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that bank.”
    “We need to deal with this from a position of strength, Joan.
    They’ve already shown us they can get to us. And now this?” He gestured toward the cop while the man brushed the hair from the woman’s face. Even in the waning light, there was no doubt he adored her. “We have to fortify our position.”
    “Fortify our position? What kind of talk is that? You act like we’re going into battle.”
    “No. We’re not going into it. We’re already there. Until we know how and why, we’ve got to get away from here.”
    “Away? And go where?”
    Tom started to respond, but he noted a police cruiser pull up at the intersection a few yards from them. “We need to go.”
    Joan followed his gaze and then gave him a reluctant nod.
    He eased toward the stop sign, desperate not to attract either cop’s attention.
    He breathed a bit easier when the cruiser continued through the intersection without sparing them a look. Tom flicked on his right blinker, heeded the stop sign and then wheeled the car to the right. The cop with the teller remained engrossed with her. While they sat at the light just a short distance away, Joan risked a look at him.
    “He’s looking at us.”
    “Just be calm.” Tom reached over to give her hand a squeeze. Joan settled back in the seat when the light changed. He pressed the accelerator and went with the flow of traffic onto the onramp of the Santa Monica Freeway.
    “We need to get out of the city. Once we’re out of their grasp, we’ll have some breathing room and can figure this out.”
    Joan stared at him. “We? Don’t you mean me? Aren’t you heading out of the country tomorrow?”
    “First of all, I’m not about to abandon you in this mess. After all, you’re in it because you tried to help me. Second, my tickets and my passport are still in my apartment. I won’t be flying commercial anytime soon.”
    “So we’re just going to flee the city like common criminals?”
    “Unless you’d prefer to stay and face those very determined guards.” He looked at her miserable face in the dim light. “I don’t like this anymore than you do. But my gut is telling me that we need to handle this once we’ve marshaled all available resources.”
    “You say that like we have some resources available. I can’t for the life of me figure what they are. Especially if the police are out of the question.”
    Tom smiled at her. He wondered if now was a good time to let her in on the fact that she’d been palling around today with Rafferstonia’s King-‐-to-‐-be. The smile faded a bit. Knowing Joan, she wouldn’t believe him for a moment. In fact, it was more probable she’d decide he was a crazy person and jump from the car at the first opportunity. He couldn’t allow that. Not that he’d blame her.
    Americans were far removed from the notion of royalty. Still, he was serious about protecting her and helping get her life back on track. After all, she wouldn’t be in this mess if not for him.
    “Let’s just say that I know some people.”
    He heard her suck in a deep breath when they took the entrance to the Santa Monica Freeway. “I hope it’s the right people.”
    “They are,” Tom confirmed and returned his attention to the thick traffic heading away from the beach community toward downtown Los Angeles. His mouth tightened into a grim line.

    Crown Prince Saracen Tomas de Raffertias du Bacoeur had a lot more weight than Tom Rafferty. He was quite looking forward to shedding his Tom Rafferty persona and start throwing that weight around.
    But he had to do in the proper way. The last thing he wanted to do was to allow any hint of scandal to touch his ascension to the throne. Him being fingered, as the Americans put it, as a bank robber would put his county’s considerable financial interests at risk. It appalled him to think that such shame could be brought upon his nation because of him. That was the last thing he’d allow to happen.

    ****
    She must be plumb