Romancing the Crown: Max & Elena: The Disenchanted Duke

“I am being taken prisoner against my will,” Weber suddenly yelled, pushing himself forward.

Though Salim was handcuffed to Cara, it was Max who pushed him back with the flat of his hand.

Surprised, the valet looked from Cara, to the man she was handcuffed to, to the other man with them, clearly in a quandary.

“Help me and I shall reward you,” Weber promised urgently.

Cara twisted Weber’s arm behind his back while smiling sweetly at the valet.

“Don’t let him fool you,” she warned. “Kevin kids like this all the time. We’re professional actors. We give shows in front of children’s groups all over the state. Kevin just did a line from A Thousand and One Arabian Nights. Pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, ma’am, um—” At a loss who to believe, the valet plucked the ticket from Max’s hand and hurried off to retrieve the car that corresponded to the number on it. He was too nervous to look back.

One corner of Max’s mouth curved upward. “A Thousand and One Arabian Nights?”

She shrugged. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

It had just popped into her head when she’d looked at Weber’s olive complexion. It struck her that the man looked a little like he might have come from some country in the Far East.

She had no idea how close to the mark she’d come, Max thought. There was no doubt in his mind, now that he had seen “Weber” and listened to him speak that the man had to have originated from Tamir, the small island country that was not too far from Montebello. There were dark forces that originated from Tamir, forces that formed terrorists groups who disagreed with the current house in power there. And with nearly everyone else as well.

Silent up until this outburst, Weber cursed their souls to eternal hell.

“You will pay for this,” he growled. “Both of you.” He glared at Max contemptuously, his eyes becoming tiny, dark slits. “Especially you.”

“No,” Cara corrected. “You’ll pay—or at least the bail bondsman will.”

She looked from the prisoner at her side to Max, getting an uneasy feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle that she was missing or had somehow overlooked. Was she going to be in any kind of danger, going off with these two? Had she let her guard down already with the wrong person?

“You two know each other?” Weber lapsed into sullen silence. Turning, Cara looked at the private detective. “Well?”

He’d never seen Weber before he’d dispatched to bring him home. But that wasn’t to say that Weber didn’t know him. Half of Europe probably did, thanks to the tabloids. It had made big news when he’d disappeared off the face of the earth, only to eventually turn up in the States. “By reputation.”

Cagey, she thought. He wasn’t really answering her. “So what’s he supposed to have done?”

He might have not known “Weber” but he knew his type. “Blown up a few things,” Max said matter-of-factly.

She looked at Weber just as the valet finally drove up Max’s car.

“Are you a terrorist, Weber?” There was a momentary flash of recognition in his eyes, but only surly silence met her question.

The valet hopped out of the black sports cars, looking at it enviously. He held the keys out to Max.

“It’s all yours.” He grinned from ear to ear like a friendly puppy when Max took the keys from him and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “Sure I can’t get that hacksaw for you?”

“We’re sure,” Max told him. He realized that Cara was moving toward the driver’s side. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She stopped, her hand on the driver’s door. “I’m driving.”

“Not attached to him you’re not. Besides, it’s my car, remember?” He could see that she was debating unhandcuffing herself so that she could take control of the vehicle. But her desire not to lose control of the prisoner won out.

“I’ll get in the back,” she muttered.

Max nodded. “Good idea.”

She pushed Weber ahead of her into the vehicle, then slid in after him. It was going to be a long trip, she thought.

She shouldn’t have had the extra large cola.

Her thirst had been overwhelming and gotten the better of her. When they had pulled into the last drive-through, over two hours ago, she hadn’t really cared about getting anything to eat, but she had been eager to get something to drink.

Now she regretted it.

She needed to go to the bathroom. Bad. But there was no way she was going to bring Weber into the rest room with her. Neither did she want to leave him outside with Ryker and take a chance on being left stranded at some rundown gas station on highway 25, halfway between Colorado and hell.

Cara squirmed as discreetly as possible, telling herself it was merely a case of mind over matter. If she could just wrap her mind around something else, this urgent feeling she had wouldn’t matter.

They’d driven in relative silence for the last hundred miles, rock songs from the eighties on the radio filling the emptiness within the car. The emptiness outside the car was almost overpowering.

In the distance, to the far left, Max saw what looked to be a vulture circling over something. It didn’t give him a warm feeling.

This truly was a desolate country, he thought. At least, large sections of it were. His own country was little more than the size of New Mexico itself, with about as many people. It filled him with awe to be within a country that was so large, it could fit scores of countries within its borders.

Max looked in his rearview mirror, not at the road he’d just passed, but at the woman in the back. Unaware of his scrutiny, she appeared to be in a great deal of discomfort. He smiled to himself. It undoubtedly had to do with that huge container of soda she’d consumed.

He was beginning to know the way she thought. She was probably afraid that if she took off her handcuff and made a stop at a rest room, he’d take off with the prisoner. The way, he had no doubt, that she would—unless he actually got her to give him her word. The fact that she had called room service before they left with the prisoner had shown him that she was honorable in her own way. It just took a bit of doing to tap into that honor.

As he’d told her earlier, he really wasn’t sure just what to make of her.

Max glanced at the fuel gauge on the dashboard. The needle was beginning to dip below the quarter of a tank mark. They could definitely use a refill at the next station. Looking at the GPS monitor on his dashboard for his location, he hit the sign to locate the closest gas station in the area. The answer came up almost immediately. God, but he loved technology.

“There’s a gas station five miles down the road.” He watched her face for a reaction as he added, “What do you say we get some gas and get out to stretch our legs? I’m getting a little punchy playing chauffeur up here.”

To his surprise, she looked more distressed than relieved. That didn’t make any sense.

A gas station. That meant a bathroom. Oh God, why had she thought of that?

She pressed her legs together beneath the white dress, the gun digging into her skin. Cara shifted uncomfortably. “Okay by me.”

They were there almost before the conversation was finished.

Pulling the car up to the pump, Max got out first. Instead of beginning to fill the tank, he opened the rear door.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He took her arm and ushered her out. She was forced to pull Weber in her wake, but Max stopped her before she allowed the man to get out.

“Why don’t you uncouple yourself from Weber and use the facilities?” Max suggested, lowering his voice. “Maybe change out of that dress into something a little more practical?”