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.
