Page 27 of Claimed
By the time they made it to the deck, it was nearly ten a.m., and the intense Mediterranean sun was high in the sky. Nicki had retreated to her own room and showered, and was now dressed perfectly for her role. She wore a pair of long, feminine linen pants, a light, nearly sheer blouse that covered her neck and arms, with a matching camisole top underneath, making her appear fresh and cool and respectably conservative at once. A large hat shaded her face, also part of the artifice of her as a demure female photographer, but the ensemble would get her easily through the streets of the resort town. Her camera was slung over her arm, and she turned and smiled as he strode toward their small group, all of them waiting for his orders.
“Hasan Omir has graciously agreed to meet us at the beach to tour the local events. There are currently teaching clinics and windsurfing expositions, which Nicki, we’ll need you to video and upload later today. You’ll be watched, I’m certain, but the man remembers you and appears completely comfortable with your work with a camera.” Stefan slanted her a glance. “He asked if you would be doing any surfing demonstrations.”
She shrugged. “I could, if that’s helpful. Or if we need a distraction.”
It would certainly be that. His gaze raked over her, remembering her tousled in the sheets hours before. His vantage point of her back had revealed more scars—scars he was sure she would have been happy to explain had he asked. A scrape on her shoulder that had turned into a fine web-like tracing of white, a bruise along her triceps, probably picked up clambering into the yacht yesterday after their snorkeling adventure.
Somehow, rather than detracting from his fascination with her, they made her more irresistible. Nicki was so breathlessly, vitally alive—and he couldn’t wait to get her back in bed again.
Ruthlessly, he forced his mind back to the conversation at hand.
“The men we dropped at the park have reported no word of Ari, though their search is only beginning. We’ll need to move quickly—the chances of us finding anything are low, but we’ll be noticed if we stay too long.”
“A disoriented homeless man,” Nicki said, squinting at the quaint seaside town. “He’d have been noticed here. If he’s not in that park, you have to try the countryside near the ruins. They’re pretty amazing. Ephesus, old churches…” She grimaced. “Never mind, those are tourist meccas. Once again, he’d be seen.”
“Not all of Alaçati’s ruins are picturesque, though,” Stefan said. “We’ll be focusing on anything that is out of the public eye. If Ari somehow scrabbled together a living, perhaps injured,perhaps mentally unstable, he would be holed up there, not in the middle of a horde of tourists.”
She turned toward the low mountains ringing the seaside village. There were squat buildings in the distance, their features virtually identical. “It’s too much,” she said.
Stefan shrugged. “It’s a start. The scavenger dealer didn’t merely provide direction, he provided contacts.” He turned to the men to his right, switching to Oûrois as he relayed additional orders. He half expected Nicki to react to the language with an unexpected familiarity, but she didn’t. To Nicki, once more speaking English, he said. “If anyone knows of a mentally unstable stranger in Alaçati—we’ll find him.”
His men departed. The yacht was moving at a slower pace, and they soon docked near the city amid a cluster of workers processing the bustling tourism crowd. It took them another hour to weave their way through the town of cobblestoned streets, charming villas and shops, but they finally reached the main bay of Alaçati.
A light breeze was blowing, and Nicki lifted her head to the sky, appearing to let the sun warm her face. “This place truly deserves all the accolades it gets from the windsurfing community,” she said. “It’s also the perfect place to learn. The water is super clear and shallow, and there’s a constant stiff breeze—breeze, not gale-force wind. The city is darling—I barely got out to do any sightseeing last year, but the year before I hiked all over, and everyone knows that tourism is their primary industry here. So they actually welcome visitors, unlike a lot of places.”
Stefan eyed her. “Spoken like a true entitled American.”
“Hey, Americans have lots of locations we can spend our money. All we ask is to not get crap for it when we do. Sure, some of us can be obnoxious, but most of us mean well.”
He lifted his brows at her unexpected vehemence. Nicki had probably endured her share of rebuke for her behavior, no matter how well-intentioned. Perhaps that explained her sensitivity. Perhaps it was something else. He wanted to find out more about her, but his exploration would have to wait.
As they stood on the boardwalk, Nicki stiffened. “That’s our man. Hasan Omir, the local secretary or whatever of the Turkish Tourist Ministry. That group runs everything in Alaçati they can—which is a lot,” she said. “He’s kind of an officious prick, but he’s efficient.”
Stefan braced himself as the Turkish official and his entourage of well-dressed attendants reached them. “Welcome!” the man said, eyeing Nicki briefly before turning to Stefan with unexpected cheer, given Nicki’s warning. “Your royal family is most gracious.”
Beside him, Nicki blinked, but Stefan responded smoothly. “We’re grateful for your hospitality,” he said. “We promise not to take too much of your time.”
“Nonsense. We’ll show you what Alaçati has done to transform itself into this beautiful resort city you see.” The pomposity of his words was earnestly delivered, and he swept his arms wide. “Perhaps one day your capital city can rival us, eh? But you will not be blessed with our winds and our sea. For that, others must always come to Alaçati.”
“As you say,” Stefan said, and Nicki’s eyes rounded with understanding. King Jasen hadn’t simply called to put in a good word for their visit, he’d sent money as well. Money in the form of a donation directly into the coffers of this pompous official, under the pretext of him providing Stefan with information about Turkish tourism practices. Not exactly in keeping with the way things were done under the current administration, Stefan was sure, but it would get the job done.
And, if they were lucky, it would buy them the time they needed to learn something about the fallen crown prince.
Nineteen
Nicki finished her video feed and swung back to regard Stefan and Omir, their heads together as they talked beneath a shaded portico right off the beach. They’d been at it for hours, after the official tour of the surf schools and the requisite oohing and ahhing of all the people taking part in the sport.
She wasn’t going to lie, she wished she could be out there too. Surfing always beat taking videos of other people having fun.
But, as good as she was at the activity side of the equation, it didn’t pay the bills. Her work as a blogger did—and that only barely. Stefan’s ever-so-slightly sneering commentary on her “profession” wasn’t that far off the mark. The low pay for this job was only worth it because of the adventure. But in another five, ten years, who knew what her interest would be in trekking around the world?
She smiled wryly, turning again to stroll along the boardwalk. Granted, trekking around the world in a luxury yacht wouldn’t be a hardship. But she wasn’t Emmaline, and she certainly wasn’t Lauren. Both of her friends ending up entangled with handsome men connected to the royal family made sense. Nicki’s life didn’t work that way, though. She was the utilityplayer of the team—the girl you wanted with you in the foxhole, but not necessarily the one you’d race across enemy lines to save. More likely, you were convinced she’d figure out how to save herself in the end.
And Nicki had no problem with that, not really. She was used to pulling her own weight, but also used to having no one else rely on her. With her heart possibly a time bomb, it was safer that way all around.
Stefan was relying on her, sure. But so far, this “mission” had proven more than manageable. Especially with him stretched out over her body.
“Oh—sorry,” she said as she drifted into a table of laughing tourists. She righted her direction as she scanned the mountains surrounding Alaçati. They were as picturesque as the city, and she might as well get images of them too, while she had her equipment.