Royal Wedding Threat (2 page)

She nodded, no longer trusting her voice.

“Then I don’t know why anyone would put a bomb in your car.” He sucked in a sharp breath and met her eyes again. “But I intend to find out.”

His words hit her with such cold force he might as well have tossed her in an
icy river. His statement was part vow, part threat. What would it take to find out who’d tried to kill her? Discussing past relationships? Analyzing all the hurts she’d put behind her, including the ones that had made her who she was? She tried to return the captain’s determined gaze, but she found she couldn’t keep her head up, not at the prospect of rooting through the skeletons in her closet.
That wasn’t a place she wished to explore, certainly not with this man who hated her.

But what other choice did she have?

TWO

J
ason Selini felt the tiniest glimmer of sympathy toward this woman who’d caused him so many headaches over the past several months. Ava Wright was impossibly stubborn, sharp-tongued and utterly unreasonable once she’d made up her mind to have her way.

And she always got her way. Jason had never been able to override her wishes except for a few times when he’d been able
to prove her plans would cause imminent danger to royal life and property. The rest of the time she was a steamroller, exerting her will in spite of all his efforts to make her see reason.

And yet, as he glanced at her now, perched on the edge of the hard sofa in the waiting room of the royal-guard headquarters, she looked shaken. More than that, she looked like a scared little girl, and
for the first time he realized she was almost certainly younger than his thirty-three years, in spite of her international success as a wedding planner.

Though the woman usually looked as impeccable as the weddings she planned, the incident had marred her facade. Her hair, which was dyed a harsh red and usually styled in jagged spikes shooting out from her head, now looked as limp and dazed
as the rest of her. And her makeup, which had always been flawless, if a bit fierce, was now smeared, making her look eerily like a homeless street urchin, save for the expensive suit and shoes.

With the last of the first-aid items tucked safely away in the case, Jason realized he could delay the inevitable conversation no longer. “I’d like you to come to my office.”

“Why?” She blinked
up at him, dark smudges outlining her eyes, highlighting the fear that glimmered above the green of her irises.

“I need to get your statement about what happened while everything is still fresh in your memory.” He didn’t add that he wanted to grill her on possible attackers and motives. Though the crime had technically occurred on the Sardis police side of the street, given the proximity
to the palace and Jason’s duty to protect the royal family, Jason considered it his job to root out the reasons behind the attack—and prevent anything similar from happening again. He appreciated the expert help of the Sardis bomb squad, and he’d be sure to keep them in the loop with everything he learned, but he wasn’t about to sit back and wait for them to do his job for him.

Ava scowled.
“You think that’s a moment I’m likely to soon forget?”

“Or suppress. It happens all the time. The more violent the incident, the bigger the wall the victim puts up.” He extended his hand as a gentlemanly gesture, fully expecting her to refuse it.

To his surprise, she placed her palm in his and leaned against him as she levered herself up from the sofa. It occurred to him that, prior
to throwing her over his shoulder moments before, he’d never touched the woman. Her hand felt small and shaky as she held tight to him. From what he knew of her, he was certain she wouldn’t have leaned on him at all unless she’d had no other choice. Ava was too independent for that. Her first steps were cautious, but then she walked beside him with increased confidence.

“Your legs okay?”

“Better now, thank you.”

Surprised at her thanks, Jason almost smiled. “You’re welcome.”

He led her back through to his office, where her plans for Princess Anastasia’s wedding to Kirk Covington still lay atop his desk. Her requested location was fraught with hazards, even under the best circumstances. Given the explosion that could have killed them both, the plan was all the more
unthinkable. He helped her into a chair, then shoved the stapled pages to the side of his desk.

Jason opened up a fresh incident-report template on his computer. “Now, tell me your version of what happened.”

Ava sat up straight, looking less shaken already. “We were in here, discussing the plans for Princess Anastasia’s wedding location.”

Jason did his best to accurately type her
words, though he very nearly switched out
discussing
for
arguing about
but caught himself before he hit the wrong keys. The way his screen was angled, Ava might be able to see his words. Best not to upset her further—he knew how obstinate she could be when angered.

“And then?” he prompted once he’d entered all she’d said.

“Well—” she looked at him bluntly “—you were being completely
unreasonable—”

“That’s not relevant—”

“It’s an island.” Ava rose on her seat and picked up her previous argument right where she’d left off before stalking out in a huff earlier. “If anything, it’s more secure than the Sardis Cathedral and just as safe as anything within the palace walls.”

“The palace complex is the most secure location in Sardis.” Jason would have directed Ava
back to her statement, but the security of the palace complex wasn’t something he could let come under question. Along with ensuring the safety of the members of the royal family, his primary duty was to keep the palace grounds secure at all times.

“Oh!” Ava threw back her head with a sarcastic fake laugh. “And the gunmen who ran amok during Duchess Julia’s titling ceremony—was that an example—”

Jason gave up trying to type and instead reached across his desk toward the woman, pointing one finger as he spoke. “That is precisely why I can’t allow you to attempt to hold a royal wedding on an island. If gunmen can get inside these walls, they can easily attack an island.”

“Precisely my point. If either location is equally vulnerable—”

“They’re not vulnerable!” Jason snapped,
wishing to end the conversation and get back to typing his report.

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem with using the island of Dorsi—”

“The island of Dorsi is off-limits. No one is allowed to step foot on that island.”

“All the more reason why it’s perfectly—” Ava rose to her feet as she tried to cut off his words.

But Jason would not be interrupted. “It’s too dangerous. It’s
forbidden!” Jason found he had to stand as well, just to make himself heard. Besides, he couldn’t let the redhead tower over him.

“It’s absolutely not dangerous. My clients have already vetted the location—”

Outraged, Jason leaned across his desk. “No one is allowed to step foot on Dorsi.”

Ava planted her hands on the desktop and glared at him across the shiny surface. “I already
have.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Princess Stasi and Kirk Covington took me there to show me where they wanted to hold the ceremony—in the ruins of the ancient cathedral where the Lydian kings and queens of old were married.”

“You’ve been to the island of Dorsi?” Jason had been there once, too—a memory he’d prefer to forget. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Maybe too dangerous for you.”

“I’ve been there—to retrieve a dead body.”

To his satisfaction, Ava looked the slightest bit startled by his words. “Whose dead body?”

“My predecessor, Viktor Bosch. He was captain of the royal guard before me. I was appointed after his death.” To Jason’s relief, his words silenced the wedding planner. “His death was a direct result of the dangers of the island. I cannot allow—”

But the woman’s fury rose with renewed vigor. “You cannot refuse a member of the royal family.” She leaned farther across the desk, invading his side.

“I can if it endangers safety.” Jason leaned forward again, wishing to push the woman back out of his space, using physical force if necessary. “And I already have.” He grabbed a self-inking stamp from his desk drawer and slapped the word
against the paper with so much force droplets of red ink splattered around the letters.

Rejected.

Ava grabbed the stack of paper away from him. “You can’t—”

Jason tugged back on his half of the papers. He needed to file it with the king’s office to make it official. “I already did.”

“It’s not your decision to make!” Ava tugged on the pages.

Jason felt her fingers slipping
and pulled harder, certain he’d nearly gained the advantage. “I’ve made the decision! It’s done,” he shouted over her words, even as she increased the volume of her demands.

Suddenly the door across from him swung open, and Jason looked up to see Galen and Titus, two of his royal guardsmen, standing in the open doorway, watching his wrestling match with the wedding planner in obvious shock
and amusement.

“We did knock.” Titus cleared his throat. “No one answered.”

“We heard sounds of distress and felt it in the best interest of your safety to open the door,” Galen added.

Hoping to take advantage of the momentary distraction, Jason gave the papers a final hard tug. To his surprise, however, Ava held on so tightly his efforts pulled her partway onto his desk.

The wedding planner glared up at him furiously.

Jason stopped tugging on the papers but didn’t release them. While letting her keep hold of the papers wouldn’t result in her getting her way, he couldn’t bear the thought of giving her the satisfaction of prevailing over him, not when she’d already gotten her way so many times. It was almost as though she held more authority than he did—it hadn’t
escaped his noticed that his men in the gatehouse had unlocked the pedestrian gate for her, even though he’d been right behind her.

As the youngest captain in the history of the royal guard, he didn’t always feel as though his men thought he deserved his position of authority over them. Ava’s constant triumphs degraded his power—which complicated his efforts to keep the royal family safe.

Titus continued, “The Sardis bomb squad has found something they want you to see.”

Immediately concerned, Jason asked, “Is it safe?”

“It’s a small bit of residue on the ground,” Galen clarified. “They think it might be bomb-related material. The dogs sniffed it out.”

“I’ll take a look.” Jason glanced at Ava. “You can stay here.”

“I’m coming, too.” She shot him a look that
said she wasn’t about to back down.

Having fought the woman enough times before, Jason had learned to pick his battles. He didn’t need his men to watch him be defeated by the wedding planner. “Fine. But the papers stay here. And you’ll do as I say.”

He heard Ava make a noise in her throat, followed by hushed snickers from his men.

Jason chafed, not just that the woman so openly
defied him, but that her disobedience was obvious to his men—and apparently amused them to the point of barely stifled disrespect. His men—the royal guards who’d served alongside him for years—were drilled in decorum. They understood ceremony and symbolism and the dignity of their positions. But the newest recruits from the army, including Titus, were a rougher sort, more interested in proving their
strength than polishing their shoes. If the royal guard hadn’t desperately needed the manpower, he’d have sent the men back to the army.

His inability to control the wedding planner set a particularly bad example for his men. At a time when he wanted the new recruits to learn etiquette and protocol, Ava Wright made them snicker and crack jokes behind his back.

He needed to regain full
control of the royal guard.

Too bad the wedding planner seemed equally determined to control everything within her reach.

If he was going to control the royal guard, he’d have to set things straight with the wedding planner first.

* * *

Ava watched as the captain bent to inspect what appeared to be a random patch of cobblestones. They were a little over a block away from the
place where her car still smoldered, a blackened testimony to the violence that had invaded her morning.

“We’ve taken samples,” a member of the bomb squad told the captain soberly. “We’ll have to process them at the lab to learn exactly what it is, but based on the dogs’ reaction, it’s most likely residue from an explosive.”

They stood about eight feet from the sidewalk—where the driver
would have stepped through the door of a compact car, had a vehicle still been parked there. Ava tried to sort out what the men were saying. “So whoever put the bomb in my car may have parked here, in this spot?”

“Exactly.” Jason nodded. “We can review the footage from the security cameras on the palace wall to see if they picked up anything, although I’ll warn you, the cameras are designed
to protect the walls, not the streets of Sardis outside our jurisdiction. We might not have gotten much. What was the time window that your car was parked on this street?”

“I arrived to meet with the princess shortly before eight, then stopped by your office to get your approval on the wedding plans. You kept me waiting.”

Jason didn’t apologize. “The explosion happened shortly after
ten. That’s more than a two-hour window. Any number of vehicles may have come and gone in that time.”

Though she was tempted to point out to the captain that he might have narrowed the window by agreeing to see her when she’d first arrived at headquarters, another thought made her heart beat with apprehension. “A car pulled away from this spot right after the explosion.”

Both the captain
and the members of the bomb squad looked surprised.

“You mean you saw a car drive off?” Jason clarified.

Ava nodded, the memory rushing back clearly now. She was certain of what she’d seen. Everything had happened so quickly, and yet she distinctly recalled seeing a car pull away—in the back of her dazed mind, she’d thought to herself the driver was fortunate to have parked ahead of
her on the street. Otherwise the vehicle would have had to drive past her smoldering car to leave.

The bomb tech scowled at the captain. “The person witnessed an explosion, but instead of checking to see if everyone was all right, he fled?”

“Maybe he was scared?” Ava suggested, her voice betraying that same emotion.

“Or guilty.” Jason ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exposing
the silvery flecks that framed his close-cropped ebony hair. “We need to look at that footage. Can you describe the car you saw?”

“It was a car,” Ava told him, recalling all she could.

“Make or model?”

Ava bit her lip. She hadn’t looked closely enough to see any details—most of her attention had been on the pain in her legs and all the confusion around her. The ringing in her ears
hadn’t helped her focus at all, either.