Stone smiled, and Alyssa knew her brow furrowed with confusion.
Sometimes the Klatch penchant for beating around the bush could become
trying. The thought had never occurred to her that the guards were
unhappy in any way. They all appeared perfectly content, and she had
never met one who hadn't acted totally loyal.
"My wife hasn't been on Tador long enough to understand what you're
asking, Gavin. However, knowing her as I do, I think she would be open to
the discussions you're suggesting."
"Damn it, Stone," she projected inside his head. "I know this is a matriarchal
society, but you're the king, for God's sake. If there is something that needed to be
fixed, why didn't you tell me?"
"Beloved, it is not my place."
She glared at his familiar answer and vowed to try to bring it up again
when she had the time.
Stone only smiled at her unspoken thought, which, from experience, she
knew he had heard. "It's a longstanding restriction for the guards to be unable
to enter into a relationship. They may provide themselves sexual sustenance, of
course, or provide it for another guard, but no emotional attachments are allowed."
"What?" Alyssa sat up in her chair, her anger at past queens burning hot in
her veins. She looked between Gavin and Stone. "Are you telling me that in
this sexual society, they are essentially treated like priests? No wives, no
girlfriends, or boyfriends? What a total crock of—"
"Don't get me wrong, my lady." Gavin dipped his chin to avoid meeting
her gaze—a royal-guard habit that still irritated her. "We willingly choose
to become part of the guard and are honored to serve the royal family—"
She pushed to her feet and chopped the air in front of her with her hand.
"Bullshit." At Gavin's surprised expression, she added, "Bullshit that you
have to give up having any type of fulfilling relationship to go into this line
of work."
"Your majesty." The sides of Gavin's lips curved up slightly— probably at
her language.
She would bet he'd never heard her mother say "bullshit" as queen.
"The purpose," Gavin said, "was to ensure the guards had no distractions
from their duties and would not be afraid to give their lives for their
charges."
Alyssa frowned at him. "Whatever—I don't buy it. The Secret Service back
on Earth doesn't have rules like that, and they are still able to protect the
President—with very few exceptions." She raised her chin. "So, as of right
now, that old rule is banished."
"However, beloved," Stone added, "if any two guards on the same team are
involved, I would suggest one of them transfer to a new team."
"Fair enough, my lord," Gavin added before Alyssa could comment. "I can
assure you none of our number will object to such a stipulation."
Several of the guards exchanged quick looks, excitement about the change
in rules evident in their expressions.
Stone clapped Gavin on the back. "As soon as we have the triangle in place,
we should convene to discuss the rest of the guard's concerns. But, for
pity's sake, man, once your shift is done, go find a willing maid or whoever
strikes your fancy."
A wolfish grin appeared on Gavin's face. "Thank you, your majesties." The
guard opened his mouth as though he wanted to say more, but then he
closed his lips.
Alyssa raised her eyebrow and pierced him with a questioning look. "As
my loyal guard, I expect you to keep me fully informed on everything,
Gavin. It's too late to hold back now, and I don't want you to."
Gavin dipped his chin. "Regardless of what anyone says, my lady, I see a
great leader in both you and King Stone. With very little preparation, you
have made difficult decisions that might be painful for the people to accept
but are definitely in their best interest. You are both fair and caring leaders,
and I'm proud to serve in any capacity I may." He raised his gaze to meet
Alyssa's—a rare gesture she appreciated. "And, also, regardless of what
Valen said, your parents are extremely proud of you. The entire guard feels
the same and will stand behind you, no matter what."
Thick emotion tightened Alyssa's chest. The comment had blindsided
her—in a good way. How often over the past few months had she
wondered if she was the worst ruler in the history of her planet? What a
nice change to hear that someone thought she was doing a good job—
especially the guards who had been privy to the ruling decisions on Tador
before she had taken over. Granted, those rules had been her parents', but
they had shown faith in her by deciding to relocate to a home in the
country as soon as Alyssa had ascended—most likely to let her carve out
her own niche as queen without feeling as though she was constantly in
their shadow.
She swallowed hard. "Thank you, Gavin." Her voice shook as tears
threatened. "That means more than you know."
15
The sensation of someone watching her made the hairs on the back of Rita's
neck prickle. The same feeling had dogged her every day since Katelyn had
left on her cruise.
Rita had decided to come into work early today because the new pendant
shipment was due. But now, walking along the sidewalk in the early
morning sunshine, the churning in her gut made her feel like this area was
a dark, deserted alley at midnight on a moonless night.
Rita quickened her pace, her purse clutched tight to her chest, and her gaze
darting all around to ensure no one could sneak up on her. She rounded
the corner and immediately froze.
The front door of the shop stood open, shattered glass from the side
window scattered over the sidewalk.
Her heart pounded, and she swallowed past a huge lump of fear that had
gathered inside her throat.
She pulled her cell phone from her purse, flipped it open, and dialed 9 ... 1
... and then a man stepped through the doorway. Rita willed her ringer to
hit the last digit, but for some reason, she hesitated.
He held up a badge and said, "I'm Detective Damien, ma'am. Are you the
owner?"
She would have to trust that it was a Phoenix police badge he flashed
because she hadn't been able to tear her eyes off his face.
By all that's holy, I'm dead, and this must he heaven.
The man before her could only be described as mouthwatering.
His coloring reminded her of the hottie Katelyn had run off with—not that
Rita could blame her friend one bit.
Hair so black it had blue highlights flowed down to the best set of
shoulders Rita had ever seen. She spared only a quick glance for the rest of
his body, making sure it was also the stuff of wet dreams, before her gaze
flitted back to his face.
He had deep purple eyes framed with long, inky black lashes any woman
would kill for, a patrician nose, and high cheekbones covered in dusky,
olive skin. His sensual mouth, curved up at the edges, made Rita think of
hot, sweaty nights with lace teddies and silk sheets.
"Miss?"
His voice was a perfect, clear tenor, and she had a sudden urge to ask him
to sing, but she was afraid that beautiful voice might give her on-the-spot
orgasms. "Uh ..."
"Are you Rita Eldridge?" he asked in a way that said he already knew the
answer.
She managed to close her mouth and nod while she mentally gathered her
scattered brain cells. "Yes, I am Rita." Good job, maybe he'll just think you're
mentally challenged instead of an insane idiot around men.
"We responded to an alarm. Could you come inside and let us know if
anything is missing?" He reached into the back pocket of his black jeans,
which seemed like they had been lovingly painted on, and pulled out an
envelope. "Oh, and this was on the floor just inside the doorway, as though
it had been slipped underneath the door."
Rita's brow furrowed, and her logic cut through several, but not all, layers
of the lust in which she was caught. "We have tight weather stripping on
the bottom of our front door. There's no way anyone could've slipped
anything underneath it while it was closed. Otherwise, during the
monsoon season, we'd be inundated with dust."
He crouched and examined the bottom of the door, his long fingers tracing
the weather stripping until it seemed erotic. He pursed his lips before
standing. "You're right." He handed her the letter. "Can you tell me who
the letter is from? It may give us a clue as to who broke in to your shop."
Rita turned the envelope over in her hands and immediately recognized
Katelyn's writing on the front. She carefully tore open the envelope and
pulled out two pages covered in Katelyn's chicken scratch. "It's from my
partner. She's out of town on a cruise. I'm not sure how the letter got
inside, though."
"She does have a key?"
"Of course, but as I said, she's on a cruise, which would make it difficult for
her to unlock the shop, drop a letter on the floor, and then relock the shop
before someone broke in."
He nodded but not in agreement—more like an acknowledgement that he
had heard her. "Can you come back inside and check to see if anything's
missing?" he asked again. "The apartment above the shop seems to have
been the focal point— it has been ransacked."
Panic clawed through Rita's stomach as she headed straight through the
shop and toward the stairs along the back wall, Detective Damien's voice
trailing behind her. Katelyn's apartment was the only thing up there.
Something was going on with her roommate, and it wasn't good, if the
roiling in her gut was any indication. "Nothing was disturbed downstairs?"
she asked without turning as she took the stairs two at a time.
He must have followed her, because his answer came from close behind
her. "It's pretty bad up here." His voice held a gentle warning.
Rita stepped onto the top landing, and her breath caught. The sapphireblue door to Katelyn's apartment was shattered along one side where the
deadbolt had been forced by someone's shoulder—if the shape of the
indentation in the door was any indication. The door stood half open,
which gave Rita an unimpeded view of the devastation that now
comprised her friend's apartment.
Broken crystals and vases lay scattered across the floor, along with scraps
of paper and chunks of foam that had probably come from the couch and
torn clothing.
"Oh, Katelyn ..." Rita pulled the door all the way open and stepped inside,
careful not to step on anything sharp. She walked from room to room, her
anger growing brighter with the sight of each new act of destruction. When
she reached Katelyn's bedroom, tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and
her throat was so tight she wasn't sure she could speak.
The mattress had been shoved off the bed, and the chest of drawers had
been pushed over, some of the drawers broken, their contents littered
across the floor. Pictures had been torn off the wall, the glass and frames
smashed, and there were dark smudges along the wall that looked like char
marks.
Tension radiated through Rita, and she fisted her hands at her sides. Her
gaze swept the room and finally stopped on Katelyn's cedar chest, which
sat at the foot of her bed. The dome-lidded box was made of thick cherry
wood and was an antique Katelyn had found and lovingly restored. It
appeared to be the only piece of furniture in the apartment that hadn't
sustained any damage. The dome lid was open, and several small journals
spilled over the top and out onto the surrounding floor.
Rita stooped to pick one up and then flipped the book open.
A child's loopy cursive writing rilled every line of every page. The dates, as
well as Katelyn's name written on the front, confirmed they were hers. Rita
leaned over to look inside the chest and realized that it was full to the brim
with these journals. She flipped through a few more and found them much
like the first.
"I never knew Katelyn kept diaries, especially this far back."
"Do you know why anyone would break in here? Did your partner have
any enemies?"
A strangled squeak escaped Rita as she nearly jumped out of her skin.
The sight of Katelyn's ransacked apartment had chased all thoughts of the
hunky detective from her mind.
"My apologies." He dipped his chin, almost an abbreviated bow, which
made her wonder where he was from. "I didn't mean to startle you."
She swallowed hard and willed her heart to slow to something resembling
normal. "I forgot you were following me. I can't believe someone would do
all this." She gestured to encompass the room. "Katelyn doesn't have any
enemies or even family." She pursed her lips as she glanced around the
room again. "Were these diaries open like this when you found them?"
"Yes. Is there anything in there worth taking? Information that can be used
for blackmail? Anything?" He pushed his hair away from his face, the
movement making the sculpted muscles in his forearms bunch and move.
A desire to run her tongue along the bulging vein in that perfect forearm
ran through her, and she bit her tongue to keep from embarrassing herself.
Instead shook her head to answer his question. "From the dates, these were