Cassie Miles - Sovereign Sheriff

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.

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.