would also be a target in his upcoming investigation, that was just speculation at this point. The ambassador deserved respect from Alec in every way. At least until something was proved against him. As RSO, Alec was the personal adviser to the ambassador on all security issues, and was responsible for all aspects of the embassy’s security. Conversely, Alec had every intention of using the ambassador as his adviser on all things Zakharian. At least until he got his feet wet.
“Well, I guess that’s about it,” the other man said. “You have the safe’s combination already, but you’ll change it, of course.” He took a set of keys from his pocket and laid them on the desk in front of him. “You’ll need these. Everything there opens a door somewhere in the embassy.” The outgoing RSO smiled briefly, stood and offered his hand.
Alec didn’t hesitate to shake it. He couldn’t let the outgoing RSO suspect anything more than he might already suspect under the unusual circumstances.
* * *
Alec was run ragged over the next few days, but he loved every minute of it. This was work he was born to do, and he did it with style. With a flair all his own. Putting his personal stamp on the job without conscious effort.
In addition to his meeting with the ambassador, he held a meet-and-greet with the entire embassy staff, memorizing their names and matching faces to them. It was another little knack he had, a trick he’d learned back when he’d first joined the DSS—people loved being remembered. It cost him nothing and gained him willing cooperation when he least expected it.
He obtained a list of embassy employees from the ambassador on down, going back five years—including their work histories and whatever else was on file— and began going through the data meticulously. Alec had no idea how long the human trafficking might have been going on. He’d go back as far as necessary, but five years was a good start, and he’d work his way backward starting from the present. He put the current ambassador and his predecessor as RSO at the top of the list, because the king had specified the corruption could be occurring at the highest levels.
Related to the investigation, Alec met privately with Colonel Marianescu and the three policemen the king had specified were working the trafficking case from the Zakharian side of things. Zakhar’s laws were stricter, their punishments more severe than in the United States, but crime existed everywhere, and Zakhar was no exception. The same rules of evidence didn’t apply, though, and Alec couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at how much easier it would be to make the case in Zakhar than it would be in the States, once all the evidence was assembled and indictments sought.
* * *
On Friday afternoon he met with Trace McKinnon at the palace to ensure complete privacy.
“The agency brought you up to speed?” Alec asked McKinnon when they were alone in the sitting room of the McKinnons’ suite in the palace.
“Not really. All I was told was that the State Department asked for me again—something critical and urgent here in Zakhar—and that you would fill me in on everything.”
Alec told him. It didn’t take long—McKinnon didn’t need all the t’s crossed and the i’s dotted. “I thought of you right off,” Alec said. “Especially since you mentioned in the car from the airport that the princess took a year’s leave of absence from the university after the twins were born. The plan wouldn’t work if she had to rush home to get back to teaching, because it involves her, too.”
“So you want Mara to stay on here in order to give me an ostensible reason for staying on, do I have that right?”
“Pretty much. And the job is right up the agency’s alley. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
McKinnon nodded thoughtfully. “It tracks. And Mara did take a year’s sabbatical.” A smile crept across his face. “I’ll have to check with her, but I know what she’ll say.”
“So, you’re in?”
“Are you kidding? Making Mara happy by giving her a reason to stay here indefinitely? It’s a no-brainer.”
* * *
Angelina sat quietly in one corner of the queen’s sitting room as Queen Juliana and Princess Mara drank tea and shared confidences about their husbands and their children in the way of longtime friends—which they were.
Angelina hadn’t said anything when the queen had introduced her favorite bodyguard to her best friend a week ago, but she’d been thrilled to have finally met the princess who’d played such a pivotal role in her life. The princess was only a few months older than Angelina, but she’d been held up to Angelina as a role model by her mother since she was a little girl.
Angelina’s mother hadn’t realized Angelina wasn’t patterning herself after the princess as a lady—she was inspired instead by the princess’s scholastic achievements and steadfast determination to achieve her goals, despite the common Zakharian attitude toward women.
Angelina had been fired up to follow in the princess’s footsteps. Not in mathematics—she’d known that wasn’t her forte—but she’d pushed herself to excel scholastically just as the princess had done. She’d graduated from college a year early and followed that up immediately with law school and then a budding career as a prosecutor—as budding a career in the law as any woman could find in Zakhar—before joining the military.
Her original dream of being a prosecutor might have been supplanted by her current dream job as one of the queen’s bodyguards, but that didn’t mean her original dream was gone. Someday she’d go back to it. Just not anytime soon.
“Trace tells me you and Captain Zale met Alec at the airport,” Princess Mara said, and suddenly Angelina realized the princess was addressing her. “What did you think of him?”
Angelina wasn’t about to admit she’d met Alec more than once—or that she’d kissed him twice—so she searched for something innocuous to say about a man the princess held in affection. “He seemed...nice, Your Highness.”
“Mara, please,” the princess said. “I am an American now, and I prefer the freedom of being just me.” Her green eyes twinkled. “And Alec is many things, but nice is not a word I would have picked to describe him.” She tilted her head to one side. “Liam, now, he is nice. Sweet, too. And idealistic. But Alec?” She shook her head. “No, Alec is not sweet. And he is not idealistic. But he is a man to contend with. I would not want to be on the wrong side of him, but I would trust him with my life.”
* * *
Humming a tune under his breath, Alec left the McKinnons’ suite and headed for the grand staircase. He was just about to go down when he saw a woman come out of another suite on the other side of the landing. A woman he recognized in a heartbeat. Recognized, and wanted to talk to. Urgently.
He’d thought of Angelina whenever he’d had a free moment. And even when he didn’t really have a free moment, just a few seconds. Every night since he’d last seen her in the cathedral—since he’d kissed her until they were both trembling—he’d found himself thinking how lonely his bed was without her. As if they were already lovers. As if he knew what it would be like with her, so that her absence hurt. Physically. An ache that started—predictably—in his loins, but that spread throughout his body as he imagined her there next to him in bed.
“Angel.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried far enough.
She
