Royal Wedding Threat (18 page)

Truly, she’d opened her heart to him so quickly it had frightened her, and she’d been unwilling to lower her last defenses and admit how she really felt, especially when it seemed certain she’d have to leave Lydia—and Jason—to keep everyone in the kingdom safe.

She’d failed to keep him safe. Worse yet, she’d failed to tell him how much he meant to her.

The lights grew brighter as their pursuers drew inexorably closer, their lights fading in turn as they checked each chamber thoroughly and then moved on to the next. Ava didn’t know how many chambers there were. A dozen, perhaps, on either side? Surely not many more than that. It wouldn’t be long
now.

“You might as well show yourself,” Tiffany goaded, her voice impatient. “You’re not going to get away. You think you’re so smart. Taking all the best contracts, keeping me out of the limelight. Don’t you think I noticed? But you won’t get the last laugh. I’m the smartest. I’m going to win.”

While Tiffany prattled on, Jason took advantage of the noise the woman made and bent close
to Ava’s ear, whispering softly, “When the lights dim, meaning they’re both in chambers, we’ll jump across the hallway, toward the right. The chambers are staggered.” He fell silent when Tiffany paused.

Ava could see the wisdom of Jason’s plan. True, they’d be exposing themselves to possible attack, creeping closer to Tiffany instead of farther away. But their only hope was to somehow make
their way closer to the chambers she’d already checked.

They’d have to cross her path in the process. Even if she was deep inside one of the rooms, even if she continued to talk to herself, she’d surely hear their footsteps, or the other gunman would. They were only three or four chambers away in either direction.

She might see them and shoot, but she was bound to do that anyway. This
way, at least, they had some hope of sneaking past her.

It was the only plan they had—a long shot, but still, better than no shot at all. And Ava trusted Jason. She felt the same comforting reassurance that had flooded her the evening before as she’d prayed to God in the cathedral above. That had been a leap of faith.

This, though more literal, would be little different. God had caught
her last night.

Would God catch her again?

She didn’t have time to wonder. First Tiffany’s light, then the other gunman’s faded as the two stepped into chambers to search.

Jason squeezed her hand, maneuvered them both deftly around the statue to the doorway, and together they leaped toward the doorway across the dark corridor and a little to the left. The light from the searching
gunmen provided just enough illumination for Ava to see the faint outline of the doorway to the chamber and duck inside, with Jason darting in on her heels.

As she’d feared, both Tiffany and her partner heard the sound.

“That’s them!” Tiffany cried.

“There they go!” her partner shouted at the same time.

The lights grew brighter as the pair spoke. Ava crouched low behind the
solid stone wall while Jason shielded her from above as the sound of gunfire erupted in the hallway.

Shots echoed, ricocheting off the stone walls, the noise too fiercely loud in the enclosed space for Ava to even attempt to count how many shots had gone off. Four? Six? They had fired simultaneously.

And then silence.

Ava had no idea what was going on in the corridor just beyond
them, but she knew she and Jason were likely going to die.

“I love you,” she whispered, praying those words wouldn’t give away their location, but knowing she’d gladly give her last breath to speak them while Jason was still alive to hear.

“What?” The captain looked down at her—the lights from their pursuers’ cell phones still glowed, unmoving, from the hallway, providing just enough
light for Ava to make out Jason’s movement in the darkness.

“I love you,” she whispered again.

One cell phone light went out.

Then the other.

“I love you, too, Ava.” He leaned down and kissed her.

Ava kissed him back, unsure why Tiffany was waiting to strike, but glad for this last moment with Jason, at least.

“Have you checked down here?”

“I thought I heard
gunfire.”

Men’s voices echoed from the stairs, followed by hard soles pounding down the stone stairs. “There’s a light switch somewhere. It’s very tricky to find. There.”

Bright light flooded the crypt. Ava buried her face against Jason’s shirt to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness.

The men who’d entered gasped.

“Bodies!”

“Who?”

She heard people running as
she put together the clues.

Bodies?

The gunfire—Tiffany and her accomplice had both fired. They were the only other two in the crypt, weren’t they? So
bodies
must mean...

“It’s Tiffany Sterling. I recognize her from the photos the captain circulated. She’s dead.”

“This one’s dead, too. Looks like they shot each other.”

“But where is the captain?”

Jason cleared his
throat and stepped forward. “Is it safe to come out?”

“Captain!”

The pair of guards looked pale with relief. “And Ava!”

Their smiles didn’t fade as Jason pulled her out of the chamber after him.

“You’re both all right?”

“By God’s grace, yes,” Jason answered.

Ava glanced down the hallway and saw the pair who’d pursued her nearly to death. She shuddered quickly and
looked away, hiding her face in Jason’s arm, shivering in the cool of the crypt.

“I should give you my statement,” the captain acknowledged, “but I also need to get the wedding planner over to the reception. They expected her some time ago, and with the eyes of the world watching the Lydian wedding—”

“Go.” The guards gestured toward the stairs, assuring him, “We can process the crime
scene. Get moving.”

Jason tested his earpiece as they climbed the stairs and finally made contact when they reached the main floor. “Paul, do you have that car for me?”

Ava listened closely but couldn’t hear Paul’s response. However, she could tell from Jason’s reaction that the guard had reported something unusual.

“It’s okay. You’re sure he’s not armed? I think it will be all
right. I’ll ask her. We’ll meet you in the alley.”

“What is it?” Ava asked when Jason finally stopped talking and looked down at her. She tried to read some indication of whether his news was good or bad, but he seemed to be struggling to sort out that difference himself.

“It seems,” he began slowly as he led her down the hallway, back toward the door through which the gunmen had entered,
“when I reported gunmen in the cathedral, my transmission wasn’t clear. There was some confusion among the guards about where I was, and when they couldn’t get in the locked doors, they were all but convinced I needed their help somewhere else entirely.”

They reached the back door and Jason paused, staring for a moment at a bullet hole in the far wall, which Ava was nearly certain hadn’t
been there until the moment Tiffany and her accomplice had forced their way in.

“As they were debating it, a man ran up to them and insisted he’d been tracking Tiffany and the gunman for the last two days. He claimed to have seen them enter through the alley door. It was only then that my guards decided to force their way back in and met us in the crypt.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open. “I’m
so glad he convinced them. But who was it?”

As she asked the question, Jason opened the door to the alley, and Ava blinked at the man who stood next to Paul, leaning against the royal-guard sedan, waiting for them.

“Your father.”

EIGHTEEN

A
va took a few hesitant steps toward the car.

Douglas Wright looked just as uncertain as he stepped toward his daughter.

“Daddy?” Ava’s voice cracked as she approached him, blinking back tears that fell soon enough anyway.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the American pastor said softly.

“Mind?”

Paul looked uncomfortable with the way the two of them gawked
at each other. The guard jumped into the conversation. “If it hadn’t been for this man, we wouldn’t be here. He saw the gunmen enter the building. Without him, we wouldn’t have had a clue.”

Ava finally seemed convinced, by either Paul’s words, her father’s hopeful expression or the prompting of her own heart. She stepped toward her father, arms extended, and gave him a hug.

“I’m sorry
for everything,” Douglas Wright said softly. “I didn’t know—for so long I was in such a stupor of shock I couldn’t even think about what had happened. Then Dan tried to reach me. I refused to speak to him. I was afraid he wanted to get back together with you again. I was afraid he’d hurt you. I deleted his emails without reading them, until he sent one with a subject line claiming he knew who’d
killed your mother.”

Jason listened closely to everything the pastor said. It all fit Dan’s story—and the current situation.

Ava’s father continued, “When I read the email, I didn’t want to believe it. I tried to reach Tiffany. I spent three days trying to track down her car, visiting every junk lot in Seattle before I found it. She’d patched the bumper with duct tape, but when I peeled
it back, it matched the missing piece.”

“Tiffany killed Mom,” Ava acknowledged softly.

“I’m afraid she did. I turned over the evidence to the police. They put out a warrant for her arrest, but nobody could find her. Dan had warned me Tiffany might target you next. So what could I do?” Doug extended his arms and looked down at his daughter. “I came here. I wasn’t sure if I should bother
you or if you’d even speak to me—I didn’t have your phone number or address—so I focused my efforts on tracking down Tiffany.”

“But you came to the palace gates once.”

“I thought you should know what was going on. But then the guards acted like I was a threat. I heard one of them say something about the killer who was after you. I got spooked and ran. I realized they knew someone was
after you, but I didn’t want them to think I was that person. If they put me away, I wouldn’t be able to help you.”

Jason felt his heart swell as Ava’s father finished his story. He felt relieved that all the pieces fit. More so, he was glad to see Ava reconciled with her father. But at the same time, they’d already lingered longer than he wanted.

“We need to get back to the palace.
Would you like to ride with us?”

“I’d appreciate that very much,” Douglas told him, taking the front passenger seat. Jason and Ava sat together in the backseat for the short trip to the palace.

“Do I look okay?” Ava asked, pulling a tissue from the dispenser in the center console. “I’m probably a mess.”

“Allow me.” Jason cupped his hand around hers. She handed over the tissue, and
he dabbed away the still-moist tracks her tears had made on the way down her cheeks. Then he wiped away the last of the smudges around her eyes. “You look perfect.”

She smiled at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes, and took the tissue from him. “You’ve got a little lipstick,” she explained, swiping at the corner of his mouth.

Jason grinned back, a surge of affection replacing the nervous
beat of his heart.

When they reached the palace, Jason was relieved to find the wedding reception proceeding peacefully.

“Any problems?” he asked his men at the gatehouse.

“The prince and his bride were asking for Ava—I think they want to thank her before they leave for the night.”

Jason realized that, after all their adventures at the cathedral and taking time to listen to
Doug’s story, Ava had nearly missed the entire reception. But to her credit as a wedding planner, she’d put all the pieces into place so well the event had gone smoothly even without her. The car pulled forward, and Jason took Ava’s hand to help her from the car.

She met his eyes as she stepped out, and Jason’s affection swelled inside him. Ava had told him she thought she should return to
the States after the wedding—but that was before Tiffany had been stopped. Did Ava still feel the same way about leaving? Jason wanted to ask her, but the royal couple had already waited long enough.

“This way.” Jason led her toward the palace doors. “Alexander and Lillian were asking for you.”

“I’ll wait out here,” Doug volunteered.

Jason gave Paul quick instructions to make sure
Doug was comfortable, before hurrying toward the palace holding Ava’s hand.

“I hope everything is all right.” Ava sounded concerned and somewhat chastened for her tardiness.

“I’m sure it is,” Jason tried to assure her as he held the palace door open for her. He didn’t want her to worry—she’d done enough of that in the past week already. More than that, he didn’t want her to leave. Lydia
needed her. He needed her.

But how did she feel now that Tiffany had been stopped?

They entered the grand reception hall, where glowing chandeliers hung low over tables filled with guests. Near the orchestra, couples waltzed on the dance floor under dimmed lights. Jason spotted the prince and his bride circulating among the guests. Prince Alexander looked up, spotted them and smiled.

“There they are,” Jason said to Ava, leading her toward the newlyweds.

As they approached, Lillian flew at Ava, beaming. To Jason’s surprise, the bride embraced the wedding planner.

“You’re finally here! I was worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be worried about me—not on your day.” Ava squeezed her back. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Didn’t the guards tell you?”

“They said
the situation was resolved, but until I saw you with my own eyes, I couldn’t help fearing they were only downplaying what had happened.” The bride gave Jason an accusatory glance. “They do that sometimes, you know, so the royal family won’t worry.” Her accusation ended with a happy giggle. “I’m so glad to see you’re okay. I wanted so much to thank you for all you’ve done. Today was perfect.”

“Was it?” Ava sounded pleased, but slightly less than convinced. Jason figured that made sense—her day had been far from perfect, quite possibly one of the worst in her life. He wished he could turn things around for her, and quickly.

“Oh, yes!” Lillian beamed up at Prince Alexander. “I married the man of my dreams, in the wedding of my dreams.”

“I’m so glad.” Ava’s face lit up with
a broad smile.

Alexander tugged his wife in another direction. “Look, darling, the prime minister.”

Jason nodded at the prince as he led his wife over to speak with the distinguished guest. Ava bustled through the crowd, monitoring the waitstaff and the orchestra, speaking with several of her contacts before she finally stood back and surveyed the room, looking satisfied as she sipped
a glass of punch he’d grabbed for her.

“Everything in order?” Jason asked.

“Remarkably, yes—even without me.”

“It’s a testimony to your skill as a wedding planner.”

“I can’t take all the credit.”

“But you can enjoy it a moment, can’t you?”

Ava looked a little taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Can you dance?”

“Of course I can dance, but—”

Jason took
her emptied glass and set it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Dance with me.”

“In front of your men?” Ava looked around at the uniformed guards who stood at regular intervals around the perimeter, besides those who were part of the wedding party. “I thought you weren’t supposed to—”

“We’re addressing that.” He took her hand and led her toward the dance floor.

“You are? When?”

“Starting now.” He turned to face her on the dance floor, placing one hand at her waist.

“I didn’t realize you danced.”

“Of course I do. Royal guards are renowned for their grace and sophistication as much as their courage and strength.” He smiled as they began to dance. “And besides—I have five older sisters who made me their practice dummy.”

Ava giggled as she waltzed gracefully
alongside him. “I can’t imagine you being anyone’s dummy.”

They danced in happy silence for another few moments before the orchestra changed their tune.

“What’s this?” Jason asked.

“Oh—it’s American music. Lillian requested it.”

“It’s slow, but I don’t think I can waltz to it.”

“No,” Ava admitted. “You’re supposed to—” She blushed a bit and stepped closer to him.

Jason knew enough about American dancing from movies and television to understand. “We basically get to hold each other and sway in time to the music?”

“That’s pretty much it, yes,” Ava admitted, still blushing slightly, though she grinned up at him and didn’t seem to mind at all having his arms wrapped around her.

“I must confess, I approve of your American tradition,” Jason murmured
close to her ear.

“I’m so glad. But what will your men think?”

“I’ll discuss the policy with them tomorrow. They can consider this a visual demonstration. I’ve always tried to lead by example.”

As they swayed in time to the music, Ava rested her cheek on his shoulder. Jason had so many things he wanted to discuss with her—urgent questions such as her plans for returning to America
and whether her words earlier in the vault were brought on by the situation, or if she really meant them.

And if she confessed she really meant them, he had another question he wanted to ask.

But for now, Ava seemed to be enjoying herself, and that was something Jason knew she didn’t often get to do. His questions could wait until tomorrow. For now, he wanted nothing more than to hold
Ava close as they danced.

* * *

The next morning, after meeting her father for breakfast at the grand buffet the palace laid out for all the wedding guests who’d stayed over, Ava went back to her apartment and read through her plans for Princess Anastasia’s wedding. She couldn’t put off planning any longer. If Jason wouldn’t let her use the island of Dorsi, she would make the royal couple
understand. She trusted Jason.

In fact, she more than trusted him. She wanted to work with him on this project—very closely, if necessary—but she didn’t want to argue, not the way they’d argued before. After all they’d been through together, she couldn’t imagine spending her life with anyone else. Still, if she was going to stay in Lydia, she needed to do her job. Right now that meant presenting
the princess’s wedding plan to the captain of the guard.

Ava cringed as she printed off the papers and carried them over to the royal-guard headquarters, and prayed Jason wouldn’t be upset with her. She didn’t have an appointment with him, but she figured she could at least leave the papers with the dispatcher.

But the man behind the glass smiled at her when she approached him.

“These are for the captain.” She slipped the papers into the slot underneath the bulletproof panel.

“Would you like to deliver them in person?” the man asked.

Surprised, and glad she might get the opportunity to explain herself, Ava asked, “Is he here?”

“He’s in a meeting,” the dispatcher admitted. “But I can buzz you through if you promise not to disrupt him until he’s finished.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” Ava recognized the man behind the glass, but his words were so different from the way he’d spoken to her before. She quickly crossed the room and went through the door, following Jason’s voice down the hallway, lingering just out of sight around the doorway of the conference room where he addressed his men.

“The deceased has positively been identified
as Tiffany Sterling. We followed up on the hotel-room key she had with her—she and her accomplice had checked into a local hotel under false names.”

“What about the accomplice?” a guard asked.

“He’s been identified as a hired hit man, wanted in the U.S. for several counts of murder.” Jason rapped pages against the table as he spoke. “We’re considering the case closed.”

“What about
the wedding planner?”

“What about her?” Jason clarified.

“Is she going to have a guard assigned to her, or are you going to take care of that?”

Ava could hear the insinuation in the guard’s voice, even from the hallway. She peeked just far enough around the doorway to see Jason’s face and prayed he wouldn’t spot her until after he’d answered.

“Now that the threat against her
life has ended, Ms. Wright is no longer in danger. However, I do believe that as long as she chooses to remain in Lydia, she will most often be traveling in my company.”

An excited murmur moved through the room.

Jason continued, “That brings me to the real reason for this meeting. You men all know I’ve placed a priority on restoring the reputation of the royal guard. As part of that,
I’ve strictly interpreted the clause regarding interactions between guards and their charges. In light of recent developments, I believe we need to reinterpret that clause.”

“Sir?”

“I’m going to work with those guards who are most knowledgeable on the subject—Galen, Linus, Levi and Kirk—all guards who’ve become engaged to their charges, to craft a precise policy that will allow for love
without compromising the reputation of the guard.”

The murmuring around the room continued, along with clapping and other sounds of approval. As Ava watched from the doorway, one of the guards who’d transferred from the army—Titus, she believed was his name—stood and held out a newspaper.

“On the subject of the guard’s reputation, I don’t know if all of you have seen the news report
about yesterday’s wedding.” Titus cleared his throat and read, “‘The royal guard, which was considered a threat in the wake of the attacks last summer, has proven to be the pride of Lydia. Captain Jason Selini leads his men with dignity, and the guard contributed to the elegance and success of the royal wedding.’”

The last of Titus’s words were drowned out by cheering and clapping. Ava, overcome
with the knowledge that Jason was finally getting the credit he deserved for all his hard work, couldn’t resist the urge to let out a whoop of approval.