The Royal Treatment

Jade sighed heavily and faced reality. The plain fact was she’d left, determined to have a career. But now that she had it, the career she’d wanted so desperately wasn’t making her happy. Maybe things would change if she actually managed to get the interview with the queen. But right now, Jade felt as though she’d made a stupid bargain when she’d given up her marriage for ambition.

Seeing him again hurt. The near electric shock of meeting his gaze was still buzzing through her brain. Almost as if she’d found something she hadn’t known was lost.

“Oh, you’re in sad shape,” she muttered, turning away from the ocean view to go back inside. She left the glass door open, and the sheer white drapes billowed in the wind like a sail. Like her, they were anchored and going nowhere.

A knock sounded on the apartment door and she jumped. Unease skittered along her spine, but she went to answer it anyway. Any interruption at all was better than letting her brain focus on J.T. and what they’d both lost. But she froze with her hand on the knob. The days of just throwing her door open without thinking about it were over.

She peered through the peephole and sighed as she recognized her building’s doorman.

“Charles?”

He stepped back and smiled, knowing that she was looking at him, then held up a manila envelope. “A package was delivered for you. From the television station. I’ll just leave it outside your door.”

“Thank you.” Quickly, she disengaged the locks and opened the door.

Charles was already walking to the elevator.

Jade snatched up the envelope, stepped back inside and closed and locked the door again. She looked down at the envelope. From the feel of it, there was a video tape inside, and when she tore it open, she was proved right.

A piece of notepaper fell from the envelope and she bent over to pick it up. “Found this on your desk. Thought it might be important.” It was signed by Janine, her secretary.

“On my desk?” Jade muttered as she walked back into the living room. There were no labels on the tape. Nothing to indicate what it might contain. But someone in the newsroom must have left it for her. Heading directly for the TV, she slipped the tape into the VCR, then turned on the set and hit Play.

An image of the palace appeared on the oversize television screen, and a chill crawled up her spine to lift the tiny hairs at the back of her neck. Traffic sounds, the call of birds and the sighing of the wind across the microphone were the only sounds. The unseen cameraman worked the zoom lens, and Jade was suddenly watching herself—with Harry, the station cameraman, right behind her—standing just outside the palace gates. She saw her own image argue with the guard, then grab the iron gate and shake it. She watched as she sent Harry back to the van, as she confronted J.T.

She relived the whole confrontation because she was simply too stunned to hit the stop button. In the video, she saw her hair ruffled by the wind. She felt the cameraman’s obsession as he slowly tightened the zoom to pan in on her alone—in effect, cutting her off from J.T. and the rest of the world. Keeping her separate.

For him only.

Slowly, the camera panned from the top of her head to the sole of her tapping foot and back up again. Jade felt her stalker’s obsession as if it were a living thing in the room with her. The shot tightened further, lingering on her eyes, her mouth. She could hear the cameraman’s labored breathing as he watched her, and the sound nearly choked off her own air.

At last, when she was turned away from the palace gates, the tape ended, fading into a solid blue screen that finally woke her out of her stupor. She jabbed the stop button with one fingertip, then dropped the remote to the floor as if it were poisonous.

Silence crashed down around her. The drapes, still billowing in the wind, suddenly made her aware of an unsecured entry point, and Jade hurried across the room. Of course, to break into a third-story apartment through the balcony doors, her stalker would have to be Spider-Man. But it made her feel better to slam the glass door shut. She locked it, then bent down to drop the metal guard into the track behind it.

Alone and scared, she turned her back on the view and stared at her apartment. For the first time, she didn’t see the comfortable, yet stylish furnishings. What she saw now was her sanctuary…invaded by a threat she couldn’t identify.

And she wanted to call J.T. so badly, her heart ached.

There was too much going on for J.T.’s liking.

He sat in the single chair opposite his boss’s desk and let his mind wander while Franklin Vancour was on the phone. In his fifties, Franklin was as fit as a man half his age. It came from years of military training, no doubt, and J.T. could appreciate that. The other man was as dedicated to duty as he was, and on that common ground, the two men understood each other.

Morning sunlight filtered in through the windows of the security office located on the ground floor of the palace. The wood-paneled walls gleamed richly from years of careful polishing. Framed certificates and royal proclamations hung on the walls, and their glass fronts winked when a stray sunbeam glanced off of them. A row of bookcases lined one wall, and hundreds of leather-bound, well-read volumes rested alongside mementos left behind by former heads of security.

The RII—Royal Intelligence Institute—was responsible for the safety and security of the royal family. The guards posted outside, as well as J.T. himself, had been plucked from the different branches of the Penwyck military and assigned to the palace. Every man here was the best of the best.

Next door was the king’s office, and J.T. knew without having to be told that Sir Selwyn, the king’s secretary, would be there, positioned to keep out all intruders. A thin, wiry man, he was dedicated to his employer. Even to the point of putting up with Broderick, the man who so wanted to be king of Penwyck, but never could.

But until Morgan, the rightful king, either recovered from his illness or was succeeded by one of his sons, Morgan’s twin, Broderick, would remain temporarily in charge, reigning in his brother’s stead.

J.T. could not understand how twin brothers could be as different from each other as the king and Broderick were. Morgan was fair-minded and loyal, with an innate sense of decency. Broderick, on the other hand, couldn’t be trusted as far he could be thrown. But since it was J.T.’s sworn duty to protect the royals, he was bound to keep his opinions to himself and simply do his job.

As Franklin hung up the phone and leaned back in his black leather chair, J.T. turned to find the man studying him. “What’s this I hear about you and a female reporter having a public argument at the gate yesterday?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Not much got past Vancour. Which was why he was in charge of security around here.

“Not really an argument,” J.T. countered, crossing his right foot atop his left knee. “She wanted in. I disagreed. I won.”

Franklin’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted slightly. “So I heard. But the point is, we can’t afford to offend the press right now.”

“Offend her?” J.T. almost chuckled, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated. “With her attitude, she’s lucky she didn’t get shot. Lieutenant Gimble deserves a medal for putting up with her tirade.”

Franklin sighed and shook his head. “Ms. Erickson is a popular personality these days.”

J.T. shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to like the direction this conversation was taking.

His boss continued. “The queen watches her People in Penwyck reports every day.”

“Yeah,” J.T. said. “Real in-depth reporting there. What was her last bit? About the cats who’ve lived in the palace?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the other man countered. “The point is, your former wife’s making a name for herself.”

“I know.” There were only a handful of people on this whole island who knew that he and Jade had once been married. They’d divorced long before she’d become an on-air personality. Vancour knew only because of the security check J.T. had had to pass before accepting the promotion to the palace guard.

But this was the first time in two years the other man had mentioned it.

“No way,” J.T. muttered, suspicion crawling through him. He pushed himself out of the chair. “You’re not suggesting we let her into the palace to do her interview, are you?”

“No.” Franklin propped his fingertips together as he thought about it. “Not yet, anyway. Soon, though. Won’t be able to avoid it much longer. What I’m suggesting is that you show her around the palace grounds for now.” He shrugged. “Give her a little and maybe she’ll be satisfied.”

J.T. doubted that. “Not her. She wants an interview and she won’t be satisfied until she gets it.”

“No interviews. Yet.”

There was something in his tone, an underlying edge of excitement, that caught J.T.’s attention.

“Is there news on the king?”

Franklin studied J.T. for a long minute, decided he had no qualms about telling him what he knew. Jeremy Wainwright was the most trustworthy man he’d ever known. The lad was headed for big things one day, Franklin mused. Maybe even this job.

And in this office, with the door closed, the two men could talk freely, without worrying about being overheard or quoted.

Nodding, he said, “The king’s doctors seem to think there are encouraging signs. It seems he may be rousing from the coma.”

“That is good news.” Hell, it was great news. As a citizen of Penwyck, J.T. had been as worried about his king as anyone else. And being a member of the inner circle, he’d been a part of the coverup that had been so dangerous to his country. “So does this mean that Br—”

“No.” Franklin stood up, too. “The king’s brother will remain as temporary head of the country.” Pacing, he seemed to be carefully considering something as he said, “And frankly, the easier we can make this on the queen, the better. Her Majesty is inundated with problems and trying to keep things running despite Broderick’s interference.”

J.T. nodded and waited for the man to continue. It didn’t take long.

“The RET is doing what it can. But security here is up to us.”

The Royal Elite Team was probably champing at the bit to do something—anything. But when it came to palace security, the RII was in charge. And J.T. was just competitive enough to enjoy knowing that the members of the RET were clearly unhappy with the situation.

“I understand,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he knew where Franklin was going with this.

The older man laughed shortly and stopped his frenetic pacing to stare at him from across the room. “I don’t think you do, or you wouldn’t be so agreeable.”

“What’s going on, Franklin?”

“I need you to distract your ex-wife.”

“That’s going above and beyond the call of duty.” Dumbfounded, J.T. swallowed back a rising tide of anger.

“You know her best. Know how to keep her off track. Keep her happy.”

If he’d known how to keep her happy, J.T. thought, they’d still be married. This was a bad idea. Real bad. And he didn’t mind saying so. “Won’t work. Jade’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“Just buy us a couple of days.”

“And then what?”

“She’ll get her interview and you won’t have to deal with her again.”

Now that should be good news. But the fact was, J.T. had done nothing but think about her since seeing her outside the gates. She’d haunted his every thought, stalked his dreams and filled his mind until he couldn’t even draw a breath without imagining her scent.

Now that he’d seen her again after three long years, he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to be rid of her. And that surprised him as much as it would have her.

Vancour walked across the room slowly, keeping his gaze locked with J.T.’s. “I need your cooperation in this, Wainwright. Your king needs it.”

J.T. studied him. There was something in the other man’s eyes that hinted at the seriousness of the situation. Well, hell, they’d all been living in a pressure cooker for weeks. Ever since the king had collapsed unexpectedly.

Placate Jade.

From a purely male standpoint, that wasn’t such a tough assignment. There was so much history between them, though. So much hurt and pain and misery. Yet before the pain, there had also been…a connection between them that had been stronger and deeper than anything he’d ever experienced before or since.

But she also had an argumentative streak that would give the most patient man in the world the urge to throttle her. Just remembering how she’d stood up to him, shaken the iron gates and glared at him without an instant’s hesitation was almost enough to make J.T. smile. A man his size didn’t usually meet people who weren’t instantly intimidated. Jade never had been, though, and he’d always admired her for it.

She wouldn’t be an easy woman to manipulate. And if Franklin Vancour thought she could be bought off by a walk through the palace gardens, he was sadly mistaken.

Still…if all the palace required was a few more days’ respite, maybe J.T. could pull it off. Maybe he could keep her busy enough that she wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t any closer to the interior of the palace than she’d been yesterday. And, if he spent enough time in her company, perhaps the attraction he felt for her would die a natural death. Maybe this was what they both needed to completely end what they’d finished three years ago. Maybe they needed to spend time together again to realize that it was all really gone.

And maybe he was a masochist.

At any rate, it’d certainly be the most interesting assignment he’d been given since joining the RII.

He looked at Franklin. “A few days?”

The man nodded slowly. “At the most.”

“I’ll do my best,” J.T. told him.

“I knew I could count on you.”

A few minutes later, Jeremy was letting himself out of the security office and heading back to the guardhouse. Autumn sunshine spilled out of a cloudy sky and he told himself that he should enjoy it while it lasted. He had a feeling he was headed into stormy weather.

Three

The next morning, J.T. sat through the security briefing, but his mind was several miles away. Five, to be exact. He imagined Jade in a plush office, snapping orders at a battalion of minions. Once she’d finished making heads roll, she would no doubt sit back in a comfortable chair, sip a morning cup of tea and plan how next she would try to ruin his life.

And she’d do it all with a smile curving that fabulous mouth of hers.

Around him, the other members of the RII shifted and muttered to one another, but as far as J.T. was concerned, they had the easy jobs. All they had to do was concern themselves with defense of the palace. Routine tasks, with only the occasional chance to jump in front of some crazed assassin. He, on the other hand, would soon be dealing with the only woman who’d ever been able to get to him.

His fingers tightened around the pen in his right hand. Just to torture himself, J.T. had started his day by watching her early morning report on PEN-TV. Real investigative stuff, he mused now, making a point of relaxing his hand. Jade Erickson had looked directly into the camera and, with a beaming smile on her face, reported a story on the old smugglers caves. Then she’d even launched into the local belief that ghosts of long-dead pirates still haunted the dank caverns.

His amusement had died quickly enough, though, when he reminded himself that she’d walked out on him and what they might have had together for the opportunity to smile into a camera.

Of course, he didn’t want to think about just how good she’d looked, standing in the wind, with the roaring sea just behind her. How her auburn hair had flown about her face with abandon and how her sea-green eyes had seemed to stare directly into his.

All right, he thought, pushing her image out of his brain. He didn’t need to think about her now. He’d be seeing her all too soon as it was.

After a sleepless night, Jade was in no mood to be stonewalled at the palace gates today. She’d thought about it long and hard during the hours she’d spent sitting straight up in bed, gripping her self-defense weapon—a golf club. For weeks now, she’d been receiving those vaguely threatening letters. Only recently had they begun to get a bit creepier. But the video stalking was definitely upping the ante.

Yet she couldn’t allow this individual, whoever it was, to affect her work. If she crawled off into a hole and hid away, then the person trying to scare her would have won. Besides, there was no guarantee that hiding would protect her. Maybe it was safer to stay in the public eye. Certainly, it would be difficult, if not impossible, for someone to kidnap her out of the station. Or from in front of a news camera.

No, the thing to do was to go on with her everyday life as if nothing were wrong. To surrender was to lose power in this, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen. She’d fought for a long time to have the kind of career she’d always dreamed of. She’d given up the man she loved. She’d made this choice and now she would find a way to make it work.

In fact, she hadn’t even bothered to go into the station first this morning. Hadn’t had to. They’d run one of her taped pieces on the morning news. She’d simply called in and had Harry meet her at her apartment. Might as well beard J.T. in his den as early as possible.

“You okay?” Harry asked as he steered the station van down the tree-lined street toward the palace.

“Dandy,” she said, and tugged the hem of her camel-brown skirt over her knees.

“Well, you don’t look okay.”

“Gee thanks, Harry.” Jade smiled at her cameraman. They’d been together for two years and Harry was her best friend at the station. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”

The older man grumbled unintelligibly for a minute or two, then sucked in a deep breath and blew it out again. “I only meant that you look tired.”

So much for the miraculous properties of makeup. She flipped the visor down and peered at her own reflection in the small mirror. He was right. Jade sighed, flipped the visor back up and admitted, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Another letter?” he asked, his voice tight with worry.

“No,” she said quickly, “no more letters.” She’d already decided not to tell him about the videotape. The police and her bosses at the station weren’t concerned about the letters she’d been receiving. But Harry, bless him, was. No point in telling him about the tape. Anyway, she had the video with her and planned to take it to the police station herself this afternoon.

Besides, it hadn’t been worry keeping her up half the night. It had been dreams of J.T. Memories. His face floating through her mind and the recollection of his touch on her body… Nope. No sleep for Jade.

“That’s good.” Harry steered the van around a stalled car, pushed his way into the stream of traffic again, then asked, “So why are we hitting the palace bright and early? This could have waited until later.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, and stifled a yawn. “But why wait? If I catch him early enough in the morning, maybe he’ll be off guard.”

“Him?” Harry snorted a laugh and came to a stop as a gaggle of schoolchildren raced across the street, their laughter bubbling in their wake. Sliding a glance at her, the older man said, “I don’t think that man’s ever had his guard down.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered, keeping her gaze fixed on the passing traffic. Anything to make her mind too busy to dredge up yet another image of J.T. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, stepping on the gas again, “and that goes for getting hit by lightning, run down by a car….”

“That’s the spirit,” she said with a laugh.

Harry shook his head as he parked the van. Throwing the gearshift into Park, he cut the engine and slanted her another look. “Spirit’s not going to cut it in this one, Jade. If they don’t want you in the palace, you’re not going to be able to charm your way in.”

She stared through the windshield at the palace gates fifty feet away. Uniformed guards were positioned just outside, and through the iron scrollwork, she saw more guards marching across the compound. None of them looked friendly. But then, they weren’t supposed to, were they?

This was her country, though. As a citizen of Penwyck, she had every right to enter that compound. Heck, she could sign up for a tour and get farther inside than she had yesterday. As that thought occurred to her, Jade’s brain raced with possibilities. It was as though she were in a cartoon and a light-bulb had just clicked on over her head. She could pay for a tour, and then somewhere along the route through the public rooms, she could simply…get lost. If she wandered away from her tour group and just happened to stumble into the royal family’s private quarters, no one could really blame her, right? After all, they didn’t behead people anymore. What did she have to lose?

“Oh,” Harry said softly, “I don’t think I like that look in your eyes.”

“I’m going to get inside the palace today,” she assured the man beside her. “By hook or by crook.”

“And when they arrest us?” Harry asked, his normal gloomy tone even more morose than usual.

Jade turned to look at him. Reaching out, she patted his arm and said, “We’ll ask for adjoining cells.”

“Now that’s real comforting, thanks.”

“Relax, Harry,” Jade said, a slow smile curving her mouth. “When have I ever gotten us in over our heads before?”

“Let’s see…” Harry held up his right hand, ticking off items on his fingers one by one. “There was the time you wanted to do an exposé on the Royal Navy and we got stuck belowdecks of that carrier when she shipped out.”

She waved one hand dismissively. “They found us within hours.”

“Then there was the time you wanted to do an aerial report from a hot-air balloon and you accidentally pulled the string releasing the hot air and we—”

“Made it safely down to earth,” she pointed out quickly. Besides, it had been a great report. She’d had to do outrageous stunts over the last couple of years. Anything to get herself noticed, to stand out from the crowd of pretty faces looking for a shot at success.

He sent her a look from beneath raised eyebrows. “Then there was—”

“Okay,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. There was definitely a downside to having the same cameraman over the years. Especially one with a memory like Harry’s. “You made your point. So, there’ve been a few unfortunate incidents.”

“Unfortunate?”

“We survived.”

“They say God protects fools and drunks.”

She smiled wryly. “Since I don’t drink, I know which category you’re filing me under.”

“Me, too, Jade,” he said. “Though after a shoot with you, I rarely say no to a good, stiff drink.”

“We got the stories though, didn’t we?”

“True.”

“And now we’ve got a shot at the big time.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Why are you making such a big deal of this, Jade? Why push for the interview now? Once the king’s better, the queen’ll be more than happy to talk to anyone from the press.”

“That’s why, Harry.” Jade shifted in her seat and leaned toward him. “I have to snag this interview. It’s what I’ve been working toward, waiting for for three years.” This is the chance I gave up my marriage for, she thought, but managed to keep that to herself. “This is my shot at proving to the powers-that-be at the station that I’m more than a fluff reporter. It’s my chance at a co-anchor job.”

She’d served her time on the gossip circuit. She’d done the lost-dog and hero-fireman stories. She’d covered parades and fairs and the opening of supermarkets, all the while telling herself that her time would come. That eventually, she’d have the career that had always been so important to her.