Raines, Elizabeth - Captivated [Wicked Missions 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

“I was afraid you’d fainted,” Jayce said. He brushed his lips over her cheek as he snuggled closer to her body. “Did you mean it, baby?”

“Hmm?” She was so sated and so damned content, she didn’t want to think too hard.

“That you’ll marry me.”

If she hadn’t just enjoyed the best orgasm of her life, she’d scold him for making her deal with reality when all she wanted to do was keep floating outside herself. “Yeah…I’ll marry you.”

Damian threw an arm over her stomach. “You know I’d marry you too, sweetheart. If I could.”

“Oh, you will. I’ll find a way.” On that promise, Izzie closed her eyes again, letting sleep drift over her like a warm blanket.

Chapter 9

Izzie scanned the crowd, wishing the faces were all revealed to her instead of hiding behind an archaic tradition. In her years of working in law enforcement, she’d learned to read facial expressions so well that she could spot a person’s intentions in something as simple as the way they pursed their lips. Yet all she saw in the sea of people were veils hiding half of the faces she needed to read. Why didn’t men ever realize just how dangerous women could be? Couldn’t they see that letting them conceal their features wasn’t keeping women in line, but it might be allowing them to hide evil intentions?

The royal family had again gathered at Caldrion’s city circle for Kamala’s second go-round at her
hadiadas.
Since she was standing next to Jayce and the rest of his family, Izzie honored the rules by wearing a
wenora
and a veil, but she wanted the damned things gone. They blocked her vision and made her so unbearably warm, she felt nauseous. Her own fault for eating such a big breakfast and then working her stomach into a churning mass as she worried about Jayce and how vulnerable he’d be in front of such a large crowd and about how Damian might be the one to be wounded protecting Jayce from attack.

She’d thought long and hard about leaving the despised garments behind, but she’d acquiesced, especially because she’d be violating Bromondi law if she appeared barefaced in public. How would it look to have the crown prince’s fiancée so publicly thumb her nose at tradition? Jayce needed her support right now, and she needed to focus on finding threats, not arguing with people over what she was or wasn’t wearing.

Izzie knew better than to try to talk Jayce out of coming to the
hadiadas
. He’d felt awful about forgetting Kamala’s big day the first time. Even though she wanted nothing more than to keep him and Damian under lock and key, she knew better than to even suggest it. Her guys weren’t the kind to stay out of the mix, even if it meant they put themselves in the line of fire.

The crowd pressed forward as the king strode to the middle of the stage. He held up the black
wenora
and veil he would be putting on his daughter. The women were as silent as stones. The only voices ringing in the air were masculine cheers, and they rapidly dwindled into an eerie quiet when the women didn’t join in. Izzie let her gaze wander from woman to woman, taking in narrowed eyes that seemed angry at what was happening. She smiled under her own hated veil.

The women had spoken louder with their silence than they ever could with their voices raised.

As Steraph handed the veil to Charisa, Kamala stared at her—the mother and daughter sharing a tender smile. The king draped the
wenora
over Kamala’s blonde hair, tugging the ends under the chin and fastening the button to hold it in place. Charisa handed him the lacy veil. He fastened it to the
wenora
on the left temple and gently covered the young woman’s beautiful face, leaving only blue eyes for anyone to see.

A loud, angry shout rose from the women in the crowd, and moving in sync, every one of them yanked their veils and
wenoras
off and dropped them on the ground. Then they began to chant, “No more! No more! No more!” The noise rose until it became an undeniable edict.

Izzie almost cheered but feared how that reaction could hurt Jayce. She did, however, jerk off her own coverings, including her stifling robe, and dropped them in front of her. It took all her self-control not to dance a little jig on top of them. She grinned in satisfaction at Damian, who nodded in return.

As she turned to tell Jayce this would be the last time she ever wore a robe,
wenora,
and veil in public, she caught a man drawing a pulse pistol from inside his vest. Everything suddenly seemed to slow down for Izzie as if she was watching a sluggish holoflick.

She pulled her own pistol from the holster, but not before the man took aim at Jayce. A green shot burst from the barrel, heading right at Jayce’s chest. Izzie turned to throw herself in front of him but was knocked out of the way by a larger and heavier Hock. The shot hit the right side of the guard’s chest, and he was thrown back against Jayce and Damian, who’d also been trying to get in front of Jayce. The three men ended up in a tangle of bodies on the platform while the rest of the royal family dropped to the ground. The king had covered Charisa with his own body, clearly more concerned about his wife than himself. All four of his guards piled on top of them. The other guards either threw themselves on top of the rest of the royals or hurried to the crowd to try to get to the attempted assassin.

Izzie took aim, intending on hitting his leg, but the man dropped as if trying to shield himself or perhaps blend in with the rest of the crowd that now mostly cowered on the dusty ground. Her shot hit him square in the chest. He had to be dead before he hit the ground.

“Fuck!” Damn, but she’d wanted to take him alive!

Whirling to hurry to Jayce, she was once again knocked out of the way, this time by his sister Vilanna. The woman shoved Izzie aside and fell to her knees beside Hock.

“Hock, my love!” Vilanna jerked her head coverings away. Tears were streaming down her face.

Damian had pulled himself loose of the pile. He grabbed Vilanna’s sky-blue
wenora
, balled it up, and pressed it against the wound on Hock’s upper chest. Blood was quickly saturating his white uniform, spreading a ghastly dark red stain down his torso.

Vilanna helped Jayce ease Hock over so his head rested on her lap. “You can’t die! I can’t lose you! Please don’t leave me!”

Hock’s face was deathly pale, but he lifted a shaky hand to touch hers as it rested against his cheek. “I couldn’t ever leave you, my love.” He coughed, a bit of frothy blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. Vilanna wiped it away with the hem of her robe and leaned down to kiss him.

So the guard and the princess were in love… Not a surprise considering how much time they’d obviously spent together over the years. Until Hock had thrown himself in front of Jayce, Izzie had placed him number one on her suspect list, figuring he wanted to secure the throne for Vilanna. Now, Izzie was back to square one, and her only lead lay dead in the street.

Fuck
. She turned to one of the guards, figuring since their captain was out of commission, someone needed to take charge. “Call for an ambulance. We need to get Hock some help.” The man obeyed her without a single flinch.

Jayce came to stand beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking
you
that?” She looked around at the crowd, her thoughts tumbling and turning with everything she could remember about the three assassination attempts on her fiancé. People were slowly getting to their feet, gaping at the morbid scene of Hock lying bleeding while Vilanna wept. The only thing that seemed to stick in Izzie’s mind was that Jayce was still a damned obvious target.

Stepping in front of him, she tried to use her body as a shield. “We need to get you back to the palace. You’re still in danger.”

“I won’t hide.”

“You will if I tell you to.” Izzie nodded at Hock. “You won’t make his sacrifice mean nothing by getting yourself killed. He saved your life.”

“And for that he will be rewarded,” Jayce replied. “But I will not cower in fear, even to please you, love.”

An ambulance slowly weaved down the narrow street, moving through the crowd as the people seemed reluctant to give it enough room to pass. When it stopped and settled on the ground, two men hopped from the back, pulling along a hover gurney loaded with equipment.

Damian released his spot to the paramedics, but Vilanna wouldn’t move. She shook her head and cried harder when Damian tried to gently remove her. “I won’t leave him!”

“We’ll follow them to the hospital,” Jayce assured her as he tried to help Damian move his sister.

“It wasn’t supposed to be Hock!” Her red-rimmed blue eyes locked on Jayce.

A shiver ran the length of Izzie’s body. “What do you mean it wasn’t supposed to be Hock?”

Vilanna simply shook her head, letting Damian drag her to her feet. Quickly stripping out of her blood-stained robe, she dropped it over the side of the platform. Damian wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Steraph came to stand at their side.

“We should all go to the palace now,” Steraph said in an authoritarian tone.

Vilanna glared at him. “I go with Hock.”

“You will not!”

“I will!” She stomped her foot against the wooden planks. “And you can’t stop me!”

Father and daughter stared at each other for a few long moments before Steraph motioned to one of his guards. “You’ll accompany her to the hospital and see her safely back to the palace.” Then he looked to Izzie. “You’ll go as well.”

“As will we,” Jayce said inclining his head to Damian.

Steraph gave them a curt nod.

Jayce trailed Vilanna as she followed the guard away from the dais. Izzie and Jayce fell in step behind them.

* * * *

Izzie sat on a lumpy chair in the hospital waiting room, watching Vilanna and Jayce pace up the length of the big room and back enough times they made her dizzy. The geometric wallpaper—a mixture of nauseating shades of green, yellow, and brown—didn’t help much. Neither did the overwhelming disinfectant smell. Her stomach roiled, and she prayed they’d get good news about Hock soon so they could get the hell out of there.

She’d turned the events of the day—and the events at the compound and the palace—over and over in her mind, trying hard to figure out who could possibly want Jayce dead. A theory quickly formed, but she’d need to find a little more information before she made an accusation against someone in the royal family. First, they’d be sure Hock was okay, and then she would start sticking her nose where many people would probably believe it didn’t belong. She needed to talk to Hock first to fill in the last of the blanks and eliminate any doubts she had remaining, but in her heart, Izzie knew who’d tried to have Jayce murdered. The suspect’s own words had condemned her.

It wasn’t supposed to be Hock!

Vilanna wanted Jayce dead.

If Izzie didn’t have all the information she needed, no one would ever believe her. The hardest piece of the puzzle to fit was the motive. Vilanna was oldest. Did she believe she should be next in line to the throne? Was it jealousy—simple sibling rivalry?

Izzie suddenly didn’t care whether it was a breach in protocol or not. She also didn’t care if she was about to accuse a Bromondi princess of attempted murder without any real proof. What she needed at that moment was Vilanna to admit the truth, and one thing Izzie was good at was getting people to tell her the truth.

Trying to catch Vilanna with her guard down, Izzie jumped up and strode over to step in her path. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you send him there?”

Vilanna’s eyes widened as she took a step back. “I…I…have no idea what…what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. How did you get that guy inside? How’d you slip him past the security system?”

Her hands clenched into tight fists. “I…I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about! Jayce…you’re my brother! How can you let her accuse me of sending someone to your private retreat?”

“I never said
where
,” Izzie countered. “You’re the one who sent the assassin to Jayce’s compound. Why?”

Before she could answer, a doctor in burgundy scrubs threw open the door and came into the waiting room. “Your Highness,” he said, stopping in front of Jayce and bowing. His whole body trembled.

“How is Hock?” Vilanna asked as she started to wring her hands.

“I’m very sorry, but he’s gone. He’d lost a lot of blood, and we weren’t able to fix the damage to his heart or his lung.” On that, the clearly nervous doctor bowed to Jayce again, turned, and strode out of the waiting room.