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“One dance,” she begged.
How could he explain that the woman he was gone over had left her home for the first time in years, was at this royal wedding, and he could not let her disappear or get snatched up by somebody else?
“I apologize, but you’ll have to pardon me,” he said to the redhead. “I’m needed at the gates, you see.” It wasn’t really lying as he’d left Livvy by those gates and he prayed she did need him, not just for protection but to hold, love, and heal her.
Nodding to the group, he hurried away from them, ignoring a few mutters about ‘hard-to-get Augustinian hotties.’
He and Tristan were not entertaining Princess Ellery’s American friends properly. He’d be a horrible politician, but politics and entertaining groups of women weren’t his focus. Police work was. He wanted Livvy Moser to be. If he could find her.
He did a quick scan of the dance area, the refreshment table, and the seating areas around the open courtyard as he made his way toward the gates where he’d left Livvy. He saw a photographer focused on him and hoped his fake smile looked good. As the chief of police and General Ray’s best friend, he had to deal with the press at times. He hurried on, hoping they wouldn’t ask for a statement.
Where was Livvy? He knew she was safe with the heightened security, clearance requirements, and advanced imagining technology scans Ray had installed for the wedding, but he still felt uneasy. Was that only selfishness on his part, or was Livvy in trouble?
“What’s the rush, Chief-y Chief?” A man swayed in front of him, wineglass in hand. Ramone Pitcher looked and sounded like he’d already had a few too many.
“I’m meeting someone. Excuse me.” He brushed by him.
“The all-important police chief,” Ramone hurled at his back and suddenly he sounded very sober. “If you weren’t the puppet of the royal family, you’d see that all their lies and secret deals are about to be exposed. You might not be so high and mighty for much longer.”
Jensen spun to face the weasel. He strode back to the man. Ramone cowered, scuttled backward, and ran into a chair. He looked very, very sober with his eyes round with fear.
“What do you know?” Jensen asked, steel in his tone and the look in his eyes that told a criminal not to mess with him. Maybe not the most advisable look to use on a junior member of parliament, but this guy bothered him. Ramone seemed to relish any bit of power he could get his paws on.
“Nothing,” Ramone murmured.
“Nothing?” Jensen stared him down. The man wisely looked away. “You stepped in front of me, threatened the royal family, and you know ‘nothing’?”
As the prime minister’s wife had been kidnapped by William and Naomi Rindlesbacher two weeks ago with no sightings yet, and the prime minister hadn’t shown up at the wedding, Jensen couldn’t afford to dismiss any jerk’s words. Even if Ramone had let himself have one too many drinks. He wasn’t someone Jensen could underestimate. He wanted to throw him in a cell for the night, but that would cause an issue with Parliament, and Jensen hadn’t recorded the threats.
“The Rindlesbachers are still at large.” Ramone dared meet his gaze again.
“Are you in league with them, Ramone?” Jensen loomed over the shorter man, hoping the guy felt threatened.
“No. I wouldn’t do that.” He jutted out his chin, rubbing at the condensation on his wine glass with soft fingers. This man was a politician to the core and soft physically, but he was still a dangerous adversary. “I’m only saying you need to keep your eyes open so you can keep the royal family and our beautiful country safe.”
“Your first line sounded nothing like that.”
Ramone gave a nervous laugh and held up the crystal goblet. “Fourth glass.”
Jensen rolled his eyes. Was the guy a pompous annoyance like Jensen had always assumed, was he actually tipsy and that had made him brasher than usual, or was there any truth to his statements?
“I’m watching you,” he finally said.
Ramone’s eyes widened. For the first time, he didn’t flap his jaw. He nodded, downed the rest of his drink, then mumbled something about a refill as he took a nervous step backward.
Jensen made a mental note to check into Ramone’s associations, voting on policies, and background.
Only not right now. Right now, he had to find Livvy.
He gave Ramone one more pointed stare. The man quivered and then staggered away. He was a tool. Jensen hated when people like that got into Parliament. Ramone could talk a good show to get appointed, but Jensen would bet he was swayed or bought by anyone who wanted his vote. Hopefully he wasn’t on the Rindlesbachers’ payroll. Impressive how well those people hid their bribes and money trail and how well they worked their manipulation, intimidation, and threats. Jensen wanted to rescue Leslie Shule from their ugly hands, but it had been blessedly quiet the past couple weeks without a Rindlesbacher scheme to fight against. Was something stirring again? The rest of the world and the media finally knew how horrible William and Naomi were, and many police forces and international crime organizations had them on their radar. Would they dare make another play for the crown?
Striding away from the wedding crowd, he finally made it to the gate.
“Who are you chasing after?” Princess Macey, his best friend Ray’s new wife, said from behind him.
He turned and saw Macey and Ray approach, Macey with a teasing grin and Ray not quite as serious as usual.
“Only the most beautiful and talented woman in the kingdom,” he teased back.
