Sovereign Sheriff Read online

  He pulled the blinds and crossed the room to stand in the doorway. “You’ll stay here until I know what’s going on.”

  His humble guest bedroom with the scuffed knotty pine furniture probably wasn’t the sort of accommodation she was accustomed to, but she didn’t turn up her nose. She perched on the edge of the double bed and gave him a cooperative smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I have more questions.”

  “Perhaps I could have a glass of water.” She slipped off her metallic jacket. Underneath, she wore a V-neck shirt of thin fabric that clung to her curves and was almost the same color as her skin—a naked shirt that sent his imagination into overdrive.

  Regretfully, he tore his gaze away from the princess and looked over his shoulder at his sister who stood in the hallway. “Maggie, I’d like for you to go down to the kitchen and get something for Saida to drink and eat.”

  “My linguini?”

  After Saida’s nonsense about fussing with the makeup from her suitcase, he was tempted to torture her with Maggie’s idea of gourmet. But that was too cruel. “Just a sandwich. Bring it up here.”

  She gave a quick nod and darted down the staircase.

  He turned back to the princess. “I’ll be honest with you, Saida. The best thing you could do is return to California.”

  “I’m not afraid.” A blush warmed her cheeks, but her golden eyes were calm. “I won’t leave until I find my brother.”

  He’d expected as much and wouldn’t waste another breath trying to convince her. “Do you have any idea why those men came after you?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Since we don’t know the why, we’ll concentrate on how. How did those guys know you were in town?”

  “Flying into the airport in a private jet might not have been the most subtle way for me to arrive.” She pulled up her leg and unfastened the strap on one of her platform sandals. Her foot was delicate with a high arch, and she wore a thin silver chain around her ankle. “The jet wasn’t my idea. Nasim insisted.”

  “The Minister of Affairs in Jamala,” he said. “Would he have told anyone about your arrival?”

  “He might have informed Efraim.” She shrugged. “Don’t waste time suspecting Nasim. His primary concern in life is my welfare.”

  Jake wasn’t so sure. “Tell me about him.”

  “When I was younger, Nasim was a combination bodyguard and mother hen. He accompanied me everywhere, even to Beverly Hills—a place he utterly despised. The only thing he enjoyed about Southern California was the freeway system, which he considered a challenge. He always drove as though on a military campaign and bragged whenever he shaved a few minutes off the drive time.”

  When Jake had gone after her, he’d been on a rise overlooking the road and had been able to see last part of the chase. She’d maneuvered her car like a Demolition Derby expert; her decision to hit the brakes had probably saved her from a rollover. “Did Nasim teach you to drive?”

  “He trained me in evasive driving techniques, and in other skills to protect myself from kidnapping. Do you think that’s what was intended? Kidnapping?”

  In spite of his earlier conclusion, he didn’t answer her question. They weren’t working together. “Do you have reservations at the resort?”

  “Yes.” She removed her other shoe and massaged her toes. “Maybe someone at the hotel leaked my name to the enemies of COIN.”

  “It’s possible.” Over the past few days, his men had done a thorough job of vetting the employees at the resort. He doubted that any of them were working with the bad guys, but somebody could have mentioned her arrival. Or the reservation desk computer could have been hacked.

  She frowned. “I should have told Nasim to use a fake name.”

  “Do you often use an alias?”

  “Of course,” she said as though assumed names were a normal part of life. “I travel incognito to throw the paparazzi off my trail.”

  “Too late for that. They’re already here.” The reporters and photographers who had showed up in Dumont at the first sign of trouble were as pesky as a swarm of gnats.

  “There’s one paparazzo who is particularly annoying. His name is Danny Harold.” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “He specializes in photographs of royalty, and he’ll do anything to get an exclusive shot.”

  Maggie came back into the room carrying a tray. “You always look gorgeous in the tabloids. I remember a photo of you standing on tiptoe to kiss one of the Lakers.”

  “Don’t remind me. That picture started a million rumors about royal weddings, even though I only dated the guy twice.”

  “The Lakers?” In spite of himself, Jake was starstruck. “You’ve gone out with players on the winningest franchise in professional basketball?”

  “If you come to L.A., I can get you courtside seats.”

  “Damn.” There were advantages to knowing a princess.

  Maggie placed the tray on the bed and shoved a paper plate toward him. “Eat.”

  Absently, he took a bite from the sandwich. When this investigation was over, he fully intended to take the princess up on her offer. It was almost worth all the strife these royals had caused to get courtside seats.

  Maggie handed a plate to Saida. “Tell me a couple of your aliases.”

  “As a child, I used to watch a lot of American movies. That’s when I first fell in love with this country. So I use movie names. Dorothy Gale, Bridget Jones, Holly Golightly. And, of course, Elle Woods.”

  “Of course,” Maggie said.

  Jake had no idea what they were talking about. “Elle Woods?”

  “The heroine of Legally Blonde,” his sister informed him. “Everybody thought she was a ditzy blonde, but she went to Harvard Law School and outsmarted them all.”

  “A lighthearted film with a significant message.” Saida slid an accusing glance in his direction. “It’s easy to underestimate someone based on stereotypes. Sometimes, the dumb blonde is the smartest person in the room. And the pampered princess is the most resourceful.”

  Touché. He knew he’d been guilty of taking her lightly. There might be more depth to this princess than he’d thought.

  Maggie said, “I love your pinkie ring. Is the design a royal crest?”

  He’d noticed the ring before—a black onyx stone with a silver design that he’d at first thought was a butterfly. Looking closer, he saw that it was crossed swords.

  Saida gestured gracefully, displaying the ring. “It’s similar to the crossed scimitars that are part of Saudi Arabia’s coat of arms, but this ring has no special meaning. I just liked the design, and I have earrings to match.”

  “Does Jamala have crown jewels?” Maggie asked.

  “An extensive collection, most of which is in the National Museum. There’s a story behind the Farrah Blue diamond. Any woman who wears the gem is guaranteed to have masculine children.” She gave Maggie a grin. “As if that’s good.”

  “Tell me more,” Maggie said.

  Jake finished his sandwich. Though she’d subtly rebuked him for stereotyping, he couldn’t help comparing Saida to the princess in One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. If he didn’t get away from her soon, he’d stay all night, lulled into a trance by her cultured voice. “Excuse me, ladies. I have work to do.”

  Downstairs, he went through the house—pulling the curtains, locking the windows and dragging his thoughts back to the situation at hand. He couldn’t allow himself to be captivated by Saida’s charms or her promise of courtside seats. The fact that this kidnap attempt had been made here instead of California indicated that this crime was tied to all the others, including her brother’s disappearance. He needed solutions.

  The antidote to Saida came when he heard his deputy pull into the driveway outside his house. Kent Wheeler was Jake’s most trusted employee and the person he’d called on his phone right after leaving the scene of the crash.

  He opened the front door for the stocky blue-eyed deputy who usually wo
re a cowboy hat to cover his bald spot. Though out of uniform, Wheeler’s appearance was crisp and neat. His wife always ironed his jeans to leave a crease.

  “What’s up, Sheriff?”

  Before Jake could answer, Saida was halfway down the stairs.

  “Good evening, sir.” She bestowed a mesmerizing smile on Wheeler. “Have you brought my luggage?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Wheeler wasn’t the sort of guy who would ever cheat on his wife, but he was staring at the princess with unabashed appreciation.

  “Later,” Jake growled. “We’ll bring your suitcases upstairs later.”

  “I appreciate it so much.” She turned and trotted back to the guest bedroom.

  Staring after her, Wheeler said, “She’s something else.”

  “She’s a load of trouble,” Jake said. “That’s Princess Saida Khalid, the sister of Amir. She was driving that car when it was forced off the road.”

  “A real live princess. Whoa, I never thought I’d meet somebody like her.”

  Wheeler remained at the foot of the staircase, looking up in case she might reappear. Jake might have to use his stun gun to bring his deputy back to earth. “Did you contact Jane Cameron?”

  “Yes, sir. The forensic team arrived at the scene of the crash just as I was taking the luggage from the backseat. Jane wasn’t happy about having me disturb her evidence.”

  She was involved with Prince Stefan Lutece of Kyros. Ever since they hooked up, the formerly plain Jane had been beaming and dropping hints that she’d be leaving her job and moving to one of the COIN nations. Though he didn’t doubt Jane’s professionalism, she’d probably been in the arms of her prince when she got the call. Jake couldn’t keep Saida’s arrival a secret; he needed to inform the COIN royals as soon as possible. Sheik Efraim seemed to be closest to Saida and her brother.

  He sank into a chair beside the fireplace and checked the clock on the mantel. It was after eleven. This wouldn’t be a pleasant call. He and Efraim had argued before. They’d buried the hatchet, but not too deeply.

  Using his cell phone, he contacted the front desk at the resort and left a message for Efraim to call him. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  Disconnecting the call, he looked toward his deputy. “I’m putting you in charge of this investigation, Wheeler. Handpick the team you work with. We need to be careful about who we trust.”

  “Understood. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with Amos Andrews.”

  Andrews, a Dumont policeman, had played a part in the first wave of attacks and had threatened Jane Cameron’s life. In jail, he’d committed suicide under suspicious circumstances. Jake wondered if he’d been murdered to insure his silence—murdered by someone on the inside, another traitor.

  Though he’d been sheriff for nearly a year, Jake still felt the simmering resentment from those on his staff who were loyal to the former sheriff. Every day was a battle to earn their respect. Not only was he the new guy but he was Arapaho, and old prejudices sometimes flared back to life.

  Wheeler took a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket. “Where should I start?”

  “We’re looking for a black or gray truck with damage on the passenger side. And a black, four-door sedan.” The car had whipped past his house so fast that Jake hadn’t recognized the make or model. “Tomorrow morning, you can check with the local car rental places for information on midsize sedans.”

  “Got it.” Wheeler scribbled in his notebook.

  “Somebody knew about the princess’s arrival, which means there’s a leak. You’ll need to talk to the reservations people at the resort.”

  “Again?”

  “You never know. They’re supposed to be discreet, but somebody might have gotten all excited and blabbed. I guess she’s some kind of celebrity. She dated a guy on the Lakers.”

  “The Lakers?” His eyes popped wide open. “Whoa.”

  Jake wondered if his own reaction had been that obvious. “You look like you might run home and tell your wife.”

  “No, sir, not my wife. Not unless I wanted to get whacked over the head with a frying pan. But I might be tempted to tell some of the guys.”

  That was probably how the information had gotten out, but they needed to make sure there wasn’t a more nefarious explanation. “I’ll talk to the FBI. They can use their fancy tracing equipment to see if the reservations computer at the resort was hacked.”

  From upstairs, he heard his sister giggle. At least somebody was having fun.

  Jake’s phone rang, and he answered. “Jake Wolf.”

  “This is Efraim Aziz. What is the big emergency?”

  “Princess Saida is in town. She’s at my house.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  Efraim said, “My advice to you, Sheriff, is to saddle up and ride as fast and as far as you can.”

  Chapter Four

  Sitting cross-legged on the double bed in the guest room, Saida was enjoying her conversation with Jake’s sister. Their topics ranged from fashion and shoes to cultural norms in Jamala and the rights of women. If this had been a purely social occasion, Saida might have relaxed, but she was edgy—distracted by what was going on downstairs. With the door to the bedroom open, she could hear the murmur of male voices as Jake conferred with his deputy.

  As usual, she was being excluded, and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. Until Jake said it was safe, he wouldn’t allow her to leave the guest bedroom. He’d already shown himself to be capable of throwing her over his shoulder. What would come next? Tying her to a chair?

  She stretched out her legs. “I want your brother to invite me into his investigation, to work with him and find Amir. How should I approach him?”

  “With a baseball bat to knock some sense into his stubborn head. Forget about Jake. Tell me how you ended up in Beverly Hills.”

  “While I was in boarding school in Switzerland, I made friends with a girl from Los Angeles. Since I was already in love with American movies, California seemed like a natural destination for me. I begged until I was allowed to go to a private high school in Los Angeles.” She smiled at Maggie. “Now it’s your turn. You grew up on the reservation. What was it like?”

  “So boring. Actually, I’m kind of like you. By the time I was in high school, my older sister was working in Denver. That’s where I went to high school.”

  “In a way, we’re both expatriates.”

  “In a way.” Maggie nodded. “Why did you come to our house as soon as you got into town?”

  “I looked Jake up on the internet. He seemed like someone I could trust. When he was running for sheriff, there was an interesting endorsement from someone named Oscar.”

  “Poor little Oscar.”

  In his endorsement, he hadn’t sounded poor at all. The accompanying photograph was very Armani. “He’s an attorney in Cheyenne, right?”

  “When Jake met him, Oscar Pollack wasn’t what you’d call a success story. He was a skinny little runt, too nervous to take his eyes off his own toes. He and Jake were both in their first year of college at UDub and—”

  “Wait.” Saida held up her hand. “UDub?”

  “University of Wyoming in Laramie,” Maggie said. “That’s where I’m going, too. Anyway, Jake was on a basketball scholarship and joined the coolest frat on campus. After the first game of the season, everybody knew him. Jake Wolf—the Wolfman—was a star. Oscar was an insignificant speck.”

  The college hierarchy was much the same everywhere. Though Saida had never lived on the UCLA campus or bothered with sororities, she was one of the in-crowd. “What happened?”

  “One night, Jake went to a bar with his buddies, even though he doesn’t drink. Oscar was working there, bussing tables. He accidentally spilled beer on a big ape who took it personally. He and his pals followed Oscar after his shift was over. Oscar made it to his car, but that didn’t stop the apes. They kicked dents into the car doors and threw rocks. They busted the windshield.”

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p; Saida guessed what came next. “Jake stepped in.”

  “Oh, yeah. To hear Oscar tell the story, you’d think my brother was some kind of superhero, taking on three big guys at once. According to Jake, they were stumbling around and drunk—but not so smashed that they didn’t recognize the Wolfman. It turned out that one of the ape’s pals was in Jake’s frat.”

  Noble actions often came with a price. “Did they try to kick him out?”

  “Jake quit before they could ask him to leave, and he was glad to do it. He didn’t want to be part of a group that condoned bullies.” Maggie beamed a smile. She was proud of her big brother, deservedly so. “It all turned out for the best.”

  “How so?”

  “You can’t tell Jake I said this, but he was never destined for the NBA. He moved to a different frat that was more focused on academics than sports. His good grades served him better than a nonexistent sports career.”

  “And Oscar went to law school,” Saida concluded.

  “He turned out great, has a wonderful family. And he’s a big deal in state politics,” Maggie said. “He thinks Jake can be the first Native American elected governor if he learns how to play politics.”

  Diplomacy was something Saida understood. “I could teach him a thing or two.”

  “He’s going to need a boost,” Maggie said. “With everything that’s happened recently, Jake’s reputation as a lawman is at an all-time low.”

  Saida regretted the trouble caused by the COIN royals. It was enough to stir up turmoil and strife in their own nations without spreading their problems to Wyoming. “When I find my brother, we’ll make amends. I promise you, Maggie. Amir and I will make this right.”

  She heard someone coming up the stairs and hopped off the bed as Jake pushed the door open. His clenched jaw and the parallel frown lines between his eyebrows told her that he wasn’t in the mood for a reasonable chat.

  “You can both come downstairs,” he said. “I have a deputy posted out front and another by the barn. Nobody but a damn fool would attack when they are so sure to be caught.”