Royal Scandals: The Royal Bastard Part 4

"Before we do anything else, let's get food. Then I need to brush my teeth and find clothes other than these." She'd rather not wear dirty sweats and a nightgown to the police station.

"Food's easy. Kos keeps a few essentials on board, though it's nothing grand. And check the storage s.p.a.ce under the bed. Some of the clothes might fit you." He eyed the moccasins she'd kicked off next to the bed. As some point last night, the st.i.tching had come apart on the side of one. "Can't help with shoes, though."

She bent down to open the drawer, hoping she didn't sound ungrateful as she asked, "Your mother's?"

"Lina's. When she visited last summer, she stayed here instead of at the villa so she could go island-hopping along the coast. Accidentally left a few things behind."

While Rocco checked out the mini-fridge and cabinet to see what Kos had stocked, Justine found a sundress, a pair of jeans, two T-s.h.i.+rts and a hooded sweats.h.i.+rt. "You never sent them back to her?"

"I offered, but she said she'd pick them up next time she was in town." He located a carton of Parmalat and an unopened box of cereal. "Guess she forgot after the funeral."

Mention of the funeral cast a pall over them both. "If I haven't said it yet, I'm sorry about your mother."

"You haven't, but you didn't exactly have the opportunity. Thank you." He handed her a bowl of cereal once she'd replaced her nightgown with the jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt. The jeans were a little tight on her thighs, but pa.s.sable, and better than the mud-stained sweatpants.

"Why'd you come to my mother's funeral?"

Justine nearly dropped her bowl at the unexpected question, though she should've known he'd seen her hiding near the tree. "I wanted to say goodbye."

"You and my mother weren't exactly bosom buddies."

Honesty time. "I wasn't there for her so much as for you. I wanted to say goodbye to you."

His rear end hit the chair harder than it should've as he took a seat across from her. Though his, "Really?" sounded perfectly calm, it came too late to hide the bone-deep pain that flashed in Rocco's eyes before he looked down at his cereal to pour milk and shovel in a bite. That quick look grabbed Justine by the gut and twisted her inside out. She wished there was a way to make this easier.

"That phone call? I had a job interview scheduled this morning. I suspect it's out of the question now, but the opportunity excited me enough that I'll pursue others."

"A job? Doing what?"

The disbelief in his voice rankled. "I'm capable of working, Rocco. I finished my degree during the off-seasons."

"I didn't say you weren't capable-"

"Your tone of voice did." She stirred the flakes, which held no appeal despite the hunger gnawing at her belly. "It's in broadcasting. I'd cover World Cup skiing and certain events at the Winter X Games."

"No one would be better." He took a bite of his cereal and considered her as he swallowed. "You'd be traveling again."

"Mostly in the States. Colorado, Utah, Tahoe. Not like when I was competing."

"You'd move back to Tahoe?"

"Moot point now." The network probably had a dozen other former winter athletes chomping at the bit for the job.

"You didn't want to talk it over with me first?"

Tension filled the confines of the boat's cabin. A move home meant divorce, and they both knew it. It was the one word they'd never said aloud. She hadn't been willing to broach the subject with Rocco until she had to.

"Rocco, there was no guarantee I'd get the job. But I didn't know how to...I mean...with all you've had going on-"

"Bull." Rocco's spoon clattered against the table and he reached for her hand. His fingers encircled hers. "I allowed issues with my mother to come between us. That's why you didn't feel you could talk to me. Not because I was distracted."

Justine allowed her eyes to drift closed for a moment and shook her head as Rocco caressed her thumb with his stronger one. She should pull away. But her heart missed the feeling of having him hold her hand. He'd always been her sanity. Her rock. Until he kept Teresa's secrets and made her feel like the third wheel in her own marriage.

"She's gone, Justine."

"Does it matter?" Even as the words left her mouth, Justine thought better of them. She looked apologetically at Rocco. Twin lines of exhaustion creased his brow and his hair was a dark, ruffled mess, but he contemplated her with the same golden-flecked light brown eyes she'd fallen for that night when they'd met in Garmisch. The night they'd talked about everything but the compet.i.tion she'd just finished and the medical conference he was in town to attend. She'd known that night he was the most interesting, intelligent man she'd ever met. If anyone would get the better of her, it'd be Rocco Cornaro. She'd welcomed the challenge.

Until now. Now it hurt.

"That didn't come out right," she said. "What I meant is, no matter what my issues with Teresa, it doesn't address the deeper issue in our relations.h.i.+p."

"The horrid s.e.x?" His fingers tightened fractionally around hers.

She couldn't help but grin at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"Trust, then."

"Trust," she acknowledged. "How can I talk to you when you won't talk to me? When you won't let me see who you are on the inside? What's truly going on in your life?"

"I'm trying to do that now."

Right. Rocco talked, but without touching upon what mattered. Unable to finish her breakfast, Justine slid her fingers from Rocco's and rinsed her bowl in the sink. It bought her time to breathe. Once she shut off the water and dried her hands, she spun to face him. She had so many questions. She started with one she hoped he could answer.

"Who were those men?"

Chapter Six.

It was the question he'd been dreading since they fled down the alley, but it was easier to address than the question of their marriage.

"The skinny guy's name is Viktor Radich."

She blinked, apparently surprised that he had an answer. "The guy you took down?"

"You trying to make the point that you took down the big one?"

She shrugged, but he saw in her eyes that he'd given her ego a boost. "Maybe."

"Radich was the man I tackled. The one with the gun was Anton Karpovsky." Rocco leaned back in his chair. "He looked ready to throw up when we ran. What'd you do, knee him?"

"Elbow, but the same effect as a knee. Then I hit him with the car door." Her shoulders tensed and a dark look pa.s.sed over her face. "Didn't stop him from shooting at us, though. Those were real bullets. He wanted to kill us."

"I don't think that was Plan A." It was as much comfort as he could offer under the circ.u.mstances.

"Could've fooled me. You know that guy came into my room while I was packing? Right through my locked window and pointed a gun at me as easily as you handed me that bowl of cereal. Like he'd done it so many times before, he was on autopilot."

A full-body shudder rocked Justine. Her pride at escaping such a powerful man evaporated as she spoke and the impact of the night's events settled over her. Rocco guided her to the bed. She needed to sit, to work the fear out of her system and realize she was safe, at least for the time being.

Once she settled, he put an arm around her shoulders, hoping a gentle touch would drain her tension. "Tell me exactly what happened."

She heaved out a breath. "I heard a noise by the window when I came out of the bathroom, and there he was. He let me put on my sweatpants and slippers first, but said if I made a sound on the fire escape, he'd shoot my neighbors. He would've done it, too. I don't know what those men wanted, but if he'd gotten me into that car, I might dead now." She slid her gaze sideways. "They're Russian, aren't they? That's what the accents sounded like. The big guy, especially."

"I think they're Russian mafia. Or hired by the Russian mafia."

"Are you serious?" She fisted her hands against her thighs and turned to fully face him. He allowed his arm to slide from her shoulder and rested his hand on the bed beside her. "Wow. You are. You knew they were coming after me?"

"I didn't know if the threat was real."

"But you were warned. By whom? Them?"

"No, definitely not those two." Telling her the truth would open a can of worms he couldn't deal with at this very moment, not in addition to the threat of losing their marriage, or worse, their lives, if they didn't act quickly and sensibly right now. "But I don't know how much I trust the source."

"I'd say that source knew what they were talking about."

"On that point, apparently so." Nevertheless, he didn't trust Fabrizia. The woman's very existence had made his mother's life a living h.e.l.l...at least until his mother found Jack Cornaro and the will to walk away from Carlo.

"Yet you won't tell me who."

"No."

Frustration thinned her lips. "All right, then. Why would the Russian mafia kidnap me? And why would whoever-it-is tell you instead of coming straight to me? I don't have the connections or the profile I used to, not like I did before my accident. I have a decent amount of money socked away from my endors.e.m.e.nt deals, but it's not enough to tempt kidnappers."

"They wanted to get to me. To my newest designs." He stood, needing to pace, but the constricted cabin didn't allow for much movement. "Once they had you, they could bargain for my work. It's worth more than either of us could afford in ransom."

Her expression changed as understanding dawned. "There's too much security at the villa and your office to make you an easy target. That's why they came for me."

"Exactly." Justine had been there when he'd had the system installed. She understood that his net worth-the proceeds from his earlier medical devices and the reputation they had earned him in the medical community-made him a target for thieves.

"You know I've been working on a new pump," he told her. "As of last week, the designs are complete. I'm ready to move on to build the prototype and file the patent application. If it works-and I believe it will-it'll be a big step forward in controlling Type I diabetes. It'll be much better than current pumps in the accuracy with which it reads a patient's blood sugar levels, then self-dispenses the appropriate level of hormones. It'll also be less expensive to manufacture than current devices."

"I thought you were still months or even years away." Her eyebrows lifted. "You made a lot of progress."

"I haven't told you the best part." He couldn't keep the thrill from his voice. "It's small and it's simple. So small and simple that-if parents are given the right training in how to use it-it can work for toddlers. We've been after a reliable treatment method for toddlers for so long...I could die a happy man if this works."

"Rocco, that's incredible."

"Thank you." The look of genuine appreciation on her face-despite the fact he knew she was still angry with him-gave him hope. And, he had to admit, he wanted her to be proud of him. Of what he'd accomplished, of how many children his work could help. "Unfortunately, I'm apparently not the only one who knows its value. Radich was renting the office above mine. He's a computer guru and a surveillance expert, which means he was likely able to see or hear what I was doing, even if he couldn't get to the work itself."

"You think they'll try to break into your office?"

"If he was able to watch me, he'd know I rarely left anything of value overnight, and with my mother's funeral, I wouldn't be at my lab for several days. I kept the software and product design on a memory stick and stored it in the villa's safe. I have it in the backpack."

He could see the wheels spinning in Justine's head as she eyed the black bag in the corner of the cabin. "If they had that stick, they could copy your work and sell it."

He nodded. "There are certain countries where companies will pay dearly for medical technology without regard to the fact it's stolen. More than I'm worth. Those thugs would rather have my designs than any kidnap ransom I can afford."

"You don't think they'll stop looking for us, do you?"

"Not as things stand." He settled beside her on the bed once more, though he didn't touch her. "I've partnered with two of my professors from the Biomedical Engineering department at Johns Hopkins on the pump's development. They'll be responsible for building the prototype and starting the testing process. If we deliver the designs to them, it makes things much tougher for the Russians. First, it'll be harder to steal from the university than from me, even with all my security. Second, I can finalize the patent application. Once that's filed, the Russians' ability to command top dollar will disintegrate." He waved his hand like a magician concluding a magic trick. "Poof, the threat to us is gone."

Her gaze went to his backpack once again. "Since you have the laptop and the memory stick here, can you e-mail everything?"

"I'd never send it over e-mail. The laptop I use for design work isn't even connected to the Internet. Too vulnerable to hackers. It's possible that's why Radich was brought in on this job...to hack into my computer and steal the designs without me being aware of it." Rocco had been turning over possible solutions in his head ever since they boarded the boat, but there was only one. "We have to go to Baltimore. Deliver the designs in person."

Her eyes widened. "We?"

"It's the only way I'll know you're safe. If I were to leave without you-"

"I'd go straight to the police." This time, she put a hand on his knee. "I'll be perfectly safe."

"No."

She pulled away, disbelief clouding her gaze. "You don't even trust the police?"

"It's not about trust. Police are obliged to follow procedure, which means they'll focus first on what happened at your apartment last night. We'd spend hours being grilled about it-how I knew those men were coming, who warned me, what I know about them-and that won't decrease the risk to our safety. If anything, it'll put us in a place where it's easy for Radich and Karpovsky-and anyone else who's working with them-to find us. The minute we walk out of that station, we're sitting ducks."

"You're asking me to trust you" -her mouth pinched in anger- "yet you won't tell me how you knew I was about to be kidnapped. You don't want to go to the police-I know you're not giving me the full story there-and you still won't even tell me why you and your mother found a d.a.m.ned entertainment report fascinating. Yet you want me to follow you to Baltimore, without so much as my own toothbrush-"

"Not follow. Come with." He couldn't help but flash a grin. "And you can keep that toiletry kit, so you technically have your own toothbrush."

"Rocco-"

"I promise, no horrid s.e.x."

"No s.e.x at all!"

"Ouch." He faked a stab to the chest. "But acceptable if it means you'll come to Baltimore."

She crossed her arms. "I don't have my pa.s.sport."

"It's in the backpack. You never took it to your apartment, remember? I brought both pa.s.sports from the safe."

"You're too smart for your own d.a.m.ned good."

"Apparently, or the Russians wouldn't want my designs."

She raised her thumbs to her temples and ma.s.saged small circles, as if that would help her decide, and muttered, "I am really unhappy about this."

He kept quiet, allowing her to think. After a long moment, she dropped her hands and said, "I'll go with you to Baltimore on one condition. You tell me everything you know. About those Russians, about who warned you they were coming. About why the police make you hesitant. And about your mother."

"It's not that simple. There are other people involved. People with a lot to lose." As much as Rocco hated what Carlo had done to his mother, the king's other children didn't deserve to suffer the media storm that would occur if the truth were ever revealed. They'd done nothing wrong, and by all accounts, they were good, hardworking people. Prince Stefano even had children of his own...as Rocco learned from the entertainment report that'd spurred the argument with Justine in the first place.

"If I have to trust you, then you have to trust me enough to explain." Justine stood, then grabbed her slippers and discarded nightgown from the floor. "If you can't, I'm outta here. I'll take my chances with the police."