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The doors finally opened and Prince Lucas emerged. He spied Ryan immediately and inclined his head. “McDonough.”
“Your Highness,” Ryan replied, shaking the prince’s hand when it was offered. “It’s good to have you back. It goes without saying, everybody’s been worried about you and relieved to have you home again.”
The royal expression looked sad, distracted, even if the lips were turned up at the corners. “Yes, well, it was an eventful year to say the least.”
“No doubt. Bet you’ve had enough of the States for a while.”
A haunted look replaced his official for-the-public smile and Prince Lucas gave a short shake of his head.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, peering a little more closely at him.
Immediately Lucas straightened, once again regal. Didn’t matter if he was dressed today in slacks and a pullover sweater, nobody would ever mistake him for anything less than what he was, Ryan thought. And he guessed it was not all that politic to question the future king’s health, much less his state of mind.
“I’m fine, thank you. And you? Lorenzo tells me you’re heading up the investigation into Desmond’s death. How is it going? I hear the crime scene was burned to a crisp last night. I suppose that won’t help.”
“Not much,” Ryan agreed with a shrug.
“Well, good luck with it.” He stood aside and nodded at the door he’d just exited. “The king’s ready to see you, I expect, so I won’t keep you.” He turned and walked away without another word.
Ryan watched him start down the now-deserted corridor, noting his bowed head and the hands stuck in his pockets, the lack of spring in his step. Really glum when he thought no one was watching.
Did the upcoming coronation weigh that heavily on him? Ryan wondered. After all he had heard about the exploits of Lucas Sebastiani, he couldn’t imagine that the mere job of running a little country would get him down. Must be something big.
Well, he had stuff of his own weighing pretty heavy on his mind without worrying about the prince’s problems.
The king’s secretary appeared at the door and beckoned.
When he was finally shown into the royal office, Ryan even broke his own tradition and bowed. Hell, he’d drop to his knees and beg if that’s what it took to get Nina out of Montebello. He waited for the king to recognize him.
The monarch looked very distinguished in his gray silk suit, conservative tie and pale blue shirt. He might have been any chief executive who confidently exerted absolute control over every aspect of his corporation.
King Marcus was good at his job, better than most kings because he possessed the real power to rule and did so in a fair and equitable way. He was well loved and respected by his subjects and also by expatriates like Ryan who now called Montebello home.
“Good morning, my friend,” Marcus said after a long moment spent studying him. “Are you here concerning last evening’s fireworks?”
“In a way,” Ryan admitted, then decided he should come right out with it rather than dancing around the issue. Surely his time in here would be limited. “Sir, I believe Nina Caruso’s life is in danger. The person who ignited that fire did so in the bedroom adjacent to the bathroom where she was hiding. She would have died if we had not been able to break the window frame. Even then we could not have gotten her out if she were not so slender. You should send her home before something worse happens.”
The king sat forward over his desk, his fingers clasped together, his full attention on Ryan. “Perhaps she misjudged the size of the window she would need to exit. The fire might have been set by her to deflect suspicion.”
Ryan almost rolled his eyes. “Your Majesty, surely you don’t think she put herself in such danger! We know for sure she wasn’t in the country when the murder took place. And I’ve found no reason at all to think she had anything to do with arranging Desmond’s death.”
“We must consider that through her mother, she probably has contacts in Montebello, providing her with the opportunity to secure an accomplice. Perhaps the person she hired is attempting to get rid of her. That accomplice might see her as a threat now that she is here,” the king pointed out. He narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “Also, I am not discounting her father’s relatives in Italy. Family ties are strong in both places. Desmond might have shared the Caruso name, and ultimately the inheritance, but he did not share the blood. She might well have asked help of them.”
Ryan almost scoffed. “That’s a stretch, don’t you think, sir? There’s no indication she had any motive to have her half brother killed. What could she possibly gain by it?”
“The insurance policy purchased by her father on Desmond’s life when the children were young. The trust fund he left has continued to pay those premiums. You know of this. True, it does not represent a fortune of any magnitude, but in addition, there is also the half of her father’s estate that Desmond inherited, even though he was the adopted child and she, the natural one. That caused resentment, surely.”
Ryan shook his head. “I wouldn’t think either motive strong enough to warrant a solicitation of murder.”
“It is your task to discover whether that is so,” King Marcus reminded him with an inclination of the royal head. “She comes here without invitation, immediately, insisting that she be allowed full access to the details of the investigation. She was never officially notified, you know. Is that not suspicious to you?”
Yes. It was definitely suspicious. “I think the murderer called her for the express purpose of getting her to Montebello. Why, I don’t know yet, but last night’s close call is enough to make a rough guess. Somebody wants her dead.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“She’s loyal to her brother. That’s why she came,” Ryan explained, wondering why in the world he was arguing with the king over a woman he hardly knew. “I would demand justice if I were in her place. Wouldn’t most people?”
“Perhaps. It may very well be that you are correct in believing her innocent. I but play the devil’s advocate. Keep an open mind and do the task assigned you. Arrest her if you find any evidence of conspiracy. If indeed, she is innocent, then no harm is done by your industriousness.”
Not what Ryan had in mind. “You have hired me to solve your nephew’s murder, Your Majesty. She’s making that extremely difficult. Not overtly, of course. But she’s… bothersome.”
“What an interesting word,” the king said, looking faintly amused. “Not one to sit idly by while you complete this mission, is she?” he asked.
“No, sir, she is not,” Ryan admitted. An understatement.
“You must ask yourself why that is so. Will your protectiveness toward this woman blind you to the possibility of her guilt?”
“Absolutely not,” Ryan assured him truthfully. “I will be thorough. Depend on it.”
King Marcus smiled and nodded once. “If I did not believe that, another would take your place.”
Ryan knew the best he could do now was reiterate his reason for the audience and get the hell out. “Sir, I do sincerely believe it would be best if you order her to return to the States until this case is cleared.”
King Marcus sighed and sat back. “I am not inclined to do so until you discover for certain whether she is somehow involved or clear her completely. Extradition would prove a delicate, if not impossible matter if you later find evidence she is guilty. As you know, her precipitous arrival troubles me.” He met Ryan’s eyes. “And you cannot know for certain whether or not she set the fire last evening.”
Ryan was already shaking his head. “No. She had no scent of any accelerant on her hands. No way she could have washed it off. All the soap had been removed from the bathroom by Forensics. The water was turned off.”
“The report indicates petrol was used,” the king said.
“Well then, she could not possibly have done it. She had no time to acquire any between the time we parted company and the time I rescued her.”
“She could have siphoned it from one of the autos in the car park. A quick and simple procedure, is it not?”
“In what? No container was found. No hose,” Ryan argued.
“But they were found. Melted globs of plastic, of course. A copy of this report has been sent to your office from the fire inspector.”
Ryan ran a hand over his face as he processed that and tried to think of anything else that might exonerate her. “She was searched as she came in. Braca questioned the guard on duty.”
“And she lied to that guard. An accomplice could have provided what she needed, or the petrol itself. It would be relatively simple for someone to enter the grounds as a tourist and remain behind after the gates are closed to the public.”
“I assume that is being remedied, sir?”
“I thought it already had been remedied, given the recent murder,” the king admitted.
Someone’s head would roll in security, Ryan thought as the king continued. “You are intrigued by this woman. Understandable, but you must not allow—”
“That is not a factor here,” Ryan insisted with a sweep of one hand for emphasis. “You know it isn’t!… sir.”
The king remained silent, his expression inscrutable.
Ryan paced for a minute, searching his mind for something irrefutable to validate Nina’s innocence. “There are the surveillance cameras. As soon as we’re able to—”
“Recovered within the past hour. Ruined.”
Ryan absorbed the kick of disappointment and went on. “Look, she even found what might be a clue last night before the fire took place, a piece of jewelry. Apparently it was missed in the initial sweep for evidence.”
The king nodded sagely, stretching out his long arms, his palms flattened on top of the enormous hand-carved desk. “An earring, one that could quite conceivably belong to her. Interesting that you missed such a thing, is it not?”
“How did you know about it?” Ryan demanded. But he wasn’t all that surprised. “Franz Koenig,” he guessed.
It ticked him off that the king would think it necessary to recruit a spy from the team. Of course, it was entirely possible someone here had called within the last hour and asked for an update on the forensics. Lorenzo, probably. Franz would be duty-bound to give it. That scenario was much more believable than Franz as a spy, Ryan decided.
“You must not be upset that we insist upon keeping informed.”
The royal we? A not-so-subtle reminder of who was boss here. Ryan shrugged and smiled. “Not upset, Your Majesty. It’s just that I came to tell you myself and Franz stole my thunder.”
The king smiled back as he reached for the solid-gold fountain pen and opened the leather folder in front of him. “Nina Caruso will remain until we have all the answers. Go and find them.”
Ryan had no choice but to accept the dismissal. He ducked his head in his usual salute and turned toward the door. Damned if he’d bow and back out of the room.
“One further word with you, my friend.”
The deep commanding voice halted Ryan in his tracks, his hand on the gilded door handle. He turned, looking in question at the head of state. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
“We have every confidence in your skills and your objectivity. Keep Nina Caruso close to you in the event your current assumptions are correct and there is indeed a threat to her. Keep her very close.”
Ryan met the king’s unwavering gaze with one just like it. “And also in the event that my assumptions are wrong.”
“How better to judge?”
* * *
As Ryan made his way down the long hall leading from the royal offices to the enormous entry foyer, he mulled over all the king had said. And not said. He slowly realized that the sly old fox no more believed Nina Caruso was guilty of anything than Ryan did. This obviously was a smoke screen to hide the real reason the king wanted Nina to stay in Montebello. Hard to figure what that might be at this point.
At any rate, Ryan had no choice but to do exactly what the king advised—commanded, rather—and keep her as near as he possibly could. Her safety was paramount, as important to him now as solving the case. Maybe more so.
That didn’t say much for his dedication to the job. And this job had been his whole life for years now. It was what sustained him, gave him purpose and prevented his sliding back into that pit he’d climbed out of.
No matter what the king had said, Ryan knew his professionalism and his objectivity were at stake here. Keeping his hands off of Nina took up too much of his energy and concentration. Another excellent argument for sending her away. But that wasn’t going to happen now, so he would just have to deal with it.
Somehow, he had to find a way to distance himself even while keeping her within reach at all times. How the hell was he supposed to do that?
Nina hurried toward the grand staircase, her high heels clicking on the beautifully veined marble. She had made it halfway there when a large hand closed around her arm. Oddly enough, it did not surprise her all that much to find herself staring into the furious blue-gray eyes of Ryan McDonough.
After all, the possibility of running into him was the reason she was in such a hurry. If only she hadn’t taken the time to interview those two guards, she might have made it upstairs to the residential wing before he finished his business in the royal office. Without a doubt he would object to what she was doing just because it was her idea and not his.
His long, strong fingers burned right through the sleeve of her beige linen suit. Every time he touched her, apprehension swept through her like fire in her veins. Not that he frightened her physically. Her own reaction to him as a man was what caused her fear. She worried what she might do if his touch gentled again as it had last night. No danger of that at the moment, she thought with a sigh. Right now he looked livid.
Though he wasn’t hurting her, she knew better than to resist his grip. Maybe if she didn’t act as guilty as she felt, he wouldn’t frog-march her out of here like a prisoner. Nina smiled her friendliest smile. “I take it the audience with the king is over?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice, though he kept it low, seemed to echo in the cavernous entry.
Nina knew he was about to read her the riot act for leaving the lab when he’d ordered her to stay put. She decided to brave it out rather than cower. “Asking questions. Something you—” she accused, poking him in the chest “—have obviously been neglecting to do around here!”
He grabbed her finger and removed it from the indentation her nail had made in his tie. “And how would you know what I’ve done or not done?”
“I asked!” she hissed. “The two people I’ve spoken with already were very eager to help. I’m on my way to request an interview with the princesses’ staff.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” Ryan assured her. “Even you have to observe protocol.”
He started for the main entrance, still clutching her upper arm. She had no choice but to follow or be dragged. “So make an appointment!”
“I have. Now shut up and come on!”
“Where?” she demanded, taking two steps to his every one in order to keep up.
“Out of here before you get yourself shot. How’d you get past the guards?”
Nina hated to tell him, but she knew he wouldn’t let it go. He’d be reaming someone out about lack of security. “Well… I showed my ID, told them I was Desmond’s sister and, uh, that I had your permission.”
“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. He glared at the nice young guards with the big holstered weapons and all but shoved Nina through the doors leading outside.
He glanced around. “How did you get here? Taxi?”
She nodded, almost tripping in her attempt to match his haste as he ushered her around the arts wing to the parking lot to his car.
“How did you know I was here?”
Her smile was smug. “Saw the number you left Franz. Public Affairs office, the same one I called after I arrived at the airport yesterday. You came here to see the king and get me kicked on a plane, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Only when they were out of the palace grounds and he was occupied driving through the noon day traffic did Nina risk a question. “So, what did the king have to say about it?”
He shot her a dark glance, then trained his eyes on the street again. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Nina bridled. “Don’t be an ass, McDonough. Apparently it didn’t work, since you’re so mad.”
“When do you collect on your brother’s insurance?”
She frowned at the abrupt change of subject. “What?”
“Have you made the claim yet?”
Nina almost laughed. “You’ve got to be joking! There’s no insurance.”
“A policy for half a million, all paid up, plus the capital in the trust fund that paid the premiums,” he snapped.
