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“So no one was surprised when strings were pulled to get me here as RSO at the embassy,” he finished for her.
Angelina’s eyes crinkled in embarrassment. “That is how the world works sometimes. Princess Mara made no secret of her indignation over how you were treated at your last posting. The king—he is a great king for Zakhar, you understand. But he is like clay where the women he loves are concerned. His wife and his sister. He will do anything for them.”
“I’ll bet,” Alec said dryly. “Especially if what they ask for falls nicely in line with what he wants.”
Angelina cast him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”
He smiled, but his smile had more than a touch of cynicism in it. “What if I told you the king had another—entirely different—reason for bringing me here? And what if I told you the real reason I’m here could involve you...indirectly?”
This time she was the one who stopped. “How?”
“Let’s keep walking and I’ll explain.” He turned left, bringing them to the river embankment walkway. The sun had already set, but the lights of Zakhar were reflected in the slowly moving water, making for a romantic setting—if either of them cared about that at this moment. “You told me your cousin disappeared about eight years ago, right?”
A little pang shot through her, as it always did when her missing cousin was mentioned. “Caterina,” she said softly, regretfully. “Her name is Caterina.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Puzzled, she asked, “How do you know that? I did not think I—”
“McKinnon found out for me.”
Even more puzzled than before, Angelina said, “Princess Mara’s husband? Why? I do not understand.”
“The king brought me here because there’s a human-trafficking ring operating between Zakhar and the US, for purposes of prostitution. And we suspect certain people at the US embassy might be involved. Including the previous RSOs.”
Everything fell into place and Angelina felt herself go cold despite the warm jacket she was wearing. “Oh my God,” she said, coming to a complete halt, her eyes riveted on Alec’s face. “Modeling. Caterina received a work visa from the embassy to do modeling in the US.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. “But when I went to the embassy after she disappeared without a word, no one there would speak to me. No one would help me try to find her. Oh my God.”
Alec’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Yeah. We had no idea about your cousin. Didn’t know the trafficking ring had been in operation that long—and we still don’t, not for sure. But it all fits neatly. McKinnon works for a secret US agency—I can’t tell you any more than that, other than the agency is authorized to operate both within and outside the US, which is important for legal reasons. I recruited him to help me in this investigation for that, and because he’s got a legitimate excuse for being here in Zakhar totally unrelated to anything happening at the embassy. And we’re friends—that’s well known.”
He drew a deep breath and let it out. “So the cover story is the king caved to pressure from his sister and pulled strings with the State Department to get me here. McKinnon’s here because of his wife. And together we’re secretly investigating the embassy’s involvement in trafficking in women. Including your missing cousin.”
Emotions she thought she’d long ago buried rose up suddenly, and she frantically tried to hold them back, biting her lip until it bled. Then she knew she couldn’t do it, and she buried her face in her hands as the sobs she couldn’t repress tore through her. Nearly silent sobs—at least she had enough control for that—but Alec put his arms around her, holding her tight as she wept for the cousin she still loved and missed so dreadfully.
“Shh,” he soothed. “I’m sorry, Angel.”
She choked out her cousin’s name and hid her face against Alec’s shoulder, struggling to regain control. “I never cry,” she insisted. “I do not. I really do not.” Despite the fact that she’d cried last night. Despite the fact that she was crying now.
“It’s okay to cry,” he reassured her. “If it was my little sister—if this had happened to Keira—I’d be crying, too.”
* * *
“Help! Help! Someone help!” The voice reverberated down the long, echoing hallway of the old prison on the outskirts of Drago, and two guards came running. Dinnertime for the prisoners was over, and it wasn’t yet time for bed check. But the loud voice could be heard at the guard station and beyond, and the alarm in its tone was real, not feigned, as it called out repeatedly.
