pulled on a T-shirt and boots, yanked her shoulder length hair into a ponytail, stuffed a baseball hat on her head, grabbed her weapon and rushed toward the door.
All week they’d been on standby in case there was a threat to the dignitaries, and now it looked as if their worst fears might have come true.
She jogged to her SUV, started the engine and peeled from the drive. The jeep bounced over the country road leading away from her cabin outside Dumont, slinging gravel as she sped down Snake Valley Road. The swirling blue lights of the sheriff’s white Dodge SUV lit the sky as she approached the bomb site, the paramedics and fire engine adding to the chaos.
A news van—Danny Harold’s station—sat parked next to the ambulance. As she climbed out, deputies were busy roping off the crime scene, and Sheriff Wolf ordered Harold behind the yellow tape.
Her gaze zeroed in on the charred body lying on the ground, and her throat closed. Was the dead man one of the royals, possibly Prince Stefan?
STEFAN AND EFRAIM rushed to the conference room to meet the other royals who had been quickly informed of the car bomb. “Was Amir inside the vehicle when it exploded?” Stefan asked.
Fahad Bahir entered, his face a mask of anger. “I believe so, but I’ve spoken with Sheriff Wolf and only one body was recovered. I’m on my way to the scene now to see if identification is possible.”
“I will go with you,” Stefan said. “I want to examine the bomb mechanism myself.” Bombs were his expertise in the military. A bone of contention for some Americans, so he didn’t exactly publicize the fact.
“The press, the police,” Efraim said, wiping perspiration from his brow. “They will demand to know what happened. Where we were, if Amir was inside.”
“And why he was traveling alone in the middle of the night,” Sebastian added. “Where was he going?” Antoine asked.
Tension stretched across the room as everyone traded questioning looks. Apparently their friend had not confided in any of them. “We must not alert the press or the summit members until we know if Amir survived,” Fahad said.
“I agree,” Stefan said. “It could create panic and interfere with the summit.”
“We must also protect Amir’s family,” Efraim said.
“There is no need to alarm them until we’re certain what happened to Amir and if he is safe.”
A chorus of nods solidified the agreement.
“That message I received seems even more suspicious now,” Stefan commented.
Efraim shifted. “First, we have to determine if Amir was inside the limo at the time of the explosion. And we need a list of anyone who might specifically target Amir.”
Fahad nodded. “I will work on that list and coordinate with all the security teams.”
“Meanwhile we must devise a story to satisfy the media,” Antoine suggested.
“We shall say Amir had private business to attend to,” Fahad said. “That should mollify the local police until we discover what happened to Amir.”
Stefan rushed toward the door, anxiety knotting his muscles. They’d come here on a peace mission, and if Amir had been killed, he’d find out who had set off that bomb and the reason.
“Stefan, keep us informed,” Sebastian said.
Stefan nodded. “As soon as I know anything, I will call.”
Fahad reached for his cell phone. “I’m going to alert security. Until further notice, each of you should remain in your quarters with your guards in place.”
The men reluctantly agreed, and Stefan, Edilio and Fahad raced from the room. Minutes later, fear seized Stefan’s chest as they parked at the crime scene, and he saw the remnants of the charred limousine and the dead man lying on the ground beside it.
Crime scene tape cordoned off the area. Thankfully, due to the late hour, there were no spectators hovering, only police officers and rescue workers. Although he immediately spotted the news van and broadcaster who had been at the airport earlier, and frowned.
How had this vulture found out about the attack so quickly?
A slender woman wearing a ball cap, jeans, and T-shirt that stretched across ample breasts caught his attention as she leaned over the charred body. Although not dressed in a police uniform, her demeanor, the way she stooped and meticulously examined the body, the subtle tilt to her chin as she surveyed the area, indicated she served in an official capacity.
America and their women, he thought with a mixture of awe and derision. One never knew where you might find one, how she would be dressed, and what man’s job she might have acquired.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a navy blue uniform shirt, jeans and sporting a wide pewter belt etched with a howling wolf design, strode toward them.
Stefan had been warned that the former sheriff of this county had been corrupt and rumors had spread to their security teams that other local law enforcement officers might be dirty as well.
What about this sheriff? Could he be trusted?
“Prince Stefan, I’m Sheriff Jake Wolf,” the big man said with an accent that sounded lazy western, belying the tension lining his tanned face. “What are you doing here?”
Stefan shook his hand and introduced Fahad and Edilio. “We received word about the explosion. What have you found?”
Sheriff Wolf narrowed his eyes. “One body so far. We’re searching the vehicle and victim for ID now.”
“Was the victim in the driver’s or passenger seat?” Fahad asked.
“Driver’s seat.” Sheriff Wolf indicated the surrounding land. “Got my guys searching to see if a passenger might have been thrown or crawled from the vehicle.”
Stefan and Edilio exchanged a troubled look. Any life loss was tragic, but if the driver was dead and Amir’s body wasn’t inside the vehicle, he might have survived.
The woman hunched beside the victim pivoted to look up at him, and Stefan was suddenly struck by the startling shade of her eyes as she met his gaze. Not blue, not green exactly, but a mixture. Hazel, he thought as they flickered and changed in the moonlight.
Then his gaze slid down the ball cap to the dainty nose and full pink lips, and he swallowed hard. He’d expected a mannish woman below that cap, and granted this woman bore no makeup or feminine clothing, but his belly tensed with a sudden spark of attraction.
She might not be dressed for seduction, but a keen intelligence and innocence lay in her expression. And a sensuality that sent a sliver of desire straight through his groin. “Prince Stefan?”
The soft timbre of her voice startled him even more. The gods, she had a bedroom voice. “You know who I am?” he finally asked.
A tiny smile curved her mouth, friendly at first, then twisting with displeasure. “Of course. Doesn’t all of America?”
He
