almost pulled her into his arms to comfort, to protect, but her glittering green eyes warned him to back off. This woman would fight the devil himself to stay on her feet and keep trudging onward. Working on her own obviously came naturally to her. She’d probably already exhausted every legal channel to get her son back from Prince Alexi.
Now she’d decided to look into a few illegal channels.
If she wouldn’t accept a shoulder to cry on, Rio could at least offer her something more practical. He spun her around and gave her a shove toward the cavernous bathroom. “Go take a shower and I’ll order from room service. Anything you won’t eat?”
“Crow.”
Rolling his eyes, Rio grabbed her wine bottle and one of the glasses on the credenza. He dumped the contents of the bottle into the glass and handed it to her. “Nobody’s going to force you to eat crow.”
The door snapped behind her and Rio picked up the phone and punched in the extension for room service. He ordered a couple of cheeseburgers and fries. No crow.
While Tori cranked on the shower, Rio wandered around the spacious sitting room. Tori must’ve gotten a lot of money in the divorce, but he figured she’d trade it all to get her son back.
He’d seen this type of predicament before—American woman marries a foreigner, lives in his country, has his children. And then when the marriage goes south, the wife can’t leave the country with her children.
The fact that Tori married royalty and royalty-gone-bad made her situation much worse. What had she been thinking when she said I do to Mad Prince Alexi?
Rio pulled back the drapes and slid open the door to the balcony. The soft, warm breeze whispered against his skin, carrying with it a whiff of some sweet flower and a salty tang from the ocean that he could taste on his tongue. He sipped his wine and soaked up the scenery.
“Nice view, huh?”
Rio shifted his gaze from the dark ocean where lights from a few dinner cruises and other pleasure craft bobbed and blinked to the glass sliding door and Tori’s reflection. She clutched a white robe around her body and had wrapped up her hair in a towel that made her look like the Chiquita banana lady.
He turned and propped his shoulder blade against the doorjamb. “Feel better?”
“I do. You should try it.”
Rio shrugged off the door. “I wasn’t the one manhandled by Alexi’s thug. I ordered some cheeseburgers. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great.” She patted the knot in the sash across her stomach.
“Can I ask you a few questions about Alexi?”
Tori bent over at the waist, rubbed her head with the towel and then flipped her head up, her wet hair already spiraling into curls. “What do I get out of it?”
“If I can bring in Alexi and turn him over to the CIA, you’ll get your son back.”
“Ha!” She tossed the wet towel into the bathroom and shoved her hands into the pockets of the hotel-issued robe. “Once the snare tightens around Alexi, he’ll give orders for Max to be sent back to Glazkova. And there’s nothing the CIA or anyone else can do about that. Max has to be with me when Alexi goes down.”
“I might be able to arrange that.” Rio crossed his arms and dug his fingers into his biceps. Why’d he go and promise that? Ever since his mother had died, he’d vowed never to play protector again.
Tori whipped her hands out of the pockets and clapped them together. “Now we’re on the same page. What do you want to know?”
Running her fingers through her curls, she dropped onto the sofa and kicked her feet up on the coffee table.
Rio perched on the arm of the sofa and hunched forward with his hands on his knees. How exactly was he supposed to get a kid out of Alexi Zherkov’s compound with its guards and motion sensors? He didn’t figure Alexi would allow his son to go anywhere with his nanny without protection.
“Look, Tori…”
They both jumped at the sharp rap on the hotel door. “Room service.”
Holding up his hand to Tori, Rio crept toward the door. He squinted through the peephole and assessed the waiter with the cart. He swung open the door, keeping possession of the handle in case he had to smash it against the waiter’s face.
The waiter wheeled the cart into the room and hoisted a silver tray. “On the coffee table or credenza?”
“Right here.” Tori patted the gleaming surface of the coffee table in front of her.
The waiter unloaded several items from the cart. “Enjoy.”
Rio dug some bills from his pocket and handed them to the waiter on his way out. When he turned back to the room, Tori had already lifted the covers from two plates.
She closed her eyes and sniffed. “This smells great. Last thing I had to eat, if you can call it that, was the shaved ice. Don’t get me wrong. It was exceptional, but hardly a meal.”
“About getting to your son…”
She picked up a french fry and waved it in the air. “We don’t need to discuss the details now. I know you can get him out.”
Tori had a helluva lot more confidence in him than he did. He let out a breath and joined her on the sofa. She had one thing right. The food smelled good and his body demanded sustenance.
They ate in silence for several minutes until Tori dropped her half-eaten burger onto the plate. “Whoa. Ate too fast.”
Rio touched his nose. “You have some ketchup on the tip of your nose.”
She snorted and dabbed her nose with her napkin. “That’s another reason why they kicked me out of Glazkova.”
“How’d you wind up marrying him?”
Holding the napkin over her mouth, she slumped against the cushions of the sofa. “I was young and stupid. While I was in college, both of my parents died in a plane crash. I wanted to quit school and go home, but my brother forced me to stick with it. Once I graduated, I didn’t want to go home anymore. Instead, I decided to travel.”
“Glazkova?”
“Not at first. I spent time in different countries and kept hearing about Glazkova—the parties, the beaches, the lifestyle. I decided to check it out for myself.”
“And was it all you dreamed it would be?” Rio cocked his head to study her face. He had a hard time imagining this single-minded woman relaxing.
“Oh, yeah.” She twisted the napkin in her lap. “For the tourists anyway, there seemed to be no rules, no laws. It was one big party, presided over by the partier-in-chief, Prince Alexi.”
“Were his parents already dead?” He’d heard once the old prince had died, the younger generation had let loose. Alexi’s father had also been involved in criminal enterprises, but not drugs and not arms dealing.
She nodded. “They died a few years before I arrived, so party central was in full-swing.”
“And you met Alexi at one of his parties?”
“Not just any party, his big birthday bash.”
“What was it? Love at first sight? He swept you off your feet beneath a full Glazkova moon?” Rio’s jaw tightened. For some reason that scenario left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Tori gave a short laugh and dragged a fry through a puddle of ketchup on her plate. “Not exactly.”
“A slow courtship? He wined and dined you. Introduced you to the beauty of his country, the magnitude of his wealth and power?”
She compressed her lips and smashed the fry on her plate. “Not. Exactly.”
The blood pumped