Royal Captive (12 page)

“Is out of business,” he cut Miklos off with a quick glance at Lauryn.

Which set off her radar. The brotherhood? What about the Brotherhood of the Crown? Istvan had been reluctant to share anything every time the subject came up. Why? The Brotherhood of the Crown had ended with those princes’ deaths two hundred years ago. Unless…

She turned to look at the maps to make sure her face didn’t give her interest and suspicions away.

“I can fly back and forth,” Istvan added.

“You’re on Cyprus. Focus on the connection there.

Unless you want us all to come back over and work from Porto Paphos together.”

“No.” His response was sure and immediate. “I’ll take care of what needs to be taken care of here.”

Stubborn, she thought. Wanted to do everything by himself. She would have loved to have siblings. She would have loved that kind of support, to have someone care about her problems. Maybe he was the type who could never admit that he needed help.

Then something in Istvan’s face made her think. His voice had been brusque, but worry sat in his eyes.

He wants to keep his brothers safe.

Her heart softened with understanding. He wanted them out of harm’s way. And harm was a near certainty with the investigation. She’d heard the gunfight in the treasury. She’d seen the rifles the ship’s crew had carried.

“Be careful. Duty and honor, our lives for—” Miklos was saying.

Istvan grabbed for the phone and pushed the off button before his brother could finish.

Too late, she smirked to herself, keeping her face averted.
Duty and honor, our lives for the people and the crown
had been the oath of the Brotherhood of the Crown. Well, well, well. Was it possible that the Brotherhood had been resurrected? She put an ambiguous expression on her face as she turned to look at the prince.

He paced the war room, his brows knit in a frown.

“Why are you still here?” He stopped and addressed her suddenly.

She figured the question was coming. She didn’t have any illusions. Most likely, the only reason he’d agreed to let her help was because he wanted to keep an eye on her and it was easier if he kept her close.

She thought about what he would want to hear.
You tell people what they want to hear and they’ll believe you all day long
—a lesson her father had taught her. But as she looked into his dark eyes, which watched her closely, she decided to go with the truth.

“I need to be clearly, publicly, visibly on the right side of this one. I worked hard on building a reputation in this business. If there’s even a shadow of a doubt that I had anything to do with this heist, my career is over and I can never get it back again.”

He remained silent as she weighed her words.

“The world of arts and artifacts is my life. It’s the only thing I know. After my father’s death, I swore I wouldn’t live on the dark side of this business. I sweated blood by the time I could make an honest living from it. If I lose that, I have nothing.”

He was still silent, but she stopped there with her explanations. Either he chose to believe her or he didn’t.

“All right,” he said after a while. “We’ll work together. But a word to the wise, Lauryn. I live and breathe for my country and family. Without that, I have nothing. I will do anything to protect our future as well as our heritage.” He paused, his gaze reaching to her soul. “If I say you stay in your room, you stay in your room. Don’t cross me again.”

From the moment she’d set eyes on him, her image of him was that of the gentleman prince. But now she could see that there was a dangerous edge to the man. A thrill ran through her unexpectedly. She quashed it.

For too long, she’d liked thrill and danger too much. That was the lifestyle she’d inherited from her father, a lifestyle that had brought both of them to misery and ruin. These days she made a point of staying on a slow and steady path.

Even if she was contemplating a short side trip at the moment.

“Do you have any idea how we should proceed?” Istvan asked.

“Maybe,” she said with caution. “I know someone on the island who’s not on your list. Someone who would actually help us instead of running when he saw us coming.”

“Who is he? Where can we find him?”

She hesitated. Their partnership was still tenuous. The prince was unlikely to respond well to her conditions. But she cared too deeply about the man she was talking about to reveal his identity without proper reassurance.

“I want your word that his identity will not be revealed to the authorities, nor will he be prosecuted for any involvement with the current heist or in connection to any information you might find out about any of his past activities.”

Istvan stiffened. “I will promise no such thing. Who is this man? An old partner of yours? An old lover?” His words were clipped, his gaze hard.

“Your word that he will not be pursued in any way.”

“Give me a name.” He stepped forward, that warrior in him coming out again.

She stiffened her spine. “Not without your word.”

“I could make you tell me,” he threatened.

And she didn’t doubt him. Even if she judged him to be too much of a gentleman to harm a woman, he
was
on a mission for his country, and he had plenty of men downstairs to do his dirty business for him. “Not even under torture,” she said, just to make herself clear.

“I can’t promise anything if he had a part in the theft.” Istvan shoved his hands into his pockets, the vein in his neck pulsing with effort to restrain himself.

“He didn’t.”

“How can you know that with certainty?”

“He knew I was going to Valtria. He knew what I was going to be doing there.”

“And he would never put you in any danger? He wouldn’t chance that you might be implicated? Are you sure you’re that important to him?”

She didn’t need to think about that. “I’m sure.”

He took his time thinking over her offer. “If he’s not involved in the heist in any way, I’ll guarantee his anonymity,” he said at last.

She watched him, considering whether she should trust him. A fine team they made, neither trusting the other. Yet they must achieve their purpose. Too much rode on retrieving the royal artifacts for both of them not to try their hardest.

“You have my word as a royal prince,” he added, reading her hesitation. “Now, where is this mysterious man?”

“I’ll take you to him.”

H
E HATED WEARING A
disguise. Istvan smoothed his index finger over the new fake mustache he’d acquired. To go out in public without it carried too much of a risk. He couldn’t chance being recognized now. And he couldn’t take a royal escort with him either. Lauryn had been adamant that only the two of them could go wherever she was taking him.

“How much farther?”

The car rattled as he drove down a dirt road through the most breathtaking countryside Cyprus had to offer.

They were heading south from Porto Paphos through fields of sparse vegetation, nothing but a few olive trees here and there and the odd group of goats as far as the eye could see. Rocky hillsides broke up the landscape that possessed a stark beauty.

“Almost there.” She hadn’t yet given him a name or a destination, informing him of each turn of the road only as they came to it.

Then, when he was beginning to think they would never get to wherever they were going, he went up a small rise and could see bigger hills in the distance, with plenty of green covering the sides and large crosses dotting the ridge.

“There it is.” She pointed.

He had to lean forward to figure out what she was talking about. Then, finally, he saw it. Another mile or so ahead, an ancient-looking building complex was carved into the rocky hillside. Little more than caves on the very top, the structure grew more and more elaborate as it reached the foot of the hill and spread out. The domed tops of the attached buildings and the double cross on top gave it away, as well as the men in brown robes that he could make out once they got closer.

“Don’t tell me you’re taking me to a monastery.”

Her smile grew. She picked up the cell phone she’d received from Istvan. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Can you meet us at the gate?” she asked who ever picked up the other end. “They don’t let women inside the walls,” she explained to Istvan after she’d hung up.

So her ex-boyfriend or partner or whatever joined the priesthood. If any woman had the power to drive a man to extremes, she was it, he had to admit. Although the thoughts she’d been inspiring in him of late were less than holy.

The potholes in the road kept his thoughts from going too far in that direction. The area must have seen some nasty rains in the past couple of days. Car traffic was probably negligible up here, so nobody had hurried to fix the problem.

They reached the monastery at last and he could see a man come through the wooden gate just as he pulled the car up to park. The guy was in his late fifties, dark-haired and, from what his rolled-up sleeves revealed, in excellent shape. He wore drab slacks and a simple shirt instead of a monk’s robe. Women probably thought him handsome.

Istvan grunted, not the least happy when Lauryn flew from the car and straight into the man’s arms. He swung her around in the air with a deep belly laugh. He hugged her tightly, not seeming to care one whit that he was way too old for her and entirely inappropriate.

Istvan stepped out of the car and cleared his throat with some force. And they turned to him at last, the man keeping his arm comfortably around Lauryn’s shoulder, keeping her close to him.

“This is the friend I told you about over the phone,” Lauryn said, in no hurry to pull away from the guy.

“Arnie.” The man stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Istvan.” He felt a ridiculous need to make his handshake firmer than usual but resisted.

“Let’s go for a walk.” The man finally moved away from Lauryn, but she immediately went after him and laced her arm through his as they started up a path that went around the monastery walls, higher up the hill, toward three giant crosses that looked over the valley.

“Lauryn said you lost something of significant value and high profile.” The man looked at Istvan’s face closely, the calculating look in his eyes indicating that he saw straight through the disguise. “I have a fair idea what it may be, but we don’t have to spell it out if it makes you uncomfortable.”

He found the man’s words patronizing, although they were said in an easy enough tone. Best thing to do was to be courteous, considering that he depended on the guy’s goodwill at the moment. He simply nodded.

“There aren’t that many people who could pull off the job,” Lauryn put in.

“And even fewer who could commission something like this. I’m leaning more and more toward the idea that it was a commissioned job. Nobody in their right mind would risk so much without already having a buyer,” Istvan added, picking his steps carefully on loose gravel. “If we could figure out who the buyer is— I don’t suppose you heard anything.”

“I’m out of circulation these days,” the man said noncommittally.

Istvan waited. Lauryn wouldn’t have brought him here if she didn’t think they could gain some valuable information. “Anything you could think of would be helpful.”

Arnie seemed to be considering, so Istvan left him to it. As the path narrowed, there was no room for him to walk side by side with him and Lauryn, so he fell behind. A mistake, since his gaze was immediately captured by her lithe figure and the sinuous way she moved up the incline. She could thoroughly capture and hold a man’s attention without half trying. The woman was nothing but trouble.

She had certainly captured Arnie’s at one point in the past as the man had hardly let her go since they’d gotten here. Even when they reached the top and he sat by the foot of the tallest cross, he pulled Lauryn down close to him. “You trust this one?” he asked her.

“Until further notice.”

“Don’t overwhelm me.” Annoyance surged through Istvan. Who was the ex-thief here anyway? That
she
would question
his
character went beyond belief.

Arnie turned to him. And the glint in his hard gaze said that if Istvan proved to be trouble, he could and would be taken care of before he had a chance to hurt Lauryn. Great. How did
he
end up being the bad guy all of a sudden?

He said nothing, knowing there was nothing he could say or do to make the man hurry. Arnie had to make up his mind on his own. All Istvan could do was wait. And as he did just that, sitting by the other cross and leaning his back against its base, peace filled him little by little. The valley spread out before him was an oasis of serenity. The monastery had an aura that seemed to blanket everything.

His breathing evened, his muscles went slack. He didn’t even mind the flat looks Arnie gave him now and then as the man examined him from under hooded lids.

“There is someone I used to know,” Arnie said at long last. “Seems like he backed out of a major deal unexpectedly a couple of days ago. Caused a few ripples. He’s not the sort of man who does that. Could be that something better came along.”

“Or he got spooked by something, or fell out with someone on his crew. Any number of things could have happened,” Lauryn responded. “But you don’t think that’s it.”

“You always hear gossip.” Arnie shrugged. “On this one, I hear nothing. That has to mean something. He’s not a crew boss, by the way. He’s a middleman. He passes things along.”

“How can we find him?” Istvan asked.

“You can’t.”

“Could
you
find him?”

The man shook his head. “Not anymore. I don’t run with that crowd these days.”

“Do you know anyone who could?” Lauryn asked and then stood and started pacing.

“Nobody who would help you, not even if I vouch for you. It’s a tight club, you know that. They don’t like outsiders.” He picked up a pebble and turned it between his fingers.

He was still thinking. That was something. At least he didn’t say, “Sorry, can’t help,” and walked away.

Lauryn stopped. “You have an idea.”