The Duke's Covert Mission. Julie Miller
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throat and quietly studied them. He’d already run a background check on his two compatriots—a basic rule of survival meant knowing who you were dealing with. They were mercenaries who’d received some of the best training on the planet as former members of the Korosolan Army. He’d gone through the same training himself when he was twenty-one. But it was an old habit of his—always watching. He’d gotten himself out of sticky situations, kept himself alive more times than he could count, by simply keeping an eye on everything going on around him.
Jerome lit one of his imported European cigarettes and kicked his feet up on the frayed ottoman that doubled as a coffee table.
Lenny peeled the stocking cap from his shaved head and pulled out a thin black notepad. He jotted something down. Was the big guy keeping a journal? Writing a friend? Recording expenses? Cade had noticed a zenlike calm about him, a quiet sense of purpose that bore up well under Jerome’s hot-tempered actions. Fire and ice, Cade had dubbed them.
But while Jerome’s interest in kidnapping Princess Lucia seemed to be rooted in nothing more complicated than old-fashioned greed, he couldn’t say the same for Lenny. The big guy didn’t share Jerome’s interest in fast cars and big yachts and the women they attracted. He hadn’t figured Lenny out yet. And until he did, Cade would keep an especially close eye on the man.
Cade checked his watch. As the big hand hit the twelve, Jerome’s cell phone rang. Right on cue. He swallowed another drink of the cold, bitter brew and turned, showing a mild interest in the expected call, but wishing he had an extension to eavesdrop on.
Mr. Fire of the hot temper and smoky stench waited for the second ring before picking up. “Three o’clock,” he said. “I like punctuality.” His thick chest shook as he laughed at his own clever greeting, and Cade wondered if the caller found Jerome as amusing as Jerome did. “Yes, sir. The package is safe and secure. Not too much trouble. I’ll make the call as soon as we’re finished here.” He pulled a long drag on his cigarette and sat up straight. As he exhaled the sweetly pungent smoke, his puttylike features mirrored his displeasure with whatever was being said. “I don’t like being left out of the loop.”
Jerome hopped to his feet and paced the length of the room. “Three days?” He eyed Lenny and Cade over his shoulder, his expression changing back to its good-ol’-boy facade as the caller placated him. He nodded. “We can manage three days. As long as we get paid what we’re due.”
Another moment passed and then he pulled the phone from his ear and punched the off button.
Lenny tucked his notebook back into his pocket. “Three days?”
“Yeah.” Jerome tossed the phone onto the empty couch and finished off his cigarette. “We’re to hold the princess here while he takes care of the ransom.”
A faint twinge of alarm made Cade step forward. Maybe it was the instinctive danger he felt at having to alter their original plan. Maybe it was his conscience kicking in. “Her family hasn’t been contacted yet?”
Jerome shrugged and reached for another cigarette. “He says it’ll take that long to negotiate the deal.”
“What deal? Don’t we get paid cash? And who’s he?”
Fire-man grinned. He took the time to cup his hands around his mouth and light his cigarette before answering. The bum knew all about power, but nothing about team leadership. “You’ll find out when I do. All I needed was that hundred-grand retainer fee to get this project started. Nab the woman in the red dress. Bring her here. Wait for the call. I can take orders for the kind of money we’re making on this deal. So can you. If he says to turn the little lady over in three days, that’s what we’ll do.”
Cade challenged him on the impracticality of blind faith in a man he’d never met. “You ever wonder what makes a man willing to commit treason and risk a lifelong prison term by kidnapping a member of the royal family?”
“I don’t know. You’re one of those royals. You could have the world eating out of your hand, if you wanted.” Jerome blew out a cloud of smoke and flashed his teeth in a smug grin. “But for the right price I finally turned you. For the right price, a man’ll do anything.”
Cade resisted the urge to cross the room and ram the cigarette down Jerome’s throat. “So we just sit here for three days and trust this guy to show up?”
Lenny rose, consuming a good portion of the room with his mammoth size. He, too, was clearly interested in Jerome’s answer.
“He’s coming here tonight to check out the merchandise. You can voice your concerns then.” Jerome spread his arms wide and shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t care why the man wants to do it this way—I’m just the hired help. As long as the money’s there, he has my loyalty.
“But I guarantee you, by Monday night, if I don’t get my million, her highness is dead. And so is he. And then his motive won’t make a damn bit of difference, now will it?”
Jerome left the room with a cloud of that sickening smoke trailing behind him. Lenny sat back on the couch and pulled out his notepad again. Cade strode into the kitchen, grabbed a bag of pretzels and sat at the breakfast bar. As he munched, he let his gaze stray to the bolted basement door.
The light snack gummed up his throat as he thought of the year-old C rations he’d given their prisoner. At least she’d been smart enough to take the food, though cautious enough not to trust him. She’d seemed so young. So frightened.
So innocent.
She was nothing like the world-savvy women he’d known over the years. Ling in Hong Kong. Rosa in Brazil. Elise in London and Jeanne back home in Korosol. He’d always sought out women who knew the score. Women who enjoyed a night of great sex when he was in town, but who never expected more than a few days of clubbing and dining and bedtime fun.
The woman in the basement looked as if she still believed in heroes and happy endings. She had the wide-eyed wonder and indignant shock of someone who expected to find good in people. She seemed more suited to pen pals and puppy love than that damned two-sizes-too-small red gown she’d poured herself into.
When was the last time he’d seen such a wide-eyed look? Big, beautiful blue eyes the same clear shade as the mountain lakes of his boyhood home.
Cade took a swallow of beer. Then another. And another, angrily reminding himself he had no business reminiscing about childhood memories or guileless blue eyes.
He had a job to do. And despite all the transgressions he’d committed in his life, he’d always taken pride in being very, very good at his job.
He pitched the empty bottle across the room into the box of trash and considered all that was about to happen to her, all that she had already endured. He made no excuses for being a part of that dangerous destiny, but he did make her a silent promise.
He hated men like Jerome Smython. Men who used others to fulfill their own avarice, men who bartered with people’s lives and fed on their fears to get that intoxicating rush of power over others.
Cade had done a lot of things in the name of getting the job done that weren’t exactly in line with the law. In fact, he was damn good at circumventing the authorities when he needed to. But breaking the rules and breaking someone’s spirit were two different things.
And that woman in the basement, though she was chained and frightened and clueless about the events unfolding around her, definitely had spirit. She’d stood to face him when she could just as easily have cowered in the corner. She’d made demands and called him rude when he refused to answer. He’d seen her spirit in the determined tilt of her chin.
It had nearly killed him when she finally bowed her head and surrendered to her fear of him. He’d had to be tough with her, he reasoned. He had a job to do. But he’d felt an alien urge to comfort her. He’d almost touched her, almost offered some lame platitude about bucking-up and hanging-in-there.
And then Jerome and Lenny had arrived on the scene. And just like that her spirit reasserted itself. She’d tilted