Page 90 of Defenders of Jawhara

Shaking his head, Trent opened a door to the right. He held it open for her and followed her into the room. “This is yours. Pretty cool, huh? And before you try to put me off again, I’ll warn you that I’m really good at finding out information. Like, really good. Unless you want me to start digging, you might want to start talking.” He stepped back and snapped a photo of her. “You also need to pose a little more.”

Keira leaned out of the room to glance back toward the hidden stairway. “How many exits do we have?”

Trent stepped up to her. “The one we came up and the main stairs.”

She could hear male voices coming from the floor below and instantly recognized Brock’s deep tones. A shiver skittered up her back. Trent started to move in front of her. She put out a hand to block him. “I can take care of myself.”

Brock rounded the main staircase. He was easy enough to spot, given his size and the fact that he could fill up almost any hallway. His stare locked on Trent. “Get lost, dude.”

Trent snapped one more photo of Keira. He gave her a wink. “See ya around, beautiful.”

Stepping out of the room, Keira watched Trent leave. She had a ridiculous urge to call out to him to come back, but why not settle things with Brock now?

A terse silence settled. She could hear the party music from outside. Something was chirping a background rhythm—cicadas, maybe. She rubbed her bare arms, even though the evening was balmy and warm, the humidity thick as a blanket.

“You trying to make me jealous?” Brock asked.

“Don’t you have to have feelings for someone before that works?” Keira replied. She headed down the corridor. “Where does the family sleep?”

“This floor. West wing. You know I’m here to—” He bit off the words.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Be my sweetie? My lovey-dove?”

“You can take it easy on those.”

“Can I now?” She let the words hang between them. She didn’t trust him not to take over for her—truth be told, she liked making him squirm just a bit. Part of her considered it payback for managing to avoid her for five long years. But she also knew she was being touchy about this. He had his job and she had hers. If she started leaning on him now, where would it stop? She needed to prove to both him and Slade that she was ready for bigger and better things.

Turning a corner, she saw four armed men—security. Two sat in chairs, the other two stood guard over the rooms behind them. “Must be the family quarters,” she muttered.

Just then, a woman in a hijabexited from one of the doors. Veiled to her eyes, her head covered, it could be anyone, but Keira caught a glimpse of black, exotic eyes that tilted at the ends—and a flash of a ruby ring. Was this the same woman who’d left the party downstairs? The woman saw them and slipped back into her room.

Grabbing Brock’s arm, she pulled him to her and whispered in his ear. “I need to find out who that is.” Wrapping her fingers around his tie, she pulled him out in front of the guards, and then she kissed him.

* * *

Brock didn’t have time to grab a breath. Keira pulled him into the hallway and pulled his mouth down to hers. He put his hand on her slim hips and gave in to the heat washing over him. He couldn’t pull her close enough, couldn’t get enough of her. He heard a distant chuckle and knew the guards were watching.

Pulling back, Keira swayed. She gave him a lopsided smile and grinned. “Where’s your room, honey bear?” She slurred her words as if she’d been drinking way more than she should. With a giggle, she headed for the guards, dragging Brock by the hand.

Picking up on her cue, Brock tried to hold her back—but not too much. “Sweetie, you’re going—”

She bumped into one guard. The guy grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall. She gave a screech, and Brock stepped between them. Keira slipped to one side, and Brock faced off with the guard—he’d recognized two of them, but had no idea if they knew who he was. “Hey, that’s my girlfriend you’re messing with.” He stepped forward, using his size to intimidate the smaller man without touching him. All four guards stood and stepped between him and the rooms behind. Keira slapped a hand over her mouth as if she were going to be sick.

Moving fast, she ducked into a room—the same one the veiled woman supposedly had gone into. One of the guards started after her, but Brock blocked him.

“Miss! You can’t—”

Brock clapped him on the shoulder. “Take it easy. I got this.”

“Sir,” two of the guards said in unison, and one went on. “You know we have our orders. No one who hasn’t been cleared should be in the family wing.”

Brock nodded, but before he could answer, Keira came out of the bedroom, her hair mussed and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She swayed and stumbled over to Brock. “I don’t feel so good.”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Brock told her, “Let’s get you horizontal. While you rest, I can fill you in on palace protocols.”

He led her back to her room, too aware of the eyes trained on his back. One of the guards followed him partway down the hall before turning back, and Brock knew he needed to speak with Talib about this kind of thing. The guards should have split up, put someone on Keira and stopped her from entering. They’d been too focused on him and weren’t thinking a woman could be a threat. That kind of thinking could get you dead. Or a member of the royal family dead.

Inside her room, Keira dropped the drunk act. “Nothing. That woman wasn’t there—meaning she’s got a way in and out that you guys don’t know about.”

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