Fraser, page 7
None of them was her mischievous princess and the Track Star.
Oh, if she burst in on them doing something, um, irresponsible…
She took a breath, not sure how she’d gone from Imani in Trouble to Imani in a Tryst, but apparently, she ran headfirst into imagining the worst.
Either way, this little adventure was o-ver.
She headed inside.
A boutique hotel, but posh, with travertine tile on the floors, gold accents in the lobby. No lift. She took the stairs, following the tracker on her phone, and came to the second floor.
The GPS wouldn’t tell her what level the room was on, but she’d start here, work her way up. She followed it down the hall…
Stopped in front of a door, her heart thumping hard.
It was open. Partially, at least. She hadn’t brought her handy little Glock 26, thinking that she probably wouldn’t shoot Creed, despite what she found.
But she did have a taser, and this she pulled out, flicked off the safety.
Eased open the door.
The man stood with his back to her, wearing a jean jacket, a pair of cargo pants, boots. Short hair, although not quite military short, and just from the wide set of his shoulders, his lean torso, the stance of his legs, he looked like he could handle himself.
Clearly not the boy from the bar.
He must have heard the door opening, because he turned, hard. Stared at her.
Blue eyes. Painfully, impossibly blue—so blue they stopped her cold.
And then she spotted what dangled from his hand.
Imani’s necklace. The tracker.
“Who are you?” She raised the taser.
She had the sense of a tiger, his eyes darkening, crouching, ready to pounce.
“Who are you?” he said, his voice quiet.
She pointed to the necklace. “That doesn’t belong to you.”
“Who does it belong to?” He lifted it, and it dangled from his fingers.
Only then did the disarray of the room sink in—a lamp shattered on the floor, the bed mussed, pillows on the floor, and was that a bloody hand on the doorframe to the balcony?
“Where is she?”
Pippa wanted to check the bathroom, but she wasn’t about to let him leave her sight. Not when he might be the only link to Imani.
Who was clearly in trouble, even if she’d snuck away for a romantic rendezvous with Track Star.
“Where is who?” he said.
Pippa drew in a breath. “What happened here?”
He stared at her. “Rugby match?”
She blinked, just for a second. Was that a joke? “Excuse me?”
“Dumb question. Dumb answer.” His eyes sparked. “Listen. I don’t know who you are, but clearly, you’re looking for the same people I am—” He shoved the necklace into his pocket.
“I’ll take that.”
“I don’t think so.”
She took a step toward him. “Then think again.” He had an American accent, and that clicked, deep inside.
“Put down the taser.”
“Give me the necklace.”
His lips made a thin line, and he shook his head. “I’m not sure what happened here, but this is the only link to—”
She pulled the trigger.
The taser probes shot out like bullets, and one of them hit his arm, the other his chest. His entire body tensed, and he grunted as he yanked out the probe.
His knees buckled and he fell, hands on the floor. “Seriously?” He ground out his words through clenched teeth.
But with the probs out, his muscles would soon stop retracting. She reached for his pocket.
He lunged forward and grabbed her ankle. Yanked.
She went down, slamming onto the carpet.
Oh, tough guy wanted to fight.
And maybe it was the fact he’d so casually stolen the necklace. Or even the unresolved boil in her gut from her meeting with Gunner. Or probably the frustration of the past ten months, trying to keep track of a princess who, against all advice, rebelled at every hint of protection.
But really, it was the bump on her hip, the flare of pain in her shoulder that made her roll and scrabble for the taser, inconveniently bumped from her grip.
She spotted it, there, nearly under the bed, and reached for it.
His hand clamped on hers. “Oh no you don’t.”
“You started it—” She fought his grip, prying away his fingers with her other hand. “I just…want…the necklace!”
She ripped the taser from his grip and scrambled to her feet.
He grabbed a pillow off the floor, held it in front of him. “You’re empty.”
“This thing can still hurt you.” She lunged at him, and he deflected with the pillow, although sloppily. She smiled. “I can do this all day. Give me the necklace.”
He reached into his pocket, held it up. “Not until you tell me what this has to do with my missing brother.”
Brother?
She lowered the taser. “You’re…a Marshall?”
“Yes. Why?”
She raised the taser again. “Then maybe you can tell me what your brother did with Her Royal Highness Princess Imani of Lauchtenland.”
He just couldn’t win, on either side of the ocean.
Fraser lay on the floor, staring up at Black Widow, or whoever this overly tough woman thought she was, his entire body burning, and rued his impulsiveness.
Not a usual move on his part—to simply jump on a plane for Switzerland in a semi-state of panic. He wasn’t a panicker and usually gave life-altering moments a smidgen more thought. But the winery was in more-than-capable hands, and…
And okay, he’d lunged at the thought of doing something…useful.
That something didn’t include him thrown to the floor, fifty thousand volts of electricity still zinging through his veins.
Every muscle still spasmed, and he would have emptied his gut, except he had nothing but a biscotti in it—gone hours ago. But he kept his voice steady, the pain locked inside as he stared at the woman, digesting her words.
A princess?
His face must have betrayed him, because she frowned. “Yes. A princess. Your brother Creed met Imani yesterday, and clearly, they’ve hit it off.”
Creed, you dog. But given the fact they were standing in the middle of a hotel room, the bed mussed—clearly slept in—a pair of high heel boots on the floor…
Maybe Creed needed another talk. You know, the one given by his dad that asked him what kind of man he wanted to be. The standard you’re sixteen now, and here’s how you handle all those hormones and yourself.
Except, what if Creed hadn’t gotten one of those?
Or maybe the kid just didn’t care.
But that wasn’t the most important issue at the moment because, um, princess.
Fraser didn’t know where to start except, “And you are?”
She considered him a moment, her eyes—a shade of blue-gray—narrowing. She wore her dark brown hair back in a tight ponytail, a white shirt under a leather jacket, dark pants, and even before she answered his question, he knew.
“I’m her—”
“Security.”
“—protection detail.”
Nailed it. She had a sort of Black Widow vibe, all challenge and huff in her demeanor, as if she’d spent way too long in a man’s world and hadn’t yet realized that women didn’t need to be men to be equal to, or even better than, men.
At least, in his book. Maybe in her world…
Although, given the current situation, he might have a little chin-up defensiveness too. “And you lost her.”
That made her mad. Her lips pursed, and she cocked her head. “I think that has a lot to do with your brother and his list of crimes.”
“Crimes?” He pushed himself up, his body still shaking a little, keeping the pillow between his chest and her little black taser that, yes, could still hurt him if it touched his skin. Wow, he hated those things. But they’d been deployed on him too many times in training, so he’d learned how to shake it off, get back on his feet. Now he kept his voice cool and even, unaffected by his currently racing heartbeat. “What crimes?”
“Kidnapping?”
“That’s not the read I got on his call. Creed was scared, and your little princess was in his ear, telling him what to do, so I hardly think this is a kidnapping, honey.”
He stilled, just a little, at his own word. But it had just sorta slipped out.
His own version of a taser.
It seemed to work because her eyes widened. “Did you just honey me?”
He smiled. He didn’t know why—he had worked with dozens of women in the military and very much respected their skills and what they brought to the game. To his recollection, he’d never honeyed any of them. “Or would you prefer sweetheart?”
Her mouth clamped shut, her gray-blue eyes sparking. “Clearly you don’t have the same charm as your brother.”
He didn’t know why that irked him, but he lost his smile. “I’m plenty charming, to women who aren’t trying to electrocute me.”
A beat.
She sighed. “I just want the necklace. And maybe some answers.”
“Like, why does the room look like there was a scuffle? And that someone got hurt?” He pointed to the blood on the sill. “Me too, Natasha.”
She blinked at the name but paused. “You didn’t do this?”
“I was going to call the front desk and complain about housekeeping, but I was here about two minutes before you, and the room was empty.”
“Where did you find the necklace?”
“It was in the bathroom on a towel, along with an Apple watch and some earrings.” He gestured to the floor. “Oh, and they must have left in a hurry, because those look like some seriously expensive shoes.”
She glanced down at the pair of leather boots.
And just like that, he took the taser from her. One quick grab—left handed, because his right had given out on him in the tussle for the weapon under the bed—and suddenly she was the one holding the pillow. She backed away, holding it up.
“Calm down. I’m a do-unto-others kind of guy. And I’m in no mind to be tased again.” He flicked on the safety. And then he held up the necklace. “Tell me why this is so important.”
She considered him, then lowered the pillow onto the bed. “It isn’t anymore.”
“Now you’re just playing hard to get.”
“Fine. Maybe your brother didn’t kidnap her, but did you know he was involved in a murder?”
His smile fell. “Murder?” A terrible knot formed in his gut.
“Yeah. Your boy was involved, somehow, in a murder last night, and there’s a BOLO out on him and my princess. It’s not with Interpol yet, but it will be.”
He shook his head. “Creed wouldn’t…isn’t…No.” But in truth, it nudged a tiny, secreted, purposely forgotten fear that sat deep in Fraser’s gut. Had been there for nearly a decade, really, waiting to be rooted out.
Realized.
No. He shook his head again. “He’s a good kid.”
She held up her hands. “I’m not the only one who wants him, and the sooner I find him, the sooner I can help untangle him from this mess.”
“Kidnapping and murder. Your words, your charges. I don’t think so.”
She opened her mouth, looked away, then back at him. “Fine. Bottom line—if he keeps the princess safe, then I’ll walk away, no harm, no foul. No accusations. No indictments.”
Hmm.
He tucked the taser into his belt, in back. Held up his hands. “Listen, I don’t know where your princess is. Or my brother. But given the state of this room, I think probably they’re in trouble.”
Her mouth pursed and she crossed her arms.
Silence pulsed between them.
“Okay, Captain America, where did they go?”
He bit back a smile. He didn’t know why, but the fact she got his Marvel reference…
And something about the way her eyes glittered with a sort of challenge…
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does the Royal Protection Service of Lauchtenland want to join forces? A sort of diplomatic agreement that doesn’t include tasers or—”
“Or stealing from the Crown?” She held out her hand.
Right. He dropped the necklace into it.
“That’s a start.” She pocketed the necklace. Sighed. “Where would your brother go?”
“What about your princess? Who says Creed is calling the shots here?”
That took her aback, and she blinked at him.
Bingo. He’d landed on something, without even aiming. “Is this something that happens…a lot with your princess?”
A muscle pulled in her jaw. Finally, “Imani is a bit of a wild card.” She walked to the door and studied the handprint. “I’ve spent the last year with her, traveling the world. Gap year.”
“Sounds fun.”
She glanced at him. “If you like sleeping in yurts and youth hostels and trying to vet every situation as you walk into it.”
Oh, right.
“What can I say? She’s American and wasn’t born into royalty, so I get it. But she is still a person of value to the Crown, and should anything happen to her…” She held up the necklace. “The necklace has a GPS tracker built into it. That’s how I found them. Which begs the question—how did you know they were here?”
“This is my brother Ned’s hotel room. Like I said, Creed called me last night, panicked, and I told him to come here. I didn’t know he was involved in a murder.”
“Where’s your brother Ned? Did he do this?”
“What—no. He’s a SEAL, on vacation with his fiancée, except he got spun up this morning, early.”
“And where is said fiancée?”
“Hiking the Matterhorn, I think. I dunno. She’s her own person.”
“Where were you?”
“Minnesota.”
“And you got on a plane?”
Okay, yes, that did seem, from a distance, a little like overkill. “I was worried.” He had walked over to the broken lamp. Glass littered the floor, and he picked up a ceramic shard, dried blood on the edge. “I’m still worried.”
“Right. Very good. So, we’ll go back to my hotel, and Gunner and his team will sort out everything you know about Creed and where he could be—”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” Fraser stood up.
“We’re back to that?”
“I’m not going to sit around answering questions when—”
“When there’s blood on the door frame?” She folded her arms, took a breath. “Okay, Captain, what’s your brilliant plan?”
He ran a hand across his mouth. His body still burned, his muscles convulsing, and really what he needed was a hamburger, some fries. Maybe a European beer, although that would just make him sleepy, and given he’d had about ten minutes of shut-eye on the plane, thanks to the ten-year-old in the economy seat next to him, probably a bad idea.
Still. Think, Fraser.
“You’re bleeding.” She frowned, stepped close to him.
He looked down. Somehow, he’d caught the sharp edge of the ceramic on his palm. He dropped the shard.
She tossed him a towel lying on the bed.
He pressed it into the wound—not deep, just a scratch, but stupid.
And he hadn’t even felt it.
“I don’t think the blood is hers, first of all. This lamp was used as a defense, a panic move. Maybe by Creed, but could be by your princess. My guess it that she got her attacker good, and he wiped the blood off with his hand.”
She was listening, and now turned to the door. “This isn’t just a handprint. It’s smudged, as if he gripped this same place a few times. As he was trying to—”
“Kick out the door.” Fraser had walked over and now pointed to the broken jamb. “They escaped over the balcony.”
Pippa stepped out into the space, and he followed, looked out over the edge.
“Creed could jump this.”
“Probably, Imani could too.”
He stared out into the night, the darkness that hovered over the city pushed back only by the glitter of the streetlights.
In the distance, the Alps rose in dark shadow.
Wait.
“My sister lives in Como, Italy. It’s just over the border—”
“I know where Como is.” She went back inside and picked up the boots. “You think he went there?”
“I don’t know.”
“So it’s a wild guess.”
“Yes. But…I think that’s what I would do.”
“And Creed is your twin?”
He gave a laugh-non-laugh and shook his head. “Not even a little. But in a panic, I’d reach out to family. Or at least my team. And his team is our family. I think. I hope.” But even as he said it, the words burned a little.
He hadn’t done a super job of reaching out to anyone lately. “Listen. My sister Iris’s place is the best I got. So I’m headed there. And if you and your royal protection want to join me, you’re welcome.” He threw the towel away onto the bed and grabbed a tissue, crunched it over the wound, which had stopped bleeding. “But you have to give me your best scout’s honor that you won’t taser me again. Ever.”
She smiled. Then held up three fingers. “Let’s go.”
For a second, he really wished he believed her.
Five
The last thing she wanted was some tag-along American slowing her down.
“Nice digs.”
Pippa didn’t know why his voice, deep and just a little gravelly—probably from fatigue—got under her skin, buzzed, and lit through her entire body like a bloody allergy. But the man’s very presence simply…
He’d called her honey. And sweetheart. And on the Uber ride back to Four Seasons in Geneva, Pippi Longstocking.
She should have never asked his name. Frankly, Captain America seemed just fine. But she was being polite. And perhaps functional. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said as they got in the back seat.
“That’s because my throat closed after you leveled me with your toy gun.”
“Not a toy. Real. And you seemed to rebound just fine.”
