“Hey, Anton. Who’s your guest?” Mr. Sexy FBI agent asked as he rested his forearms on Mila’s open window. He lowered his aviator sunglasses and Mila almost gasped. While she had true gray eyes, he had silver ones, and they took in everything.

“This is Mila. She’s the German interpreter and the girl who had dinner last night with Zain,” Anton said meaningfully as the other guard leaned forward.

“Really?” the sexy agent asked. “Odds?”

“Six to one against,” Anton said quickly before turning to her. “Mila,
ma chérie
, this is Jackson Davies. He’s from Keeneston and is here as much as possible when he’s not with the FBI hostage rescue team. He’s going to be here this week working for his brother.”

“
With
my brother, not for. I don’t care if Ryan is the new head of the FBI office. Anyway, I’ll be around here all week on security detail. Let me know if you need anything.” He winked, and Mila was sure she heard women sighing all over Keeneston. While he was certainly handsome, the tingles that ran up her arms when she was with Zain just weren’t present.

A large mansion came into view after a few minutes’ drive through pastures filled with horses. Two more men were standing at the front door. Again, one was a Rahmi guard and one was not. She glanced around and noticed guards all over the property. The entire farm would be under constant surveillance.

Mila opened her door and got out as Anton worked his way out of the car. “Hello, Matt,” Anton called out. “He’s a Kentucky state trooper assigned to our area. We’re so small he’s the only one. He’s a good kid.”

“Hello, sir. Who is your guest today?” His deep voice called out as he looked down at a tablet in his hand.
Kid
was not how Mila would describe him. There definitely had to be something in the water here.

“This is Mila,” Anton said as he ran through the introductions. “Is Zain around?”

“Yes. He’s in his office. Last I heard he was in a meeting with Kareem. But it should be over now. Veronica is showing the rest of the interpreters around, but I don’t know where they are. You can ask inside or I can call and find out if you’d like?” This question was directed to Mila who was about to agree when Anton answered for her.

“
Non
, that’s quite all right. I’ll show her around. Follow me, dear,” Anton said as he slowly headed inside. “Phew. It is too hot for this old man.” Anton took a seat in the grand entranceway. “Dani!” he called out, and Mila spun around to face the smiling princess. Mila bobbed a curtsy and Dani shook her head.

“I thought we agreed to no curtsies, Mila. It’s good to see you again.” Dani smiled. “What can I do for you, Anton?”

“Mila needs a tour of the place but the heat has really gotten to me. Can you see if Zain is available?”

“No!” Mila said quickly. First, he was a prince. Second, she didn’t want to be alone with him after the lecture of how deadly his girlfriend was.

“Don’t be silly,” Dani said as she pulled out her phone. “Zain, can you come to the entrance, please? Thank you.”