Page 70 of Royal Agenda

How odd.

She redefined her search. This time, the images that appeared were all of a young prince who couldn't have been older than eight. She had toddler pictures and baby pictures and the first day of primary school pictures.

Not even one likeness of him as an adult.

“The plot thickens,” she whispered. There had to be pictures of him somewhere. She pulled up her contact list and sent inquiries to two of her European associates. Checking the clock, she groaned. It was four a.m. over there. She didn’t care. She’d wait until one of them woke up.

She was just about to make herself some tea when her computer dinged.

Subject: RE: Image of Prince Alessandro de Luca Request.

Dear Grace,

I would ask what was keeping you up so late, but I’ve spent many nights dreaming about his Royal Princeliness. This is the easiest picture I could send you. Enjoy!

Grace tapped the attachment. An image of a plate set on a fireplace mantle filled the screen. She burst out laughing and then slapped her hand over her mouth and listened for Grandma to come out of her room. When there was no stirring, she relaxed into a soft giggle.

On the china plate was a hand-painted picture of Ryker.

The plate next to it was half-visible and she guessed it was his sister.

“Where can I get one of these?” she joked as she compared the image to Ryker.

His hair was shorter now, and he wore a beard. In the plate-pic, he had natural highlights the color of honey. The painted green eyes didn’t do him justice. She couldn’t deny that this was Ryker and that Prince Alessandro was in Diamond Cove.

But why?

Something inside of her said to find out, and she lifted a hand to hold it off. “We just made up.” she huffed. “I swore to myself that making memories with him would be enough.” She set her computer aside and grabbed the blanket, pulling it up to her chin as she laid back on the pillow.

A member of the royal family slept in this town.

A dead man walked among them.

She’d kissed a ghost.

“I’ll never be able to sleep now!” She threw the blankets off and sat up. She had to tell him she knew. He may be able to keep this secret, but she couldn’t hold back that she knew.

Her intuition said to go now.

“Now?” It was barely light outside. She’d been up all night. Ugh! This is what mysteries did to her–they turned off the part of her brain that produces sleep hormones.

Glancing down at her shorts and tank top, she hurriedly grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt and carried a pair of flip flops out the back door—the door farthest away from Grandma’s bedroom. Once on the beach, she hurried to the trail that led up to Main Street. From there, it was only a couple of blocks to Ryker’s condo.

She was almost there when a car blinded her with its headlights. She turned her head to the side, and, when it had pulled past her, she turned to glare. She gasped. Ryker was in the passenger seat.

Staring after them, she kicked it in gear and followed as best as she could on foot in flip flops. As long as she made it around a corner before they turned off the street, she was able to track them. She may have cut across a couple of yards and a parking lot too. It wasn’t long before she realized they were going to the docks.

That was creepy.

Saturday morning Scooby Doo cartoons taught her that bad things happened at the docks at night. No one of good report hung out there after dark.

Still, she had to talk to him. If he was doing secret princely things, well, she was in this relationship, and she’d offer to help. Help how? That she didn’t know. But she had skills. Maybe she could translate old records or something. Yeah, because that’s what fugitives did early in the morning on the docks.

The vehicle turned a corner, and she lost sight of them. By the time she got to the salvage company’s building where the car was parked, she second-guessed her decision to come. A cold, stiff breeze blew off the ocean, raising goosebumps on her legs. Boats bobbed in the water, and the wood creaked.

She put her hands in her sweater, put the hood on, and hugged herself.

Wanting to see what she was interrupting, she peaked in a window. Before she was off her tiptoes, big arms came around her middle, and a hand clamped over her mouth stifling any sound.

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