Sovereign Sheriff

Her training told her to hit the gas and zip into the other lane to block the second car, but she didn’t have the horsepower to pull ahead. Panic flashed inside her head. Think, Saida.

In the backseat were two of the six suitcases she’d packed for this trip. Even if she could dig into the suitcase and reach her handguns, it wouldn’t do much good. Her weapons weren’t loaded.

The sedan passed her. Once it was in front of her, the driver slowed his speed. She was hemmed in with no room to maneuver, nowhere else to go. Beyond the shoulder of this road was a strip of land and a barbed-wire fence.

The truck pulled into the lane beside her. She lifted her foot from the accelerator and slowed. The truck matched her speed.

Before she felt the impact, she heard the grinding of metal against metal. He was forcing her off the road. Her tires crashed raggedly on the gravel shoulder.

Her foot jammed down hard on the brake.

The truck shot past her.

Her brake rotors screeched. She went into a skid.

The air bag exploded, blinding her and forcing her hands off the steering wheel. Her tires bounced off the road and over a ditch, throwing her car off balance. Before she tipped over, the car came to a full stop.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t flipped over, that she didn’t seem to be injured. Frantically, she batted at the air bag. Her fingers struggled to unfasten the seat belt. She had to run, had to get out of this car before her pursuers grabbed her.

The wail of a police siren cut through the air.

The bag deflated enough that she could see through the window. The taillights of the truck were zooming away from her. The other car had disappeared. They’d given up.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. She could have been killed, could have been kidnapped. Why was this happening? The inside of her head whirled in a dizzying tornado, and she gripped the wheel to stabilize herself.

The siren came closer, and she saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police vehicle.

Jake appeared outside her car window. He yanked on her door handle until it opened. “Saida, are you all right?”

Unable to speak, she could only nod.

When he touched her shoulder, she flinched. Every muscle in her body screamed with tension.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said. “Let go of the wheel.”

She pried her fingers loose. Darkness pressed against her peripheral vision. She shook herself, fighting for control. I won’t pass out. The idea of fainting into Jake’s strong arms held a certain appeal, but she didn’t want to show weakness. She wanted him to think of her as an equal.

Clearly, she said, “You got here just in time.”

“Let’s get you out of here.” He took her hand to help her from the car. “We need to hurry. In case they come back.”

That possibility was enough to get her moving. She lurched from her car and stood on shaky legs.

The lights from his vehicle showed the damage to her rental car. The trunk and rear bumper were caved in. A scrape gashed into the back door. It was sobering to see how close she’d come to disaster, but she couldn’t allow herself to sink into helpless terror.

“Wait.” She balked. “My luggage.”

“I’ll have someone come back for it.”

“At least, I need my purse.” She leaned into her wrecked car and reached across the driver’s seat to grab her purse. Her gaze slid toward the matched burgundy leather suitcases behind the front seat; she wanted her guns. “Can I get my luggage?”

“Forget it.”

“We can leave the other bags in the trunk.” With the rear end crushed in, it would take the Jaws of Life to retrieve those suitcases. “But I need that one.”

“Why?”

It probably wouldn’t be wise to tell him that she’d brought a couple of Berettas. Facing him, she drew up her shoulders and said, “I’ve got to have my makeup.”

Without another word, he scooped her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

Upside down, she was shocked by his manhandling. Saida was a princess, after all. His arm pinned her legs so she couldn’t kick. Her arms flailed wildly. With her purse, she whacked his butt. “Put me down.”

“This is for your own good.”

She’d heard those words before—many, many times before, and the statement never failed to infuriate her. For my own good? Really?

At his SUV, Jake dropped her to the ground, opened the passenger-side door and shoved her inside. While he circled around to the driver’s side, she debated whether she should fling open the door, run to her car and grab her guns. Why had she thought Jake would be different? He was just like every other man in her life who wanted her to be a good girl and do as she was told.

The fear that threatened to swamp her consciousness was replaced by anger. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been attacked. Given the circumstances, she’d handled herself well.

Jake slid behind the steering wheel. “Seat belt,” he said.

Though outraged, she snapped the belt. “Apologize.”

For an instant, his gaze locked with hers. “I won’t say I’m sorry for saving your life.”

He swung the SUV in a U-turn. Instead of using the police dispatch radio on the console, he took out his hands-free cell phone and made a call.

“Where are we going?” she demanded. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring her questions, he continued with his call. It seemed that he was giving someone directions to find her car.

“My luggage,” she said. “Have them bring my luggage.”

Jake lobbed a hostile glance in her direction and said to the person on the phone. “There are a couple of suitcases in the back. Bring them.”

“There are other bags in the trunk,” she said.

“How many?”

“Two in the back, four in the trunk, that’s six altogether.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how long were you planning to stay in Wyoming?”

“There’s a certain standard of dress required of someone in my position. I can’t throw on a pair of sweatpants and go waltzing out the door. I don’t expect you to understand. Most men don’t.”

As he returned to his phone call, she sank back against the seat. If she told Jake that the reason she wanted her luggage wasn’t just vanity, would it make a difference? Would he take her more seriously if he knew she’d come to Wyoming armed? Or would he insist on pushing her around? For her own good.

Jake ended his phone call and turned toward her. “I have to ask you some questions about what happened.”

His tone was brisk and businesslike. The balance of power between them was all wrong. He was completely in charge, and that needed to change.

She grasped for control. “Tell me where we’re going?”

“For now, we’re headed back to my place.”

Though her initial intention had been to link up with him, his choice of destination seemed odd. She’d been the victim of vehicular assault; a crime had been committed. “Shouldn’t we be going to the police station?”

Instead of answering, he asked, “Can you describe the vehicles?”

“One was a truck. Not one of those huge heavy-duty monster trucks with big wheels. Just a pickup. It seemed kind of old, and I think it was black or dark gray.”

“What made you think it was an older model?”

“It wasn’t shiny. It looked used.” She wished she’d been more observant. “I didn’t get a license plate. And I’m not good at identifying make and model.”

“What about the other vehicle?”

“A black sedan. A four-door.” She shook her head. If it had been a Lamborghini or a Bugatti, she could have told him more. Most other cars looked the same. “It was similar to my rental car. Maybe it had tinted windows.”

“It did,” he said. “I only caught a glimpse of the truck when it came past my house, but I saw the sedan pretty clearly. They were driving in formation. It appeared to be an organized assault.”

“They were working together. The sedan pulled in front. The truck tried to force me off the road.”

The explanation sounded so bland—nothing at all like the harrowing reality of the chase. She called upon the regal poise that had been drummed into her since childhood to stay in control.

He asked, “Who knew you were coming to Wyoming?”

Though she hadn’t informed anyone in the royal entourage, she hadn’t made a secret of her plans. “The Minister of Affairs made my travel arrangements and reservations. I’m not sure if he talked to anyone else.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Totally.” She’d known Nasim all her life. “He’d never betray me.”

“Someone did,” he said. “Those cars were waiting for you. They knew you were coming.”

They were approaching Jake’s house. Again, she wondered, why had he brought her here instead of the police station? As part of a class in law enforcement, she’d been on a ride along; she knew he wasn’t following standard police protocol. “You haven’t turned on the police siren or the lights.”

“That’s right.”

She pointed to the console on his dashboard. “When you contacted the person who would go to my car, you used your hands-free phone instead of calling your dispatcher.”

“Right again.”

She remembered what she’d read about him on the internet. Much of his campaign for sheriff had been based on a promise to clean up the corruption that had infected law enforcement in Wind River County. “Why are you avoiding the regular channels?”

“Here’s what I think. The person who came after you in that truck is a local.” He pulled up to the edge of the basketball court to park. “Until I find him, I’m only going to work with people I can count on. While you’re here, I’d advise you to do the same.”

She got the message.

There was no one she could trust.

And someone wanted to kill her.

Chapter Three

Whether he liked it or not, Jake was stuck with the princess. He couldn’t hand her over to any other law enforcement agencies, not while he suspected corruption. Nor did he trust the hotel security at the Wind River Ranch and Resort. And the bodyguards for the royal entourage had the stink of traitor about them.

He escorted Saida to the safest room in his house—the guest bedroom on the second floor. Unlike his and Maggie’s bedrooms, there was only one small window.

Keeping her here at his house wasn’t a long-term solution. Not only did he have too many responsibilities as sheriff to act as her full-time bodyguard, but his home wasn’t a fortress. Yeah, he had a security system that sounded an alarm if somebody tried to break in. But there was no defense against long-range rifles and snipers. Had the men who chased Saida wanted to kill her or to kidnap her? He suspected the latter. If their intent was murder, there were more effective methods than vehicular homicide.

He pulled the blinds and crossed the room to stand in the doorway. “You’ll stay here until I know what’s going on.”

His humble guest bedroom with the scuffed knotty pine furniture probably wasn’t the sort of accommodation she was accustomed to, but she didn’t turn up her nose. She perched on the edge of the double bed and gave him a cooperative smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I have more questions.”

“Perhaps I could have a glass of water.” She slipped off her metallic jacket. Underneath, she wore a V-neck shirt of thin fabric that clung to her curves and was almost the same color as her skin—a naked shirt that sent his imagination into overdrive.

Regretfully, he tore his gaze away from the princess and looked over his shoulder at his sister who stood in the hallway. “Maggie, I’d like for you to go down to the kitchen and get something for Saida to drink and eat.”

“My linguini?”

After Saida’s nonsense about fussing with the makeup from her suitcase, he was tempted to torture her with Maggie’s idea of gourmet. But that was too cruel. “Just a sandwich. Bring it up here.”

She gave a quick nod and darted down the staircase.

He turned back to the princess. “I’ll be honest with you, Saida. The best thing you could do is return to California.”

“I’m not afraid.” A blush warmed her cheeks, but her golden eyes were calm. “I won’t leave until I find my brother.”

He’d expected as much and wouldn’t waste another breath trying to convince her. “Do you have any idea why those men came after you?”

“Not a clue.”

“Since we don’t know the why, we’ll concentrate on how. How did those guys know you were in town?”

“Flying into the airport in a private jet might not have been the most subtle way for me to arrive.” She pulled up her leg and unfastened the strap on one of her platform sandals. Her foot was delicate with a high arch, and she wore a thin silver chain around her ankle. “The jet wasn’t my idea. Nasim insisted.”

“The Minister of Affairs in Jamala,” he said. “Would he have told anyone about your arrival?”

“He might have informed Efraim.” She shrugged. “Don’t waste time suspecting Nasim. His primary concern in life is my welfare.”

Jake wasn’t so sure. “Tell me about him.”

“When I was younger, Nasim was a combination bodyguard and mother hen. He accompanied me everywhere, even to Beverly Hills—a place he utterly despised. The only thing he enjoyed about Southern California was the freeway system, which he considered a challenge. He always drove as though on a military campaign and bragged whenever he shaved a few minutes off the drive time.”

When Jake had gone after her, he’d been on a rise overlooking the road and had been able to see last part of the chase. She’d maneuvered her car like a Demolition Derby expert; her decision to hit the brakes had probably saved her from a rollover. “Did Nasim teach you to drive?”

“He trained me in evasive driving techniques, and in other skills to protect myself from kidnapping. Do you think that’s what was intended? Kidnapping?”

In spite of his earlier conclusion, he didn’t answer her question. They weren’t working together. “Do you have reservations at the resort?”

“Yes.” She removed her other shoe and massaged her toes. “Maybe someone at the hotel leaked my name to the enemies of COIN.”

“It’s possible.” Over the past few days, his men had done a thorough job of vetting the employees at the resort. He doubted that any of them were working with the bad guys, but somebody could have mentioned her arrival. Or the reservation desk computer could have been hacked.

She frowned. “I should have told Nasim to use a fake name.”

“Do you often use an alias?”

“Of course,” she said as though assumed names were a normal part of life. “I travel incognito to throw the paparazzi off my trail.”

“Too late for that. They’re already here.” The reporters and photographers who had showed up in Dumont at the first sign of trouble were as pesky as a swarm of gnats.

“There’s one paparazzo who is particularly annoying. His name is Danny Harold.” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “He specializes in photographs of royalty, and he’ll do anything to get an exclusive shot.”

Maggie came back into the room carrying a tray. “You always look gorgeous in the tabloids. I remember a photo of you standing on tiptoe to kiss one of the Lakers.”

“Don’t remind me. That picture started a million rumors about royal weddings, even though I only dated the guy twice.”

“The Lakers?” In spite of himself, Jake was starstruck. “You’ve gone out with players on the winningest franchise in professional basketball?”

“If you come to L.A., I can get you courtside seats.”

“Damn.” There were advantages to knowing a princess.

Maggie placed the tray on the bed and shoved a paper plate toward him. “Eat.”

Absently, he took a bite from the sandwich. When this investigation was over, he fully intended to take the princess up on her offer. It was almost worth all the strife these royals had caused to get courtside seats.

Maggie handed a plate to Saida. “Tell me a couple of your aliases.”

“As a child, I used to watch a lot of American movies. That’s when I first fell in love with this country. So I use movie names. Dorothy Gale, Bridget Jones, Holly Golightly. And, of course, Elle Woods.”

“Of course,” Maggie said.

Jake had no idea what they were talking about. “Elle Woods?”

“The heroine of Legally Blonde,” his sister informed him. “Everybody thought she was a ditzy blonde, but she went to Harvard Law School and outsmarted them all.”

“A lighthearted film with a significant message.” Saida slid an accusing glance in his direction. “It’s easy to underestimate someone based on stereotypes. Sometimes, the dumb blonde is the smartest person in the room. And the pampered princess is the most resourceful.”

Touché. He knew he’d been guilty of taking her lightly. There might be more depth to this princess than he’d thought.

Maggie said, “I love your pinkie ring. Is the design a royal crest?”

He’d noticed the ring before—a black onyx stone with a silver design that he’d at first thought was a butterfly. Looking closer, he saw that it was crossed swords.

Saida gestured gracefully, displaying the ring. “It’s similar to the crossed scimitars that are part of Saudi Arabia’s coat of arms, but this ring has no special meaning. I just liked the design, and I have earrings to match.”

“Does Jamala have crown jewels?” Maggie asked.

“An extensive collection, most of which is in the National Museum. There’s a story behind the Farrah Blue diamond. Any woman who wears the gem is guaranteed to have masculine children.” She gave Maggie a grin. “As if that’s good.”

“Tell me more,” Maggie said.

Jake finished his sandwich. Though she’d subtly rebuked him for stereotyping, he couldn’t help comparing Saida to the princess in One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. If he didn’t get away from her soon, he’d stay all night, lulled into a trance by her cultured voice. “Excuse me, ladies. I have work to do.”

Downstairs, he went through the house—pulling the curtains, locking the windows and dragging his thoughts back to the situation at hand. He couldn’t allow himself to be captivated by Saida’s charms or her promise of courtside seats. The fact that this kidnap attempt had been made here instead of California indicated that this crime was tied to all the others, including her brother’s disappearance. He needed solutions.

The antidote to Saida came when he heard his deputy pull into the driveway outside his house. Kent Wheeler was Jake’s most trusted employee and the person he’d called on his phone right after leaving the scene of the crash.

He opened the front door for the stocky blue-eyed deputy who usually wore a cowboy hat to cover his bald spot. Though out of uniform, Wheeler’s appearance was crisp and neat. His wife always ironed his jeans to leave a crease.

“What’s up, Sheriff?”

Before Jake could answer, Saida was halfway down the stairs.

“Good evening, sir.” She bestowed a mesmerizing smile on Wheeler. “Have you brought my luggage?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wheeler wasn’t the sort of guy who would ever cheat on his wife, but he was staring at the princess with unabashed appreciation.

“Later,” Jake growled. “We’ll bring your suitcases upstairs later.”

“I appreciate it so much.” She turned and trotted back to the guest bedroom.

Staring after her, Wheeler said, “She’s something else.”

“She’s a load of trouble,” Jake said. “That’s Princess Saida Khalid, the sister of Amir. She was driving that car when it was forced off the road.”

“A real live princess. Whoa, I never thought I’d meet somebody like her.”

Wheeler remained at the foot of the staircase, looking up in case she might reappear. Jake might have to use his stun gun to bring his deputy back to earth. “Did you contact Jane Cameron?”

“Yes, sir. The forensic team arrived at the scene of the crash just as I was taking the luggage from the backseat. Jane wasn’t happy about having me disturb her evidence.”

She was involved with Prince Stefan Lutece of Kyros. Ever since they hooked up, the formerly plain Jane had been beaming and dropping hints that she’d be leaving her job and moving to one of the COIN nations. Though he didn’t doubt Jane’s professionalism, she’d probably been in the arms of her prince when she got the call. Jake couldn’t keep Saida’s arrival a secret; he needed to inform the COIN royals as soon as possible. Sheik Efraim seemed to be closest to Saida and her brother.

He sank into a chair beside the fireplace and checked the clock on the mantel. It was after eleven. This wouldn’t be a pleasant call. He and Efraim had argued before. They’d buried the hatchet, but not too deeply.

Using his cell phone, he contacted the front desk at the resort and left a message for Efraim to call him. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

Disconnecting the call, he looked toward his deputy. “I’m putting you in charge of this investigation, Wheeler. Handpick the team you work with. We need to be careful about who we trust.”

“Understood. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with Amos Andrews.”

Andrews, a Dumont policeman, had played a part in the first wave of attacks and had threatened Jane Cameron’s life. In jail, he’d committed suicide under suspicious circumstances. Jake wondered if he’d been murdered to insure his silence—murdered by someone on the inside, another traitor.

Though he’d been sheriff for nearly a year, Jake still felt the simmering resentment from those on his staff who were loyal to the former sheriff. Every day was a battle to earn their respect. Not only was he the new guy but he was Arapaho, and old prejudices sometimes flared back to life.

Wheeler took a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket. “Where should I start?”

“We’re looking for a black or gray truck with damage on the passenger side. And a black, four-door sedan.” The car had whipped past his house so fast that Jake hadn’t recognized the make or model. “Tomorrow morning, you can check with the local car rental places for information on midsize sedans.”

“Got it.” Wheeler scribbled in his notebook.

“Somebody knew about the princess’s arrival, which means there’s a leak. You’ll need to talk to the reservations people at the resort.”

“Again?”

“You never know. They’re supposed to be discreet, but somebody might have gotten all excited and blabbed. I guess she’s some kind of celebrity. She dated a guy on the Lakers.”

“The Lakers?” His eyes popped wide open. “Whoa.”

Jake wondered if his own reaction had been that obvious. “You look like you might run home and tell your wife.”

“No, sir, not my wife. Not unless I wanted to get whacked over the head with a frying pan. But I might be tempted to tell some of the guys.”

That was probably how the information had gotten out, but they needed to make sure there wasn’t a more nefarious explanation. “I’ll talk to the FBI. They can use their fancy tracing equipment to see if the reservations computer at the resort was hacked.”

From upstairs, he heard his sister giggle. At least somebody was having fun.

Jake’s phone rang, and he answered. “Jake Wolf.”

“This is Efraim Aziz. What is the big emergency?”

“Princess Saida is in town. She’s at my house.”

There was a moment of silence.

Efraim said, “My advice to you, Sheriff, is to saddle up and ride as fast and as far as you can.”

Chapter Four

Sitting cross-legged on the double bed in the guest room, Saida was enjoying her conversation with Jake’s sister. Their topics ranged from fashion and shoes to cultural norms in Jamala and the rights of women. If this had been a purely social occasion, Saida might have relaxed, but she was edgy—distracted by what was going on downstairs. With the door to the bedroom open, she could hear the murmur of male voices as Jake conferred with his deputy.

As usual, she was being excluded, and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. Until Jake said it was safe, he wouldn’t allow her to leave the guest bedroom. He’d already shown himself to be capable of throwing her over his shoulder. What would come next? Tying her to a chair?