Julie Miller - Personal Protection

“Nothing that an ibuprofen won’t cure. I’ve been hurt worse wrestling with Frank and Jesse.” Although, unlike the man she’d brought in for booking, her older brothers hadn’t meant her any real harm. They’d simply been picking on her for getting in their space or being the annoying little sister who’d done her best to keep them fed and dressed in clean clothes after their mother had died. Carly nodded toward the hallway where she’d passed the other two female officers and the geeky-looking guy who’d been flirting with Emily Rangel. “Does it have something to do with them? Am I getting transferred? A reprimand in my file?”

“I don’t think it’s anything bad.” Brooke stood, resting a hand on her pregnant belly as she circled the desk to get close enough to whisper. “The guy in there with Joe is an honest to gosh prince from a little European country called Lukinburg.”

“Lukinburg?”

“I looked it up. There’s a delegation here from his country negotiating trade agreements. They’re even hosting a ball, a fund-raiser for scientific research, while they’re here in the US.”

“A ball? Like dancing and sparkly gowns? Men in tuxedos?”

“The same.”

“What’s he doing here at the precinct?”

Brooke crinkled up her nose and sat back on the edge of her desk before answering. “Everything’s all hush-hush. The prince called early this morning and asked to see Captain Hendricks as soon as I could fit him into the schedule. You should have seen it when he arrived—he has bodyguards.”

“I met them in the elevator. That explains why they said, ‘Save the prince’ when Dougie went wacko on me.”

“He called me madam and he bowed when he introduced himself—Ivan Mostek. He’s no Atticus...” Brooke smiled, referring to her husband, the detective who oversaw the task force Carly was assigned to. “But he’s hot. He’s not soft underneath that suit and those manners. I think he could take care of himself if he had to.”

Hearing Brooke refer to anyone besides her husband as hot was something new. Bowing and madam-ing certainly didn’t sound like the visitors they usually got around here, either. Carly’s heart rate wasn’t slowing down. “He runs his own country? And he wants to see me?”

She glanced down at her dirty clothes and ruined steel-toed boots that she’d borrowed from her older brother Frank, who ran a construction business. It was already ninety degrees at lunchtime, and she’d been out most of the morning working her contacts. Dougie had taken exception to her interfering with his gross habit of flashing and had peed on her. The fact that there had been so much traffic through the old burned-out Morton & Sons Tile Works warehouse near the Missouri River had been reason enough to follow Freeland inside. But when she found him strutting his wares with a young prostitute she was certain was underage, Carly had broken her cover and placed him under arrest. Tackling him in a pile of charred debris from the fire and rolling in dust and ash that had been there for four years had turned her disguise from homeless to filthy.

She held up her hands, admitting the obvious. “I’m hardly looking my best.”

“Or smelling it.” The phone buzzed on Brooke’s desk and she pushed to her feet. “That’s Joe. He said there’s a time crunch on whatever Prince Ivan needs. You’d better get in there.” Brooke’s nose crinkled up again and she clapped her fingers over her mouth, looking as if she might be sick. “You’re a little ripe.”

Carly instinctively retreated a step. “Sorry about that. Dougie didn’t come quietly when I arrested him.”

“The baby seems to make me really sensitive to smells right now.” She turned her head to the side to inhale a deep breath, then reached out to Carly. “Better let me take your coat, at least.”

Nodding her thanks, Carly quickly shed her brother Jesse’s old duster coat from his cowboy days. That phase had lasted about two months, once he realized that a real working cowboy got a lot dirtier and smelled a lot worse than the ones he’d seen in the movies. Not all that different than what she was smelling like right now. She didn’t have to be pregnant to know how Dougie’s crude attempt to scare her off had left its mark on her.

She plucked the white T-shirt she wore away from skin that was damp with perspiration and tucked it beneath the belt and holster on her jeans with the holes in the knees. Then she adjusted the chain that held her badge around her neck as if it was a piece of jewelry that could dress up her poor girl from the streets look and gave Brooke a hopeful smile. “I don’t look too scary?”

“It’ll have to do.”

Brooke turned her toward the captain’s office just as Joe Hendricks opened the connecting door with an impatient whoosh of air. “Valentine. Good. You’re here.” He shifted his attention to Brooke while Carly sidled past him into his office. “We’re not to be disturbed. Not even if his men call.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door closed behind her and Carly stopped in her tracks as the man with coal-black hair that she’d seen through the windows rose to greet her. The tailoring of his suit emphasized the width of his shoulders and tapered waist, making him appear taller, though she guessed he was about six feet in height. He practically clicked his heels together and offered her a curt nod. Bowing . Wow. Had any man ever been so formal about meeting her before? “Officer Valentine. I am pleased to meet you.”

“Hey.” Was she supposed to say something more? Shake his hand? No. Not in the shape she was currently in. “Nice to meet you.”

The captain gestured to one of the two guest chairs while he circled around to his side of the desk. “Take a seat, Valentine.”

With a nod, Carly tore her gaze from their guest and perched on the edge of her chair. Partly because it helped her sit up straight and gave her a stronger posture, and partly because she was painfully self-conscious about her soiled clothes leaving a stain on the beige fabric. “Will this take long, sir? I promised Gina Cutler that I’d cover her citizen self-defense training class after work, so she and Mike can go to birthing class.” It seemed that several of her friends were well beyond her in the get-married-and-start-a-family department. “I’d like to grab a shower before then. I think the class would like me to, as well.”

Her attempt at humor fell on deaf ears. “This will take as long as it needs to.” The captain loosened the tie that cinched his collar and gestured to the man seated beside her. “I’d like to introduce you to His Royal Highness, Prince Ivan Mostek of Lukinburg.”

Carly pushed to her feet. “Wait. Should I have curtsied?” She skimmed her hands over the hips of her frayed jeans and frowned at the stains on her boots. “I’m so sorry. I would have changed into my uniform if I’d known I was meeting a dignitary. I just came in off an undercover assignment. I had to blend in with the homeless community in No-Man’s Land. I...” She threw her hands up, helpless to deny the truth. “I’m dirty and I stink.”

The prince stood when she had risen from her chair. With a perfectly straight face, he said, “All I smell is the smoke from a fire. I trust you were not hurt.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” A nervous laugh snorted through her nose, and embarrassment warmed her face. “Of course, you’re a gentleman. You’re a prince. I’ll be okay. I mean, my pride is shot to...” Carly bit down on that word and the heat in her skin intensified. She was pretty sure that one didn’t curse in front of royalty. “I’ll have a few bruises, but nothing serious. Thanks for asking.” She turned to the captain, silently begging for backup. “Sir, tell me to shut up.”