Personal Protection. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ your agenda.”

      Ah, yes. Filip loved his routines. If he had any idea what Ivan was planning behind his back, he’d be livid.

      “I told you, this is personal. You do not need to be involved.”

      “But it is my responsibility—”

      “I am inside a police station. I will be fine without you hovering over me.” He grinned at Aleks, who was people watching the comings and goings of officers, detectives, visitors and staff through the lobby checkpoint and service counters. He flicked his friend’s arm to get his attention. “You should have brought a camera,” he teased.

      Aleks’s grin formed a bright crescent of white in his long black beard. “Did you see that plaque on the wall? They have created a memorial to a little girl—”

      “Aleks...” Ivan urged his friend to join them. “Business first. Sightseeing later. You know we must—”

      “Hold that elevator!”

      Ivan’s sentence trailed off and he instinctively grabbed the door as a woman with a dirty, soot-streaked blond ponytail darted onto the elevator. She pulled in an equally grimy, handcuffed man by his upper arm and guided him to the corner farthest away from Ivan and his staff, ordering her captive to face the wall. Filip cursed under his breath as he and Danya quickly positioned themselves between Ivan and their guests and allowed the doors to close.

      “Thanks.” He saw the woman wore fingerless gloves when she pushed some flyaway strands of hair off her face. He also saw the badge hanging from a chain around her neck. Ivan’s senses tingled with an alertness he had to hide. “Sorry. I didn’t relish dragging this dirtbag up the stairs or waiting for the next elevator.”

      She wore a long, dusty man’s coat over jeans and worn leather boots that were nearly as big as his own feet. Gloves? Coat? Boots?

      In August?

      No wonder there was a sheen of perspiration on her pink cheeks.

      As intrigued by her apparent toughness as he was curious about her ratty, overheated appearance, he offered her a succinct nod. “We are happy to oblige the local constabulary.”

      Her prisoner glanced over his shoulder at Ivan. “What’s that mean?”

      “Quiet.” The officer nodded toward the keypad and asked Filip to push the button for her. “Third floor, please.”

      “We should not share an elevator, Your High—”

      “This is fine,” Ivan insisted, reaching around his security chief to press the number three button himself. It was probably best not to advertise his real identity just yet. Not until all his security was in place. “We are here to make friends with the people of Kansas City, not make their lives more difficult.”

      “You talk funny,” the handcuffed man slurred, laughing at their accents.

      And he smelled funny. Dreadful, actually, as Ivan crinkled his nose up against the odors of urine, body odor and smoke filling the confined space. At least, he hoped it was the criminal and not the female officer escorting him who reeked of the streets. Ivan had been trained to keep such negative observations to himself and be a polite gentleman at all times. “English is not my first language.”

      “Your English is better than mine, pal.”

      “Dougie. Sorry about that, sir.” The woman jerked on the handcuffs, warning her prisoner to be quiet again. Apparently, standing still and keeping his mouth shut was an ongoing battle for the twitchy bum. “I am already in a mood. Don’t push it.”

      Even though the woman wasn’t terribly chatty, Ivan noted that she was extremely observant. She marked their number and position on the elevator as it began its ascent. She sized up the flak vest and guns Filip and Danya wore beneath their suit jackets and pulled back the front of her coat to keep her gun within easy reach. Although he wanted to reassure the woman that they meant her no harm, backing up that claim would mean that he’d have to identify himself and his entourage. And Ivan wasn’t ready to reveal anything when he had this much of an audience surrounding him.

      His training in the Lukin military had made him observant, too. The woman had an ordinary face. She was of average height and indeterminate shape, thanks to the bulky coat she wore. In addition to a stylist, she needed a comb and a shower and a much more cooperative prisoner. Ivan curled his fingers into his palms, fighting back the urge to push Filip and Danya aside and assist her with the recalcitrant man who muttered and fidgeted instead of obeying her authority. Maybe a good twenty years older and hundred pounds heavier than her, the man seemed familiar with handcuffs and causing trouble. No wonder she’d been anxious to get him into a jail cell or interview room and off her hands.

      He also noticed she had green eyes.

      And lips. Ivan averted his gaze as if he’d uttered that ridiculous observation out loud. Of course, she had lips. But they had drawn his attention to the middle of her flushed face. Despite her determined lack of femininity, her lips were pink and asymmetrical, sleekly defined on top and decadently full on the bottom. She had a mouth that reminded him just how delightful it was to kiss a willing woman, and just how long he’d denied himself that pleasure.

      “Y’all ain’t cops, are ya?” Her prisoner twisted around again, ignoring her order to face the wall. “With your fancy suits and fancy accents. Damn foreigners.”

      “Douglas Freeland,” she warned. “You be nice to these people.”

      “I ain’t been nothin’ but nice this morning. I got a sickness and you know it. You set me up.” He called her a crude name that fisted Ivan’s hands with the need to shut him up and make him apologize. He was embarrassed to see his bodyguards ignoring the verbal abuse and staring fixedly at the elevator doors as they slowed to a stop. “I ain’t goin’ back in.”

      The moment the doors slid open, the prisoner twisted out of her grasp. In the next second, he spun around and butted his fat, bald head against her more delicate skull.

      The urge to intervene jolted through Ivan’s legs as she tumbled to the floor. But Filip and Danya pushed him against the railing, blocking him from the scuffle. “Protect the prince!”

      Not that the officer apparently needed his or anyone’s help. Before the man got both feet off the elevator, her legs shot out and she tripped him. Then she was on top of the guy with a feral yell as she smushed her attacker’s face to the floor. Several other officers from the third floor had rushed to help, but they stopped in their tracks, backing up a step as she hauled the prisoner to his feet. The big man wasn’t muttering anymore. She pushed him against the seam between the wall and the elevator, using him to prop the door open while she checked his cuffs and evened out her breathing.

      Filip took Ivan by the arm to lead him off the elevator. But Ivan didn’t need to be sandwiched between his bodyguards. The woman, despite the blow to the head, seemed to have the situation under control.

      Still, he knew the toll hand-to-hand combat like that could take on a person. There would be bruises, and her head would be throbbing. He shrugged free of Filip’s grip. “Are you all right, miss?”

      “Officer. Officer Valentine.” Her green eyes widened with a message that could be understood in any language. Get off the damn elevator already and let me do my job.

      “Very СКАЧАТЬ