into his yard and parked behind the Jag. Must be his day for company, he thought as two men in dark suits stepped out of the car.
Mitch might have spent most of his life either on the ranch or the rodeo circuit, but he knew security people when he saw them. The not-so-subtle bulges under their left arms came from handguns, not muscles.
‘‘You’ve got my attention now, lady,’’ he said.
‘‘Alex,’’ she murmured as she turned to look at the two strangers. ‘‘Just plain Alex.’’
He ignored her statement, mostly because it didn’t make sense. Interestingly enough, the two thugs were ignoring him, too. What was going on?
‘‘Why don’t you tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here?’’ Mitch asked.
One of the security men looked up and nodded politely, then spoke to the woman. ‘‘Princess Alexandra, you know you’re not allowed to go off unescorted. You’ve only been in this country a short time and you’re not familiar with the driving laws, nor will you know how to communicate with the local citizens.’’
‘‘They’re just people, Rowan. I’ve been communicating just fine.’’ The woman laughed.
How nice that she was amused, Mitch thought. Then he replayed the man’s statement a couple of dozen times in his brain. Princess Alexandra? Had he really said Princess?
‘‘No way,’’ he muttered, mostly to himself. ‘‘Not a real princess.’’
Alex, or Princess Alexandra or whomever she was, turned to face him and shrugged. ‘‘Sorry, yes. I’m a real princess. I have a king and queen for parents, three princesses for sisters. There’s even a palace.’’
His mind went blank. All he could do was stand there and repeat the same thing over and over again. ‘‘A princess? A real princess?’’ She didn’t look like a princess, he thought, staring at her dress and then her face. There wasn’t any crown or whatever it was princesses wore. ‘‘This is a joke, right?’’
‘‘I’m afraid not.’’ Her gaze moved to the two security men standing next to her. ‘‘He doesn’t seem to be understanding me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will have some trouble communicating.’’
That comment got through to Mitch. It also annoyed him. ‘‘I’m not stupid,’’ he said. ‘‘I heard what you said, I just don’t believe it.’’
The woman nodded slightly. ‘‘I suppose in your position I would feel the same way.’’ She motioned to the house. ‘‘Would it be possible to go inside and talk about this?’’
He looked at the two armed men. To think the most excitement he’d been expecting in his quiet Sunday afternoon had been to catch a couple of football games on television. ‘‘Sure. Will the rent-a-cops let you do that?’’
Neither security person responded to his mild insult. The taller of the two turned to the woman. ‘‘We’re going to have to search the house.’’
‘‘Do you mind?’’ Alex asked Mitch. ‘‘It’s really a formality. I’m sure you’re very safe.’’
‘‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’’ He had the strangest feeling that he’d been dropped into a movie somewhere in the middle. He had no clue what was going on and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
‘‘If you’ll give me a minute,’’ the taller man said, then walked up the three stairs and across the porch. He paused at the front door.
‘‘You’re kidding, right?’’ Mitch asked.
‘‘Not really.’’
The bodyguard slipped a thin wallet out of his jacket pocket…the one on the opposite side from the gun. He opened it and handed it to Mitch.
Mitch studied the official badges. The top one showed a royal coat of arms, while the bottom came from the U.S. State Department.
‘‘There’s a photo ID as well,’’ the man offered helpfully.
Mitch flipped to the picture and noted the card below, then handed the wallet back to Reginald Rowan, security expert and a man licensed to carry a handgun in at least two countries.
‘‘Door’s open,’’ Mitch said. ‘‘I don’t bother much with locks. There aren’t many strangers out here. At least not until today.’’
‘‘How nice,’’ Alex said as she glanced around. ‘‘It’s very private. You must like that.’’
‘‘I guess.’’
His gaze moved from her back to the remaining security agent, to the bulge of the man’s gun, to the sleek Jag parked in front of the house. If it was a joke, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make it look real. He shrugged. What did it matter? He would play along for a while, just to figure out what everyone wanted.
* * *
Twenty minutes later he and Alex, as she’d insisted he call her despite frowns of annoyance from the security men, sat across from each other at the old oak table in the kitchen. Mitch tried to concentrate on what his guest was saying, but all he could think was how ticked off Betty, his housekeeper, was going to be if Alex turned out to be the real thing and she’d missed her chance to meet royalty.
‘‘So the last time my parents were in America was twenty-nine years ago,’’ Alex said, continuing her story. ‘‘They brought their child, James, with them. He was barely a year old.’’
‘‘And that’s when he was kidnapped?’’ Mitch asked.
‘‘Right. They’d been staying at the family home in Aspen, Colorado. I don’t know all the details, of course. I wasn’t even born. From what I’ve learned, a massive search was instigated, but it was as if the baby had just disappeared. A ransom note had been received, confirming everyone’s belief that the kidnapping was for monetary gain and not political purposes.’’
‘‘But your family didn’t pay in time?’’
Alex leaned forward and rested her forearms on the scarred table. ‘‘That part is a little hazy. I think the ransom was collected, but before it could be delivered, the authorities found the kidnapper’s hideout. Through some freak accident, the small cabin burned to the ground during the rescue attempt. The kidnapper’s body was found and identified, and a few bits of my brother’s clothing were discovered. He was presumed dead. Only recently did I receive this letter.’’
She pulled a single sheet of paper from her handbag and passed it to him. Mitch read it once, quickly, then a second time. He was having trouble keeping track of everything going on. One minute he’d been admiring a pair of pretty legs and the next he was reading about a lost royal heir.
He glanced up from the sheet. ‘‘This could be a hoax.’’
‘‘I know, but we have to assume it’s not. What if my brother really is still alive?’’
‘‘So that’s why you want to talk to John.’’
She nodded. ‘‘We have no way of knowing if he’s James or not. According to Grandma Beulah, whom I spoke with yesterday, she thinks it’s one of the other two.’’ Alex pressed her full lips together. ‘‘I don’t know what to tell you about her information. She’s a lovely woman, but her memory has faded and I wasn’t completely convinced she even knew why I was visiting her. From what I can piece together, three boys around the same age came to The Sunshine Home within a short time of the kidnapping. That information, combined with the fact that a baby’s body was never recovered at the fire and Grandma Beulah’s possession of James’s baby blanket means there’s a possibility my brother is still alive.’’ Her blue eyes darkened. ‘‘I don’t suppose you remember anything that might be helpful.’’
‘‘I was