Warrior Prince Page 3

  “Maybe we should stop at a market along the way. We need to be less conspicuous. Will you help us select proper men’s clothing?” He glanced at her wooden expression.

  “I suppose.”

  A shopping excursion might restore the color to her cheeks. Holding the wheel with one hand, Zohar reached into his pocket with the other and withdrew some shiny stones. Most females he knew appreciated glittery objects.

  “I understand these hold value on your world. We can use them for money.”

  Her eyes widened. “Hey, those look like─”

  “Diamonds? Yes, they are.”

  ****

  “We call them kewa stones on Karrell,” Zohar said after they finished their expedition and resumed their journey. “They’re worth little where I live.” He’d sold a couple of the gems at a jeweler’s shop in Millennia Mall, a dazzling indoor emporium located on Conroy Road. The jeweler had admired the stones’ purity while questioning their origins. Zohar said he’d bought the uncut stones in “the islands,” hoping this vague reference would pass muster. The proprietor had seemed to accept his explanation without demanding a bill of sale.

  Nira wasn’t as easy to convince. Her mouth turned downward. “Are you guys from Africa? Those weren’t stolen blood diamonds, were they?”

  He gave her a patient smile. “You ask many questions, little one. Soon I will provide answers, but not until we reach safety.”

  Nira folded her arms across her chest. She wore a shirt bought at the Banana Republic, a shop named after a tropical fruit. Zohar hadn’t seen any plants in the store so he couldn’t imagine how it got named thus. No matter. He and his mates had purchased some fine trousers made out of a sturdy material called denim. Unfortunately, Nira’s spirits had failed to rally during their excursion.

  What had he expected? For her to become enraptured by a simple barter experience?

  The women he knew were more enraptured by his kisses. His thoughts drifted in that direction, tempted by Nira’s honeyed fragrance.

  Forcing his mind back to the road, he clenched his teeth.

  He, of all people, must serve as a role model to his men. He could satisfy his lust, but anything more was forbidden to him.

  Otherwise he’d end up the same as their former deranged king: a tyrant who’d spread discontent and chaos throughout the land, all because of his love for a woman.

  Zohar would never exhibit such a shameful weakness as his father.

  Chapter Three

  “Holy guacamole, you picked an expensive resort.” Nira gazed out the window as they drove down a palm-lined avenue toward the registration building.

  Zohar didn’t respond, a frown of concentration on his face. He parked in front of a New England-style structure overlooking a tranquil lake. She remained in the van while he and two of his men dashed inside to collect their room keys.

  Her body sagged against the seat that smelled like old leather and dust polish. Too much had happened today for her to assimilate: that weird log cabin, those ugly creatures popping into sight at will, their raid on Grace’s house, and the loss of her home and family friend.

  She hated having to depend on these guys for protection. Everything was their fault. They acted so strange, like foreign actors from a movie set who’d stumbled off the studio lot. Their fighting skills were real enough, though. They’d saved her life twice now, so she couldn’t deny their abilities. Who were they, and why had they come to Orlando? And what should she do next?

  If she stuck with Zohar and his team, she could help rescue Grace. Was Zohar correct in his assumption that the older woman was still alive, albeit captured by those nasty beasts? She mulled over their peculiar appearance, considering every science fiction movie she’d ever seen. Were they mutants of some sort? What other possible explanation could there be?

  Nira shivered at the thought of Grace being their captive. Nira had to save her, no matter the cost.

  She remembered her swell of gratitude when Grace had knocked on her door six years ago after her mother died. What would she have done without the older lady’s support? Grace assisted Nira in applying for guardianship of Kristy and Diane, her younger sisters, and aided her through the probate process. A life insurance settlement, along with their pre-paid college tuition plans, had enabled the three girls to finish their education. Once her sisters acquired their own apartments, Nira sold their house and moved in with Grace.

  She’s always been there for me. I can’t abandon her now.

  Her attention shifted to Zohar who strode out the exit. Authority rode in the arrogant thrust of his jaw, the determined focus of his eyes, and the erectness of his posture. Glancing at his companions, she wondered if great looks had been a job requirement. Each one of them looked like a warrior god from her comparative mythology texts.

  Zohar slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Doors slammed as the others joined them.

  “Our rooms are located in the Nantucket building,” the younger man called Borius stated in a soft-spoken manner.

  “The accommodations come with two queen-sized beds,” Paz noted in a lazy drawl. “At least you got a suite, rageesh, although you should have gotten a bed fit for a king.”

  Zohar shot him a hooded look. “Do not—”

  “Mention that word. I know.” Paz smirked as though he enjoyed ticking off his leader.

  Zohar’s lips tightened. He stopped at an intersection, reading the directional signs before turning right. “Nira, you will stay with me. Your safety is my responsibility.”

  The others chuckled and ribbed each other. “Who will keep her safe from you, captain?” the bearded one asked.

  Zohar’s jaw twitched. “My mission is my mistress. She need not fear for her virginity.”

  Nira almost choked on her saliva. At least his remark brought back the blood to her brain and made her feel alive again.

  “Excuse me? Just to set things straight, I’ve been around town a few times if you catch my drift, big guy. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yes, I see how well you do at keeping yourself from harm.” Zohar squealed to a halt in the parking lot beside a three-story unit surrounded by sculpted landscaping and shady oak trees.

  Before she could retort, the man with longish black hair and soulful eyes spoke. “Please, we need your guidance, lady. Be patient with our captain.” His deep voice had a musical cadence.

  “Everyone out,” Zohar ordered, switching off the ignition. “Rayne should have stored our gear by now.”

  The others scrambled to obey. Nira emerged into the hot afternoon sun and helped remove their bundles from the van. Once they separated each person’s purchases, they split into pairs.

  “Listen, men.” Zohar’s walnut hair gleamed in the sunlight as he addressed his motley crew. “Deploy your defense perimeter before getting settled. Then check out the environs, but keep your guard up if you roam far afield.”

  “Ease off, sire.” Dal, the gaunt fellow with a wiry build, scowled at their leader. His lean face looked as though it never cracked a smile. “You should know us by now. How many missions have we done together?”

  Paz slapped him on the shoulder. “Our captain is edgy because he’s sharing quarters with a beautiful woman. I would be tempted as well. If you wish to honor the edict, follow his example and maintain a safe distance from any female.”

  Dal lifted his eyebrows. “You should talk. You never were one for following rules.”

  “Some rules are meant to be broken.” Paz’s dimples deepened into a grin.

  Zohar held up a hand. “Enough. Let us gather at twenty-one hundred hours in my chamber for a war council. Study our data in the meantime. I will want to hear your analysis.”

  As one, they bowed before scattering in separate directions.

  “Why do they act like that?” Nira stumbled along beside Zohar with her arms full of packages.

  “Like what?” He held the door to the building open so she could pass.

  “L
ike they’re your friends, yet there’s a certain respect in the way they respond to you.”

  “I am their commander. It is merely regard for my rank.”

  She preceded him down the hall, aware of his gaze burning into her back. “If you say so.”

  The air conditioning cooled her skin but not her nerves. Zohar’s confident masculinity overpowered her senses. Soon they’d be alone in a hotel room. A responsive heat swirled within her. She’d yet to thank him for saving her and could think of many ways to show her gratitude.

  He owes me answers, she reminded herself. Focus on your purpose and not on how restless he makes you feel.

  “Rayne will be waiting for us.” Zohar’s serious tone dispelled her wayward thoughts.

  “Is he another of your friends?”

  “We are a team of seven,” Zohar explained, as though she should understand what that meant.

  She paused in front of their door, arms full of bundles. When Zohar squinted at his key as though he didn’t know what to do with it, she wriggled a hand free, grabbed his card and swiped it through the slot. Really, these guys seriously needed some cultural education.

  Nira pushed open the door and stepped into their suite. “Hello, is anyone here?” Silence met them. “Your pal must not have arrived yet.”

  Zohar breezed by, brushing her arm. His touch elicited a spark of pleasure. Had he felt it, too?

  Evidently not, because he tossed his packages onto a couch and turned away. Facing them were a sitting room and a small kitchenette. Beyond were entrances to the lavatory and bedroom.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I will secure the premises.” Zohar stomped toward the sleeping accomodations.

  “O-kay. I’m going to use the bathroom.”

  Her face flushed, and she swallowed. This could be embarrassing. Did she really intend to share a hotel room with a stranger? He seemed a decent sort, but still…

  She entered the lavatory where her ears picked up the sound of trickling water. Her gaze shifted to the tub shower and to the booted foot sticking out from beyond the curtain.

  Her scream brought Zohar at a run. He dashed inside, aiming his weapon. Taking in the situation at a glance, he kicked away the curtain.

  A dead man lay face up in the bathtub. Murky water covered his body and dripped over the edge.

  “Rayne.” Zohar sank to his knees.

  “He’s your missing team member?” She recognized the fellow’s uniform; the same outfit Zohar and his men wore.

  Zohar bowed his head, a pained expression on his face. No doubt he’d cared deeply for his friend.

  Nira clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling an urge to heave. Dead people had that effect on her.

  Zohar must have heard her stifled croak, because he stood and turned toward her. Grief mingled with regret in his eyes.

  “I am sorry you had to see this. Come here.”

  He enveloped her in his arms, and for a few moments, she steeped in the warmth of his embrace. His newly purchased shirt smelled like sandalwood. The scent soothed her until a disturbing thought erupted.

  “Do you think the Trolleks got to him?” She sprang back. “If so, we’re not safe here. Have you checked the closet, the patio?” Her gaze darted toward the exit.

  “Trolleks were not responsible for this crime.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I smell nothing that heralds a vector shift.”

  Whatever that means. “Who are these Trolleks anyway? How come they look so weird? And why are they interested in me?”

  “I will explain shortly.”

  Zohar stooped to open the drain. Water swirled from the tub. When the dead man’s torso became fully exposed, a charred mark on his tunic became visible.

  Had he been shot, and if so, by what sort of firearm?

  Perhaps Zohar’s gang was working in league with federal agents to track arms dealers who sold advanced weaponry. She’d never heard of a gun before that could do this kind of damage.

  “Stand back.” Zohar spread a bath towel on the floor and then hauled the dripping body over the tub’s edge. He laid Rayne flat and brushed a lock of limp hair off his forehead.

  “If the Trolleks didn’t kill him, who did?” Her chin quivered. The sorrow on Zohar’s face elicited her sympathy.

  He stood straight and gave her an inscrutable look. She met his gaze, admiring his stalwart courage. A man of many secrets, he intrigued her more than any guy she’d met. Figures he’d turn out to be a foreigner on a clandestine mission.

  His expression softened. “Rayne’s wound was caused by a Monix T-6 laser pistol, the same firearm my team carries. It means Rayne’s assassin came from Karrell.”

  “So now what? We call the cops?”

  He shook his head, his mouth turning down. “Rayne’s death is an internal matter. We must summon the others as witnesses before disposing of the body.”

  She tilted her head. “Are you sure? Because you’re overlooking the obvious: if the killer came from your homeland, one of your own people might be involved. Can you trust them?”

  “I trust my men with my life.”

  “Can you vouch for each guy’s whereabouts since you entered the States? Has your team been together the entire time you’ve been in Florida? Are there more of you here?”

  “Just the seven of us. We came on my…the same aircraft.” A flicker of doubt crossed his face. “After our arrival, we split up to perform a reconnaissance, but then we converged together on the Trollek site where we met you. Borius spoke to Rayne on his comm unit outside your house. Rayne was still alive then.”

  “Was he? I’d ask Borius if he spoke personally to Rayne, if I were you. Maybe he just retrieved a message.” Or perhaps the young man had lied, pretending to talk to their buddy.

  Another thought struck her. When did rigor mortis set in? This guy wasn’t stiff by any means. That would help determine time of death, wouldn’t it?

  They really needed a forensics expert, but from what Zohar had said, he planned to hide the body. Oh great, then she’d become an accessory to a crime.

  Could this day get any worse?

  Zohar headed out. “We should establish a secure perimeter before we do anything else. I want to be certain no further surprises await us.”

  “Surprises?” She trailed him into the bedroom, conscious of the body left on the cold bathroom floor.

  He tore into the wardrobe, removing several sacks and tossing them onto the closest bed. “At least Rayne delivered my supplies.”

  Is that all you care about when your friend is lying dead in the next room? She tugged on his arm. His muscle bulged under her fingertips.

  “Will you stop for one minute and talk to me?”

  Shooting her an oblique glance, he pursed his lips. “I do not believe Rayne was the target.”

  “Oh, you mean it could have been a robbery attempt, and he got in the way?”

  Maybe the bad guy had jumped Rayne and used his own weapon against him. However, there weren’t any signs of a struggle, now that she thought about it. Rayne had been shot at point blank range from the front and then likely shoved into the tub. Meaning either one of those Trolleks had leapt out of the shadows…or else he’d known the person who killed him.

  Zohar didn’t dispute her theory about a robbery. His mouth taut, he rummaged in a bag and withdrew a set of poles. Each one extended legs when he pushed a button.

  “These will erect a barricade against vector shifts. Here, take this.” He tossed her a small handheld unit. “You can scan for explosives and surveillance devices.”

  “Explosives?” she squeaked.

  Zohar flicked a patronizing glance her way. “Whoever killed Rayne may have left something behind as a gift.”

  “Like one of those lava bombs?” Her legs quaked. Maybe she should wait in the hallway while he checked the place over for bombs and bugs. Then again, if she went outside his safety net, the Trolleks could vector in and grab her.

  She stood froz
en with indecision and wonder at the things she didn’t yet understand. Trolleks. Bombs. Vector shifts. Laser guns.

  Her eyes widened. Lasers? Were those like the phasers on Star Trek that shot energy bolts?

  Zohar noticed her sudden silence. “You will be fine, Nira Larsen. We shall talk as soon as we finish these tasks.” Stepping over, he took her hands in his while his woodsy scent invaded her nostrils.

  Heat blossomed from her toes to the top of her head. Lifting her chin, she studied the taut angles enhancing his cheekbones, the dark stubble shadowing his jaw, and the firm lines defining his mouth.

  His eyes flared, and he sucked in a ragged breath. Then he dropped her hands and moved away, leaving her oddly bereft.

  “Sweep the signal detector over each surface in the room and let me know if a red light blinks.” He avoided her gaze, focused on setting up his poles around the perimeter of the suite.

  “That sounds easy.”

  She did as instructed, glad to put some distance between them. Whenever he neared, her senses zoomed into hyperdrive.

  Focusing on her task, she scanned the drapes and bedding, even inside each drawer. Meanwhile, Zohar stood two of the poles at the far corners of the bedroom. A heavy silence fell between them as they worked. Nira mentally listed all the questions she wanted to ask when they were done.

  Soon she switched to the kitchenette and sitting area. Her rounds produced negative results. Probably the killer had been in such a hurry that he’d left right after gunning down Rayne. Or maybe he’d shot Rayne elsewhere then dragged the body here for Zohar to find. But how would he know Zohar would be assigned this suite?

  Idiot, she thought, rapping herself on the head. Of course he’d realize the team leader would occupy the largest room.

  Another thought chilled her. What if Rayne’s death had been a mistake? What if the murderer meant to get Zohar instead? Is that what Zohar meant when he’d said Rayne wasn’t the target?

  She handed Zohar back his device when he joined her. He pocketed it and finished setting up the remaining poles.

  “When I activate these rods, our defense grid will prevent the Trolleks from spatial shifting into our location.”