Rachelle McCalla - Royal Wedding Threat

As he shuffled the glossy pages into his hands, Jason found something different—a photograph, fairly large but unframed, a close-up of a woman’s face. It was by far the most personal item Jason had seen on the desk. He stopped shuffling pages long enough to look at the woman. She was pretty, her brown hair in loose curls tumbling around her face, her eyes twinkling, her full lips spread in a broad, happy smile.

“I need everything from that desk, too.”

Jason turned to see Ava standing in the doorway, her duffel slung over her shoulder. He realized the woman in the picture looked a lot like Ava. A sister, perhaps? Ava stepped toward him, a second bag gaping wide. She held it out, and he dropped the brochures with the picture on top of the other items into the bag.

Ava gave a little yelp, reached for the picture, then shook her head quickly and closed the bag instead.

At the same moment Jason heard a vehicle outside. He turned to see an bulletproof royal-guard sedan come to a stop double-parked beside the car he’d driven earlier. “Let’s go.” Jason grabbed his body armor and uniform shirt, but Ava’s reaction to the picture didn’t sit well with him. “Who’s in the picture?”

A horrified expression flashed across the wedding planner’s face, followed by reddening cheeks. “Where did you find that?”

“It was on your desk with the brochures.” Intrigued by her response and wondering if he was onto something, he prodded further. “Is it your sister?”

“I’m an only child.” She pulled the door open and waited for him to step into the foyer.

“It’s got to be a relative of some sort.” Jason hovered next to her as they opened the outer door. Two guards stepped from the car—Titus and Adrian, two of the recent transfers from the Lydian army. They looked ready for war in their helmets, with automatic rifles—not the usual image he liked his royal guards to project, but given the circumstances, he almost felt relieved by their rough-and-ready approach.

“Why does it matter?” Ava asked as they stepped down the stairs to the sidewalk, where she peered anxiously in both directions.

Jason tried to shrug, but his back protested, so he said simply, “She’s pretty.” Nodding to his men, he led Ava quickly across the street and into the bulletproof car.

“Well, thank you,” Ava said as he opened her door first and took her bag from her shoulder.

Jason raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The picture?” Ava pointed. “It’s me.” She sat inside the car and pulled the door shut after herself as Jason shook off his surprise and hurried back around to the driver’s side. With no sign of the Jetta anywhere, his men got back into their car, ready to follow him back to the palace.

Jason shot Ava a quick, assessing glance as he started the car and pulled carefully away from the curb. Maybe the lovely girl in the picture really was Ava, but that raised even more questions in his mind—such as why any woman who could look so pretty would choose instead to make herself appear so severe. “I’ve never seen you smile,” he realized aloud as he drove back toward the palace, watching his mirrors carefully for any sign of the attack Jetta, grateful for the presence of his men in the car behind them.

“I make it a policy not to,” Ava told him bluntly.

“Why not?”

She sighed and settled back against her seat. “It’s a long story.”

“Is it?” He stepped on the accelerator as he pulled away from a stoplight. “Well, get ready to tell it. I want to hear all your stories.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“Somebody wants to kill you. You’re going to help me figure out who it is.”

* * *

Ava stared at the street ahead and bit her lip. She would not cry. No way was she going to let the maddening captain of the Lydian Royal Guard see her cry.

But at the same time, she felt terrified at the thought of sharing anything about her past. Couldn’t the bomb squad analyze the residue they’d found on the street and track down the killer that way? Wasn’t that how crimes were solved on television? Why should she have to spill all her painful secrets?

She should have thrown away the engagement photo instead of cutting Dan out of the picture and saving the rest. Why hadn’t she? It was a flattering picture of her, true, but it wasn’t as though she was going to use the head shot for promotional purposes. She didn’t even look like that anymore.

With a guilty swirl in her stomach, Ava realized she hadn’t tossed the picture because she’d wanted a reminder of what it had felt like to be happy—not simply because she doubted she’d ever be that happy again, but as a caution should she ever allow herself to trust anyone as much as she’d trusted Dan. Happiness was stupid, a fool’s fancy.

That was why she’d kept the picture.

Too soon, they arrived at the palace. Jason parked the car inside the garage. His men who’d followed them parked their car and met him in the expansive cobbled driveway.

“Accompany Ms. Wright to apartment 8-B in the palace-wall apartments. Theresa Covington was going to send over a housekeeping team to check her in—they should be there by now.”

Offended that he was dumping her so abruptly, Ava glared at the captain. “You’re not coming with me?”

“I have important things to do.”

Ava looked at the guards. She couldn’t be sure, but she was nearly certain one of them had cracked the joke about tossing her in the river. And the other one had laughed when he’d said it. She didn’t want to be left with these men. Captain Selini might be impossibly stubborn, but she knew she could trust him. He’d saved her life twice that day—once on purpose, even.

She grabbed the captain’s arm as he started to walk away. “What am I supposed to do?” she hissed at him, not wanting the other guards to guess she didn’t want to be left with them.

“Whatever you usually do.” The captain’s grin was half challenge. “You’re a very busy woman. You’ve got an important wedding in eight days and another four months after that.” He quoted her words back at her, one eyebrow raised as if to dare her to deny his claim.

He’d won—and he knew it. She could tell by the triumphant angle of his smirk.

Ava blew out a frustrated breath. “Come on, you two,” she told the guards, readjusting her bag over her shoulder as she marched toward the sidewalk that led to the apartments on the rear palace wall. Her ankles hurt almost as much as her feelings, but she wouldn’t let these men see her pain.

She’d learned a long time ago not to let her feelings show. Why should two attempts on her life change anything?

* * *

Jason wasn’t really surprised to see Ava appear in his office doorway shortly after lunch. She’d fixed her hair and makeup, donned a zebra-print top and white slacks that covered her ankle injuries. She appeared ready to behave like her usual impossible self.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Jason said by way of greeting.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes warily.

“For you to get your tiger stripes back in place.” He meant the words as a subtle jab, but the by the way Ava threw her shoulders back, he guessed she took them as a compliment. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I need to go out.”

“My men can drive you. I’ve assigned Titus and Adrian to take care of you.”

Ava glanced down the hall, then stepped into the room and pulled the door closed solidly behind her. “I don’t want them following me.”

Jason should have guessed she wouldn’t want to cooperate—if only because she always had to argue. “You need protection. Someone’s trying to kill you.”

“And do you really think your men would stop them?” She leaned over his desk as she had so many times before. But this time, instead of yelling, she kept her voice low, almost pleading. “They don’t like me. I want you to come with me.”