also studied a detailed map of Drago on the flight over, and had committed it to memory. It was one of the little knacks he had. His sister, Keira, called him the human Global Positioning System because, after studying a map, he could find his way just about anywhere and never got turned around or lost. Helpful for someone who travels the world, he reminded himself with a glimmer of a smile.
Now he turned left and headed toward the river, jogging at a steady pace. The air was cool, almost cold, and for a minute Alec regretted he hadn’t dressed warmer. But then he dismissed the thought. His body would warm up quickly once he really got going.
Little threads of mist floated near the ground, and the closer he got to the river the stronger and more eerie the mist became. He finally reached the embankment and turned left again. There was a wide walkway here that followed the river’s meandering course for miles. What had obviously once been hard-packed dirt from centuries of use had been paved with porous asphalt to accommodate all-weather users. He held by his father’s maxim with regard to running—go as far out as you possibly can, until your body calls it quits... Then turn around and head back. He figured this walkway would help him accomplish just that.
Alec had been jogging for roughly ten minutes when he heard the soft slap of running shoes on asphalt coming up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. He slowed, then turned around and jogged in place for a few seconds until a figure materialized out of the mist and darkness, closing the gap between them quickly.
He smiled when he recognized the tall, slender woman on the footpath. “Lieutenant Mateja,” he acknowledged.
She’d obviously been running for some time. Perspiration darkened the underarms of her gray sweatshirt, but her breathing wasn’t even ragged when she briefly returned his smile and answered, “Good morning, Special Agent Jones.”
Alec swung into step beside her. “The name’s Alec.”
She considered this for a moment and then nodded her assent to his implied offer. “Alec,” she agreed. “I am Angelina to my friends.” She hesitated for a moment, then added abruptly, “It is a good omen, your name. A good omen for the job you do. Defender of the People. That is what Alec means.”
“How do you know that?”
“The meaning of names is a hobby of mine. Since I was a little girl, you understand. Names have always fascinated me. I remember when...” She hesitated.
“When...?” he prompted.
“When the king was a boy—he was the crown prince then, of course—his names caught my imagination. Andre Alexei. Manly Defender. That is what his names mean. A good omen for Zakhar, I thought, for a man who would be king someday, yes?”
“If you believe in that sort of thing.”
“He has borne that out,” Angelina insisted earnestly. “He is a man with strong convictions. He would lay down his life for what he believes. His example inspired me. His sister, too. If not for them, I would not be where I am today.”
The conversation had gotten a little too intense a little too quickly for Alec, so he teased gently, “And what does Angelina mean? Angel-face?”
She flashed a startled glance in his direction, as if gauging the intent behind his compliment. Eventually an uncertain smile played over her lips, but something about her expression made Alec think she didn’t often get personal compliments. Or maybe she didn’t allow herself to accept personal compliments very often. And isn’t that curious? he thought. A beautiful woman like her?
“So tell me,” he coaxed as they ran companionably side by side. “If it doesn’t mean Angel-face, what does Angelina mean?”
“Messenger of God.” She looked uncomfortable, as if she thought he might think she was trying to lay claim to something she didn’t deserve. “But my parents did not pick my name for that reason. They named me Angelina Zuzana because those were my grandmothers’ names. Zuzana means lily.”
“Angelina Zuzana. Beautiful names for a beautiful woman.”
She didn’t respond at first, and Alec could tell she was also uncomfortable being called beautiful. But then she said, “Thank you.” Exactly like a woman who’d been raised to be polite...even if she didn’t believe you.
A momentary silence hung between them until Alec asked casually, “If you’re so into names, what does Liam mean? Liam’s my younger broth—”
“Your brother, yes, I know. You are close?”
“Yeah. But I don’t see him very often. We’re usually on opposite sides of the world. Guarding Princess Mara together was a gift. I’m grateful for it but don’t expect it to happen again. So do you know what his name means?”
“Strong-willed Warrior.” Angelina laughed softly, clearly more at ease when the conversation didn’t revolve around her. “Your parents, they named you well for the profession you chose, both of you.” She considered this for a moment. “Or perhaps you chose the profession because of your names?”
Alec couldn’t have cared less about good omens or bad where names were concerned, or why he and Liam had picked their line of work, but he did care about keeping Angelina talking to him in this friendly way. So after a moment he asked, “What about Keira? That’s my baby sister’s name.”
Angelina darted a glance toward him, her eyes flickering over his hair. “Does she resemble you?”
He smiled ruefully. “You mean, does she have red hair, like me? Yeah. Sort of red-gold. Short and curly. Very pretty. Not really like my hair, thank goodness.” He ruffled his short crop of auburn hair.
“Then your parents must not have known,” she replied, breaking into a real smile without breaking stride. “I am not positive—it has been years since I studied the meaning of names—but I think Keira means Black-Haired.”
Alec burst out laughing. “I guess they missed the boat on that one.”
“Missed the boat?” Her forehead crinkled in question.
“That just means they made a mistake, that’s all.”
“Oh. Thank you for explaining.”
“Other than her brown eyes, Keira doesn’t really look like me or like Liam. She looks more like our older brothers...but don’t tell them I said so.”
“Why is that?” she asked swiftly.
“Well...” Alec considered the question. “Neither Shane nor Niall have red hair,” he said, unable to hide that his own red hair was a sore spot with him, “and they have all the looks in the family—and Keira, of course. Shane and Niall look nothing alike, but Keira is like the best of both of them. In a feminine version, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I came along two years after Niall, and Liam followed not quite a year later. Everyone thinks we’re twins ʼcause we look so much like each other.” His lips quirked ruefully. “Right down to our hair. Our mannerisms, and the way we talk, too. And of course, we both went into the US Marine Corps and the DSS. So I guess it’s natural people think we’re twins.” He paused for a moment. “Then two
