McKinnon's Royal Mission Read online

  The secret princess’s bodyguard…

  As head of a visiting royal’s protection detail, Trace McKinnon’s focus should be strictly on the external threats against a woman’s life. But what happens when he finds Dr. Mara Marianescu—a princess incognito as a college professor—much more intriguing?

  And that’s only the start of his troubles. When actual danger arrives for this beautiful royal, Trace isn’t sure if it’s because of a genuine threat from her country—or because of the darkness in his own past. Trace knows he should let Mara go—and does his best. But the cool, intelligent princess might just risk the one thing she has that is all her own—her heart…

  Trace stared down into Mara’s face. Her smile faded and her green eyes widened. And Trace could have sworn the delicate, expensive perfume she wore increased its potency as her pulse points heated up.

  Something tugged at him again, something he hadn’t felt in years. Not just desire. Not just passion.

  He wanted to run the tips of his fingers along the curve of her cheek and banish the loneliness from her eyes. He wanted to pull the clip from her golden-brown hair and have it spill over his hands in a heavy wave, then wind it about his throat, binding them together.

  And he wanted to draw her into the shelter of his arms and tell her…

  Tell her what?

  His face hardened in rejection of his unprofessional reaction to her, and he backed away, muttering a soft imprecation under his breath. Then he turned and abruptly strode out.

  But not before he saw an expression in her eyes that stabbed through him.

  ***

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  Dear Reader,

  When I wrote Reilly’s Return years ago, the character of Trace McKinnon intrigued me, and I knew I’d have to tell his story someday. Problem was, first I had to tell Cody Walker’s story, which I did in Cody Walker’s Woman. But I managed to work Trace in, as the heroine’s movie-star-handsome partner. Now Trace is back and on his own with a scarred past and emotional baggage, and he’s guarding an honest-to-God princess—the last thing Trace thinks he needs in his life right now.

  Dr. Mara Marianescu is a conundrum, out of place in today’s world yet trying desperately to live a normal life free of the stultifying protocol surrounding her as Princess Mara Theodora of Zakhar. She arrives incognito in the US wanting nothing more than to live a quiet, simple life of purpose as a math professor at the University of Colorado.

  But the world won’t let Mara and Trace forget who they are and where they come from—the past is never dead, not for either of them. They both must overcome the sins of the fathers to find love and redemption in each other’s arms through their own efforts… And we meet Mara’s brother, who will be the hero of my next book.

  I love hearing from my readers. Please email me at [email protected] and let me know what you think.

  Amelia Autin

  McKINNON’S

  ROYAL MISSION

  Amelia Autin

  Amelia Autin is a voracious reader who can’t bear to put a good book down…or part with it. Her bookshelves are crammed with books her husband periodically threatens to donate to a good cause, but he always relents…eventually.

  Amelia returned to her first love, romance writing, after a long hiatus, during which she wrote numerous technical manuals and how-to guides, as well as designed and taught classes on a variety of subjects, including technical writing. She is a long-time member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), and served three years as its treasurer.

  Amelia currently resides with her PhD engineer husband in quiet Vail, Arizona, where they can see the stars at night and have a “million-dollar view” of the Rincon Mountains from their backyard.

  Books by Amelia Autin

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Cody Walker’s Woman

  McKinnon’s Royal Mission

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Gideon’s Bride

  Reilly’s Return

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For good brothers everywhere, just like mine—thanks Al and John!—flawed, everyday heroes who do the best they can day in and day out and who deserve wonderful women to love them. And for Vincent…always.

  Though itself part of the US Department of State, the Bureau of Diplomatic Security is the parent organization of the Diplomatic Security Service (DSS). The DSS is the primary tool by which the DS carries out its security and law enforcement mandate. For more information, please visit state.gov/m/ds.

  I have the highest regard for the work these federal agencies perform. Nothing in this story is intended as a negative representation of the Bureau of Diplomatic Security or the Diplomatic Security Service, their duties, or their employees.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  “Why me? Why the hell does it have to be me?” Trace McKinnon stared at his boss with a touch of belligerence.

  “Because they specifically asked for you,” Cody Walker said reasonably with a faint smile. “And in the spirit of interagency cooperation...”

  Trace scowled. “That’s BS and you know it.”

  “Yeah.” Walker’s smile turned sympathetic. “You know it and I know it. But we have to at least pretend to play nice with the State Department and the Bureau of Diplomatic Security.” His voice took on a conciliatory tone. “This is the first time another federal agency has asked for our help since we teamed with the FBI to take down the New World Militia and Michael Vishenko,” he said, referring to a case that in some respects was still ongoing, at least with regard to testifying at trials. “And look how well that turned out. Weren’t you the one who reminded me two years ago we’re all on the same side?”

  Damned by my own words, Trace thought, frustrated. His boss was right, and on some level he knew it. It was just that he’d recently started on a case that really interested him for the first time in those same two years, and he hated like hell the idea of turning that case over to someone else while he babysat a foreign princess.

  “Why does it have to be me?” he reiterated.

  Persuasively, Walker said, “Considering she’s going to be at the University of Colorado Boulder, at least you don’t have to go far from home. And with your background in the US Marshals Service, who better could they get?”

  “I would have thought female bodyguards would be better, under the circumstances.”

  Walker looked uncomfortable. “Yes...well...you see...the thing is...” He cleared his throat. “The Zakharians are somewhat behind the times. They specifically requested men for this job.”

  Trace snorted. “Don’t let Keira hear you say that. It would drive your wife crazy.”

  “I know. But we can hardly go against their wishes on this, can we?” He glanced at the folder in front of him, sent over from
the Diplomatic Security Service—the other name for the Bureau of Diplomatic Security—in an attachment to an email. “Zakhar is a small country, but it’s critically important to the US’s strategic plan for NATO and Europe. We don’t want to piss the Zakharians off on something as simple as this. Especially since they’ll be picking up the entire tab for the cost involved. Yeah,” he said when Trace raised his eyebrows. “She’s a foreign dignitary, but she’s not a diplomat, and technically she doesn’t qualify for DSS protection, not long term like this. Zakhar’s king just wants our expertise guarding his precious sister, and he’s willing to pay for it. State agreed for the reasons I just mentioned, and it won’t cost the US taxpayers a single dime.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that. But why does it have to be me?” Trace asked for the third time. “Isn’t this something the Diplomatic Security Service would normally handle?”

  “The State Department explained that. You were an Embassy marine for six months in Zakhar, so you’ve been exposed to their culture, and—”

  “Damn! I knew it. This is because I speak the language, right?”

  Amusement touched the corners of Walker’s mouth. “Right.”

  “I should never have listed that on my agency résumé.”

  “Too late now.”

  Frustrated, Trace took a turn around the room. “I can’t guard her 24/7. Who else is being assigned?”

  “We’ll let the DSS figure it out. But I do have some ideas...”

  Trace groaned at the thought.

  “It won’t be that bad,” Walker insisted. “It’s only for a year, and—”

  “A year! You didn’t tell me I was going to be stuck with this BS assignment for a year!”

  “She’s going to be teaching at the University of Colorado for the next year. Some kind of exchange program. And she’ll have her own retinue with her, including Zakharian security forces.” He hesitated. “But you’re not just being asked to be her bodyguard.”

  Trace froze. “Then what?”

  “The king doesn’t know it, but the State Department wants you to take note of anything she or her entourage might say...in the Zakharian language.”

  “I get it now.” Trace shot his boss a knowing look. “That’s why they want someone who speaks the language. State wants me to spy on her for them.”

  “I told you Zakhar is critically important. State wants to know in advance if anything is going to change with that alliance, and it’s possible you might overhear something.” Walker looked at the cover page of the file, on which he’d jotted a few notes. His mouth curved in an expression of distaste. “I’m afraid there’s a little more to it.”

  Trace felt his forehead tighten in a question.

  “Oh, hell,” Walker said. “There’s no delicate way to put it.” His eyes met Trace’s. “They picked you for a variety of reasons, one of which doesn’t have a damn thing to do with anything other than the fact women find you attractive.”

  Trace uttered a pithy Anglo-Saxon curse. Then he gritted his jaw and pinned his boss with an uncompromising stare, his voice soft but deadly. “I can’t believe you have the stones to say that to me. If State wants some sort of honey trap they’ll have to look elsewhere.”

  “I told them you’d say that,” Walker said with the glimmer of a smile.

  “I’ve done a lot of things for my country,” Trace said fiercely. “Some of those things keep me awake at night. But I’ve never done anything I was ashamed of, and I never will.”

  Walker held up a hand, palm outward. “Calm down, okay?” he said.

  “Damn it, Walker—” Trace growled. His handsome face was a sensitive subject, especially within an agency whose agents prided themselves on fading into the woodwork. And Trace was a damned good agent in every other way. It was just harder for him to avoid standing out in a crowd.

  “Forget it,” Walker said quickly. “I’ll give State your answer, and if they don’t like it I’ll tell them the agency will pass on their request entirely.”

  Trace took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, forcing down his anger at the same time. “Sorry,” he told his boss roughly. “I should have known you’d back me on this.”

  “What about the rest of the request? Will you accept the assignment?”

  Trace hesitated, then nodded. “You’ve convinced me. If State still wants me under the circumstances, I’m on board. When do I start?”

  “The princess will be here in about a month.” Walker stood up and held out his hand. “Thanks, McKinnon. I knew I could count on you.” Trace shook the outstretched hand, and Walker continued in a completely different vein. “So Keira wants to know, are you going to make it to your goddaughter’s first birthday party this Saturday?”

  Trace’s first real smile since he’d walked into this office spread over his face. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ve already bought her birthday present—she’ll love it.”

  “You spoil her.”

  Trace laughed. “Like you don’t?” He headed for the door, his mood lightened by the thought of his goddaughter, Alyssa Tracy Walker. He’d been blown away when his former partner asked him to be her daughter’s godfather. He hadn’t had to think twice about accepting. And Alyssa was a darling, just like her mother. She already had all the men in her life wrapped around her baby finger.

  “McKinnon!” Walker’s voice stopped him just as he was going through the door. “You’d better take this.” This was the folder that had been sitting on Walker’s desk, the one he’d referred to from time to time as he’d convinced Trace to accept the new assignment. Trace’s thoughts were dragged away from his goddaughter, reminding him of what he didn’t want to think about...not until he had to. He sighed and took the folder, tucking it under his arm.

  A princess, he thought as he walked out. Great. Just what I need.

  Chapter 1

  “The princess’s plane is arriving!” the US State Department’s representative said unnecessarily as she bustled over to where Trace stood on the tarmac in the sweltering summer sun with the two Diplomatic Security Service special agents Walker had arranged to work with him—Keira’s brothers Alec and Liam Jones. While they’d been waiting for the princess’s plane to taxi in from the runway, Trace’s gaze had been constantly on the move, making sure the security measures the State Department had put in place to keep the curious—and potentially dangerous—at bay were doing the job. So far so good.

  When Trace realized the self-important woman in front of him was expecting some sort of acknowledgment of her statement, he said, “Yes, ma’am. We know. That’s why we’re out here already.” As if it wasn’t obvious.

  Then he zoned the woman out, and his thoughts returned to the reason he was here—Her Serene Highness, Princess Mara Theodora. Thinking of the princess brought his favorite picture of her to mind, a picture that had been included in the detailed dossier he’d received, one that had not been formally posed. The princess was dressed in traditional riding kit, standing beside a magnificent black thoroughbred. Her riding helmet was hanging by its strap from one hand, and the other was tangled in the horse’s black mane. Her long, wavy hair was casually tossed over one shoulder, as if it had tumbled down when she removed her riding helmet and she hadn’t bothered to tie it up. And she was smiling in the general direction of the camera.

  It wasn’t a knowing smile. It wasn’t an I-know-you’re-there-and-I’m-posing smile. It was as if she’d been smiling at something else—the horse, probably—and had just happened to turn right when the shutter clicked. Her eyes, which the unknown cameraman had focused on, were green. Not hazel, true green. And Trace had always been a sucker for green eyes ever since he was four and a half years old and had fallen in love with an older woman—the five-year-old girl next door.

  That was also the first time he’d been fascinated by female intelligence, but c
ertainly not the last. Maybe that’s why he and Keira had hit it off as partners. She had definitely excelled in the brains department, and together they’d solved cases no one else could solve. But Keira wasn’t just a pretty face and a quicksilver mind. She had courage and determination, and a deadly aim with a gun. All of which made her nearly impossible to replace as a partner in the two years since she’d married Walker.

  Trace had trusted Keira as he had never trusted anyone else in his life, even his ex-wife. But he hadn’t been in love with her. Maybe it was because of Keira’s strong reserve, her insistence on being taken as seriously in her job as any male agent. Maybe it was because he hadn’t wanted to screw up a great partnership with the uncertainty of a romantic relationship. Or maybe it was just that she didn’t have green eyes.

  A plane with the markings of the royal Zakharian air force pulled up to a stop in front of them. Two ground support personnel rushed forward to place chocks in front and behind the wheels, while two other men pushed a mobile staircase toward the plane’s door. It took a few minutes, but eventually everything was secured and the door opened.

  The first to descend the stairway were four young men with a military air about them, even though they were dressed in ordinary suits and ties. But Trace wasn’t fooled by their casual stances at the foot of the stairway.

  “Her Zakharian bodyguards,” he murmured to the Jones brothers, who both nodded in agreement—and approval. Trace knew the bodyguards were armed beneath their jackets, same as he was. Same as the Jones brothers were. There was just something about the way they held themselves—their bodies alert, their eyes sharply watchful of their surroundings—that reminded him of...himself. Especially the way he’d been while guarding a witness during his stint in the US Marshals Service. A man never forgot that mental toughness, not really. For just a moment he let a tiny smile escape. You can always spot a bodyguard.

  The next person down was a short middle-aged woman—definitely not the princess. She carried a square case in her hands as if it contained the crown jewels. Hell, Trace thought with sudden amusement, maybe they are the crown jewels. When the woman reached the bottom he saw a movement above her head, and the princess appeared in the doorway.