Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  Flynn stared at Alanna, as did the clients. The rude one still scowled, but at least took a glass of lemonade and a plate off the tray.

  Wow. Girls really do have their own language.

  She set the tray on the buffet table off to the side, and Flynn followed her inside. When he was sure they were out of earshot, he chuckled.

  “Well done. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle her. My first inclination is to walk away from them.”

  Alanna’s diplomatic smile was gone. “Shameful. Just shameful.” She shook her head.

  The chef turned around, a bald, big-boned man with an elfin face and gentle blue eyes. “Get used to it, darling,” he interjected, his British accent distinctive. “Many clients are like that. Yet that one isn’t the client’s daughter.” He set four chilled glasses on the counter. “The one in the white, fringed bikini, Rebecca, is Daddy’s little girl. I’ve been serving them for two years, along with Captain Chen. She’s not quite as spoiled as that other one, but when those four are together, it’s not a pleasant trip.”

  “My father would’ve reamed me out for ever behaving like that to our staff.”

  The chef raised a brow at her, but Alanna waved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Stacia wanted a piña—”

  “I heard loud and clear,” he chuckled. He poured the white, iced liquid into the glasses like a seasoned bartender, and then looked to Flynn. “You the new engineer?”

  Flynn nodded.

  “Welcome aboard. I hope your mechanic experience is up to snuff. Had problems with that engine a time or two.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Alfred Cleaver. Spare me the chef jokes.”

  “Flynn.”

  Alfred finished garnishing the drinks. “Here you go, Lanna.” He spun the tray toward her. “Just keep those pearly whites in place, no matter what they say. You’ll be fine.”

  She gave him a genuine smile, and grabbed the drink tray. She was unsteady at first, but managed her way out the door.

  Amazing that these women were the same age as Alanna. The princess—who had a more luxurious, wealthy lifestyle than any of these snotty brats—held more maturity, grace, and genuine humility. True beauty.

  “Psst,” Alfred whispered. “How did you two get this job at the last minute?”

  “Long story.”

  “Word of warning. Keep your cabin door locked when you’re not in it. With that Miss Stacia on board, might as well lock it when you’re in it, too. She’s a bit of a…”

  Flynn frowned. “Klepto?”

  Alfred frowned. “Among other things.”

  Flynn scowled. Good thing he’d bought Alanna a little pack to keep around her waist this morning. It seemed a better idea to keep the necklace on her at all times than to risk someone finding it in a cabin…or worse, around her neck.

  “Where do you lock up your valuables?” Flynn asked.

  “In my pants,” Alfred laughed. “Not that it would stop her.”

  “Has she tried before?”

  The chef cringed. “Bloody hell, no. I’d sooner screw the devil—would be safer. That, and my sister would slice my throat with my own paring knife.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Marie.”

  “The Chief Stew?”

  “Right. While you’re at it, don’t cross her bad side either.” He pointed a spoon at Flynn. “Just keep your hands to yourself if you don’t want to lose your shirt.” He tossed mushrooms into a sizzling sauté pan.

  “Thanks for the warning, but it’s not me I’m concerned about.” Flynn glanced out the window, and watched through the tinted glass as Alanna handed each girl a drink. Stacia shoved Alanna backward on her way to the hot tub, causing the tray to teeter and a piña colada to spill down the orange-skinned girl’s spine. Everyone on the deck froze, until the Filipina giggled and Stacia’s face morphed into a vicious glare.

  “I’m so sorry,” Alanna said, breathless with wide eyes.

  Stacia turned and slapped the tray up into Alanna’s chest, splashing the remnants all over her shirt. The Filipino friend laughed outright this time, while the other girls grimaced.

  Stacia spun on a heel and stormed off.

  “It was an accident,” the brunette called after her, and then gave an apologetic look towards Alanna. The princess rubbed her forehead where the tray had smacked her, then knelt to pick up the broken glass. Her shirt was soaked with the cream liquor.

  “That’s going to need bleach,” Flynn remarked from inside.

  Alfred glanced at the sizzling pan of mushrooms, and scowled. “Bleach?”

  Flynn didn’t bother explaining. He walked out to help her clean up.

  By the look on her face, he should’ve approached with a white flag and bulletproof vest.

  ALANNA SCRUBBED HER STAINED SHIRT in the bathroom sink with a little bar of soap. If her fury could melt stains, the world wouldn’t need detergent.

  At least the tiny cabin she shared with Flynn had its own sink and toilet, though there was no lock. They’d be sharing this cabin with two tiny cots bunk style. The top bunk was so close to the ceiling, she was sure she’d hit her head every time she climbed in. Rolling in and out was the only option. She needed to get over privacy fast. Along with her hopes of being treated with respect by that desmadrosa on the top deck.

  Calm down, Alanna. Better than being killed by the cartel.

  The thought alone simmered her nerves. She’d take a face full of piña colada than be in the clutches of those monsters any day. But that damn client needed a huge lesson on manners. As well as a harsh kick in her narrow ass.

  After the third rinse, the stain was gone and ready for the laundry. For the next few hours she’d have to put on the navy polo shirt Flynn bought her this morning.

  Wearing only her bra and deck shorts, Alanna collapsed on Flynn’s cot. At least the new canvas shoes he’d picked out weren’t stained as well. They were the right size, too. Perfect deck-wear. The pack he’d bought for her lay next to her, Luna de Azul tucked safely inside, that way she could keep it buckled at her waist at all times. Flynn paid attention to details.

  She hadn’t heard the conversation between Flynn and the Bitch, but by the seductive look on the orange-skinned girl, Alanna guessed the topic easily enough. She wasn’t used to the green fire that raged in her heart, any more than she was used to being a servant. To see some other woman hold Flynn’s attention—especially one as horrible as Stacia—made her blood boil.

  She thought she’d been doing so well, too. Giving him the cold shoulder, and playing hard to get. Meanwhile, using her charm with the other staff on board. She never thought he’d turn to the first bimbo in a bikini.

  As to her first real job, she figured being a steward involved the same kind of care as volunteering at the Children’s Hospital on Solana. Lots of listening, smiles, and keeping the topic on the patients—showing them the positive despite their pain.

  But this was nothing like that. This was harder. Keeping calm and a pleasant smile around such ungrateful and spoiled people required an entirely different discipline. One Alanna wasn’t sure she had.

  Please tell me the staff at the palace didn’t feel that way about me.

  To be treated that horribly by someone was humiliating.

  But they were out of Manila. She was safe for now. They’d find a U.S. Consulate at the next destination. Get word to someone on Solana she was safe. God willing, I’ll be home soon.

  A lump climbed up her throat she couldn’t swallow back.

  Home.

  Lozano’s son had told her Solana was destroyed. What if it was?

  She covered her face to stifle the tears pricking her eyes.

  The door opened. Alanna gasped and wrapped her arms around her chest.

  “You okay?” Flynn asked softly.

  “Don’t just stand there with the door open! In or out.”

  He chose in. When the door was closed, he tossed a shirt on the bed. His large frame filled the already con
fined space, but at least he turned to allow her a little privacy.

  “Marie, the chief stew, asked me to give this to you.”

  It was the spare uniform. Two sizes too large, but better than nothing.

  “Thanks,” Alanna croaked, and pulled the shirt over her head. Flynn turned around again, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. The uniform accentuated his biceps and pecs. Her favorite features, other than his eyes.

  “Marie said our first stop is Puerto Princesa. We’ll arrive there later tonight.”

  Alanna’s brow furrowed. “Where’s that?”

  “Palawan. A small island southwest of here. The clients will be going night diving, so you’ll have a little break.”

  The shirt swallowed her like a bath sheet, covering any hint that she was a fully-grown woman. Not that she was self-conscious of her appearance, but she refused to work the rest of the day looking like she wore a tent. Gathering the extra material around her waist, she tied a knot right at her hipbone. Now she could work without catching the fabric on something.

  When she looked up, his green gaze was fixated on her, holding her in place on the bed. That same look that had stopped her in her tracks the first night on the dock in Solana. This time, instead of knocking the breath out of her, it only made her heart skip several times. The corner of his mouth lifted.

  “What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.

  “Both resourceful and a unique way with people. You really are the ideal princess.”

  Alanna paused. This was the first time he’d ever acknowledged her as royalty. His causal air made it seem more meaningful. Less diplomatic, as if he weren’t buttering her up for something. Yet maybe he was.

  She was still angry with him, and her pride wouldn’t heal that quickly. She scoffed. With a flip of her braid, she turned to grab the pack. Unzipping it, she checked to make sure Luna de Azul was safely concealed, along with her passport. She’d wrapped them in Rona’s destroyed shirt for extra protection. This way she wouldn’t have to hide the jewels unattended in her cabin or wear it, which would’ve been way too risky, especially around these people. They’d question her role as a steward.

  “Does the shirt fit okay?” Flynn asked.

  Alanna nodded and clasped the pack around her waist, hiding it beneath her shirt.

  “Don’t worry about what’s-her-name,” Flynn continued. “In a few days, you’ll never have to see them again.”

  “Are all clients like that?”

  Flynn shrugged. “It’s not an exclusive trait of the ultra wealthy, but I don’t normally interact with guests.”

  “How is that possible, on a boat this size?” Alanna smoothed her hair back, realizing her braid needed to be redone. There were too many strands loose. If only there were a few hairpins on board.

  “I stay in the engine room for a reason,” Flynn responded. “People-pleasing is not my forte.”

  “An odd job choice with that kind of weakness.”

  He sat on the edge of the lower bunk. The mattress sank under his weight, and his large thighs filled the empty space between the bed and the wall. Their legs brushed against each other. His fresh cologne strengthened, and she fought the urge to lean toward him and soak in it.

  “My father suggested yachting to condition out my social…inefficiencies. Said I’d need the skills if I was going to take over his business one day.”

  “And?”

  “And he won’t be changing his business cards anytime soon,” he chuckled. “Why do you think I stick to engineering?”

  “Pissed off one too many clients?” Alanna smirked.

  “And burned a few bridges in the process. Some of his more profitable ones.”

  Alanna raised her eyebrows. “On purpose?”

  “No. I was just too direct for some of them. And refused to apologize for speaking the truth.”

  She nodded slowly. Politics could use more people with traits like that. My father would have liked him.

  “So, you get to avoid them, safe in your engine room, while I have to pretend to swallow it.”

  “No. We can get off at the next stop, and find another way to a U.S. Consulate. But…”

  “We risk running into the cartel.”

  Flynn’s smile was more apologetic than humorous. “Take your pick.”

  Alanna studied her hands. They were small in her lap, and paler than normal.

  “I’ve got some bad news,” Flynn sighed.

  Great. Like I could use more of that. “What?”

  “Palawan doesn’t have a U.S. Embassy or Consulate. Neither does the next stop, Kota Kinabalu. We have to wait for the third stop in Singapore.”

  “Well, how long until we make there?”

  “Four days. But…”

  “But what?” I don’t like the sound of this.

  “It’s a private cruise. The clients could tell the captain to stay in one place longer, or even change the itinerary completely.”

  Alanna pursed her lips. “So, you’re saying my return home is in the hands of those four girls above my head?”

  “Would you rather it in the hands of those thugs?”

  “I’d rather it in my own damn hands, thank you very much.” My small, pale, insignificant hands.

  “What do you want to do?”

  Alanna chewed the inside of her cheek. She needed to know what was happening on Solana. Which meant she had to chance calling people who may already be dead. If she called the Prime Minister or somehow the UN delegate, assuming they’d believe it was really her, the world would know in ten seconds she was still alive. Then quadruple the risk of the cartel finding her first, unless she was already in protective custody with the U.S. Consulate.

  Which meant she had to find one, before she called anyone. Unless she could still reach André. With his position already in the US, maybe he could tell her what was going on. When it would be safe to return. He had to have more information.

  “I’m sorry for last night,” Flynn continued, his voice lower and softer.

  Alanna’s spine stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I do,” he countered. His serious tone made her pause. “I don’t apologize very often, so when I do it can come out…misunderstood.”

  “You explained everything perfectly well last night. Let’s not relive it. It’s done.”

  Flynn clamped his mouth shut like she’d slapped it.

  “You may not apologize often,” she continued. “But I receive a lot of sorries for one reason or another. I’m sick of them. Words don’t mean much to me anymore. Actions do. So, let’s just get to work.”

  “Fine.”

  The word was like a bucket of ice down her back. She hated that injured look on Flynn’s face, but he deserved it.

  Someone knocked on the door, pulling her out of her thoughts. Flynn stood and opened it.

  Marie, the Chief Steward, was big-boned with cheeks as round as her torso, and graying hair pinned back into a twist. “How is she? Does the shirt fit all right?” Her thick British accent matched Alfred’s.

  “It will do, Marie. Thank you.” Alanna smiled.

  Marie’s gaze ping-ponged between Flynn and Alanna, and her gentle look faded. “Well, then back to work. We need to clean a few more glasses, and Alfred could use your hands in preparing lunch.” She turned to Flynn with a cross look. “The captain would like to see you in the wheelhouse.”

  Flynn nodded. He squeezed past Marie, and disappeared down the hall. Marie stood to the side to let Alanna through, and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Just focus on the job. Don’t let that girl ruffle your feathers.”

  “I look that inexperienced?” Alanna kept her voice low.

  “You look that young,” Marie corrected. “One more thing. Keep your mind on your duties while the clients are on board. The captain runs a tight ship, and it’s unprofessional to…get on with other staff.”

  Alanna’s cheeks heated. She thought she’d kept her attraction to Fly
nn well hidden from everyone. Guess not. “That’s not on my radar.”

  Not anymore.

  Marie nodded. “‘Atta girl. Just make sure it’s not on his radar either.”

  Alanna wanted to snort. With him, the question is with whom?

  “YES, DADDY,” THE FILIPINO GIRL, Becca, spoke into the phone. Her voice was as charming as her cherub-like face, but Flynn didn’t buy it. It was all an act to appease Daddy, so he’d open his pockets wider.

  Captain Chen manned the helm like a veteran sailor, letting his boss’ daughter finish the conversation. Flynn stood at the back of the bridge, waiting for the right moment to announce his presence. He hoped to use the satellite phone at some point, too. Dean was probably freaking out that Flynn hadn’t made the flight, though he wouldn’t land in Brisbane until tomorrow morning.

  Becca dangled the heeled sandal from her toes, while twisting the fringe on her bikini. Occasionally she’d roll her eyes. “Yes, we’ll behave ourselves…She’s not that bad, Daddy. I’m keeping her in line… We’ll be safe on the island with Captain Chen, don’t worry.”

  Chen’s chin flexed slightly, but he kept his eyes on the sea through the expansive windows. Clear skies…at least beyond the glass.

  The captain is escorting them to shore? Interesting.

  “Daddy, I have to go…Yes, I’ll see you in Singapore. Bye.” She hung up and groaned, like a toddler that was just told to go to bed. “Even in the middle of the ocean, I can’t get away from his nagging.” She noticed Flynn, still waiting. “Oh, the engineer hottie,” she cooed with a smile. “Care to join us on our night dive? We’d love to have you.” Something flashed across her face, but Flynn wasn’t looking that closely to identify it.

  “That’s nice of you to offer,” Captain Chen answered in his heavy Chinese accent. “However, our engineer has tasks to perform while you’re ashore, Miss Becca.”

  Flynn kept a sigh of relief to himself. Instead, he remained silent while she strode out of the bridge, lingering at his side for an extra long look before she turned the corner.

  “You asked to see me, Captain.” Flynn kept his spine rigid, a familiar stance from the Navy while addressing a superior officer. Chen turned, his hands firm at his sides. The man didn’t smile, not that Flynn expected him to. Either a skipper thing or Chinese thing, it didn’t matter. The man’s air commanded respect.