Max and the Prince (5 page)

Why did I do that?

Max wasn’t surprised that he and Lucien changed in silence
because Max had seriously pushed boundaries. He didn’t have to be an expert in
human expressions to see that Lucien was confused but was clearly just
too
cultured
to ask questions in public. Proclaiming they were boyfriends had
been Kyle’s idea back at BI. It was still a good idea. The first job he’d had
with BI had been a skin job of sorts, with Max pretending to be the boyfriend,
but this was just ever so slightly different.

Something about Kev Milsen had Max putting the guy to the
top of the suspect list. He was way too handsy, and Lucien was intimidated by
him, that much was obvious. Max was just doing what he could to protect his
charge.

They left the leisure center, Max walking out first and an
impassive Lucien following close behind.

“Later,” one of the team called at Lucien.

“Later,” Lucien replied. They fell into step next to each
other.

“Look, Lucien—”

“We’ll talk when we get home.” Lucien cut him dead, and the
short walk back to the student house was tense. By the time they closed the
front door behind them, Lucien had irritation sparking in his eyes.

“Jamie? Emily?” he called out, then waited for a reply.
Nothing. Without warning, he rounded on Max. “How dare you do that?”

Max considered the answers he could give and eventually
decided on the truth. Always the best policy in his opinion. “The situation
called for it.”

Lucien stepped towards him, both hands clenched at his
sides. “Excuse me?” he asked. “There was no situation.”

“I beg to differ.” Max used his best authoritative voice,
but Lucien wasn’t taken in by it.

“Beg to differ? What the hell? I’ve been handling Kev for
two years. I don’t think you have any idea what you are talking about.”

“Lucien—”

“Don’t
Lucien
me. You’re here to watch my back and
keep me safe. BI may have suggested the boyfriend cover, but we never agreed on
it, and I didn’t have time to prepare. You
do not
drape yourself all
over me and make people think we are a couple without warning me first.”

“You need to calm down—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! Did you ever think
that whoever has this murderous intent might just see what you did and see me
reacting wrong which then  pushes him over the edge? Did you?”

Lucien had worked up a full steam of righteous anger, and
Max wasn’t sure where to start.

“But that’s a good thing. Getting this murderer out of the
woodwork is what we need. Just because he hasn’t threatened you direct, he
could still be the one who killed OS in the original letters.”

Lucien spluttered a little, lost for words. Some of his self-control
was slipping. “You took me by surprise. We should have had a thing, you know, a
story.”

“A legend?”

“Yeah, where we have a reason for everything and I’m not
left in a situation I can’t control. Because without one, if you put me in
danger, then maybe I was wrong to hire you. Because if you’re suggesting for
one minute that it’s good to put me in the marksman’s eye? That you think this
will protect me and stop me from being hurt? What the hell, Max?” Lucien
twisted fingers in his hair, then impatiently pushed the length of it off his
face. The motion was quickly becoming familiar as a habit of Lucien’s. “You’re
fired,” he added.

“You’re not firing me,” Max said with a lot more confidence
than he felt.

“I did and I have and you’re fired.” Lucien turned on his heel
and made his way to the kitchen, where he filled the kettle and flicked it on
at the wall.

Max followed him with the intention to explain himself. He
didn’t bother softening the blow. “What if Kev is the person sending you the
letters? I saw your posture, you were intimidated and pissed off with him at
the same time. I did what seemed right at the time. It’s my job. And hell, what
if it
is
one of the team? What if seeing that you have someone with you
all the time means they up their game and pulls them out of the shadows? Isn’t
that a good thing? Do you want this to be over or not?”

Lucien leaned on the work surface, his back to Max, and Max
wished he could see Lucien’s expression.

“It’s not going to be anyone on the team. It’s more likely
to be someone from home following me here,” Lucien said. His voice was low and
cautious and Max could only just hear him.

“You’re right,” Max said. “You received that last letter
stating the problem had been cleared when you were still back home. I get that,
but the very fact you had letters here means that there is a connection
somehow, and who knows what that association is.”

Lucien turned to face Max, his expression resigned. “So you
pretended to be my boyfriend to get Kev to back off and at the same time send
some kind of message?”

Max nodded. “I won’t apologize. You won’t fire me and I won’t
leave. What I
can
do is get BI to send another protection officer if you
can’t work with me. But when I work, I do it by instinct, and what transpired
tonight was what needed to happen.”

Lucien considered what Max said as he poured hot water on
coffee, frowning in concentration. Then he grasped the mug.

“When it was suggested, I imagined we would sit and get a
back story in place, how we met, how long we’d been together. I didn’t imagine
you jumping me and forcing me to think in the face of people judging me.”

“Maybe you need some of that in your life.”

“How dare you—” He visibly deflated. “What’s done is done.
I’m going to bed.”

And with that he left.

Max stayed up longer, reviewing paperwork. Ross had done his
usual thorough job of pulling information together and sent most of it through
email. Max made use of the printer in Jamie’s room that he’d spotted earlier
and now had all the relevant sheets laid out in a loose semicircle.

He sent a request for more information on Tommy Macintyre,
the ‘better to be friends’ ex-housemate who’d left Cardiff after one kiss with
Lucien. He also sent one for Jamie the housemate and added comments about the
swim team tonight. Other than that, Max read through each page, circling
anything that jumped out at him. A couple of people on the list had appeared in
Lucien’s childhood and were now closer to the UK. Hilda, his nanny, had retired
to the north of Spain, the tutor Bryce, was retired after holding a professor position
at Gloucestershire University. A couple of other staff were here as well, one
in London, another in Yorkshire. And of course, Edward was in Madrid. He ticked
them all to note he was going to look deeper.

When the front door slammed open and a very drunk Jamie
stumbled in, Max forced himself not to react even though adrenaline rushed
through him. Jamie was a skinny guy, jeans hanging on his hips, scruffy T-shirt,
and his hair in a short ponytail at the back of his head. He was a pretty boy,
all angles and cute, but he looked worse the wear for drink.

Jamie didn’t seem to notice Max at first and went straight
past him to the kitchen, pouring water into the kettle and switching it on. He
looked directly at Max with blown pupils and a puzzled expression on his face.

“D’I get the wrong house?” he asked. Then he smirked and
waggled his eyebrows before sliding down the cabinet until he sat on the floor.
“Thish fifty’ly-five?” He looked bemused, casting his gaze around the kitchen,
then spent an inordinate amount of time staring at his waggling fingers.

“I’m Max,” Max offered. He crouched down by Jamie, taking in
the appearance, gray skin, bright spots of red on his cheeks, and wide pupils.
“Are you drunk?” Max couldn’t smell alcohol, which only left other ways to get
a high.

Jamie frowned, then grabbed at Max to stand up. “Nope,” he
said. He leaned on the counter and made coffee one-handed. “Night.”

Max watched Lucien’s housemate stumble out of the kitchen,
coffee sloshing over his hands, which must have burned, not that Jamie showed
any reaction. He made it to the top of the stairs alive and Max heard Lucien’s
door open and the sound of voices before Lucien’s door shut followed by
Jamie’s.

Max began to imagine what this new player on the stage was
capable of. Not much at the moment, but when the lows hit, was he a psycho
capable of threatening Lucien?

Yawning, he decided since Jamie was in, it was midnight, and
he expected the other housemate to still be at her boyfriend’s, he’d lock up.
He put the chain across the door, checked all the windows, then as an
afterthought, propped the ironing board up against the front door. It wouldn’t
stop anyone from coming in, but it would certainly make one hell of a racket
and wake Max up.

He paused outside Lucien’s door and listened, but all was
quiet, and all he could hear from Jamie’s room was the low sound of music.
Ready for bed, he left his door open a crack. Years in the RAF had made him a
light sleeper and he knew any noise would wake him, but it helped to have nothing
between him and any potential trouble. Jamie hadn’t been cleared by Ross yet,
so he was an unknown in the house where the prince was. Something to consider.

Max woke at a noise and was up on the balls of his feet
instantly. Pulling on his jeans and forcing his feet into his trainers, he
moved to the door, following the sounds of voices. When he peered around the
corner of the landing, it was to see Jamie in the entrance hall talking to a
guy in the shadows. The only thing he could make out of the other man was
really white hair against the gloomy hall. He couldn’t hear the words clearly,
but there was no mistaking the exchange of drugs and money. The shadow guy
left, Jamie pocketed the bag he’d just been given, then locked the door and
replaced the ironing board.

Making it look like nothing had happened.

Max glanced at his watch. It was 5:53 in the morning, but
there had been just enough light cast through the open door by the streetlamp
to let him observe what just happened. Jamie was a user? But was he also a
pusher? A dealer? That he was involved with drugs was clear.

As Jamie disappeared into the front room, Max hit his head
back against the wall. Just what he needed, a drug dealer in the house with the
prince. Was it Jamie sending the notes? But that thought left Max with a
question. If Jamie was sending notes to Lucien, why would he not ask for money
in them?

Max went back into his room, leaving the gap again, and
pulled out the most recent notes Lucien had received. These were only copies,
Ross had the originals back at BI. Nowhere in any of them were there demands
for money or anything material in return. These were about love and protection.
Who would love Lucien? Kev had to be on the list, the guy was pushy and very
much in Lucien’s face at practice. Not to mention Mickey, who had been with Kev.
Max didn’t need to be a bodyguard to read Kev’s expression as he stared at
Lucien, or Mickey’s one of dismay that Kev as looking at Lucien and not at
Mickey. There was definite attraction there.

Add in the lover in Madrid and there were three suspects to
start with. Even if Kev and Mickey appeared to have no connection to Lucien’s
home, they were considerations. Max quickly shot an email off to Ross with the
new information about Jamie and also his thoughts so far on the case.

Dressed, he made his way downstairs, pausing again at
Lucien’s door and lifting his hand to knock to check he was okay. Hearing
movement inside, he decided to back off. Jamie was downstairs and this was the
ideal time to talk to the man—if he wasn’t off his head on drugs.

Breakfast TV played in the background, and Jamie was at the
table hunched over a bowl of cereal, a huge mug of black coffee very close by.

“Morning,” Max said.

Jamie startled and milk sloshed over the side of his bowl as
he dropped his spoon. He pressed a hand to his heart.

“Fucking hell, man, warn a guy.”

“Sorry,” Max said. He filled his own mug and sat opposite
Jamie at the table. Jamie didn’t look high or drunk, he just looked ill. A
casual glance at Jamie’s bare arms showed no track marks, so likely Jamie’s
drug of choice was pills.

“You Lucien’s friend or something?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah.” Max didn’t want to perpetuate the convenient lie of
being Lucien’s boyfriend if Jamie had noticed they were in separate bedrooms. A
pile of post on the side of the table caught his attention, a couple marketing
leaflets and a very familiar envelope. Casually, Max looked through the pile
and pocketed the letter. Jamie was too busy scraping cornflakes into his mouth
to notice.

“Cool,” Jamie finally said. He wiped milk from his lips,
then dropped his bowl in the sink and rinsed it with water. Taking his mug and
with a nod to Max, he left the room, passing Lucien on his way in. The two
exchanged greetings but Lucien sounded just as tired as Jamie.

“We need to go to practice,” Lucien announced. He was
dressed for the gym, his swim bag over his shoulder. He pulled a towel off the
warm radiator in the front room and sniffed it experimentally before stuffing
it in his bag.

Max glanced at the clock on the wall. “Now? It’s only just
after six.”

“And the pool opens in twenty minutes.” Lucien filled a
glass with water and drank half in a few swallows. “That is what I do.” The
words were flat, they didn’t dare Max to argue, they were merely a statement of
fact.

“Who else will be there?”

Lucien shrugged. “The usual, I expect. The team don’t always
use this pool, and there are some people in before work.”

“Okay.” Max placed his mug in the sink next to Jamie’s bowl.
“I’ll use the bathroom and get my stuff.” Taking the stairs two at a time, he
shut himself in his room. He took thin gloves from his case and opened the
letter.
Welcome home
. That was all it said. Just two words. Carefully he
slipped the envelope and letter into a clear plastic wallet, then sealed
everything into a new envelope, addressed it to BI, and resolved to post it to
Ross on his way to wherever they were going. He also needed to add some
external security cameras, nothing too obvious. He shot a quick text to Ross
with the request, then stuffed a towel into his bag along with the stupidly
small Speedos that Lucien had given him.