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“I’m going to help you solve my family’s case.”
He clenched his jaw. So that was it. The grad student wanted to amuse herself by playing detective. No way, he thought. No damn way. Tom Reynolds, his experienced partner, had been killed while working on this investigation. The last thing Luke needed was an amateur sleuth—a gorgeous female—dogging his heels, getting herself into all sorts of trouble.
“This isn’t a game, Maggie.” He drilled her with a hard stare. “People are dying out there.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She bristled before her voice turned raw. “King Thomas was my grandfather. And Prince Marc was my uncle.”
And both men were dead, Luke thought. Killed in a boating accident that hadn’t turned out to be an accident at all. “I’m sure you’re well aware that the Kelly crime family is responsible for what’s been going on. And they have ties in Altaria.” He leaned against the table. “This is a sophisticated operation. An international crime ring. There’s someone in the royal household who’s a key player in everything that happened.”
“And that’s why this matters so much to me. I have a right to know why members of my family were killed. Altaria is a second home to me.”
He pictured her in Altaria, sunbathing on the white sandy beaches, strolling the cobblestoned streets, breathing in the cool, clean air. Altaria was an independent kingdom on the Tyrrhenian Sea, just off the southern coast of Italy. Yes, he thought. Maggie Connelly belonged to that world, to the picturesque island that captured the essence of her youth and royal blood. He didn’t doubt that she had been King Thomas’s favored grandchild.
“This case is too dangerous for sentiment.” And he wasn’t about to put her in the center of a critical investigation.
“My grandfather and my uncle are gone,” she countered, pushing her plate away. “And I need closure.”
Luke heaved a rough sigh. If there was one thing he understood, it was the thirst for justice. But Maggie’s situation was different from his. She wasn’t responsible for the despair in her family. “I can’t let you get involved.” He had a darn good idea why King Thomas and Prince Marc had been killed, and the danger was still out there. A danger that threatened Mother Earth. Biological warfare wasn’t child’s play.
She set her chin in a defiant gesture. “I’m already involved. I have a piece of evidence, something I’m sure is related to this case.”
Silent, he studied her for a moment. Pretty Maggie—the free-spirited coed, the high-society party girl. She had to be bluffing. There was no way she could have uncovered vital information. “Really, Nancy Drew? And what might that be?”
Irked by the mockery, she met his gaze head-on, her eyes suddenly more green than blue. Like one of those mood rings, he thought with a spark of humor. The lady did have quite a temper.
“A few weeks ago I found a CD in a lace shipment from Altaria,” she said, knocking the amusement right out of him. “The software is encrypted, so I couldn’t read the file, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that it was smuggled out of the country.”
Luke’s entire body tensed.
Another pirated file.
Damn it, he thought. Damn it all to hell. Maggie’s discovery was enough to get her killed. “Who else have you told about this?”
“No one.”
“Good.” At least she had the sense to keep quiet. Unable to finish his meal, Luke set his fork back on the table. This case was tying his stomach in knots. “What were you doing nosing around at the warehouse?” She wasn’t involved in the Connelly import business.
She sent him a tight look. “I wasn’t nosing around. I custom ordered some lace for a dress. When it arrived, the warehouse forwarded the package to me.”
A package that had accidentally contained one of the stolen files. Luke shook his head. Maggie had gotten herself tangled up in biological warfare over a dress. Somehow that made perfect, idiotic sense. “You’re going to turn that CD over to me and forget that you ever saw it.”
“Oh, no, I’m not. I’m keeping it until you agree to let me help you with the investigation.”
She tilted her head at a regal angle, and Luke cursed beneath his breath. Women in Altaria couldn’t inherit the throne, but that didn’t make Maggie Connelly any less of a princess.
Her oldest brother, Daniel, had inherited the throne. Although his very public, very lavish coronation was scheduled at the end of the month, he’d already taken a private oath before the United Chambers, becoming king of the small, sovereign nation. And now King Daniel had stolen files to worry about, information that had been smuggled out of his country. He doubted the monarch would appreciate his sister withholding evidence.
Luke had the notion to wring Maggie’s royal little neck. “You’re not getting away with this,” he said.
“And neither are you,” she retorted.
Their gazes locked in a battle of wills. Luke cursed again, only this time out loud. In that long-drawn-out moment, he knew he had met his match.
And now, damn it, he had to figure out what to do about her.
The Connellys’ Chicago mansion was a classic Georgian manor, located in the city’s most fashionable neighborhood. The brick structure sat like a monument, surrounded by a sweeping lawn.
Luke had been escorted to a sitting room, but he didn’t feel like sitting. Instead he stood beside a marble fireplace, waiting for Maggie’s brother Rafe. Overall, she had eight brothers, two sisters, a graceful mother and a powerful father, but Rafe was the one Luke had been working with on the Connelly case.
Leaning against the mantel, he glanced around the room and shook his head. He couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like this. Luke had found his own measure of financial success, and he appreciated antiques, but everything in the Connelly mansion was too grand for his taste.
A moment later he moved his arm, realizing it was dangerously close to what looked like a priceless vase. Ming Dynasty, Qing Dynasty. He didn’t know the difference, but knocking the damn thing over wasn’t the most prudent way to find out.
Rafe entered the room, and Luke moved forward to greet him. Rafe Connelly was anything but the computer nerd Luke had expected before they’d met the first time. He was athletic and hardworking, charming when he felt like it and fond of casual clothes and fast cars. Luke respected him immensely. And if anybody could turn Maggie around, he could. Although Rafe was levelheaded, he shared a bit of Maggie’s impulsive nature. Luke assumed she wouldn’t resent her brother’s intervention.
“Any luck?” Luke asked.
The other man shook his head. “She’s upstairs in her room, hissing like a cat. There’s no way she’s going to relinquish that CD. Not without a compromise.”
And I’m the compromise, Luke thought. Me and the investigation. “Did you tell her what’s on the CD?” he asked. Rafe had recently uncovered the existence of the pirated files, as well as the lethal material they contained.
Rafe gave him an incredulous look. “Not without consulting you first.”
They both fell silent, their expressions grim. They had discussed the severity of this case, the need for secrecy. Luke gazed out a French door. He could see a crop of distant shrubbery blocked in each wood-framed pane.
He turned back to Rafe. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“I don’t see that we have much choice. If we don’t allow Maggie to get involved, she intends to go snooping around on her own.” The other man pulled a hand through his wavy light-brown hair. “I swear, I could brain her.”
Luke knew the feeling. And he also knew what Rafe was getting at. Maggie was in more danger on her own than she was working by Luke’s side. And her having possession of one of the CDs made it even more critical. “I don’t need this.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Once again they fell silent. Luke thought about Tom Reynolds, who had been shot to death while on the investigation. His stomach clenched. If he hadn’t been out of town at the time, he could have given Tom the backup he needed.
“You’ll have to keep a close eye on Maggie.”
He looked up and slammed straight into Rafe’s dark-blue gaze. Was the other man blaming him for Tom’s murder? Or was it a reflection of his own guilt he saw?
They stood in the center of the room, the finery closing in around them. Luke knew what came next. He knew exactly what Rafe was going to say.
“I’m asking you to protect my sister, Luke. To treat her as if she was your own flesh and blood.”
He locked his knees to keep them from buckling. His own flesh and blood. A pain gripped his heart. The ever-constant ache that reminded him of what he’d done. Tom Reynolds wasn’t the only death he was responsible for. Twenty-seven years before, he’d let a beautiful little girl die. He would never forget the day her body had been found. The muggy summer day a farmer had discovered her, bruised and battered—tortured by a vicious attack.
“Promise me you’ll protect her.”
“I will,” Luke vowed. “I promise.” He would keep Rafe’s sister safe. With his life, he thought. With the only honor he had left.
The other man broke the tension with a grin. “It won’t be easy. Maggie’s one headstrong female.”
Luke couldn’t find it within himself to smile. But he rarely could. His joy had died twenty-seven years ago. “Yeah. I’ve already locked horns with her. I know what I’m up against.”
“You’re going to have to fill her in about what we’ve learned so far,” Rafe said. “I don’t want to give her an excuse to go poking around on her own.”
Luke squinted. “Fine. But first I want you to lay some ground rules. Tell Maggie that I’m the boss. This is my investigation, and whatever I say goes.”
Rafe agreed. “I’ll brief her, then send her down in a few minutes.”
He headed toward the French door. “Have her meet me outside. I could use some air.”
“Sure. And Luke?”
He turned, his boots heavy on the Turkish carpet. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Luke only nodded. Protecting Maggie Connelly scared the hell out of him. But her brother had entrusted him with the responsibility. And that was something a Cherokee man couldn’t deny.
Two
Maggie exited the house, then shoved her hands in her coat pockets to ward off the chill. Luke stood quietly, a lone figure surrounded by a winter garden, his face tipped to the sky.
In the distance, boxwood shrubs created a maze—a mystic castle of green. The maze was Maggie’s favorite spot at Lake Shore Manor. To her, it had always seemed dark and dangerous. Haunted yet beautiful.
Like Lucas Starwind.
He wore black jeans and a leather jacket, the collar turned up for warmth. On his feet, a pair of electrician-style boots crunched on the frozen grass. As she approached, he turned to look at her.
She continued walking, and when they were face-to-face, she waited for him to speak.
But he didn’t. Instead he let the wind howl between them.
Maggie had never met anyone like Luke. He had an edge, she thought. A dark and mysterious edge, like the maze. She used to play hide-and-seek there as a child, and as much as the twists and turns had frightened her, they had thrilled her, too.
Luke, she realized, produced the same staggering effect. He looked powerful in the hazy light. His cheekbones cast a hollow shadow, and his eyes bore permanent lines at the corners. From frowning, she decided, or squinting into the sun. In his hair, she could see faint threads of gray, so faint they almost seemed like an illusion.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “Do you want to go back inside?”
She shook her head. The air was sharp and chilled, but she didn’t want to break this strange spell.
“It’s going to snow,” he said. “By Friday. Or maybe Saturday.”
The weathermen claimed otherwise, but Maggie didn’t argue the point. Luke seemed connected to the elements. She attributed that to the loner in him, to the man who probably spent countless hours alone with a winter sky.
Although Maggie wanted to touch him, she kept her hands in her pockets. Luke wasn’t the sort of person you placed a casual hand upon. But, then, she knew what sparked between them was far from casual.
“Did Rafe talk to you?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes.
“Yes. He said I’m supposed to listen to whatever you say.” That, of course, had rubbed her the wrong way. Rafe had made her feel like a child rather than a grown woman. Then again, she had behaved badly in front of her brother, her Irish temper flaring.
“That’s right. You’re supposed to follow my direction, and I’m supposed to keep a close eye on you.”
“Really?” Somehow that pleased and irritated her all at once. She liked the idea of spending time with Luke, but she didn’t appreciate having him as her keeper.
He lowered his chin, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.” She decided she would turn his guardianship against him. She would use every opportunity she could to make him smile. To save that tortured soul of his.
“Good. Then I need some information from you.”
An angry breeze blew his hair, dragging it away from his face. He had a natural widow’s peak, which gave him a rather ominous appeal. Like the maze, she reminded herself. The silver earring caught a glint of the gray winter light.
“How many residences do you have?” he asked.
“Me or my family?”
“You, Maggie. Where do you sleep?”
The question had been posed in a professional voice, but there was still a note of intimacy attached. She couldn’t seem to ignore the tingle it gave her.
“I have a room here,” she told him. “But most of the time I stay at a loft downtown. I own the building.” It was her sanctuary, her home and her studio. Maggie was an artist. She painted because she needed to, because the images she created stemmed from her emotions.
Luke shifted his stance, and she imagined painting him where he stood, the wind ravaging his hair, daylight reflecting the torment in his eyes, the silver earring catching a glint of gray from the sky.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Do you have a current lover? Someone who has access to your loft?”
A sensuous shiver streaked up her spine. “No.” She wanted him as her lover. She wanted him thrusting inside her, clawing at her with the heat and power she knew he possessed. She met his gaze, felt her heartbeat stagger. “Do you have a current lover, Luke?”
He squinted, causing the lines around his eyes to imbed themselves deeper. “This isn’t about me.”
She tossed her head, but the image she’d created in her mind wouldn’t go away. “So you get to pry into my life, but I have to stay out of yours?”
“That’s right. And do you know why that is, Maggie?”
She didn’t respond. There was no need. Clearly he intended to enlighten her.
“You’re too young and too emotional,” he said. “You don’t observe the world through calculating eyes. You wouldn’t have the slightest idea if the person following you was a cameraman or a hit man. So it’s my job to know where you are and who you’re with.”
Counting silently to ten, and then to twenty, she suppressed the urge to fire her temper at him. “Which basically means I’m a thorn in your side.”
“You’re not exactly the partner I would have chosen.”
Maggie saw a shadow cross his face, and she knew he was thinking about Tom Reynolds. Luke had left town for a while after his partner’s funeral. He had seemed enraged at the time, barely in control of his pain.
“You’re emotional, too,” she said.
“Not like you. I’m not playful one minute and pissy the next.”
