Brandishing a Crown. Rita Herron
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defense mode, threw her hands up and swung her fist toward her attacker.
The intruder caught her hands in his. “Jane, stop, it’s me! Stefan.”
Her breath rasped out as she fought the nausea again, but the voice registered.
The prince?
He took her by the arms and her knees buckled.
“Jane, are you all right?”
Jane sucked in a sharp breath. “Someone was here…attacked me.”
The prince gently smoothed the hair back from her face. She could barely make out his face in the dark, but his eyes shone in the sunlight beginning to peek through the slats of the blinds.
He pulled his hand away, and gasped at the blood on his fingers. “The gods, Jane, you’re bleeding.”
“The lights…” she said. “See if you can flip them back on. The evidence…I have to see if something is missing.”
“Forget the evidence,” he snarled. “You need medical treatment.”
Edilio suddenly raced up. “Prince Stefan, are you all right? I heard a scream.”
“I’m fine, but Jane was attacked. Search the building, and call an ambulance.” Edilio nodded and hurried through the door.
Jane gripped Stefan’s arm and tried to stand. “Find the lights. The breaker, in the hall. He must have tripped it.”
“First, you need medical attention.”
“No, I told you I’m fine,” Jane screeched. “Now get the lights.”
His long irritated sigh punctuated the tense silence. “Very well. But at least sit down.”
The room swirled again, stars dancing behind her eyes, and she clutched him, hating to show weakness and determined not to pass out. She would not be some helpless female. She was a crime investigator for heaven’s sake.
“You are bossy and insufferable,” he growled. But his hands were gentle as he helped her make her way to one of the chairs in the corner of the lab. She collapsed against the vinyl seat and leaned forward with her head between her hands, gulping air.
“Jane.” He brushed the back of her neck with his fingers. “Are you really all right?”
Gritting her teeth against the pain thrumming through her head, she reached up and squeezed his hand. “Yes. Now please, we’re wasting time while he escapes.”
He hesitated only another second before he raced from the lab. Jane blinked, intent on regaining her equilibrium, then ran her hand along the edge of the counter and found the phone. A second later she punched the number for security.
“Lock down the lab. We’ve been compromised. Suspect got away.”
“Roger that.” A brisk order to search the premises followed. “Do you need medical assistance?”
Jane hesitated. She hated to be babied, but she might need stitches. And documenting her attack was vital if they caught her assailant and went to trial. The prince’s security called an ambulance. “Alert Sheriff Wolf. I had evidence from the explosion in the lab. It might have been compromised. I’m going to check now to see if anything is missing.”
The lights suddenly flickered on, and she grimaced as she scanned the lab. Prince Lutece hurried in, his face a grim mask as he raked his gaze over her.
“You look like hell, Jane.”
A sardonic chuckle escaped her. “I thought princes were supposed to be charming.”
“Blood is not charming.”
“You’re right.” She eyed the evidence bags she’d logged in and frowned. “Dammit. The cell phone. It’s gone.”
STEFAN GROWLED deep in his throat. The attacker stole Amir’s phone.
Blast it. They might have lost a valuable piece of evidence that could lead them to the person behind the bomb attack.
And Jane—she looked so pale. Her eyes held hints of fear and pain, making his gut tighten with the need to soothe her.
Even worse, blood dotted her forehead, streaking her hair, reminding him that she’d been physically assaulted because of this case. Because of his friend.
A fact that infuriated him.
A fact that made him feel responsible.
He did not want to feel responsible for Jane Cameron, not a woman who seemed to snub her nose at his status.
Yet, he did want to alleviate her pain and fear.
His eyes fell on her hair, and his body hardened. During the attack she’d lost her ball cap, and her hair had come free of that ponytail. Her hair—it was golden brown and looked as silky as it had felt when he’d touched her earlier.
It also curled around her cheeks and made her look feminine and vulnerable.
Oblivious to his lustful thoughts, Jane pushed to her feet again but swayed, and he rushed to her. “Stay seated until the ambulance arrives.”
She sighed. “I’m fine. I need to make sure nothing else is missing.”
Stefan gritted his teeth.
He ached to pull her into his arms, hold her and comfort her. But the moment he stepped forward, she busied herself searching the evidence bags. “I hope security catches the bastard.”
He bit the inside of his cheek at her colorful language. “Did you see the assailant?” Stefan asked.
“No, it was too dark.” She angled her head toward him. “But I did manage to lift prints from the phone before the attack. I’ll plug those in the database and see if I get a hit.”
Footsteps sounded, and Stefan glanced through the glass partition and saw a man wearing a security uniform approaching along with Edilio. Two paramedics entered behind him with Sheriff Wolf on their heels.
“Ms. Cameron,” the guard said. “We searched the premises, but it appears your attacker escaped.”
“Do you not have security cameras?” Stefan asked.
“I checked them but he must have tripped them when he flipped off the power,” Edilio said.
A short, stout young man in a medic’s uniform hurried toward Jane. “Miss, are you the one who was accosted?”
Jane nodded. “Yes, but I’m fine, really. Just a bump on the head.”
“Let’s take a look.” He coaxed her to sit down, and Jane reluctantly allowed him to examine her head wound.
Sheriff Wolf moved inside, visually scanning the room. “What happened?”
“I catalogued the evidence into the system, then had started processing it when the lights suddenly flickered off.” She winced as the medic cleaned the cut. “Then someone attacked me from behind.”
The medic cleared his throat. “You might need a couple of stitches. We can transport you to the hospital—”
Jane shook her head. “Just fix me up with a butterfly bandage and I’ll be right as rain.”
“But you should go to the hospital and have a CAT scan,” he argued.
A skinny female medic approached Jane. “If you don’t stitch it up, you might have a scar.”
“I don’t care about a damn scar.” Jane gestured toward the other medic. “I’m not going to the hospital. Now I have to get back to work so bandage me or I’ll bleed all over the evidence.”
The medic insisted she sign a medical release denying hospital treatment, then placed a bandage on her forehead.
Stefan wanted to throttle the stubborn