CHAPTER 7

At one forty-five that afternoon, Eve surveyed her living room, trying to imagine what a king—or in about fifteen minutes, his head of security—would think of it. All the furniture-protecting blankets had been whipped off the sofa and chairs after the three cats had been confined to a bedroom upstairs, and the dogs had been banished to the backyard. She had vacuumed every surface in the room twice. Hopefully, the King of Caleva was not allergic to pets since it was impossible to remove every last hair.

Her gaze skimmed over the braided rug of faded blues and greens, the brick fireplace filled with neatly laid logs, and the framed landscapes painted by her great-uncle, an amateur artist. The Victorian oak coffee table gleamed with furniture polish and held a nosegay of red roses and yellow gerbera daisies in a teal glass vase, a combination that paid tribute to the colors of Caleva’s flag. She had not included lilies, the Calevan national flower, because they were deadly poisonous to cats. She didn’t want to take the chance that one of her not-so-bright kitties would eat the flowers before she tossed them out. A matching bouquet was ready to go on the dining room table.

She snorted as she compared her old Iowa farmhouse with the online photos of Castillo Draconago’s grand salóns. Last night, before they lay down to sleep, Grace had brought her laptop to the bed to search the internet for information about her biological father, his family, and the land he ruled.

Caleva was a dramatically beautiful country with its spine of soaring volcanic mountains and miles of glittering white and black sand beaches. Brilliantly colored flowering vines climbed the dark gray basalt walls of historic houses and churches. She and Grace had oohed and aahed over the fields of deep red medicinal lilies shrouded in mists of geothermal steam and the giant teal lizards called Calevan dragons.

The royal family was equally dramatic, strikingly handsome like Luis, with the features and coloring that spoke of their descent from a Spanish pirate king. Evidently, the pirate had stumbled upon the island eight hundred miles off the coast of Spain when his galleon had been blown there in a storm. He had returned to declare himself king and take the last name of Dragón.

As she had sat beside Grace, Eve had made appropriately interested comments, even as she had agonized about what the future held for her daughter and herself.

Why couldn’t Luis Dragón have been a doctor…or a chef…or a taxi driver? Even a CEO of a multinational corporation would have been easier to deal with than a frickin’ king.

And now she had to cook for him. Her early morning had been spent racing around to the limited selection of food stores in Ames. After Mikel finished his inspection, she would plunge into cooking the menu of Iowan specialties and Spanish tapas she had cobbled together, in the forlorn hope that something would appeal to Luis’s royal taste buds.

The doorbell rang, and she marched to the front door, bracing herself in case a battalion of heavily armed guards was about to invade her home.

When she opened the door, Mikel stood on the porch, flanked by the pleasant young woman who had played receptionist and DNA collector yesterday and a tall, muscular man with short brown hair and no expression on his face. They all wore jeans and T-shirts in various subdued solid colors and carried black duffel bags.

Only three people. That wasn’t so intimidating. Her tension eased a little.

“Good afternoon, Se?ora Howard,” Mikel said. “Bridget and Ivan will be assisting me today.”

“Please call me Eve,” she said to all three.

Bridget smiled. Ivan nodded.

“Come in,” Eve said. “I should warn you that my cats are confined in a bedroom upstairs.”

“We will make sure not to allow them to escape,” Mikel said.

“The dogs are out in the yard,” Eve said, closing the door. “I can leash them, if you prefer.”

“Only if they’re likely to bite us,” Mikel said with a half smile.

She shook her head. “They might bark at you, but then they’ll sniff your pockets for treats.”

“In that case, would you provide us with some treats to offer them?” Mikel’s eyes held a disarming glint of humor. “Making friends with the locals is always a good idea.”

Maybe he wasn’t as scary as she had thought. “Follow me.”

The security team trailed behind her to the kitchen, waiting as she pulled the tin out of the cabinet. When she turned to hand them the canine goodies, she caught them looking around the room with focused intensity. So Mikel’s charm was just a fa?ade.

Mikel distributed the treats to his team. “With your permission, Ivan and I will begin inside, while Bridget introduces herself to your dogs.”

“Whatever you need to do. I’ve never had a king visit before.” Eve gave them a nervous smile. “Shall I show you around?”

“I am sure you are very busy, so we are happy to work on our own,” Mikel said.

And keep her out of their way while they did their top secret stuff. “That’s fine with me.” She needed to start food prep, anyway.

“First, I need to ask you a couple of questions,” Mikel said. “Please be honest. We have no intention of reporting anything you say to the authorities.”

Eve frowned in utter bafflement. “Go ahead.”

“This is standard procedure,” Mikel said before fixing his gaze on her face like a laser. “Do you have any firearms in the house, whether modern or antique?”

“I don’t think so,” Eve said, still confused. “Unless there’s one in the old trunks in the attic.”

“We will check there,” Mikel said. “Do you have any controlled substances in the house?”

“Controlled…you mean illegal drugs?” Eve was insulted, even as she understood why the questions were being asked. “Of course not.” The closest she had was the Prozac prescribed for one of the cats.

“Has anyone other than you and your daughter been in this house in the last twenty-four hours?” Mikel continued.

“No,” Eve said as she mentally reviewed the last two days. “Certainly not since I met with you and your…boss at the law office.”

“Thank you,” Mikel said. “My apologies. I meant no offense.” He sounded neither grateful nor apologetic, but that didn’t surprise Eve.

She was relieved when he and his colleagues removed themselves from her kitchen. Leaning back against the countertop, Eve tried to shake off the unpleasant sensation of enduring the Spanish Inquisition. This was the dark side of Grace’s newly revealed heritage, and Eve was glad her daughter hadn’t seen it.

Glancing up at the kitchen clock, Eve gasped. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the ingredients for the Iowa sweet corn soup. While she cleaned the leeks and carrots, she watched out the window as Bridget made friends with her three-legged golden retriever and Grace’s pit bull, handing out treats and ear scratches until the dogs stared up at her with adoring expressions.

Footsteps sounded over her head while she chopped the vegetables. She wondered what they were doing up there, prowling through the four bedrooms—one of which she and Grace used as an office/study space—and two bathrooms. She heard the telltale metallic protest as someone opened the retractable stairs to the attic space. They were being thorough, that was for sure.

By the time Eve added the chicken stock and sweet corn to the garlicky sauteed vegetables and turned them down to simmer, Bridget had disappeared from her view.

As Eve lined up the dessert ingredients, Mikel and Ivan vanished down the cellar stairs. Eve didn’t mind because she kept the basement clean, as well as stocked with emergency supplies, since it was also a tornado shelter.

She was carefully stirring the Rice Krispies into the corn syrup and peanut butter mixture when Mikel returned to the kitchen. “That’s a nice setup you have down there.”

Eve poured the gooey mixture into the baking pan and patted it down. “My grandmother believed in being prepared for the worst.”

Mikel peered at the contents of the pan. “That smells…sweet.”

“Oh, it is, but it gets even better when I add the melted chocolate and butterscotch chips on top. They’re called Scotcheroos, Iowa’s signature sweet treat for every potluck, picnic, and bake sale.” She grinned. “Don’t worry. I made plenty for you and your team.”

“I also smell garlic and…onions?”

“Leeks, but close. That’s the sweet corn soup. There’s also more than enough to share.”

He smiled. “You are very generous, but my team will have eaten before the king arrives. However, I don’t think they would turn down some…Scotcheroos to take back to the house with them.”

“The house?”

“We have rented a house for the king to use during his visit.” He obviously wasn’t going to tell her the address.

“Ah, I wondered where a king would stay in Ames, Iowa.” She dumped chocolate and butterscotch chips into a bowl and put it in the microwave without turning it on. “Probably wherever he wants to,” she said.

Mikel chuckled politely. “I would like to introduce you to the people who will be stationed around your house until the king departs. Is now a good time for you to come outside to meet them?”

There were more security guards, and they would be stationed?

“How many more people are there?”

“Eight, plus Bridget, Ivan, and myself,” Mikel said. “We have kept the number small in order to avoid attracting attention.”

Eleven people, and he considered that a low number. Her property wasn’t that large, about half an acre that had been retained around the house when the farmland had been sold off by her grandmother. Most of it was taken up by the fenced backyard where the dogs roamed.

If eleven people were barely enough to keep the king safe on a secret visit to Ames, Iowa, how many guards would it take to keep Grace safe? A cold chill ran through her.

She was glad that Mikel Silva took his job very seriously.

“Okay, let’s go meet your guards.” She rinsed off her hands and followed Mikel out her back door, where the dogs greeted them. Mikel pulled treats out of his pocket and earned Trace’s and Army’s undying devotion. “They’re terrible watchdogs, aren’t they?” she said with a grimace.

Useless for keeping a king or princess safe.

He ruffled Trace’s floppy ears. “If I attacked you, I’m willing to bet they would act to protect you.”

Eve looked at Trace’s blissfully goofy face. “Maybe Army would.”

Mikel led her to a clump of tall shrubs at the corner of her house. A wiry young man with light brown hair and a charming smile stepped out of the shadows, startling her.

“Ms. Howard, this is Pierre,” Mikel said.

“A pleasure,” he said as they shook hands.

They visited seven more guards in their places of concealment among the trees and shrubs around her house—four men and three women, all very fit, all dressed in jeans, dark shirts, and jackets. She was pretty sure they all had guns hidden under their outerwear, but it wasn’t obvious. She was grateful for the overgrown hedges on either side of the property, blocking the next-door neighbors’ views of her house with its lurking guards.

After the tour to meet the security guards, Mikel accompanied her to the back door. “Once the king arrives, Bridget will also be outside, while Ivan and I will be upstairs.”

In case she or Grace tried to attack Luis? “You’re very thorough.”

“Do you have any questions for me, se?ora?” Mikel asked.

So many questions, and none of them happy ones.

“I’m good for now.” Such a lie.

Mikel nodded. “I will leave you to your preparations.”

He left so swiftly that she barely had time to call out a goodbye.

She stared blankly at the door, stunned by the number of armed guards arrayed around her creaky, old farmhouse. This was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the changes Grace’s new father would wreak in their lives. What else did she have no idea was headed for them like the Titanic at full speed?

Her phone sounded an alarm she had set earlier as a reminder to start the next phase of prep. Time to kick into high gear.

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