Callahan and Walker had been targets of Michael Vishenko and the revived New World Militia, as had Trace and Nick D’Arcy, along with two federal prosecutors who were—unfortunately—now dead.
Six names had been on Vishenko’s personal hit list to avenge his father, David Pennington. But Vishenko had only succeeded in eliminating two of them, and not even the two he most wanted dead. That would be Callahan and Walker, who together had killed David Pennington more than eight years ago while saving the woman who was now Callahan’s wife.
David Pennington was long dead. Michael Vishenko was now behind bars, and unless his conviction was overturned that’s where he would stay for the rest of his natural life. But he still had ties to the Russian Bratva through his uncle, Aleksandrov Vishenko. And although the New World Militia had been badly crippled by the prosecutions over the past two years and the loss of Vishenko’s fortune, it was still in existence. So the threat to all of them was real.
Now Walker said one word. “Proof?”
“Nada. I got a license plate number yesterday, but it doesn’t lead anywhere.” He tore the page from his notebook and tossed it onto Walker’s desk. “Maybe Keira would have more success than I did. She always could track down the damnedest things no one else could. It’s worth a shot anyway.”
Walker steepled his fingers and held them against his lips, nodding absently. “So what do you want to do?”
Trace had known when he walked in here what he was going to ask for. It was the perfect opportunity, the perfect out. And it happened to be the truth, so he wouldn’t have to disclose anything about the princess and him in order to be taken off the case. “I know I signed up for the whole nine yards, but I think you’re going to have to replace me on the team guarding the princess. If someone’s gunning for me, she could very easily get caught in the crossfire. And that is not going to happen, not if I have anything to say about it.”
At Walker’s grimace Trace said, “State was wrong—it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. But they don’t need me to spy on her. She’s not involved in the politics of Zakhar in any way. Hell, she’s not even in the line of succession. Keira’s brothers haven’t overheard a single word worth reporting to the State Department in four months, and neither have I. So that part of the assignment is a total bust.”
“It won’t be easy finding someone to replace you at a moment’s notice.”
“Let State deal with it. You don’t have to sacrifice someone from the agency, do you? They asked for me in the first place because I’m fluent in Zakharan, but the Jones brothers can understand it pretty well so that’s no longer a prime concern...”
“I’ll see what I can do. When do you want off?”
“Tomorrow too soon?” Trace laughed wryly at his boss’s expression. “Just kidding. But if she’s in danger because of me, the sooner the better. The fall term ends two and a half weeks from now, and the princess is planning to return to Zakhar for Christmas break. Could you arrange it so that someone else takes over when she returns? Earlier if you can swing it. It’s hard enough guarding her as a target because of who she is. But if I have to guard her against my enemies as well...”
“You’re right,” Walker said. “Damn!” He slammed his fist on his desk. “I don’t mind replacing you on that team. In fact, a case came up just the other day that’s right up your alley, and I had to assign it to someone else because you weren’t available. It’ll be great having you back with the agency. But if what you suspect is true, if you’re in danger, that means Callahan, Keira, and I are, too.”
“And Alyssa,” Trace said in a soft but deadly voice.
Alyssa’s father’s face turned hard and cold. “And Alyssa,” he agreed in a voice even softer than Trace’s. And even more deadly.
* * *
Two and a half weeks, Trace told himself as he walked out of Walker’s office and headed for the elevator. At the most. That’s all I have left.
It was devastating knowing that once he was off the assignment he’d never see the princess again. But he’d done the right thing. For her. Love isn’t about what I want, what I need. This is what’s best for her.
So why did it feel as if every instinct was screaming at him, “Don’t do it!” He knew the princess was waiting for him to tell her he loved her. For the past four days he’d sensed her patiently waiting. She knew he loved her. How could she not? he asked himself. You all but told her at the cabin last Sunday. Every time their eyes met, every warm, confiding smile she gave him, told him more than the words she didn’t say that she knew he loved her as she loved him. Unconditionally.