Prince: Royal Romantic Suspense (Billionaires in Disguise: Maxence Book 5) by Blair Babylon (best ereader for comics .TXT) 📗

And then there were the ones that worried her.

Dree couldn’t stop reading them.

We’re all going to pizza and beer tonight. You in?—You didn’t show. You cool?—Dree, we can’t find you or Francis. What’s going on?—Jesus, Dree. Call somebody. We’re freaked out.—The police asked me weird questions about you when I called them. Are you in trouble?

Yes, she was in trouble.

Dree texted Caridad Santos and other nurse-friends from work, assuring them she was okay and somewhere safe and to pass it on. She didn’t want to worry them.

Is this the phone of Ms. Andrea Clark? We have some serious questions for you about your finances with Francis Senft. He says you have the money he owes us, and we should get it from you. Please call us to discuss payment of your debt as soon as possible. My name is Kir Sokolov, and my number is—”

The same number had texted again.

A week has passed and you have not contacted us regarding the payment of your debt from the funds Francis Senft said he deposited in your name in your bank accounts. He assured us you do have the money and you will pay us from those funds. It seems Mr. Senft had been stealing some of our merchandise. He sold it for the street rate and kept the funds instead of paying for the merchandise. We now require to be paid for said merchandise. Please call me, Kir Sokolov at—”

Boiling water splashed down Dree’s back. Heat burst through her, and her hands began to shake.

It has been another week, and there is still no attempt from you to contact us to set up a payment schedule. By now, the police will have contacted you about finding Francis Senft’s body. I would hate for what happened to him to happen to you. As you can see from the body, it was not quick for him. I am Kir Sokolov. Call me immediately.

And he left his number.

There were more texts after that, demanding money, threatening her.

The phone felt like ice in her cold fingers. As numbness crawled under her fingernails and through her joints, the phone slithered away and tumbled toward the floor tile.

Dree batted at the chip of black ice as it fell, but it slipped off her fingertips and clattered on the floor.

Chiara said, “Oh, no, no,” and scrambled after the phone as it flipped away from them.

Dree chased after it, mortified that Chiara might see the threats and figure out that she was either immoral or stupid enough to get mixed up with drug dealers. The answer to that was that she was stupid, of course, but the shame drowning Dree was more than she could deal with just then.

Chiara grabbed the phone off of the floor. “It’s okay. I think it’s okay. I don’t think it’s—”

She was staring at it, reading the texts.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Dree said, holding out her hand because she didn’t want to smack her phone out of Chiara’s hand.

As Chiara read the texts, her eyes drooped, and her expression became sadder and sadder. “Oh, Dree. This person is saying very bad things.”

“Um,” Dree said. “Yeah.”

“We do not allow this sort of thing here in Monaco. We will tell Colonel Sault.” And she was off.

Chiara trotted through the hallways, reassuring Dree the whole way that this would be taken care of immediately.

Dree pattered along beside her. “I don’t want to make a fuss. I don’t think we need to tell anyone about this.”

“I know you are American and that your government does not take care of you when things like this happen, but we are in Monaco now. You will be safe here in Monaco. We will not let a man speak to you this way.”

Chiara led her through a couple more doors and to another office, where she knocked with an imperative, machine-gun rattle. “Colonel Sault? Colonel Sault! Ms. Clark has a problem we need you for.”

A nondescript, thin man answered the office door. His bristle of gray hair was the same color as his eyes, though his skin was a medium tan. Dree recognized him as the man who’d found Maxence in Nepal and hung out in the back of Max’s office all the time. He asked, “Yes?”

Chiara spoke to the man in a rapid-fire language that sounded like Italian, and she handed over the phone.

Dree said, “It’s no big deal. They’re back in America, and they don’t know where I am. I’m sure I’m not in any danger.”

Colonel Sault—Dree remembered Maxence had called him Quentin Sault—read the texts on Dree’s phone without expression. He handed her back the phone and said, “Tomorrow morning, please present yourself and your phone at our local police station office. I will call ahead to inform them that you are coming, and the technology department will take information from your phone. As you said, Ms. Clark, it is doubtful that you are in any current danger because it does appear these texts were sent from the United States. However, I must caution you to take care until we have more information. Do not go places alone. If you leave the palace, ride in a car rather than walking.”

“Thank you, sir, Colonel, sir,” Dree stammered.

She thanked Chiara for helping her, but Chiara said, “It is no problem. I feel better having Colonel Sault taking care of things. In any case, I shall call a car to take us shopping at my places.” Chiara held up a black credit card with two fingers. “I have already secured a petty-cash credit card for our purchases tonight.”

Chapter Eight

Marie-Therese Grimaldi

Maxence

Maxence was sitting behind the desk in the office in the palace. Afternoon sunlight filled the courtyard outside the window and brightened the room.

Dree Clark was wearing a shorter skirt than usual.

And no stockings.

She’d said a friend with exquisite taste had taken her shopping and picked out her clothes.

Maxence agreed