For the second night in a row, women’s panties have been found hanging around Keeneston. The first report came from Mrs. Jenkins as she walked home from her quilting group Friday evening at nine. The black lace panties were found hanging on a tree limb in Keeneston Park. Newly hired Sheriff Deputy Cody Gray took the report but was unsure if any actual laws had been broken. “Maybe littering?” Deputy Gray told this reporter. But that wasn’t the end of the panty parade. When the Keeneston Ladies Group arrived at the water tower early Sunday afternoon armed with the Keeneston High School football team and thirty gallons of paint to spruce up the water tower for the upcoming summit, a pair of bright blue silk panties were found hanging from the ladder. As senior quarterback Eric Riviera noted, “At least she appears to be a University of Kentucky fan.” For now, the mystery remains. Who is this woman, and why is she losing her panties? If you have any information, please contact Deputy Gray at the sheriff’s office.
Mila snorted as she looked at a picture of the offending panties posted in the article. She didn’t know how to process what she was reading. Winners of baking contests, garden club meetings, Keeneston Ladies meetings, and other announcements filled the newspaper. Then there was the Blossom Café Insider. That section appeared to run Vegas odds. It was certainly different from the D.C., London, New York, Dubai, and Berlin papers she read almost daily. Mila made note of the local winner of the bake-off just in case she was presented to the chancellor as some sort of local celebrity. Next, she went back to the search results for Keeneston and dug up old articles that had made larger newspapers.
An hour later, Mila was thoroughly confused about this small town. It seemed as if it were just Small Town, USA, but the news that trickled out of there was anything but normal. A year and half ago, Dr. Sienna Ashton, now known as Dr. Parker after her wedding to FBI Agent Ryan Parker, was not only a witness to the murder of an NFL player, but helped catch the killer with her future husband, also from Keeneston. Sydney Davies and her new private investigator husband, Deacon McKnight, were crucial to stopping a sex trafficking ring at the National Championship Game. Articles like this went back decades. The town’s lawyer brought down a corruption ring in New York City that’s still talked about, a sheriff’s deputy apprehended a new drug designer, and that was all before the international black market bust. Not to mention the head of the local school's PTA mowing down an assassin.
Mila answered her ringing phone as she kept her eyes on a picture of four old women with shocking white hair. They held a broom, a wooden spoon, a spatula, and one had a gun as big as Dirty Harry’s. In the article, they were described as having attacked a man with pots and pans.
“Hello?” Mila murmured as she scrolled down the article.
“Hello, Ms. Thiessen, it’s Veronica with the prince’s office. We’re happy to say you have passed all of our clearances. When do you think you will be arriving? We can have someone meet you at the airport.”
Mila blinked at the scariest man she’d ever seen and a woman with long strawberry-blond hair, both wearing black SWAT attire with a police dog sitting in front of them. “What kind of town is this? Do I need a bodyguard? Will there be enough security for the chancellor?”
Mila heard Veronica chuckling over the phone. “I forget interpreters do more research than most security details. Really, I promise, Keeneston is perfectly safe. And boring. Nothing ever happens here.”
“International terrorism, assassins, murder!” Mila squawked with disbelief.
Veronica tsked. “That was so long ago. I promise, there is no place safer in the world than Keeneston. So, what time is your flight?”
Mila shook her head to clear the articles from her mind as she closed her laptop. “I can be there by five tonight.”
“Perfect. Someone will meet you at the airport. I got you the last room at the Blossom B&B on Maple Street. I’m sending you the press packet now for your review. I look forward to meeting with you soon. You have my phone number. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
Mila hung up with Veronica and slid her laptop into her oversized purse. This would be fine. After all, interpreters were invisible. No one ever saw them, even as they translated some of the most famous speeches in history. No one ever shoots the interpreter.
Two hours later, Mila was on a plane headed for Lexington. The press packet had been reviewed, and Mila was positive she knew everyone involved in the summit. She rubbed her hand over her face and shoved an errant lock of hair from her eye. This trip had the potential to be a great political win or a complete disaster. The outcome rested solely on Prince Zain and how he handled his “coming out” into the highest level of diplomacy.
CHAPTER THREE
“Zain!”
Zain turned at the sound of Abigail’s voice. “Hey, Abby.” From the direction she was coming, Zain could tell she had just been at her parents’ house. He was sure they were enjoying having her in town for the month. Since graduating from college, Abby, the girl he had grown up with and who was literally like a sister to him, had been scarce. She was living in Virginia now. Combined with the fact that Zain’s own younger sister was in Europe celebrating her college graduation, Zain was glad to have Abby back, even for this short time. He would never admit it, but he missed the two girls.
“Abby? Is there any reason you’re carrying a sniper rifle?” Zain asked as he noticed the rifle slung over her shoulder. Given that her father was Ahmed Mueez, the biggest badass soldier Rahmi had ever seen, and her mother was Bridget, who was no slouch on the soldier front either, Zain guessed it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.
“I just finished getting some long-range practice in with Mom and Dad.”
“Ah, family bonding at its best,” Zain smirked.
Abby punched his shoulder. He didn’t move but had to bite back the grunt. Abby had never hit like a girl. In fact, she had taken it as her personal mission ever since she was four years old to do whatever the boys did, just better.
“I got a call from Veronica. I guess she’s desperate. She needed me to race over here for some favor. Speak of the devil,” Abby grinned as Veronica stepped out the front door of the mansion at Desert Farm. Not only was it Zain’s parents’ home, it also housed their offices. “You rang, Madame?”
Veronica rolled her exquisite blue eyes. Her perfect, sun-bleached blond hair was pulled back into a bun. Her makeup was flawless and her lips bright red. The white Oxford shirt was cut to display her figure and the black pencil skirt made men stop in their tracks. But Zain knew better. Veronica only cared if Abby stopped in her tracks. It was too bad, too. Abby didn’t play in that field. She didn’t even play in that stadium.
“I need you,” Veronica said before blushing, “to pick up someone at the airport,” she finished quickly.
“Sure, I can do that. When?” Abby said as she pulled her ponytail holder from her hair and shook out her dark locks.
Veronica cringed. “Now?”
“Now?” Abby cried. “I’m a mess.”
“I think you look wonderful,” Veronica said. “Besides, you’re just picking up an interpreter and taking her to the bed and breakfast. Mila Thiessen is her name.”
“Fine,” Abby sighed. “Zain, can I borrow your car?”
“Sure.” Zain reached into his pocket and tossed her the keys to his SUV. With a huff, Abby turned and strode toward the garage.
“You know she has no clue you’re a lesbian, right?” Zain asked his assistant as they both stared after Abby.