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That possibility was enough to get her moving. She lurched from her car and stood on shaky legs.
The lights from his vehicle showed the damage to her rental car. The trunk and rear bumper were caved in. A scrape gashed into the back door. It was sobering to see how close she’d come to disaster, but she couldn’t allow herself to sink into helpless terror.
“Wait.” She balked. “My luggage.”
“I’ll have someone come back for it.”
“At least, I need my purse.” She leaned into her wrecked car and reached across the driver’s seat to grab her purse. Her gaze slid toward the matched burgundy leather suitcases behind the front seat; she wanted her guns. “Can I get my luggage?”
“Forget it.”
“We can leave the other bags in the trunk.” With the rear end crushed in, it would take the Jaws of Life to retrieve those suitcases. “But I need that one.”
“Why?”
It probably wouldn’t be wise to tell him that she’d brought a couple of Berettas. Facing him, she drew up her shoulders and said, “I’ve got to have my makeup.”
Without another word, he scooped her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.
Upside down, she was shocked by his manhandling. Saida was a princess, after all. His arm pinned her legs so she couldn’t kick. Her arms flailed wildly. With her purse, she whacked his butt. “Put me down.”
“This is for your own good.”
She’d heard those words before—many, many times before, and the statement never failed to infuriate her. For my own good? Really?
At his SUV, Jake dropped her to the ground, opened the passenger-side door and shoved her inside. While he circled around to the driver’s side, she debated whether she should fling open the door, run to her car and grab her guns. Why had she thought Jake would be different? He was just like every other man in her life who wanted her to be a good girl and do as she was told.
The fear that threatened to swamp her consciousness was replaced by anger. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been attacked. Given the circumstances, she’d handled herself well.
Jake slid behind the steering wheel. “Seat belt,” he said.
Though outraged, she snapped the belt. “Apologize.”
For an instant, his gaze locked with hers. “I won’t say I’m sorry for saving your life.”
He swung the SUV in a U-turn. Instead of using the police dispatch radio on the console, he took out his hands-free cell phone and made a call.
“Where are we going?” she demanded. “What are you doing?”
Ignoring her questions, he continued with his call. It seemed that he was giving someone directions to find her car.
“My luggage,” she said. “Have them bring my luggage.”
Jake lobbed a hostile glance in her direction and said to the person on the phone. “There are a couple of suitcases in the back. Bring them.”
“There are other bags in the trunk,” she said.
“How many?”
“Two in the back, four in the trunk, that’s six altogether.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how long were you planning to stay in Wyoming?”
“There’s a certain standard of dress required of someone in my position. I can’t throw on a pair of sweatpants and go waltzing out the door. I don’t expect you to understand. Most men don’t.”
As he returned to his phone call, she sank back against the seat. If she told Jake that the reason she wanted her luggage wasn’t just vanity, would it make a difference? Would he take her more seriously if he knew she’d come to Wyoming armed? Or would he insist on pushing her around? For her own good.
Jake ended his phone call and turned toward her. “I have to ask you some questions about what happened.”
His tone was brisk and businesslike. The balance of power between them was all wrong. He was completely in charge, and that needed to change.
She grasped for control. “Tell me where we’re going?”
“For now, we’re headed back to my place.”
Though her initial intention had been to link up with him, his choice of destination seemed odd. She’d been the victim of vehicular assault; a crime had been committed. “Shouldn’t we be going to the police station?”
Instead of answering, he asked, “Can you describe the vehicles?”
“One was a truck. Not one of those huge heavy-duty monster trucks with big wheels. Just a pickup. It seemed kind of old, and I think it was black or dark gray.”
“What made you think it was an older model?”
“It wasn’t shiny. It looked used.” She wished she’d been more observant. “I didn’t get a license plate. And I’m not good at identifying make and model.”
“What about the other vehicle?”
“A black sedan. A four-door.” She shook her head. If it had been a Lamborghini or a Bugatti, she could have told him more. Most other cars looked the same. “It was similar to my rental car. Maybe it had tinted windows.”
“It did,” he said. “I only caught a glimpse of the truck when it came past my house, but I saw the sedan pretty clearly. They were driving in formation. It appeared to be an organized assault.”
“They were working together. The sedan pulled in front. The truck tried to force me off the road.”
The explanation sounded so bland—nothing at all like the harrowing reality of the chase. She called upon the regal poise that had been drummed into her since childhood to stay in control.
He asked, “Who knew you were coming to Wyoming?”
Though she hadn’t informed anyone in the royal entourage, she hadn’t made a secret of her plans. “The Minister of Affairs made my travel arrangements and reservations. I’m not sure if he talked to anyone else.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Totally.” She’d known Nasim all her life. “He’d never betray me.”
“Someone did,” he said. “Those cars were waiting for you. They knew you were coming.”
They were approaching Jake’s house. Again, she wondered, why had he brought her here instead of the police station? As part of a class in law enforcement, she’d been on a ride along; she knew he wasn’t following standard police protocol. “You haven’t turned on the police siren or the lights.”
“That’s right.”
She pointed to the console on his dashboard. “When you contacted the person who would go to my car, you used your hands-free phone instead of calling your dispatcher.”
“Right again.”
She remembered what she’d read about him on the internet. Much of his campaign for sheriff had been based on a promise to clean up the corruption that had infected law enforcement in Wind River County. “Why are you avoiding the regular channels?”
“Here’s what I think. The person who came after you in that truck is a local.” He pulled up to the edge of the basketball court to park. “Until I find him, I’m only going to work with people I can count on. While you’re here, I’d advise you to do the same.”
She got the message.
There was no one she could trust.
And someone wanted to kill her.
Chapter Three
Whether he liked it or not, Jake was stuck with the princess. He couldn’t hand her over to any other law enforcement agencies, not while he suspected corruption. Nor did he trust the hotel security at the Wind River Ranch and Resort. And the bodyguards for the royal entourage had the stink of traitor about them.
He escorted Saida to the safest room in his house—the guest bedroom on the second floor. Unlike his and Maggie’s bedrooms, there was only one small window.
Keeping her here at his house wasn’t a long-term solution. Not only did he have too many responsibilities as sheriff to act as her full-time bodyguard, but his home wasn’t a fortress. Yeah, he had a security system that sounded an alarm if somebody tried to break in. But there was no defense against long-range rifles and snipers. Had the men who chased Saida wanted to kill her or to kidnap her? He suspected the latter. If their intent was murder, there were more effective methods than vehicular homicide.
He pulled the blinds and crossed the room to stand in the doorway. “You’ll stay here until I know what’s going on.”
His humble guest bedroom with the scuffed knotty pine furniture probably wasn’t the sort of accommodation she was accustomed to, but she didn’t turn up her nose. She perched on the edge of the double bed and gave him a cooperative smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I have more questions.”
“Perhaps I could have a glass of water.” She slipped off her metallic jacket. Underneath, she wore a V-neck shirt of thin fabric that clung to her curves and was almost the same color as her skin—a naked shirt that sent his imagination into overdrive.
Regretfully, he tore his gaze away from the princess and looked over his shoulder at his sister who stood in the hallway. “Maggie, I’d like for you to go down to the kitchen and get something for Saida to drink and eat.”
“My linguini?”
After Saida’s nonsense about fussing with the makeup from her suitcase, he was tempted to torture her with Maggie’s idea of gourmet. But that was too cruel. “Just a sandwich. Bring it up here.”
She gave a quick nod and darted down the staircase.
He turned back to the princess. “I’ll be honest with you, Saida. The best thing you could do is return to California.”
“I’m not afraid.” A blush warmed her cheeks, but her golden eyes were calm. “I won’t leave until I find my brother.”
He’d expected as much and wouldn’t waste another breath trying to convince her. “Do you have any idea why those men came after you?”
“Not a clue.”
“Since we don’t know the why, we’ll concentrate on how. How did those guys know you were in town?”
“Flying into the airport in a private jet might not have been the most subtle way for me to arrive.” She pulled up her leg and unfastened the strap on one of her platform sandals. Her foot was delicate with a high arch, and she wore a thin silver chain around her ankle. “The jet wasn’t my idea. Nasim insisted.”
“The Minister of Affairs in Jamala,” he said. “Would he have told anyone about your arrival?”
“He might have informed Efraim.” She shrugged. “Don’t waste time suspecting Nasim. His primary concern in life is my welfare.”
Jake wasn’t so sure. “Tell me about him.”
“When I was younger, Nasim was a combination bodyguard and mother hen. He accompanied me everywhere, even to Beverly Hills—a place he utterly despised. The only thing he enjoyed about Southern California was the freeway system, which he considered a challenge. He always drove as though on a military campaign and bragged whenever he shaved a few minutes off the drive time.”
When Jake had gone after her, he’d been on a rise overlooking the road and had been able to see last part of the chase. She’d maneuvered her car like a Demolition Derby expert; her decision to hit the brakes had probably saved her from a rollover. “Did Nasim teach you to drive?”
“He trained me in evasive driving techniques, and in other skills to protect myself from kidnapping. Do you think that’s what was intended? Kidnapping?”
In spite of his earlier conclusion, he didn’t answer her question. They weren’t working together. “Do you have reservations at the resort?”
“Yes.” She removed her other shoe and massaged her toes. “Maybe someone at the hotel leaked my name to the enemies of COIN.”
“It’s possible.” Over the past few days, his men had done a thorough job of vetting the employees at the resort. He doubted that any of them were working with the bad guys, but somebody could have mentioned her arrival. Or the reservation desk computer could have been hacked.
She frowned. “I should have told Nasim to use a fake name.”
“Do you often use an alias?”
“Of course,” she said as though assumed names were a normal part of life. “I travel incognito to throw the paparazzi off my trail.”
“Too late for that. They’re already here.” The reporters and photographers who had showed up in Dumont at the first sign of trouble were as pesky as a swarm of gnats.
“There’s one paparazzo who is particularly annoying. His name is Danny Harold.” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “He specializes in photographs of royalty, and he’ll do anything to get an exclusive shot.”
Maggie came back into the room carrying a tray. “You always look gorgeous in the tabloids. I remember a photo of you standing on tiptoe to kiss one of the Lakers.”
“Don’t remind me. That picture started a million rumors about royal weddings, even though I only dated the guy twice.”
“The Lakers?” In spite of himself, Jake was starstruck. “You’ve gone out with players on the winningest franchise in professional basketball?”
“If you come to L.A., I can get you courtside seats.”
“Damn.” There were advantages to knowing a princess.
Maggie placed the tray on the bed and shoved a paper plate toward him. “Eat.”
Absently, he took a bite from the sandwich. When this investigation was over, he fully intended to take the princess up on her offer. It was almost worth all the strife these royals had caused to get courtside seats.
Maggie handed a plate to Saida. “Tell me a couple of your aliases.”
“As a child, I used to watch a lot of American movies. That’s when I first fell in love with this country. So I use movie names. Dorothy Gale, Bridget Jones, Holly Golightly. And, of course, Elle Woods.”
“Of course,” Maggie said.
Jake had no idea what they were talking about. “Elle Woods?”
