Читать книгу The Royal Treatment - Maureen Child - Страница 8

Jade walked into her apartment, tossed her purse and keys onto the narrow hall table and slammed the door behind her. Automatically, she snapped both locks, then slapped the chain into place. She took extra care in turning the new dead bolt.

Temper, she warned herself, then kicked off her shoes and limped across the room in her stocking feet. Her toes ached. “Darn him, anyway. Why did it have to be him? Thousands of soldiers in the army, and J.T.’s the one I have to deal with.”

The plush, mauve carpet caressed the soles of her feet as she walked straight across the neat, uncluttered living room to the sliding glass doors. She flipped the lock, pushed the heavy panel open and stepped out onto her balcony.

The wind slapped at her, made her shiver, but she welcomed the cold, hoping it would put out the fire still burning in her blood. But the chances of that were pretty slim. Like it or not, J.T. could do things to her with a look that any other man wouldn’t be able to accomplish with a touch.

Jade sighed, reached up and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, as if by doing so she could wipe away the memory of J.T.’s penetrating gaze. Seeing him again shouldn’t have been so hard. Three years had passed. Three long, busy, lonely years. It should have been more than enough time to get him out of her mind and heart.

But nothing about her relationship with J.T. had ever been easy. Jade closed her eyes and saw his face again. Those dark, chocolate eyes that seemed deep enough to hold the secrets of the universe.

She blew out a long, shaky breath. Her hair flew about her face and she reached up to scoop the long strands back. Tipping her face into the breeze, she inhaled the scent of the ocean and listened to the seabirds screeching as they wheeled and dipped in the gusts of wind.

Her pulse rate slowed and the knot in her stomach slowly dissolved. The sea-damp fall air was just what she had needed to cool off. Worked every time. Well, against her temper. The lust still humming in her veins was something else entirely. Usually, no matter what problem was bothering her, Jade could step out here, let the wind caress her, and she’d feel her troubles slide away. In fact, this wide, private balcony with a view of the bay was the reason she’d rented the apartment in the first place. Wouldn’t you know that J.T. would be the one problem not so easily gotten rid of?

She leaned her forearms on the railing and stared down at the world below. From her home on the top floor of the three-story building, she felt as though she could see forever. The horizon stretched out before her, filled with possibilities. And from three stories up, she felt safe from…

“Don’t go there,” she told herself firmly. But it was too late. Her mind had already drifted into dangerous territory. It wasn’t enough that work itself was becoming a problem. That J.T. had popped back into her life. No, she also had to worry about whoever it was sending her letters that were just creepy enough to make her install a new dead bolt on her apartment door.

The latest one had been delivered to her desk at work only yesterday, and she’d already memorized the contents.

My lovely Jade. Soon we will be together. Soon the world will know, as I do, that we were meant to be. Soon, my love, soon.

The police assured her she wasn’t in serious danger. Most of these cases, they insisted, turned out to be nothing more than an enraptured fan who didn’t have the courage to confront the object of his affection face-to-face. Still, that didn’t make her feel any better about having an unknown admirer stalking her.

Wrapping her arms around her middle and leaning against the weathered stone balustrade, she forced her thoughts away from what she couldn’t control and back to the problem at hand.

Getting into the palace.

Which would entail getting past her ex-husband. No small feat.

Just thinking about J.T. was enough to heat up her bloodstream again, and it wasn’t all due to anger. Life would have been so much easier if it were.

With the king in a coma, the public wanted to know that their country, their interests, were being taken care of. And it was Jade’s job to investigate that. At least, it was if she ever wanted to move away from fluff pieces to real news. If she ever wanted to prove to her father that— No, this wasn’t about her father. Or the baggage she carried around with her. This was about her goals. Her plans. Her ambitions.

Something J.T. had never understood.

Now, once again, standing between her and accomplishing her task was that mountain of a man. “Nothing’s changed there, has it?” she asked herself. Three years ago, he hadn’t wanted her to work, either. He’d wanted a traditional wife. A woman who would have dinner on the table every night at six and be content with taking care of him and their future children.

On the surface, there was nothing at all wrong with that. But Jade wanted more. Always had. And when she couldn’t get it through J.T.’s thick, chauvinistic skull that her ambitions were no less important than his, she’d stomped out of his life in a fit of righteous anger.

The only problem was, she’d left her heart behind.

Looking back now, she could see that she should have stayed and worked it out. Or at least tried. But she’d been so much younger then. So full of fire and impatience. And J.T., she conceded in her own defense, hadn’t been much better.

Jade sighed heavily and faced reality. The plain fact was she’d left, determined to have a career. But now that she had it, the career she’d wanted so desperately wasn’t making her happy. Maybe things would change if she actually managed to get the interview with the queen. But right now, Jade felt as though she’d made a stupid bargain when she’d given up her marriage for ambition.

Seeing him again hurt. The near electric shock of meeting his gaze was still buzzing through her brain. Almost as if she’d found something she hadn’t known was lost.

“Oh, you’re in sad shape,” she muttered, turning away from the ocean view to go back inside. She left the glass door open, and the sheer white drapes billowed in the wind like a sail. Like her, they were anchored and going nowhere.

A knock sounded on the apartment door and she jumped. Unease skittered along her spine, but she went to answer it anyway. Any interruption at all was better than letting her brain focus on J.T. and what they’d both lost. But she froze with her hand on the knob. The days of just throwing her door open without thinking about it were over.

She peered through the peephole and sighed as she recognized her building’s doorman.

“Charles?”

He stepped back and smiled, knowing that she was looking at him, then held up a manila envelope. “A package was delivered for you. From the television station. I’ll just leave it outside your door.”

“Thank you.” Quickly, she disengaged the locks and opened the door.

Charles was already walking to the elevator.

Jade snatched up the envelope, stepped back inside and closed and locked the door again. She looked down at the envelope. From the feel of it, there was a video tape inside, and when she tore it open, she was proved right.

A piece of notepaper fell from the envelope and she bent over to pick it up. “Found this on your desk. Thought it might be important.” It was signed by Janine, her secretary.

“On my desk?” Jade muttered as she walked back into the living room. There were no labels on the tape. Nothing to indicate what it might contain. But someone in the newsroom must have left it for her. Heading directly for the TV, she slipped the tape into the VCR, then turned on the set and hit Play.

An image of the palace appeared on the oversize television screen, and a chill crawled up her spine to lift the tiny hairs at the back of her neck. Traffic sounds, the call of birds and the sighing of the wind across the microphone were the only sounds. The unseen cameraman worked the zoom lens, and Jade was suddenly watching herself—with Harry, the station cameraman, right behind her—standing just outside the palace gates. She saw her own image argue with the guard, then grab the iron gate and shake it. She watched as she sent Harry back to the van, as she confronted J.T.

She relived the whole confrontation because she was simply too stunned to hit the stop button. In the video, she saw her hair ruffled by the wind. She felt the cameraman’s obsession as he slowly tightened the zoom to pan in on her alone—in effect, cutting her off from J.T. and the rest of the world. Keeping her separate.

For him only.

Slowly, the camera panned from the top of her head to the sole of her tapping foot and back up again. Jade felt her stalker’s obsession as if it were a living thing in the room with her. The shot tightened further, lingering on her eyes, her mouth. She could hear the cameraman’s labored breathing as he watched her, and the sound nearly choked off her own air.

At last, when she was turned away from the palace gates, the tape ended, fading into a solid blue screen that finally woke her out of her stupor. She jabbed the stop button with one fingertip, then dropped the remote to the floor as if it were poisonous.

Silence crashed down around her. The drapes, still billowing in the wind, suddenly made her aware of an unsecured entry point, and Jade hurried across the room. Of course, to break into a third-story apartment through the balcony doors, her stalker would have to be Spider-Man. But it made her feel better to slam the glass door shut. She locked it, then bent down to drop the metal guard into the track behind it.

Alone and scared, she turned her back on the view and stared at her apartment. For the first time, she didn’t see the comfortable, yet stylish furnishings. What she saw now was her sanctuary…invaded by a threat she couldn’t identify.

And she wanted to call J.T. so badly, her heart ached.

There was too much going on for J.T.’s liking.

He sat in the single chair opposite his boss’s desk and let his mind wander while Franklin Vancour was on the phone. In his fifties, Franklin was as fit as a man half his age. It came from years of military training, no doubt, and J.T. could appreciate that. The other man was as dedicated to duty as he was, and on that common ground, the two men understood each other.

Morning sunlight filtered in through the windows of the security office located on the ground floor of the palace. The wood-paneled walls gleamed richly from years of careful polishing. Framed certificates and royal proclamations hung on the walls, and their glass fronts winked when a stray sunbeam glanced off of them. A row of bookcases lined one wall, and hundreds of leather-bound, well-read volumes rested alongside mementos left behind by former heads of security.

The RII—Royal Intelligence Institute—was responsible for the safety and security of the royal family. The guards posted outside, as well as J.T. himself, had been plucked from the different branches of the Penwyck military and assigned to the palace. Every man here was the best of the best.

Next door was the king’s office, and J.T. knew without having to be told that Sir Selwyn, the king’s secretary, would be there, positioned to keep out all intruders. A thin, wiry man, he was dedicated to his employer. Even to the point of putting up with Broderick, the man who so wanted to be king of Penwyck, but never could.

But until Morgan, the rightful king, either recovered from his illness or was succeeded by one of his sons, Morgan’s twin, Broderick, would remain temporarily in charge, reigning in his brother’s stead.

J.T. could not understand how twin brothers could be as different from each other as the king and Broderick were. Morgan was fair-minded and loyal, with an innate sense of decency. Broderick, on the other hand, couldn’t be trusted as far he could be thrown. But since it was J.T.’s sworn duty to protect the royals, he was bound to keep his opinions to himself and simply do his job.

As Franklin hung up the phone and leaned back in his black leather chair, J.T. turned to find the man studying him. “What’s this I hear about you and a female reporter having a public argument at the gate yesterday?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Not much got past Vancour. Which was why he was in charge of security around here.

“Not really an argument,” J.T. countered, crossing his right foot atop his left knee. “She wanted in. I disagreed. I won.”

Franklin’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted slightly. “So I heard. But the point is, we can’t afford to offend the press right now.”

“Offend her?” J.T. almost chuckled, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated. “With her attitude, she’s lucky she didn’t get shot. Lieutenant Gimble deserves a medal for putting up with her tirade.”

Franklin sighed and shook his head. “Ms. Erickson is a popular personality these days.”

J.T. shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to like the direction this conversation was taking.

His boss continued. “The queen watches her People in Penwyck reports every day.”

“Yeah,” J.T. said. “Real in-depth reporting there. What was her last bit? About the cats who’ve lived in the palace?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the other man countered. “The point is, your former wife’s making a name for herself.”

“I know.” There were only a handful of people on this whole island who knew that he and Jade had once been married. They’d divorced long before she’d become an on-air personality. Vancour knew only because of the security check J.T. had had to pass before accepting the promotion to the palace guard.

But this was the first time in two years the other man had mentioned it.

“No way,” J.T. muttered, suspicion crawling through him. He pushed himself out of the chair. “You’re not suggesting we let her into the palace to do her interview, are you?”

“No.” Franklin propped his fingertips together as he thought about it. “Not yet, anyway. Soon, though. Won’t be able to avoid it much longer. What I’m suggesting is that you show her around the palace grounds for now.” He shrugged. “Give her a little and maybe she’ll be satisfied.”

J.T. doubted that. “Not her. She wants an interview and she won’t be satisfied until she gets it.”

“No interviews. Yet.”

There was something in his tone, an underlying edge of excitement, that caught J.T.’s attention.

“Is there news on the king?”

Franklin studied J.T. for a long minute, decided he had no qualms about telling him what he knew. Jeremy Wainwright was the most trustworthy man he’d ever known. The lad was headed for big things one day, Franklin mused. Maybe even this job.

And in this office, with the door closed, the two men could talk freely, without worrying about being overheard or quoted.

Nodding, he said, “The king’s doctors seem to think there are encouraging signs. It seems he may be rousing from the coma.”

“That is good news.” Hell, it was great news. As a citizen of Penwyck, J.T. had been as worried about his king as anyone else. And being a member of the inner circle, he’d been a part of the coverup that had been so dangerous to his country. “So does this mean that Br—”

“No.” Franklin stood up, too. “The king’s brother will remain as temporary head of the country.” Pacing, he seemed to be carefully considering something as he said, “And frankly, the easier we can make this on the queen, the better. Her Majesty is inundated with problems and trying to keep things running despite Broderick’s interference.”

J.T. nodded and waited for the man to continue. It didn’t take long.

“The RET is doing what it can. But security here is up to us.”

The Royal Elite Team was probably champing at the bit to do something—anything. But when it came to palace security, the RII was in charge. And J.T. was just competitive enough to enjoy knowing that the members of the RET were clearly unhappy with the situation.

“I understand,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he knew where Franklin was going with this.

The older man laughed shortly and stopped his frenetic pacing to stare at him from across the room. “I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t be so agreeable.”

“What’s going on, Franklin?”

“I need you to distract your ex-wife.”

“That’s going above and beyond the call of duty.” Dumbfounded, J.T. swallowed back a rising tide of anger.

“You know her best. Know how to keep her off track. Keep her happy.”

If he’d known how to keep her happy, J.T. thought, they’d still be married. This was a bad idea. Real bad. And he didn’t mind saying so. “Won’t work. Jade’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“Just buy us a couple of days.”

“And then what?”

“She’ll get her interview and you won’t have to deal with her again.”

Now that should be good news. But the fact was, J.T. had done nothing but think about her since seeing her outside the gates. She’d haunted his every thought, stalked his dreams and filled his mind until he couldn’t even draw a breath without imagining her scent.

Now that he’d seen her again after three long years, he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to be rid of her. And that surprised him as much as it would have her.

Vancour walked across the room slowly, keeping his gaze locked with J.T.’s. “I need your cooperation in this, Wainwright. Your king needs it.”

J.T. studied him. There was something in the other man’s eyes that hinted at the seriousness of the situation. Well, hell, they’d all been living in a pressure cooker for weeks. Ever since the king had collapsed unexpectedly.

Placate Jade.

From a purely male standpoint, that wasn’t such a tough assignment. There was so much history between them, though. So much hurt and pain and misery. Yet before the pain, there had also been…a connection between them that had been stronger and deeper than anything he’d ever experienced before or since.

But she also had an argumentative streak that would give the most patient man in the world the urge to throttle her. Just remembering how she’d stood up to him, shaken the iron gates and glared at him without an instant’s hesitation was almost enough to make J.T. smile. A man his size didn’t usually meet people who weren’t instantly intimidated. Jade never had been, though, and he’d always admired her for it.

She wouldn’t be an easy woman to manipulate. And if Franklin Vancour thought she could be bought off by a walk through the palace gardens, he was sadly mistaken.

Still…if all the palace required was a few more days’ respite, maybe J.T. could pull it off. Maybe he could keep her busy enough that she wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t any closer to the interior of the palace than she’d been yesterday. And, if he spent enough time in her company, perhaps the attraction he felt for her would die a natural death. Maybe this was what they both needed to completely end what they’d finished three years ago. Maybe they needed to spend time together again to realize that it was all really gone.

And maybe he was a masochist.

At any rate, it’d certainly be the most interesting assignment he’d been given since joining the RII.

He looked at Franklin. “A few days?”

The man nodded slowly. “At the most.”

“I’ll do my best,” J.T. told him.

“I knew I could count on you.”

A few minutes later, Jeremy was letting himself out of the security office and heading back to the guardhouse. Autumn sunshine spilled out of a cloudy sky and he told himself that he should enjoy it while it lasted. He had a feeling he was headed into stormy weather.