She wanted his kiss. Jake made her feel safe.

Her lips parted. Her eyelids closed. Kiss me, Jake. Breathless, she waited.

The pressure of his mouth against hers was firm and sweet. They shared a breath, an incredible intimacy. Excitement bubbled up inside her. She trembled, aware that this might be the best kiss she’d ever had in her entire life, not wanting this moment to end.

Too soon, he withdrew. Her eyes opened and met his. Both of them knew that kissing was inappropriate.

She hadn’t intended to put him in this position, but when he’d spoken so candidly of his father, she’d been touched. Jake wasn’t a man who shared his emotions. The lone wolf. He didn’t involve anyone else in his problems.

But he’d told her. For some reason, he’d trusted her.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said.

“I’ll be ready at eight o’clock.”

She took a backward step as he left the room and closed the door. She and Jake were going to make a very good team.

Sovereign Sheriff
Cassie Miles

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In memory of Martha Pogrew and her red stiletto heels.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Though born in Chicago and raised in L.A., Cassie Miles has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek, with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post.

After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Seviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Harlequin Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jake Wolf —The recently elected sheriff of Wind River County battles corruption in his department, prejudice against his Native American heritage and complications from crimes against the visiting royals.

Saida Khalid —The fashionista princess of Jamala attends law school in California. Drawn into royal intrigues, she trusts no one but the sheriff to find her missing brother.

Sheik Amir Khalid —The black sheep ruler of Jamala is missing and feared dead.

Maggie Wolf —Jake’s younger sister studies psychology at University of Wyoming and wants her brother to find a mate.

Danny Harold —The paparazzo who specializes in photos of royals has a secret agenda when it comes to Princess Saida.

Sheik Efraim Aziz —His old-fashioned ideas and imperious manner are softened by his love for an American woman.

Callie McGuire —As the assistant to the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, she is based in D.C., but her roots are in Wyoming.

Burt Maddox —Though the blustering former sheriff was suspected of corruption, he thinks he should run this county.

Wade Freeman —A local rancher looking into the oil business has a mysterious connection to Saida’s missing brother.

Prince Sebastian and Prince Antoine Cavanaugh —The twin brothers are corulers of the island nation of Barajas.

Prince Stefan Lutece —Ruler of Kyros.

Jane Cameron —The plain-Jane forensics expert for Wind River County has been glowing since she met Stefan.

Prince Darek Ramat —The Prince of Saruk would like to take over the interests of COIN.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter One

A night breeze swept down from the peaks of the Wind River Mountains and cooled the high Wyoming prairie. At his home five miles outside Dumont, Sheriff Jake Wolf opened his arms wide and welcomed the wind against his bare chest. His arms stretched over his head for a couple of modified jumping jacks. His twelve-hour workday was over. Thankfully, there had been no major catastrophes. No sniper attacks. No bomb explosions. No murderous abductions.

After he adjusted his jeans on his hips, he picked up a basketball and began to dribble slowly. The smack of the ball against concrete reminded him of his glory days at the Wyoming Indian High School when the Chiefs had won their first state tournament. Basketball meant more to him than the powwow drumming and the traditions of his Arapaho people. The first thing he did when he’d bought this two-story, cedar-frame house was mount a hoop and backboard above the garage doors. Earlier this summer, he’d hung a couple of floodlights so he could play after dark.

He made a quick pivot in his sneakers, dodging an invisible foe and went in for a layup. Swish through the net. Two points. He backed up, dribbled, aimed a hook shot. Another score. The physical exertion felt great. He ran and shot, ran and shot. Sometimes a hit, sometimes a miss. He wanted to sweat, to get his blood pumping, to feel alive. All day long he’d been clenching his fists, holding on to his self-control while he fended off reporters, coordinated with other law enforcement agencies and investigated a series of crimes the likes of which Wind River County had never seen. It all started a few weeks ago when the princes and sheiks of four island nations in the Mediterranean arrived for a summit meeting at the exclusive Wind River Ranch and Resort. The trouble wasn’t over yet; Sheik Amir Khalid was still missing.

Jake ran back for a three-pointer, turned and shot. The ball dropped neatly through the hoop. Nothing but net, baby.

“And the crowd goes wild.” His sister, Maggie, strolled from the two-story cedar house. “Come inside and eat. I made a recipe from the Food Network. Linguini with meatballs.”

“Not hungry.” With the way his sister cooked, he expected the meatballs to be the consistency of petrified elk droppings.

“Come on, Jake. You’re in decent shape for an old man of thirty-one, but you need to watch it. You’re going to get too skinny and no woman will have you.”

“Says the worldly nineteen-year-old.”

“Seriously.” She knocked the ball from his hand and shoved a bottle of water at him. “I’m only here for the summer. Who’s going to take care of you when I’m back in college?”

“I’ll manage.” Before the royals came to town, his time had been structured and sane. Usually, he’d come home for a lunch break when he tended to the three horses in the barn behind the house.

“It’s not like you have a social life,” Maggie said. “In the time I’ve been here, you haven’t gone on one single date.”

True enough. He’d been elected sheriff less than a year ago and was still preoccupied with cleaning up the mess left behind by Big Burt Maddox, the former sheriff. He uncapped his water bottle and took a drink. “Too busy.”

“The whole family is worried about you.”

He had two other younger sisters. One was married. The other had a steady job in Denver. Mama still lived on the rez. When all four of these women got together, they were a force to be reckoned with. “I’m fine.”

She dribbled toward the basket and made a layup. Her cutoffs and baggy T-shirt didn’t match her weird curlicue hairdo—no doubt a style she’d picked up from some fashion program on cable. Signing up for satellite television with over two hundred channels had been a mistake; his sister was starting to quote supermodels.

She flipped the basketball back to him and said, “There’s a name for what’s wrong with you. The lone wolf syndrome. Just like that stupid belt buckle you always wear.”

He touched his lucky pewter belt buckle with the howling wolf design. “What’s wrong with this?”

“If you’d sit down for a minute, I could explain. Lucky for you, I’m majoring in psychology.”

He looked toward the road and saw headlights turning off the road into his driveway. Gravel crunched under the wheels of a dark green sedan that pulled up and parked in front of his porch. A glance at his wristwatch told him that it was nine-forty-seven, which was too late for a friendly visit. Now what?

A slender woman with shining black hair emerged from the driver’s side. Her jacket was metallic gold, and her jeans fit like a second skin. Balanced on sandals with high platform heels, she came toward them. “Are you the sheriff? Jake Wolf?”

He nodded. “Who are you?”

She stepped onto the concrete, straightened her shoulders and announced, “I am Princess Saida Khalid of Jamala.”

Inwardly, he groaned. Not another royal!

His sister approached the princess and attempted a curtsy that looked ridiculous in sneakers and cutoffs. “I’m Maggie, Jake’s sister. Love your jacket. Is it designer?”

“Don’t remember.” She shrugged. “I’ve had it so long, it’s practically vintage.”

Maggie laughed as though this comment was the cleverest thing she’d ever heard. “Please come inside, Princess. Is that right? Should I call you Princess or Your Highness?”

“Call me Saida.”

“Did you come here from Jamala?” Maggie frowned. “Is that far? I don’t know exactly where Jamala is.”

“An island nation in the Mediterranean. But I live in Beverly Hills.”

Judging by Maggie’s rapturous response, California was right next door to Heaven. She babbled about Hollywood and movie stars and some kind of shopping area called Rodeo Drive—a place that didn’t sound as though they sold saddles and bridles. She tugged at her curled hair in an attempt to match Saida’s smooth bangs and straight shoulder-length style.

Nothing good could come from his sister idolizing a princess. He grabbed his dark blue uniform shirt from the ground where he’d tossed it, stuck his arms in the sleeves and fastened two buttons. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

Saida smiled at Maggie. “Will you excuse us, please?”

“Absolutely.” His sister scampered toward the house. “You’re coming in, right? I have linguini.”

“I’ll be right there,” Jake said.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

He knew what Maggie meant, and she was going to be disappointed. He had no intention of encouraging the princess to stay.

“I adore linguini,” Saida said, “with clam sauce.”

“I’ve got to get your recipe.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? You don’t cook for yourself. I mean—”

“Maggie,” Jake interrupted, “that’s enough.”

He was sick and tired of all this kowtowing to the royal entourage. As individuals, he’d come to respect the princes; they were decent men stuck in a bad situation. But he was more than ready for them to get the hell out of Wind River County.

As Maggie disappeared into the house, Saida strode across the basketball court toward him. She made direct eye contact, compelling him to meet her gaze. A striking woman with flawless olive skin and full lips, she was as pretty as the models in his sister’s magazines. Looking into her caramel-colored eyes, he was surprised by the depth of sadness he saw there.

“You must help me.” She grasped his arm, and he felt the trembling in her fingers. “Please. Help me find my brother.”

Her pain was honest, not a facade. He could tell that her heart was aching, and her vulnerability touched him. He’d always been a sucker for the underdog; it was his nature to protect those who couldn’t fend for themselves.

But he doubted that the princess fell under that category. She had too many advantages. Not only was she rich and royal but her beauty was an undeniable asset. All she needed to do was flutter those thick, black eyelashes and most men would jump to do her bidding.

Very deliberately, he removed her hand from his arm. “Amir went missing a while ago. Why are you coming here now?”

“Do you think I waited because I don’t care about my brother?”

Or she was too busy getting a manicure. “Why now?”

“All my life, my brother has tried to shelter me. He’s almost ten years older than I am. His friends—Sheik Efraim and the others—thought they were doing as Amir would wish when they told me not to worry, that everything was fine.” Her amber eyes flashed. “They lied to me.”

A harsh judgment. Even if the princes had deceived her, news reporters and paparazzi had been all over this case. “You must have seen the reports.”

“The media.” She flicked her hand as if swatting an irritating gnat. “I know better than to believe what I see on the ten o’clock news. I thought I could trust my brother’s friends. But I’ve given up on them. They won’t answer my questions. The FBI agents refused to speak to me. I have come to you to hear the truth.”

“Lucky me,” he muttered.

“I read about you on the internet. You promised change when you ran for sheriff. You want to help people and fight corruption. There were some amazing endorsements.”

He eyed her skeptically. “If you’ve been in this country for any time at all, you must know that you can’t believe much of what’s said during a campaign.”

“I’ve lived in America since I was sixteen.”

That must be why she had only a slight accent, just a hint of the exotic.

She continued, “It’s true that politicians will say anything to win. But you’re different. I trust you.”

He had a pretty good idea that she was shining him on to get what she wanted. “You figured out that I’m trustworthy by looking me up on the internet?”

Her full lips parted in a smile, showing off her perfect, white teeth. When she leaned toward him, he caught a whiff of perfume that smelled like mint and peaches. Her nearness was having an effect on him. As Maggie never tired of pointing out, he hadn’t been with a woman for quite a while.

“Now that I’ve met you,” she purred, “I know that I made the right choice. I read all about you, Jake. You’re Native American.”

“Arapaho,” he said.

“Is that like Navajo?” Her hand rested on her hip and she struck a calculated pose with her head cocked to one side. “I simply adore turquoise jewelry.”

“Different tribe.”

“Perhaps you could explain it to me. I’m very interested.”

The woman was flirting her cute little tail off. Jake had three sisters; he knew how these feminine games were played. “Don’t waste my time, Princess.”

“Will you help me?”

“I’ll do my job. My department and the local police and the FBI are looking for your brother, but a lot of time has passed. He might not even be in this area.”

“He’s not dead.” She spoke with sudden sincerity. “If Amir had died, I would have felt his absence as surely as if part of my soul had been ripped away.”

In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from flirty to serious. The transformation impressed him. “I’m sorry, Saida.”

“Please. Tell me what happened. The truth.”

He could give her that much. “It was late at night. The other royals and their entourages had returned to Wind River Ranch and Resort. Your brother set out in one of the limos with a driver. We don’t know his destination. There was nothing remarkable about the area where the car bomb exploded.”

Saida sucked in a breath. “And then?”

“The driver was killed in the explosion. There were indications that your brother was injured. His blood was found at the scene.” He paused. “I can’t show you the forensics reports, but the CSI was Jane Cameron, and she’s good.”

“What did she find?”

“Tire tracks showed an unidentified vehicle at the scene. A witness saw him exit the burning limo so we know he was still alive at that point, but there hasn’t been any communication from him.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re leaving out a lot.”

“I am,” he readily admitted. “I could write four books about the things that have happened since Amir disappeared.”

“I have time,” she said.

He glanced toward the house where his sister hovered in the doorway, waiting for him to bring their royal visitor inside. “It’s best if you go to the resort where the other royals and their bodyguards are staying. You could be in danger.”

“The attack on my brother might have been politically motivated,” she said. “Our four nations…”

“COIN.” He used the acronym. “The Coalition of Island Nations.”

“Yes, COIN owns extensive oil resources. We have enemies, including the Russian mob, who would do anything to gain control of our wealth.”

“And these dangerous people could come after you.”

“Not me,” she said. “As a woman, I have no power in Jamala. The leadership of the country would never pass to me. It’s my destiny to be forever a princess. Never a true leader.”

He heard an edge of bitterness in her voice. There was something fascinating about her, but he couldn’t allow himself to get tangled in her web. “For tonight, you have a choice. Either you can go to the resort, or I can turn you over to the FBI for protective custody.”

She waved her manicured hands in front of her face. Her fingernails had purple tips. “I can’t be in custody. I have to be free to investigate.”

“Then it’s the resort.” He walked toward the house. “Let me get my keys, and I’ll follow you in my car to make sure you get there safely. Tomorrow, you can call me for an up date.”

“If you won’t help, I’ll pursue my own investigation.”

That had to be one of the worst ideas he’d ever heard. He couldn’t imagine Saida flouncing through the streets of Dumont and asking questions. She’d stand out like a giraffe in a herd of prairie dogs.

Before he could object, she went to her car, started the engine and backed away from the porch.

He ran inside and grabbed his keys from the table by the door. Maggie glared at him. “What did you say to her? Why did you chase her off?”

“Because that woman is trouble.”

“Lone wolf,” she snapped. “You and Saida would make a really cute couple.”

He couldn’t believe she was playing matchmaker. “Trust me, Maggie. If I ever settle down, it won’t be with a high-maintenance princess. No matter how pretty she is.”

His sister beamed. “You think she’s pretty?”

“She’s not for me.”

When he stepped outside onto the porch, he saw the taillights of a truck on the two-lane road beyond his driveway. A black sedan followed. Both were driving fast, and they seemed to be in formation—in pursuit of the princess.

Chapter Two

Angrier than she should have been, Saida glared through the windshield of the pitiful little rental car that had awaited her private jet at the Dumont airfield. She’d asked for an SUV, a vehicle with some muscle. But no! The Minister of Affairs in Jamala had made her travel arrangements, and Nasim thought big cars were un-princesslike. This silly little compact was his way of showing her who was the boss.

This time the joke was on Nasim. His insistence that she fly private rather than commercial allowed her to pack both of her handguns. If a firefight was necessary to rescue her brother, she wouldn’t hesitate. All she needed was one person in her corner—a contact inside the investigation who could point her in the right direction. She had hoped that ally would be Jake Wolf, but she’d blown it with the sheriff.

When it came to personal negotiations, especially with men, she usually got what she wanted. She’d played the princess card and failed to impress him. Then she’d attempted to flirt. Catastrophe! Why, oh, why, had she made that silly comment about the Navajo turquoise jewelry? Playing dumb wasn’t going to cut it with Jake. She should have known better.

Her internet research led her to surmise that Jake Wolf was incorruptible and unlikely to be swayed by bribes from those who had attacked her brother. She expected him to be a serious, responsible man.

What surprised her was his stunning physical presence. The internet photos hadn’t done him justice. His eyes held the depth and fire of black diamonds. His square jaw was perfectly balanced by a high forehead and strong cheekbones. And that body? When she saw him shirtless with his jeans slung low on his hips, he had taken her breath away. His lean torso, hard muscles and smooth bronzed skin had almost made her forget why she’d come to this desolate place.

She inhaled a breath and exhaled slowly through her nostrils. Anger was futile. Instead, she needed to be calm and controlled. She needed a plan.

Though she’d programmed the location of the very exclusive, very posh Wind River Ranch and Resort into the GPS navigator in her rental car, she still wasn’t sure if she should go there. The COIN royals wouldn’t be happy to see her. Sheik Efraim Aziz, her brother’s best friend, had been adamant about keeping her away. Too bad, Efraim.

It was time they all realized that she wasn’t a child anymore. True, she’d made her share of mistakes. Her reputation as a socialite who paraded down red carpets and danced until dawn at trendy L.A. clubs was somewhat deserved. But she had also graduated from UCLA, and she’d earned top grades in her first year of law school. If given a chance, she’d prove that she could contribute to the welfare of COIN.

And she could help in the search for her brother.

The car’s GPS navigational system said, “In two-point-four miles, turn left.”

In her rearview mirror, she noticed headlights approaching. Though it was difficult to make out any details on this unlit road, the vehicle behind her appeared to be a truck and it was coming too fast. Inappropriate driving; this asphalt road wasn’t the Swiss autobahn. Instinctively, she pressed down on the accelerator, hoping to make it to her turn before the truck caught up and caused her to crash.

Was this a drunk driver? Or a teenager out for a joyride? Saida was aware of the darker possibility. As a princess, she lived with the constant threat of being kidnapped for a royal ransom and had been trained in marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat and evasive driving techniques.

The headlights were on her tail. She was going fifty-eight miles per hour—an unsafe speed for making a ninety-degree turn on a narrow road.

“Turn left in one hundred feet,” the GPS said.

Saida saw the stop sign and the intersection. She tapped the brake, hoping the truck behind her would slow down. No such luck. Its front bumper kissed the back of her car hard enough to give her a jolt. The driver wasn’t following her by coincidence. He was pursuing her.

“Turn left now,” said the GPS.

She cranked the steering wheel and swerved. Her lightweight rental car fishtailed wildly. Centrifugal force threatened to flip her car into a death roll. She maintained balance, controlled the turn and leveled out on a straightaway.

“In one-point-three miles, turn right.”

The truck was still behind her. Even worse, another set of headlights appeared in the lane beside it and quickly pulled forward. If the second car got ahead of her, she’d be trapped between them.

She tromped on the accelerator. Seventy miles per hour. Seventy-five. Eighty. Going over a ridge, her vehicle was airborne. The car landed with a crash that stressed the shock absorbers.

“Turn right,” the GPS said.

But she couldn’t. It would be suicide to take the turn at this speed. The second vehicle—a dark sedan—remained in the lane for oncoming traffic. He pulled even with her rear fender.

The GPS system scolded, “You missed the turn.”

“Shut up!”

Her training told her to hit the gas and zip into the other lane to block the second car, but she didn’t have the horsepower to pull ahead. Panic flashed inside her head. Think, Saida.

In the backseat were two of the six suitcases she’d packed for this trip. Even if she could dig into the suitcase and reach her handguns, it wouldn’t do much good. Her weapons weren’t loaded.

The sedan passed her. Once it was in front of her, the driver slowed his speed. She was hemmed in with no room to maneuver, nowhere else to go. Beyond the shoulder of this road was a strip of land and a barbed-wire fence.

The truck pulled into the lane beside her. She lifted her foot from the accelerator and slowed. The truck matched her speed.

Before she felt the impact, she heard the grinding of metal against metal. He was forcing her off the road. Her tires crashed raggedly on the gravel shoulder.

Her foot jammed down hard on the brake.

The truck shot past her.

Her brake rotors screeched. She went into a skid.

The air bag exploded, blinding her and forcing her hands off the steering wheel. Her tires bounced off the road and over a ditch, throwing her car off balance. Before she tipped over, the car came to a full stop.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t flipped over, that she didn’t seem to be injured. Frantically, she batted at the air bag. Her fingers struggled to unfasten the seat belt. She had to run, had to get out of this car before her pursuers grabbed her.

The wail of a police siren cut through the air.

The bag deflated enough that she could see through the window. The taillights of the truck were zooming away from her. The other car had disappeared. They’d given up.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. She could have been killed, could have been kidnapped. Why was this happening? The inside of her head whirled in a dizzying tornado, and she gripped the wheel to stabilize herself.

The siren came closer, and she saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police vehicle.

Jake appeared outside her car window. He yanked on her door handle until it opened. “Saida, are you all right?”

Unable to speak, she could only nod.

When he touched her shoulder, she flinched. Every muscle in her body screamed with tension.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said. “Let go of the wheel.”

She pried her fingers loose. Darkness pressed against her peripheral vision. She shook herself, fighting for control. I won’t pass out. The idea of fainting into Jake’s strong arms held a certain appeal, but she didn’t want to show weakness. She wanted him to think of her as an equal.

Clearly, she said, “You got here just in time.”

“Let’s get you out of here.” He took her hand to help her from the car. “We need to hurry. In case they come back.”

That possibility was enough to get her moving. She lurched from her car and stood on shaky legs.

The lights from his vehicle showed the damage to her rental car. The trunk and rear bumper were caved in. A scrape gashed into the back door. It was sobering to see how close she’d come to disaster, but she couldn’t allow herself to sink into helpless terror.

“Wait.” She balked. “My luggage.”

“I’ll have someone come back for it.”

“At least, I need my purse.” She leaned into her wrecked car and reached across the driver’s seat to grab her purse. Her gaze slid toward the matched burgundy leather suitcases behind the front seat; she wanted her guns. “Can I get my luggage?”

“Forget it.”

“We can leave the other bags in the trunk.” With the rear end crushed in, it would take the Jaws of Life to retrieve those suitcases. “But I need that one.”

“Why?”

It probably wouldn’t be wise to tell him that she’d brought a couple of Berettas. Facing him, she drew up her shoulders and said, “I’ve got to have my makeup.”

Without another word, he scooped her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

Upside down, she was shocked by his manhandling. Saida was a princess, after all. His arm pinned her legs so she couldn’t kick. Her arms flailed wildly. With her purse, she whacked his butt. “Put me down.”

“This is for your own good.”

She’d heard those words before—many, many times before, and the statement never failed to infuriate her. For my own good? Really?

At his SUV, Jake dropped her to the ground, opened the passenger-side door and shoved her inside. While he circled around to the driver’s side, she debated whether she should fling open the door, run to her car and grab her guns. Why had she thought Jake would be different? He was just like every other man in her life who wanted her to be a good girl and do as she was told.

The fear that threatened to swamp her consciousness was replaced by anger. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been attacked. Given the circumstances, she’d handled herself well.

Jake slid behind the steering wheel. “Seat belt,” he said.

Though outraged, she snapped the belt. “Apologize.”

For an instant, his gaze locked with hers. “I won’t say I’m sorry for saving your life.”

He swung the SUV in a U-turn. Instead of using the police dispatch radio on the console, he took out his hands-free cell phone and made a call.

“Where are we going?” she demanded. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring her questions, he continued with his call. It seemed that he was giving someone directions to find her car.

“My luggage,” she said. “Have them bring my luggage.”

Jake lobbed a hostile glance in her direction and said to the person on the phone. “There are a couple of suitcases in the back. Bring them.”

“There are other bags in the trunk,” she said.

“How many?”

“Two in the back, four in the trunk, that’s six altogether.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how long were you planning to stay in Wyoming?”

“There’s a certain standard of dress required of someone in my position. I can’t throw on a pair of sweatpants and go waltzing out the door. I don’t expect you to understand. Most men don’t.”

As he returned to his phone call, she sank back against the seat. If she told Jake that the reason she wanted her luggage wasn’t just vanity, would it make a difference? Would he take her more seriously if he knew she’d come to Wyoming armed? Or would he insist on pushing her around? For her own good.

Jake ended his phone call and turned toward her. “I have to ask you some questions about what happened.”

His tone was brisk and businesslike. The balance of power between them was all wrong. He was completely in charge, and that needed to change.

She grasped for control. “Tell me where we’re going?”

“For now, we’re headed back to my place.”

Though her initial intention had been to link up with him, his choice of destination seemed odd. She’d been the victim of vehicular assault; a crime had been committed. “Shouldn’t we be going to the police station?”

Instead of answering, he asked, “Can you describe the vehicles?”

“One was a truck. Not one of those huge heavy-duty monster trucks with big wheels. Just a pickup. It seemed kind of old, and I think it was black or dark gray.”

“What made you think it was an older model?”

“It wasn’t shiny. It looked used.” She wished she’d been more observant. “I didn’t get a license plate. And I’m not good at identifying make and model.”

“What about the other vehicle?”

“A black sedan. A four-door.” She shook her head. If it had been a Lamborghini or a Bugatti, she could have told him more. Most other cars looked the same. “It was similar to my rental car. Maybe it had tinted windows.”

“It did,” he said. “I only caught a glimpse of the truck when it came past my house, but I saw the sedan pretty clearly. They were driving in formation. It appeared to be an organized assault.”

“They were working together. The sedan pulled in front. The truck tried to force me off the road.”

The explanation sounded so bland—nothing at all like the harrowing reality of the chase. She called upon the regal poise that had been drummed into her since childhood to stay in control.

He asked, “Who knew you were coming to Wyoming?”

Though she hadn’t informed anyone in the royal entourage, she hadn’t made a secret of her plans. “The Minister of Affairs made my travel arrangements and reservations. I’m not sure if he talked to anyone else.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Totally.” She’d known Nasim all her life. “He’d never betray me.”

“Someone did,” he said. “Those cars were waiting for you. They knew you were coming.”

They were approaching Jake’s house. Again, she wondered, why had he brought her here instead of the police station? As part of a class in law enforcement, she’d been on a ride along; she knew he wasn’t following standard police protocol. “You haven’t turned on the police siren or the lights.”

“That’s right.”

She pointed to the console on his dashboard. “When you contacted the person who would go to my car, you used your hands-free phone instead of calling your dispatcher.”

“Right again.”

She remembered what she’d read about him on the internet. Much of his campaign for sheriff had been based on a promise to clean up the corruption that had infected law enforcement in Wind River County. “Why are you avoiding the regular channels?”

“Here’s what I think. The person who came after you in that truck is a local.” He pulled up to the edge of the basketball court to park. “Until I find him, I’m only going to work with people I can count on. While you’re here, I’d advise you to do the same.”

She got the message.

There was no one she could trust.

And someone wanted to kill her.

Chapter Three

Whether he liked it or not, Jake was stuck with the princess. He couldn’t hand her over to any other law enforcement agencies, not while he suspected corruption. Nor did he trust the hotel security at the Wind River Ranch and Resort. And the bodyguards for the royal entourage had the stink of traitor about them.

He escorted Saida to the safest room in his house—the guest bedroom on the second floor. Unlike his and Maggie’s bedrooms, there was only one small window.

Keeping her here at his house wasn’t a long-term solution. Not only did he have too many responsibilities as sheriff to act as her full-time bodyguard, but his home wasn’t a fortress. Yeah, he had a security system that sounded an alarm if somebody tried to break in. But there was no defense against long-range rifles and snipers. Had the men who chased Saida wanted to kill her or to kidnap her? He suspected the latter. If their intent was murder, there were more effective methods than vehicular homicide.

He pulled the blinds and crossed the room to stand in the doorway. “You’ll stay here until I know what’s going on.”

His humble guest bedroom with the scuffed knotty pine furniture probably wasn’t the sort of accommodation she was accustomed to, but she didn’t turn up her nose. She perched on the edge of the double bed and gave him a cooperative smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I have more questions.”

“Perhaps I could have a glass of water.” She slipped off her metallic jacket. Underneath, she wore a V-neck shirt of thin fabric that clung to her curves and was almost the same color as her skin—a naked shirt that sent his imagination into overdrive.

Regretfully, he tore his gaze away from the princess and looked over his shoulder at his sister who stood in the hallway. “Maggie, I’d like for you to go down to the kitchen and get something for Saida to drink and eat.”

“My linguini?”

After Saida’s nonsense about fussing with the makeup from her suitcase, he was tempted to torture her with Maggie’s idea of gourmet. But that was too cruel. “Just a sandwich. Bring it up here.”

She gave a quick nod and darted down the staircase.

He turned back to the princess. “I’ll be honest with you, Saida. The best thing you could do is return to California.”

“I’m not afraid.” A blush warmed her cheeks, but her golden eyes were calm. “I won’t leave until I find my brother.”

He’d expected as much and wouldn’t waste another breath trying to convince her. “Do you have any idea why those men came after you?”

“Not a clue.”

“Since we don’t know the why, we’ll concentrate on how. How did those guys know you were in town?”

“Flying into the airport in a private jet might not have been the most subtle way for me to arrive.” She pulled up her leg and unfastened the strap on one of her platform sandals. Her foot was delicate with a high arch, and she wore a thin silver chain around her ankle. “The jet wasn’t my idea. Nasim insisted.”

“The Minister of Affairs in Jamala,” he said. “Would he have told anyone about your arrival?”

“He might have informed Efraim.” She shrugged. “Don’t waste time suspecting Nasim. His primary concern in life is my welfare.”

Jake wasn’t so sure. “Tell me about him.”

“When I was younger, Nasim was a combination bodyguard and mother hen. He accompanied me everywhere, even to Beverly Hills—a place he utterly despised. The only thing he enjoyed about Southern California was the freeway system, which he considered a challenge. He always drove as though on a military campaign and bragged whenever he shaved a few minutes off the drive time.”

When Jake had gone after her, he’d been on a rise overlooking the road and had been able to see last part of the chase. She’d maneuvered her car like a Demolition Derby expert; her decision to hit the brakes had probably saved her from a rollover. “Did Nasim teach you to drive?”

“He trained me in evasive driving techniques, and in other skills to protect myself from kidnapping. Do you think that’s what was intended? Kidnapping?”

In spite of his earlier conclusion, he didn’t answer her question. They weren’t working together. “Do you have reservations at the resort?”

“Yes.” She removed her other shoe and massaged her toes. “Maybe someone at the hotel leaked my name to the enemies of COIN.”

“It’s possible.” Over the past few days, his men had done a thorough job of vetting the employees at the resort. He doubted that any of them were working with the bad guys, but somebody could have mentioned her arrival. Or the reservation desk computer could have been hacked.

She frowned. “I should have told Nasim to use a fake name.”

“Do you often use an alias?”

“Of course,” she said as though assumed names were a normal part of life. “I travel incognito to throw the paparazzi off my trail.”

“Too late for that. They’re already here.” The reporters and photographers who had showed up in Dumont at the first sign of trouble were as pesky as a swarm of gnats.

“There’s one paparazzo who is particularly annoying. His name is Danny Harold.” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “He specializes in photographs of royalty, and he’ll do anything to get an exclusive shot.”

Maggie came back into the room carrying a tray. “You always look gorgeous in the tabloids. I remember a photo of you standing on tiptoe to kiss one of the Lakers.”

“Don’t remind me. That picture started a million rumors about royal weddings, even though I only dated the guy twice.”

“The Lakers?” In spite of himself, Jake was starstruck. “You’ve gone out with players on the winningest franchise in professional basketball?”

“If you come to L.A., I can get you courtside seats.”

“Damn.” There were advantages to knowing a princess.

Maggie placed the tray on the bed and shoved a paper plate toward him. “Eat.”

Absently, he took a bite from the sandwich. When this investigation was over, he fully intended to take the princess up on her offer. It was almost worth all the strife these royals had caused to get courtside seats.

Maggie handed a plate to Saida. “Tell me a couple of your aliases.”

“As a child, I used to watch a lot of American movies. That’s when I first fell in love with this country. So I use movie names. Dorothy Gale, Bridget Jones, Holly Golightly. And, of course, Elle Woods.”

“Of course,” Maggie said.

Jake had no idea what they were talking about. “Elle Woods?”

“The heroine of Legally Blonde,” his sister informed him. “Everybody thought she was a ditzy blonde, but she went to Harvard Law School and outsmarted them all.”

“A lighthearted film with a significant message.” Saida slid an accusing glance in his direction. “It’s easy to underestimate someone based on stereotypes. Sometimes, the dumb blonde is the smartest person in the room. And the pampered princess is the most resourceful.”

Touché. He knew he’d been guilty of taking her lightly. There might be more depth to this princess than he’d thought.

Maggie said, “I love your pinkie ring. Is the design a royal crest?”

He’d noticed the ring before—a black onyx stone with a silver design that he’d at first thought was a butterfly. Looking closer, he saw that it was crossed swords.

Saida gestured gracefully, displaying the ring. “It’s similar to the crossed scimitars that are part of Saudi Arabia’s coat of arms, but this ring has no special meaning. I just liked the design, and I have earrings to match.”

“Does Jamala have crown jewels?” Maggie asked.

“An extensive collection, most of which is in the National Museum. There’s a story behind the Farrah Blue diamond. Any woman who wears the gem is guaranteed to have masculine children.” She gave Maggie a grin. “As if that’s good.”

“Tell me more,” Maggie said.

Jake finished his sandwich. Though she’d subtly rebuked him for stereotyping, he couldn’t help comparing Saida to the princess in One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. If he didn’t get away from her soon, he’d stay all night, lulled into a trance by her cultured voice. “Excuse me, ladies. I have work to do.”

Downstairs, he went through the house—pulling the curtains, locking the windows and dragging his thoughts back to the situation at hand. He couldn’t allow himself to be captivated by Saida’s charms or her promise of courtside seats. The fact that this kidnap attempt had been made here instead of California indicated that this crime was tied to all the others, including her brother’s disappearance. He needed solutions.

The antidote to Saida came when he heard his deputy pull into the driveway outside his house. Kent Wheeler was Jake’s most trusted employee and the person he’d called on his phone right after leaving the scene of the crash.

He opened the front door for the stocky blue-eyed deputy who usually wore a cowboy hat to cover his bald spot. Though out of uniform, Wheeler’s appearance was crisp and neat. His wife always ironed his jeans to leave a crease.

“What’s up, Sheriff?”

Before Jake could answer, Saida was halfway down the stairs.

“Good evening, sir.” She bestowed a mesmerizing smile on Wheeler. “Have you brought my luggage?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wheeler wasn’t the sort of guy who would ever cheat on his wife, but he was staring at the princess with unabashed appreciation.

“Later,” Jake growled. “We’ll bring your suitcases upstairs later.”

“I appreciate it so much.” She turned and trotted back to the guest bedroom.

Staring after her, Wheeler said, “She’s something else.”

“She’s a load of trouble,” Jake said. “That’s Princess Saida Khalid, the sister of Amir. She was driving that car when it was forced off the road.”

“A real live princess. Whoa, I never thought I’d meet somebody like her.”

Wheeler remained at the foot of the staircase, looking up in case she might reappear. Jake might have to use his stun gun to bring his deputy back to earth. “Did you contact Jane Cameron?”

“Yes, sir. The forensic team arrived at the scene of the crash just as I was taking the luggage from the backseat. Jane wasn’t happy about having me disturb her evidence.”

She was involved with Prince Stefan Lutece of Kyros. Ever since they hooked up, the formerly plain Jane had been beaming and dropping hints that she’d be leaving her job and moving to one of the COIN nations. Though he didn’t doubt Jane’s professionalism, she’d probably been in the arms of her prince when she got the call. Jake couldn’t keep Saida’s arrival a secret; he needed to inform the COIN royals as soon as possible. Sheik Efraim seemed to be closest to Saida and her brother.

He sank into a chair beside the fireplace and checked the clock on the mantel. It was after eleven. This wouldn’t be a pleasant call. He and Efraim had argued before. They’d buried the hatchet, but not too deeply.

Using his cell phone, he contacted the front desk at the resort and left a message for Efraim to call him. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

Disconnecting the call, he looked toward his deputy. “I’m putting you in charge of this investigation, Wheeler. Handpick the team you work with. We need to be careful about who we trust.”

“Understood. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with Amos Andrews.”

Andrews, a Dumont policeman, had played a part in the first wave of attacks and had threatened Jane Cameron’s life. In jail, he’d committed suicide under suspicious circumstances. Jake wondered if he’d been murdered to insure his silence—murdered by someone on the inside, another traitor.

Though he’d been sheriff for nearly a year, Jake still felt the simmering resentment from those on his staff who were loyal to the former sheriff. Every day was a battle to earn their respect. Not only was he the new guy but he was Arapaho, and old prejudices sometimes flared back to life.

Wheeler took a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket. “Where should I start?”

“We’re looking for a black or gray truck with damage on the passenger side. And a black, four-door sedan.” The car had whipped past his house so fast that Jake hadn’t recognized the make or model. “Tomorrow morning, you can check with the local car rental places for information on midsize sedans.”

“Got it.” Wheeler scribbled in his notebook.

“Somebody knew about the princess’s arrival, which means there’s a leak. You’ll need to talk to the reservations people at the resort.”

“Again?”

“You never know. They’re supposed to be discreet, but somebody might have gotten all excited and blabbed. I guess she’s some kind of celebrity. She dated a guy on the Lakers.”

“The Lakers?” His eyes popped wide open. “Whoa.”

Jake wondered if his own reaction had been that obvious. “You look like you might run home and tell your wife.”

“No, sir, not my wife. Not unless I wanted to get whacked over the head with a frying pan. But I might be tempted to tell some of the guys.”

That was probably how the information had gotten out, but they needed to make sure there wasn’t a more nefarious explanation. “I’ll talk to the FBI. They can use their fancy tracing equipment to see if the reservations computer at the resort was hacked.”

From upstairs, he heard his sister giggle. At least somebody was having fun.

Jake’s phone rang, and he answered. “Jake Wolf.”

“This is Efraim Aziz. What is the big emergency?”

“Princess Saida is in town. She’s at my house.”

There was a moment of silence.

Efraim said, “My advice to you, Sheriff, is to saddle up and ride as fast and as far as you can.”

Chapter Four

Sitting cross-legged on the double bed in the guest room, Saida was enjoying her conversation with Jake’s sister. Their topics ranged from fashion and shoes to cultural norms in Jamala and the rights of women. If this had been a purely social occasion, Saida might have relaxed, but she was edgy—distracted by what was going on downstairs. With the door to the bedroom open, she could hear the murmur of male voices as Jake conferred with his deputy.

As usual, she was being excluded, and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. Until Jake said it was safe, he wouldn’t allow her to leave the guest bedroom. He’d already shown himself to be capable of throwing her over his shoulder. What would come next? Tying her to a chair?

She stretched out her legs. “I want your brother to invite me into his investigation, to work with him and find Amir. How should I approach him?”

“With a baseball bat to knock some sense into his stubborn head. Forget about Jake. Tell me how you ended up in Beverly Hills.”

“While I was in boarding school in Switzerland, I made friends with a girl from Los Angeles. Since I was already in love with American movies, California seemed like a natural destination for me. I begged until I was allowed to go to a private high school in Los Angeles.” She smiled at Maggie. “Now it’s your turn. You grew up on the reservation. What was it like?”

“So boring. Actually, I’m kind of like you. By the time I was in high school, my older sister was working in Denver. That’s where I went to high school.”

“In a way, we’re both expatriates.”

“In a way.” Maggie nodded. “Why did you come to our house as soon as you got into town?”

“I looked Jake up on the internet. He seemed like someone I could trust. When he was running for sheriff, there was an interesting endorsement from someone named Oscar.”

“Poor little Oscar.”

In his endorsement, he hadn’t sounded poor at all. The accompanying photograph was very Armani. “He’s an attorney in Cheyenne, right?”

“When Jake met him, Oscar Pollack wasn’t what you’d call a success story. He was a skinny little runt, too nervous to take his eyes off his own toes. He and Jake were both in their first year of college at UDub and—”

“Wait.” Saida held up her hand. “UDub?”

“University of Wyoming in Laramie,” Maggie said. “That’s where I’m going, too. Anyway, Jake was on a basketball scholarship and joined the coolest frat on campus. After the first game of the season, everybody knew him. Jake Wolf—the Wolfman—was a star. Oscar was an insignificant speck.”

The college hierarchy was much the same everywhere. Though Saida had never lived on the UCLA campus or bothered with sororities, she was one of the in-crowd. “What happened?”

“One night, Jake went to a bar with his buddies, even though he doesn’t drink. Oscar was working there, bussing tables. He accidentally spilled beer on a big ape who took it personally. He and his pals followed Oscar after his shift was over. Oscar made it to his car, but that didn’t stop the apes. They kicked dents into the car doors and threw rocks. They busted the windshield.”

Saida guessed what came next. “Jake stepped in.”

“Oh, yeah. To hear Oscar tell the story, you’d think my brother was some kind of superhero, taking on three big guys at once. According to Jake, they were stumbling around and drunk—but not so smashed that they didn’t recognize the Wolfman. It turned out that one of the ape’s pals was in Jake’s frat.”

Noble actions often came with a price. “Did they try to kick him out?”

“Jake quit before they could ask him to leave, and he was glad to do it. He didn’t want to be part of a group that condoned bullies.” Maggie beamed a smile. She was proud of her big brother, deservedly so. “It all turned out for the best.”

“How so?”

“You can’t tell Jake I said this, but he was never destined for the NBA. He moved to a different frat that was more focused on academics than sports. His good grades served him better than a nonexistent sports career.”

“And Oscar went to law school,” Saida concluded.

“He turned out great, has a wonderful family. And he’s a big deal in state politics,” Maggie said. “He thinks Jake can be the first Native American elected governor if he learns how to play politics.”

Diplomacy was something Saida understood. “I could teach him a thing or two.”

“He’s going to need a boost,” Maggie said. “With everything that’s happened recently, Jake’s reputation as a lawman is at an all-time low.”

Saida regretted the trouble caused by the COIN royals. It was enough to stir up turmoil and strife in their own nations without spreading their problems to Wyoming. “When I find my brother, we’ll make amends. I promise you, Maggie. Amir and I will make this right.”

She heard someone coming up the stairs and hopped off the bed as Jake pushed the door open. His clenched jaw and the parallel frown lines between his eyebrows told her that he wasn’t in the mood for a reasonable chat.

“You can both come downstairs,” he said. “I have a deputy posted out front and another by the barn. Nobody but a damn fool would attack when they are so sure to be caught.”

She picked up her sandals by the straps. “I’m sorry to have added to your problems.”

“Forget it.”

He gestured for them to leave the room. Maggie went first, and Saida followed. Her brain was in high gear, trying to figure out a way to convince Jake that she was worthy of participating in his investigation. If she could get him to listen, just for a moment…

She looked up at him. Trapped in the door frame, they were standing close together—much too close. She hadn’t meant to seduce him, but there was a definite attraction between them. The heat radiating from his body sparked a flame inside her, and the fire spread in a whoosh, consuming the air in her lungs. With an effort, she pushed out a question. “Did you find out how those men knew I was coming to town?”

“The leak,” he said.

“Yes.”

“We’re considering several possibilities.”

So was she, but her considerations had nothing to do with investigating and everything to do with his lips, his chest, his scent. She’d been around handsome men before—actors, athletes and male models—but she’d never been so affected.

She took a step into the hallway, putting distance between herself and the sheriff. “I have an idea. A way we can find the leak.”

“I spoke to Sheik Efraim. He’s coming to pick you up.”

That bit of news hit her like a splash of ice water. As soon as Jake delivered her to Efraim, she’d be trapped in a velvet prison, surrounded by bodyguards. She needed to take action, to force Jake to listen.

In the middle of the living room, she spotted the two suitcases that had been in the backseat of her rental car. In a few minutes, she’d locate her weapons. If nothing else, she’d be armed. But first, she needed to get Jake’s attention.

“There’s something I need to discuss with you, Jake.” She went to the door and opened it. “Can we talk on the porch? You said it was safe.”

“I did say that.” And he looked like he regretted it.

She stepped outside into the night. Her gaze swept through a stand of pine trees and bushes on the opposite side of the driveway. Her plan was almost certain to tick him off, but he wasn’t leaving her another option. If she didn’t do something, he’d ship her off with Efraim and never speak to her again.

Standing under the porch light, she tilted her chin so her features would be clearly illuminated. She’d been photographed hundreds of times and knew how to pose.

When he joined her, she set aside her natural attraction to him. Now was not the time for lust. Not real lust, anyway. With the skill of a choreographer, she positioned him.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“Finding the leak.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. Looking up at him, she leaned closer, closer, closer.

She heard a clicking noise coming from the trees and a flash. Then a second flash.

Jake reacted instantly. Shielding her with his body, he yanked her arm and shoved her through the open door into the house. He pivoted and crouched. In two steps, he crossed the porch and vaulted the railing.

Saida bit her lower lip to keep from grinning. Her plan had worked.

RUNNING HARD, JAKE CHARGED across the basketball court and rushed into the thicket of pine trees opposite his house. Low branches on the bushes snapped against his legs as he dodged through the tree trunks. Anger surged through him. They’d been ambushed. In spite of his precautions, someone had gotten close enough to shoot. The weapon had been a camera not a gun. But the intent was the same.

The moonlight was enough for him to see the back of his quarry. A man in a black windbreaker and a black knit cap, he moved though the trees with a clumsy halting gait. His arms thrashed at low hanging branches. This was a man unfamiliar with forests and uneven terrain.

Jake was gaining on him. These mountains were his home. Since childhood, he’d been running through these forests. He knew how to place his feet, when to dodge and when to leap.

The man in black broke out of the trees into the open. Directly ahead of him was the barbed-wire fence that separated Jake’s property from his neighbor’s. As he swerved to avoid crashing headlong into the fence, he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.

Jake shouted a warning. “Stop. Police.”

The man staggered upright. He was breathing hard. “Don’t shoot.”

“Show me your hands.”

“I’m a photographer.” He pointed to the camera hanging on a strap around his neck. In his left hand, he held some kind of flash device. “I’m not going to hurt anybody. I just wanted a picture of the princess.”

Jake didn’t have a set of handcuffs with him, but he didn’t think he’d need them. His rage was enough to ensure this guy wouldn’t resist. “Come with me.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Jake tore the flash from his hand. “Give me the camera.”

“I got a great photo of you and Saida. And I mean great.” He sucked down a breath. “You look good together. You might not know this, but you’re developing a fan base. The women in my office are watching your daily briefings and they want more pictures of the sexy sheriff of Wind River County.”

Oh, swell. “Your camera. Now.”

“Awright, awright.” He took the camera from his neck and handed it over. “Be careful with the equipment. It’s top-of-the-line, expensive.”

Jake glared at this unshaven little ferret with the long, greasy, blond ponytail. “I’ve seen you hanging around at the resort.”

“Danny Harold,” he introduced himself. “Saida knows me. I’ve taken about a million photos of the princess.”

And she must have known that the paparazzo would be lurking outside the house. When she lured Jake onto the porch and touched his cheek so sweetly, she’d been setting him up for a photo op. She’d conned him. His anger at her translated into a growl at the man in his custody. “Danny Harold, you’re under arrest.”

“For what?” he yelped.

“Consider yourself lucky, it wasn’t so long ago that we shot trespassers.”

Jake marched him through the trees and back to the house. The walk gave him time to cool down, and that was good. He was outraged. The way she’d manipulated him with this stunt went too far. The last thing he needed was some high-maintenance princess flouncing around and making ridiculous demands. What the hell had she been thinking? What did she hope to gain from Danny Harold?

Kent Wheeler stood on the porch, gun in hand. Though the brim of his hat shielded his eyes, his frustration was evident. “Sorry, Sheriff. I don’t know how this creep got so close.”

“Not your fault.” Jake shoved Danny toward him. “Cuff him and put him in your car.”

While Danny squawked about freedom of the press and how he didn’t mean any harm, Jake mounted the steps to the porch and entered the house. Maggie and Saida were sitting at the dining room table with coffee mugs in front of them. The princess rose to her feet and adjusted the fur collar of the vest she’d put on over her naked shirt. Her posture was perfect, and her attitude was so imperial that she could have been wearing a crown.

He wanted to tear away that composure and get to the truth. He placed the camera equipment on the table and said to his sister, “Give us some privacy.”

“Sure thing.”

When Maggie stepped up beside him and touched his arm, he almost flinched. Holding his anger in check was taking all his willpower. Her touch morphed into a sisterly hug that felt like a straitjacket. He assured her, “I’m fine.”

She looked up at him with worried eyes. “Can I get anything for you? Coffee? A sandwich? Linguini?”

“Get out of here, sis.”

He waited until Maggie had disappeared up the stairs and he heard the door to her room close. Then he confronted Saida.

“I want an explanation, Princess.”

“I’M HAPPY TO EXPLAIN.” Saida remained standing at the table. “Danny Harold is the bane of my existence. He’s after me all the time, stalking me with his camera. I suspected that he’d find a way to get close. If I gave him a photo opportunity that he couldn’t resist, he’d reveal himself.”

Finally, Jake had gotten a direct answer from her. Not that it made any sense. She hated Danny, but she wanted to see him. What? He homed in on the important fact. “You were trying to lure him into the open.”

“Yes.”

“And you used me to do it.”

“You gave me no choice,” she said. “You refused to listen to me. I have a plan.”

A headache throbbed behind his eyes. All her fancy foot-work was making him dizzy. “I’m listening now. What’s this big plan of yours?”

“The time of my arrival was leaked to the men who chased me. If someone who works at the resort or the airport was responsible, that person must have passed their information to the paparazzi, as well.”

“How do you figure?”

“People like Danny pay well for tips.” With an elegant gesture, she tucked her shiny, black hair behind her ear. “If we ask him the right questions, he’ll identify his source.”

Either Jake was losing his mind or she was making sense. “Talking to Danny Harold is actually a decent plan.”

“So I’m right.”

“Don’t push it.” He went to the door and called to Deputy Wheeler. “Bring Danny in here.”

“Can I interrogate him?” she asked. “This is my plan, after all.”

“What do you know about interrogation?”

“I just finished my first year at UCLA law school. All A’s except for a B in torts. I hate torts.”

Law school? “Why are you studying law?”

“I hope to reform the legal system in my country and in the other COIN nations. I want to do something useful.”

He stalked past her and went into the kitchen, hoping to put distance between them. He didn’t want to be sucked into her life story.

“Right now, all that’s expected of me is to appear on red carpets and attend charity and political events,” she said as she trailed behind him.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It’s a lot of work. I have to spend the whole day being coiffed, fitted and painted with makeup. Five-inch heels are gorgeous but painful. You should try it sometime.”

He had no intention of walking a mile in her stilettos. “If you hate it so much, why do it?”

“It’s my duty. I’m a de facto ambassador, making contacts for Jamala. It never hurts to remind people in America of our existence. Tourism is an important industry for my country.”

He opened the cherry cabinet next to the sink, took down a striped ceramic mug and filled it to the brim with coffee. Not that he needed a wake-me-up. His adrenaline was still pumping from chasing Danny and from dealing with the princess. She was too clever, too manipulative and far too appealing.

“Will you allow me to speak to Danny?” she asked. “Can I at least stay in the room?”

Her cool, caramel eyes shone with confidence. After all that had happened, her poise remained unruffled. “We’ll both question him.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m so glad we’ll be working together.”

He had the sinking feeling that he’d somehow been recruited into a partnership he didn’t want. And if he tried to explain that they weren’t a team, she’d find a way to tighten the leash. How the hell had the princess gotten the upper hand?

Chapter Five

Before he became sheriff, Jake had spent seven years on the Cheyenne police force and had worked his way up to detective. Never once had he allowed the victim to participate in the interrogation of a witness. Nor had he ever conducted an investigation from his house.

Proper procedure was being shredded. But he wanted answers, and he had the feeling that Danny Harold would respond to the princess.

Deputy Wheeler escorted Danny, still in handcuffs, through the front door and sat him at the far end of the dining room table. The grungy little ferret beamed a toothy grin as soon as he spotted Saida. “There she is. Princess Saida Khalid of Jamala. You’ve always been one of my favorites.”

“I can’t say the same about you.”

“Come on, Princess. You like the attention, even if you won’t cop to it. Why else do you wear the short skirts and those sexy necklines? You’re one hell of a hot little number.”

“Show some respect.” Jake snatched the black knit cap from Danny’s head. “Otherwise, you’ll be spending the rest of the week in jail.”

“You don’t scare me. I have every right to do what I do. It’s called freedom of the press.”

Jake doubted that the Founding Fathers had paparazzi in mind when they drafted the First Amendment. “This isn’t about your photography. You trespassed on my property. And you broke branches on my bushes. That’s vandalism. If I charge you, it’s two weeks in the county jail.”

“That’s not fair,” he whined. “You can’t—”

Jake slammed the cap down on the table. “I’m the law in this county. You’d be wise to cooperate.”

Danny pulled back his chin like a turtle retreating into his shell. “What do you want from me?”

“First, you tell Princess Saida that you’re sorry.”

He glared at her. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

As apologies went, that was pathetic. But Jake didn’t press for more. He nodded to Wheeler. “Take off the cuffs.”

As soon as Danny’s hands were free, he made a grab for his camera that was still resting on the table.

Jake snatched it away. “You don’t get this until you answer some questions.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

Jake looked toward the princess. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Sheriff Wolf.” Apparently, Saida thought that using his title gave more gravity to her interrogation. “Let’s start at the beginning, Danny. When did you arrive in Wind River County?”

“As soon as I knew the princes were coming here.” Proudly, he said, “I have good contacts in Europe, and they told me about the COIN summit. I was one of the first on the scene. The publicity from the explosions and shootings were a bonus.”

“And you’ve been taking pictures ever since you arrived.”

“You know I have. That’s my bread and butter.”

“Huh,” Deputy Wheeler said. “Can you really make a living doing this?”

“I get decent bucks for pictures of royalty, especially in Europe. The COIN princes have a lot going for them—they’re handsome, titled and single.”

It dawned on Jake that Danny’s photos might come in handy. He might have caught something that would help the investigation. He went to the side table and picked up his sister’s laptop. “Show us some of these moneymaking photos.”

“With pleasure.” Danny rubbed his hands together, talking while he plugged his digital photo card into the laptop. “Right now, I’m on assignment from a British tabloid. They’re picking up my expenses. Whatever they don’t use, I’m free to sell elsewhere. Here we go. That’s from a couple of days ago.”

The first photo showed only two people. One of them was a woman who worked at the resort. With her was one of the twin Cavanaugh princes, probably Antoine. They appeared to be holding hands and didn’t seem aware of the camera.

Saida cooed. “That’s so sweet.”

Jake ignored the fact that Danny probably hadn’t gotten a release for this picture. It wasn’t his problem unless somebody pressed charges. “Let’s see a group shot.”

“Why?”

“You claim to be the best. Let’s see what you can do when there’s competition.”

Danny scrolled through several other pictures until he found one of both Cavanaugh princes standing with other people around. Jake recognized a couple of faces in the crowd. Burt Maddox, the former sheriff, was talking to one of the guys who worked for him. Chad Granger, a troublemaker who’d been in and out of jail, slouched at the edge of the crowd. Sheik Efraim was walking away. There were other faces he’d like to identify.

“That’s enough.” Danny removed the photo card. “If you want to see more, you need a subpoena.”

The little weasel knew his rights. Jake didn’t need to get embroiled in a lawsuit with a British tabloid. But he was short on suspects; Danny’s photos could help. “I’d appreciate your consent.”

“I’ll make a deal,” Danny said. “Let me use that photo of you and Saida on the porch. That shot is a moneymaker, worthy of front page in the tabloids. And on the entertainment TV programs.”

“It’s all right with me,” Saida said. “I can deal with it.”

“I can’t.” The most difficult part of Jake’s campaign for sheriff had been the publicity. Some of his Arapaho ancestors believed that when someone took your picture they captured a piece of your soul. “Print that photo, and I’ll sue.”

Danny backed off. “No need to get all self-righteous and litigious.”

Jake wished he didn’t have to care about public opinion. He wanted to be his own man. But he was sheriff, and that meant he had to hold to a certain standard of behavior. Not that the photo of him and Saida was porn, but he couldn’t afford to be front-page news in a tabloid.

The princess spoke up, “Danny, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

Though her voice stayed calm, she betrayed her nervousness by twisting the black onyx ring on her pinkie. “How did you find out that I was coming to Wyoming?”

“I’ve got my sources,” Danny admitted. “And I’m staying close to the resort so I’m on top of things. It wasn’t hard to find out that you’d made a reservation. You’re a celebrity. Three or four of the staff mentioned your arrival.”

Jake believed him. The Wind River Ranch and Resort was a high-class place, but Dumont was a small town where gossip spread faster than wildfire. If the women on the staff were anything like his sister, they’d be excited about the princess. Unfortunately, Danny’s information wasn’t much help in pinpointing the men who came after Saida.

“You heard I had a reservation,” she said. “Then what did you do?”

“I was at the private airfield when your plane landed. I thought I might get some pictures, but you hustled into the rental car too fast.”

“At the airfield,” she said, “did you notice anyone else watching my plane arrive?”

He folded his arms across his skinny chest and leaned back in the chair. “Maybe I did.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Jake was tempted to step in and take over the interrogation, but Saida seemed to be asking the right questions.

“Tell me about these others who were watching,” she said. “What did they look like? What kind of vehicles were they driving?”

Danny smirked. “This is important, huh?”

She sat in the chair beside him. Though she didn’t actually touch him, she reached out with the full force of her personal charisma. “I must know what you saw and who you saw.”

Danny’s expression changed. Gazing at her, he seemed to be melting. An involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His smug attitude disappeared as he leaned forward, wanting to be close to her.

And the princess reeled him in. Her left hand rested on the table, just beyond his grasp. With the other hand, she raked her shimmering black hair away from her cheek as she tilted her head to one side. She lowered her eyelids and slowly looked up at him.

A worshipful sigh pushed through his lips. “Oh, Saida.”

“Please tell me, Danny.”

“It’s a private airfield,” he said, “so there isn’t a lot of security. I parked in the lot and walked closer. I stayed in the shadows, out of sight. After you got into your rental car, I talked to one of the guys who unloaded your luggage. He told me you were going to see Sheriff Wolf.”

“Did you see him speak to anyone else?”

Danny shook his head. “I figured you were going to meet the sheriff at his office, and I wasted a lot of time driving into Dumont before I came here.”

“Other than the men who worked at the airfield, did you see anyone?”

“No, and I’m aware of other people. I try to be first on the scene with the exclusive photos.”

Jake glanced toward his deputy and gave a nod. They needed to add another item to their list of things to do: talk to the workers at the airfield and find out who else they’d talked to.

“There’s one more thing,” Danny said. “When I went to the parking lot, I almost got run down. This guy was hauling ass. He was in a black truck.”

That pretty much cinched it. Jake knew how the bad guys got their information. The real question was: Why? Why were they after the princess?

SAIDA WISHED SHE HAD gotten more from her interrogation of Danny. He had been in Wyoming from the start, snapping photos, and she wanted to look through those pictures and search for clues. She’d taken Danny’s card with the intention of arranging a meeting with him later at the resort.

Before Deputy Wheeler had escorted Danny from the house, Jake had insisted that he delete the photographs he’d taken of them on the porch. She was glad. The last time she’d been the starring topic of entertainment news, it had taken a toll on her privacy. A suggested romance with the handsome sheriff would distract from the important matter of finding her brother.

With Wheeler and Danny gone and Maggie still upstairs in her bedroom, Saida found herself alone in the living room with Jake. She had to take advantage of this moment before Sheik Efraim arrived. Somehow, she had to solidify her relationship with the sheriff and convince him that she was indispensable to the investigation.

“That went well,” she said. “Now we know how the bad guys found out about my arrival. I’m good at interrogating, aren’t I?”

He went to a chair by the fireplace and sat. “I’m guessing that you’re a woman who knows how to get what she wants.”

“A useful ability in an investigation.”

“I suppose.”

He had put up a shield to deflect anything and everything she said. Jake wouldn’t be won over by flattery. Nor would he be impressed if she batted her eyelashes and bestowed a thousand sweet smiles. Her last resort was logic.

She sat on the end of the sofa closest to his chair. “I’ve been asking myself why my brother came here. He’s a sensible man and never does anything on a whim. Why did he choose this place for the summit meeting?”

“The Wind River Ranch and Resort has a fine reputation.” Jake eyed her with suspicion. “No one seems to know exactly why he chose the place.”

“As his sister, I have a deeper understanding of Amir than anyone else.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“It was eight or nine months ago. He was in the United States on business and spent a few days with me in Beverly Hills.” That time was a bit of a blur. “I was so busy starting law school that I wasn’t very attentive.”

If she had been more alert, she might have picked up clues. It pained her to think that she might have missed something that could save her brother’s life.

Jake asked, “What did you talk about?”

They’d argued about her tabloid notoriety. Amir thought it was high time for her to settle down. When she’d said the same to him, he had seemed secretive. “I had a feeling about him. There was something different. Maybe he was involved with a woman.”

“I don’t know your brother,” Jake said, “but I’ve seen how women react to the other COIN princes. I’m guessing that Amir had plenty of girlfriends.”

“He has a reputation. Some refer to him as a black sheep. But it’s not true. My brother is nothing like our father. He was the great womanizer.”

Her father had disappointed her in so many ways. She tried not to think about him, opening that door released a gush of regret. “My father had a great fondness for the American West. He often told us stories about cowboys and ranches.”

“Maybe he spent time in the West,” Jake suggested.

“As a young man, he came to the Rocky Mountains.” One of the few occasions when her father paid attention to her was when she was learning to ride. “He told me about cowgirls. How they could ride and use a rope as well as any man.”

“And shoot,” Jake said. “Like Annie Oakley.”

“Oh, yes. I watched the movie.” She’d loved the stories and the independent spirit of Western women. “I wanted to be like those cowgirls. Amir is nine years older than I am, but he would play cowboy with me.”

“Did your father visit Wyoming?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I was very young when he told me those stories.”

“We can ask around,” Jake said. “Some of the old-timers might remember.”

“A wonderful idea.”

She noticed that he’d said “we.” He was including her in the investigation, and that was a step in the right direction. Everything was going her way. She’d work with Jake—a prospect that pleased her on several levels. They’d find Amir, and he’d be all right. There would be happy endings all around.

The front door swung open. Sheik Efraim Aziz of Nadar strode into the living room.

She braced herself for the impending storm.

Chapter Six

Efraim was different. Saida saw a huge change in the tall, dark, handsome sheik she’d known all her life. For one thing, he was dressed like a cowboy in jeans, a Western-cut shirt and casual jacket. Unbelievable! Efraim despised and distrusted everything American and had given her no end of grief about her decision to live in California. And here he was, looking like he’d sauntered in from a rodeo.

His posture was still ramrod-straight and his black eyes burned with intensity, but his granite jaw was relaxed. He was somehow…gentler.

She also observed a degree of animosity between Jake and Efraim as they exchanged tight-lipped nods. Instead of crossing the living room to shake hands, Jake stayed in his position beside the fireplace, and Efraim made no attempt to approach the sheriff.

Instead, he came toward her. “Saida, when will you learn to listen to me? You should have stayed in Beverly Hills.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.