The Disenchanted Duke Page 13

  "Here, Bryce, put this man in jail so you can sign the papers. I want to collect my money and be on my way," Cara said to the sheriff. "Know what?" she demanded, turning toward Alice.

  The woman had always struck her as being more than a little ditzy, her face stuck in a magazine, her head in the clouds. She knew the sheriff kept Alice on despite her lack of professionalism because she was his wife's niece. Bryce was nothing if not loyal, but even he knew that the young woman would have never made it in the real world.

  Max frowned. Damn it, he'd have thought that in an out-of-the-way place like Shady Rock, he wouldn't encounter what he was always on his guard against. Being recognized. One look at the young woman's face and Max knew that the charade was up. He'd seen the same starstruck expression ad nauseum before he had finally decided to abandon the merry-go-round he was on and cleave to a life of anonymity across the ocean.

  Because the tabloids referred to him by an alliterated nickname he found irritating—the disenchanted duke—and the infernal paparazzi who were pedaling photographs taken of him almost a decade ago, his former life insisted on haunting him and disrupting the life he had made for himself here in the States.

  Trying to ignore the adoring stare the receptionist had fixed on him, Max turned toward the sheriff. He had to put in his claim to the prisoner before things blew up in his face.

  "Sheriff, I need to speak to you regarding the prisoner."

  The sheriff looked at him uncertainly, trying to figure out why Alice looked so loopy. He kept one eye trained on the man Cara had brought in. "What about the prisoner?"

  Max glanced at Cara. He could see that she was rapidly becoming annoyed. "It seems that Ms. Rivers and I have equal claim to him."

  "I got to him first," Cara insisted, still leery of being aced out of the bounty money. Just because Ryker had been everything she'd needed last night didn't mean that she was going to allow herself to get blindsided by him when it came to the bounty.

  Trying to remain impartial, the sheriff shook his head. "Sorry, but as far as I know, there's only one bounty on him and if Cara says she got to him first, then it belongs to her."

  As they negotiated, Weber became more and more verbally abusive, while Alice looked as if she was alternating between wanting to jump out of her skin and being struck dumb.

  Trying to ignore the latter, Max kept his eye on the former. "It's not about a bounty, it's about getting this man back to Montebello."

  "Montebello?" The sheriff wasn't surprised. The mystery of the missing prince had been on TV again recently. Then a man—Tyler Ramsey, if he recalled correctly—had shown up on behalf of the Montebellan authorities, asking about the bail jumper.

  Alice finally found her tongue. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. This is Maximillian Sebastiani. The Disenchanted Duke."

  She triumphantly held up a magazine, then flipped to the proper page. There was a family layout, taken when Max was thirteen. The year before his mother died.

  Seeing the photograph of his mother, sitting serenely beside her husband, bracketed by her sons, made Max's heart ache. He would have given anything if that smile on her face had been genuine, had been merited.

  But even as the photograph was being taken, his mother had been dealing with his father's latest infidelity. The man had never made an effort to be discreet. He hadn't cared enough about her feelings to do that.

  Pushing herself in front of the sheriff and directly in Max's face, Alice curtsied awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, Your Highness. I'm Alice Horton."

  Taking her hand, he drew the woman to her feet. "I'm not 'Your Highness.' That title is strictly for my uncle."

  "Your uncle?" Cara echoed, staring at Max, completely stunned. What the hell was going on here? Just who had she made love with last night?

  "The king," Alice told her importantly. She pointed to a man in the background of the photograph. "King Marcus of Montebello."

  Looking at the photograph, Cara's eyes grew wide. She looked back at Max. "Your uncle's a king?" This all sounded too implausible for words. Yes, he was charming in a rugged sort of way, but a duke? This had to be some kind of joke.

  Trapped, Max had no recourse but to tell the truth. "Yes. It's a small country." He realized that he was apologizing for his identity. He hadn't meant to, but Rivers looked so astonished, and not in a good way, he felt the need to try to smooth things over.

  "Kingdom," Alice interjected with a heartfelt sigh, pressing the magazine to her chest, her eyes fastened on Max as if they would never turn elsewhere again. "It's a kingdom."

  This was a little too much to digest. The sheriff looked from his niece to the man she was mooning over. "All right. What do you need with regard to this prisoner?"

  Without realizing it, Cara fisted her hands on her hips. She glared at Max. He made her feel like a complete idiot. Had he been laughing at her the entire time he'd made love with her?

  "Yes, that's what I want to know."

  For the moment, Max ignored the furious woman next to him. His duty came first. "My country has a warrant out for this man's arrest and my uncle, King Marcus, would consider it a political favor on the part of your country if you would allow me to bring him back to face official charges in Montebello. There is an extradition treaty in effect. I will bring him back once things are squared away."

  But Cara had only heard one thing. "Your country," she jeered. "And here I thought that 'your country' was the U.S."

  Max glanced at her, perturbed. Calling Montebello his country had been an unfortunate slip on his part, made necessary by the circumstances. After all, he was representing Montebello in this.

  "It is, now," Max clarified. "But I was born in Montebello." He lost the first layer of his patience. "Look, Sheriff, I don't have time to argue about this. I need to return to Montebello with this man as soon as possible."

  Rather than let the sheriff answer, Cara broke in. This wasn't acceptable. There was too much at stake. "He's not going anywhere until I get my bounty money."

  The money again. It just didn't add up for him. Rivers didn't seem like the obsessively greedy type. But then, maybe he'd misread her. Considering the short time that they'd been thrown together, he couldn't exactly call himself an expert on the woman.

  "You'll get your money once the king is finished with him." Provided, he added silently, that it was really that simple. If Weber had had anything to do with the crown prince of Montebello' s plane crash and disappearance, the king would never be finished with him. "You have my word."

  "I don't want your word," she informed him tersely, "I want the money." She looked at the sheriff. "I need it now, Sheriff, and if you don't sign those papers, I won't be getting it. There's a time factor involved. Weber has to be back before tomorrow, noon, otherwise, I forfeit the bounty. Well, he's here. Any deal you make with the duke here is between you, him, the court and the bail bondsman." Her tone indicated that she wasn't about to be drawn into the discussion, or budge from her stand. "Now process the papers for me so I can see Phil about the reward and we'll call it a day."

  Faced with this dilemma, the sheriff knew he couldn't just take the high road or proceed the way he would have wanted to. There were rules to follow, even if he didn't like it. Ruffling a foreign government's feathers was not something he was about to undertake.

  "Can't do that, Cara."

  Max saw thunder in her eyes.

  "Wait, I have an idea," he interjected quickly.

  She'd just bet he did.

  Chapter 12

  Max started to take her arm in order to lead her off to the side, but Cara shrugged him away. Her eyes were cold when she looked at him.

  "You can talk without manhandling me."

  What the hell was she talking about? "Rivers, I'm just trying to take you aside."

  "Fine."

  Cara moved to the side of the room of her own volition. She didn't want him touching her, didn't want to run any risk of being swayed by the mere pressure of his hand.
He'd already done too much damage to her last night as it was.

  Part of her had actually begun to believe he was a good guy, and then he pulled this stunt on her. She should have known he was no different than the rest. Ryker, or whatever he called himself, was just setting her up.

  Well, if he thought she was going to bow down before his wishes like some little dandelion in the wind, he was in for a shock.

  Cara glared as she swung around to face him. "Talk," she ordered.

  A man could get frostbite from a glare like that. Maybe he had it coming, Max thought. "I'll write you a check for the ten thousand."

  Whatever she expected him to say, it wasn't this. "You'll do what?"

  "Write you a check for the ten thousand," Max repeated.

  She didn't believe him. This had to be a trick, a set-up of some kind. "In what? Montebellan Monopoly money?"

  He laughed shortly. "We don't have Monopoly over there and the check will be payable in American money. I have a bank account in Los Angeles."

  Some of her anger abated as she tried to make sense of the offer. "Why would you do that?"

  It was the look in her eyes that did it, but he knew saying that would only have him falling into a fresh cauldron of trouble. In the interest of peace, he grasped at the most logical explanation.

  "Because you did catch Weber fair and square and because I don't have the time to argue over this. The sooner I get him to Montebello, the sooner I can return him."

  If, indeed, he could return him, Max added silently. More than likely, the crimes that "Weber" had committed in Montebello were more heinous than the one he was charged with in the U.S. Then he knew he wouldn't be able to return Weber. And even if he could return the man, as Rivers had already pointed out, if she didn't have Weber in jail by tomorrow morning, she wasn't eligible to collect the bounty. Since the money seemed to mean so much to her, it was only fair that she should get it.

  There was still suspicion in her eyes, as if she was waiting for him to spring something on her. "You'd do that?"

  "Yes."

  She didn't know of anyone who had that kind of money to throw around just because they felt guilty about what they were doing.

  "If you're that well-off, what are you doing playing private eye—" Her eyes narrowed. "Or was that a lie, too?"

  "No, that wasn't a fabrication." He deliberately avoided the word lie. "I am a licensed private investigator." Max reached for his wallet. "I can show you my license."

  She waved him away. If the man was a good liar, he would have covered that base as well. Besides, she didn't need to see anything, bogus or authentic. What mattered was the bounty, or its equal.

  "All right, I'll take the check." Cara fixed him with a warning look. "And if it bounces, I'll hunt you down and you know I can do that."

  The grin was spontaneous. "Yes, I know you can do that."

  Max turned back to the sheriff, who watched them calmly. His secretary made enough fuss for both of them. Leaning over to hear as much of the conversation between him and Rivers as she could, Alice looked as if she were in danger of falling.

  "All right, Sheriff, we've come to an agreement. I'll have the proper authorities notify you regarding the legalities concerning transferring custody of the prisoner to Montebello. I'll be taking him back with me."

  The sheriff nodded. "Fine. Send your paperwork so that the lawyers and whoever'll be satisfied. As for me, I've got only one stipulation, Duke." He grinned. "Makes me feel like I'm talking to John Wayne. They called him the Duke, you know."

  Max nodded. "So I've heard. What's your stipulation?"

  The soft brown eyes shifted toward Cara. "That she goes with you to Montebello."

  Max stared at the sheriff, stunned. "What?"

  Alice looked on wistfully, wishing that there was some reason that she could be sent along instead, or at least as well.

  Cara's mouth dropped open. There was no way she wanted to go anywhere with this man, much less leave the country. As far as she was concerned, her job was done. "Me?"

  "Yes, you." He'd been sheriff long enough to know an argument when he saw one coming and wouldn't let her protest until he said his piece. "I want that guy back to pay for what he did here. The man tried to break into the Chambers' ranch house. We can't have things like that going on. Things like that have got to be made right. Now, we may look like some backwater hick place to you, Duke, but backwater or not, we've got rules. One of those rules is that if you do something wrong, you're going to have to pay for it. Now Cara here's the one person that I know'll bring him back once the smoke clears." He smiled at Cara, meaning every word as a compliment. "She's like a pit bull."

  She frowned. She'd had better compliments in her time. "Thank you."

  The sheriff saw nothing wrong in his assessment. "Don't mention it." He motioned to the cell phone that Max had just taken out of his pocket. "Now, you conclude your business any way you feel you have to, but if Cara doesn't go with you to that place of yours, neither does Weber." To get his point across, he adjusted his gun belt. "And I am the law here."

  Max paused for a moment, thinking. This put a new wrinkle in things. But none that he felt particularly alarmed over. He glanced at Cara. The woman, he noted, didn't exactly looked ecstatic at the turn of events.

  "It's all right with me if it's all right with Rivers."

  Oh, no, he wasn't going to put this on her shoulders. She didn't want to go with him, especially after he'd neglected to mention some important facts about his identity. But if he thought she was going to go hide in some corner with hurt feelings, or let him get away with Weber, well, surprise. She wasn't.

  "I don't see where I have much choice in the matter," she said slowly, "seeing as how I'm beholden" to the sheriff."

  It was the sheriff, at the behest of Bridgette, who he had a great deal of respect for, who had gotten her the job with Phil in the first place. On his own, Phil would have never taken her seriously as a bounty hunter. "All right, write that check, Ryker, excuse me, Duke," she corrected sarcastically. "I just need enough time to see someone just outside of town and then I'm ready to go wherever I have to."

  Digging into his pocket, Max took out his checkbook. "Shall I make it out to you?" It was a rhetorical question. He'd fully expected her to say yes as he reached for a pen on the sheriff's desk. Alice quickly thrust her own pen into his hand, accompanied with a wistful smile. "Thank you."

  Alice sighed.

  "No," Cara said just as he was about to start writing. They were pressed for time. If it was in her name, she would have to deposit it before she could write a comparable check for Bridgette. "Make it out to Bridgette Applegate."

  Max looked at her. "Who?"

  "Never mind who." Cara pointed to the opened checkbook. "Just do it." She gave Max the proper spelling of the nurse's first name, aware that the sheriff was looking at her.

  Bryce beamed at her as he squeezed her shoulder. "That's a mighty decent thing you're doing, Cara."

  She shrugged as Max tore the check off and handed it to her. Folding it, she placed it into her own wallet, then stuffed it into her back pocket.

  "I owe Bridgette more than this." She looked at Max. There was curiosity in his eyes, but that was his problem, not hers. She didn't have to bare her soul to him any more than she already had. "You do what you have to do. I'll be back soon."

  To her surprise and dismay, Max shook his head. "The plane can't be here before morning."

  She'd thought they were going to drive to the Denver airport. He made it sound as if something was coming to their doorstep. "Plane?"

  "Montebello is next to Cyprus," he told her. "It takes time for a plane to get here."

  "You have your own plane." Even as she said it, she realized it was no longer a question, just a clarification. Just how rich were dukes in this countrylet of his? "Why am I not surprised?"

  "It's my uncle's plane," Max explained. "I just know he wouldn't want the prisoner flown back via a commercial airl
ine."

  "Heaven forbid he or you be subjected to airline food."

  "I was thinking more along the lines that Weber might try to escape and my uncle wouldn't want to put innocent people in jeopardy."

  Chagrined, she shrugged carelessly, looking away. "Whatever." Waving at the sheriff, she crossed to the front door.

  Max shadowed her steps. "Mind if I tag along? Maybe, while we wait, you can show me the sights."

  The only sight she wanted to show him at this moment was the back of a door—slamming in his face.

  "You already saw most of them on the way in." Max accompanied her to the parked car. A car, she reminded herself, that was his. If she was going to make it to Bridgette's at a decent time, she needed a car. His. The reason she'd rented a car to begin with when she'd gone after Weber was that her own had been in an accident and she didn't have enough to cover the repairs for it yet. "Oh, all right, suit yourself."

  He opened the passenger door. Since she knew where she was going and he didn't, he saw no point in being the one to drive.

  "Warm invitation."

  "You want warm?" she shot back, peeling out of the spot and making a complete one-eighty turn with a painful screech. "Get a sweater."

  She'd all but thrown him into the driver's seat with that turn, but he said nothing. She needed to work this out of her system. He looked at the cell phone that was still in his hand, but held off calling his uncle. A few minutes one way or another wasn't going to matter.

  Cara took another turn, sending him ricocheting to the other side despite his seat belt. If she wasn't careful, she was going to kill them both. "Did I miss something here? Why are you so angry?"

  As if the idiot had to ask. Fuming, she tightened her hands on the wheel. "I don't like being lied to."

  He'd been very careful there. "No one lied to you."

  "Oh?" Where she came from, holding back pertinent information was as good as lying. "Then why didn't you tell me who you really were?"

  "That's not lying," he pointed out, "that's just not talking about myself. Most women like men who don't go on about themselves."