Dirty Thief

“No,” I say. “It’s not an act of terror…” My hand clutches over Rowan’s. All I can think about is my orphanage. Any suggestion of terrorism is a direct threat to them.

“The council is urging you to make a statement,” André says. “It’s been years since we’ve had this type of violent crime in Monagasco.”

Rowan nods quietly. “We’ll monitor the situation. They have to establish

a time of death before we can do anything. In the meantime, I need to discuss another matter with them.”

Pulling me into a hug, Rowan kisses my head before following his tall guard out of our quarters and into the main part of the house. I stay behind, staring at the computer screen.

The email Rowan had been composing is sitting in the sent folder. I open it and read the location of where he plans to meet to Dwayne. The yacht club. He’s meeting Dwayne at the private club. It means he wants to talk where they won’t be overheard and the paparazzi can’t take their picture. They’ll essentially be left alone. Only, Rowan has never told me what he intends to do with Dwayne.

The thought simmers in my mind when my phone lights up with a text from Zelda. Out of bed yet? Still trying to make a baby?

I shake my head. Baby making over. Rowan is handling a problem.

Sucks to be the wife of a world leader, she teases. I want to see your orphans. Show Belle and me how Auntie Ava is changing the world.

I smile, thinking it’s exactly what I want to do. Be ready in a half hour.

* * *

Clare is waiting at the door when Zelda and I arrive. Her face is lined, and I can only guess what it might be about.

“I’m so glad you’re here, majesté,” she says with a little bow.

“I hope everything is okay?” I touch her arm, doing my best to infuse my voice with encouragement. “This is my sister Zelda and her little girl Belle.”

Clare’s eyebrows rise, and she bows toward Zee. “So nice to meet you. What a lovely little girl.”

“You don’t have to bow.” Zee holds out her hand. “I’m not a royal.”

Clare smiles, and we close the small gate behind us. The children are out on the playground, and Belle is instantly a squirmy toddler.

“Is it okay if I let her run around?” my sister asks.

“Of course!” Clare holds out her hand. “There are toys for little ones her age.”

Zee puts her daughter down and follows her to the slide, where several larger children are playing. I glance around and see my favorite little girl with the dark hair and green eyes. She watches my niece approach the group.

“I found Suad’s aunt,” Clare says, and my heart jumps.

“Oh! That’s great news! I was hoping we would find her family.” I turn to her, but again, worry lines her face. “What’s wrong?”

“She won’t come here, majesté. She says it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t understand. Where is she now?”

Clare starts to walk, and I follow her up the steps through the entrance to the large house. “She is in Germany, but it is becoming more and more difficult to travel. Many of these people, once they are settled, they don’t want to leave.”

My lips press into a frown. “She’s afraid she won’t be able to return?”

Clare nods. “And she has other children. She doesn’t want to leave them behind.”

“Surely we can find a way around this?” I take the printout of names I emailed her last week. She’s written notes on it, and the name Hamida is beside Suad’s. “Is this her aunt?”

Clare shakes her head. “Her aunt is Sanaa. Hamida was Suad’s mother. She was killed in the bombings.”

“Oh.” My chest aches when I think of the little girl losing her mother. “Was Sanaa her mother’s sister?”