Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  Alanna smiled. She’s defensive. Which means she knows I’m right. Alanna turned back. “If my words end up saving your life, or someone else’s, then it’s a worthy consequence. Good night, Miss.”

  Alanna left, closing the door. If being fired was the worst thing that happened to her today, then it would be a vast improvement from the last week.

  FLYNN WOKE TO URGENT KNOCKING on the cabin door. The room was dark, but plenty of moonlight filtered in through the small window. He dragged himself out of the bottom bunk, in which he’d only been in for an hour after a long day of tinkering in the engine room. His eyes were sore and the earlier headache lingered. Alanna’s cot was empty. She’d never come to bed.

  Another rough knock made him turn. When he opened the door, Flynn squinted through the additional light into a decidedly feminine form. A shimmery purple bikini top that barely covered her breasts, and ripped jean shorts—way too short. When his eyes moved up to the girl’s face, Flynn’s grimace deepened.

  Stacia.

  Shit.

  Her fake-blonde hair was recently washed, brushed back into a smooth cape behind her head. He didn’t have to look close to notice fresh makeup, and too-shiny, red lipstick.

  Will leave one hell of a mess on whatever her lips touch.

  “I’m glad you’re still awake.” Her voice was irritatingly sultry. “Is this what you normally sleep in?”

  He glanced at his bare chest and loose shorts.

  “A woman could get used to snuggling up to that broad pack of muscles every night.” Her toothy smile made him wary. “But where did you get that nasty bruise? Deck work really that dangerous?” Her long fingers reached out and touched his chest. His skin burned—not in a good way. Lurching back, he grabbed her wrist and moved it away. The sting radiated to his spine.

  “Aww, you’re shy, aren’t you?” Her smile widened, the flash in her eyes making him feel less than attracted.

  No, I don’t like being touched.

  “What do you want?” He made sure it came out clipped and annoyed.

  Her smiled turned to a pout. “I felt bad that you couldn’t go ashore with us, so I brought a souvenir for you.”

  Flynn rubbed his eye. I’m too tired for these girly games.

  “Can I come in and give it to you?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Her lips thinned at his short reply.

  Dammit. Too blunt again. I don’t want to get us thrown off.

  “No. Crewmembers can’t fraternize with clients, miss.”

  Her creepy grin returned. “Stacia, please. I won’t tattle on you. Promise.” She pushed past him.

  Flynn groaned inwardly. I just want to go to sleep.

  The door closed on its own. When he turned around, she had already sat on his bunk and crossed her orange-tan legs.

  Now I’ll have to change my sheets. Her fake-tan lotion is contaminating the fibers.

  When she was sure he was watching, she reached into her bikini and pulled out a long, gold chain. A sun-charm dangled from the end.

  “I saw it and thought of you. A mighty sun god.”

  Flynn rolled his eyes. “Did you get a gift for everyone who couldn’t go ashore?”

  “No. Just you.”

  His sigh was audible.

  “Let me put it on you.” She stood.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Just let me see how it looks.” She grinned and moved to wrap it around his neck.

  He stepped back. She must not hear the word no very often.

  “I’m not going to bite,” she laughed. “Come here.”

  He scowled at her. If he said anything, it would be insulting and cost him his job. Then they’d never make it to Singapore.

  Her smile disappeared. “Don’t make me angry, Flynn. Or I’ll tell the captain how you shoved me into your room, forced yourself on me, and made me do dirty…dirty things.”

  What the fuck?

  “Oh, and stole my necklace.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” This bitch is crossing the line.

  She sneered. “Who do you think they’d believe more? You, the poor engineer, or me, the client?”

  “How about I throw you overboard and watch you swim to shore?”

  Her sneer morphed into a laugh. Deep, hearty, and vicious. Like they were playing a game she just won. “You’d lose your job either way. Wouldn’t it be easier just to accept my gift?”

  Flynn’s jaw twitched. Easier, but only short-term. He really wanted to throw her out of the room, job be damned. He didn’t care what people thought about him or least of all what her motivations were. But Alanna needed to make it to Singapore. Her family’s legacy was on the line. And her life. If that meant accepting a damned necklace and swallowing the shit this conniving whore threw at him…

  A bitter taste crept up his throat.

  Stacia moved forward again, slowly sliding her arms around his neck. He itched under her touch as he let her clasp the cheap thing on him. Her rose-scented shampoo nearly made him gag.

  The door swung open behind him. Before he could see who it was, Stacia plastered herself to his chest and locked her lips on his. The slippery, red mess smeared all over his mouth, sticky with the pungent smell of old crayons. His whole face felt covered in glue.

  Flynn reared back, hitting his head on the open door.

  “Well hey.” Stacia grinned over his shoulder. “Lanna, right?”

  Flynn’s throat closed in on itself. She stood there…slack-jawed and pink cheeked.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Stacia wiped some lipstick from Flynn’s skin with her thumb. “I’m still waiting on that champagne. Oh, and I’m out of conditioner in my shower.”

  Humiliation ripped through him. Alanna’s stunned expression morphed eerily into a polite smile. “Yes, Stacia. Perhaps some deodorant as well? Or breath mints?”

  Stacia’s grin faltered.

  Flynn’s mind processed the insanity, and he couldn’t think of the words to say. He wanted Stacia to leave, and Alanna to stay. Short of pushing Stacia out and pulling Alanna inside, how could he get them to do it?

  Stacia traced her finger along his jaw, her sultry smile in place. “You know where to find me.”

  With that, she squeezed past Alanna into the narrow hallway. Once at the stairwell, she barreled past Alfred, who’d just descended. He tossed a puzzled look over his shoulder, and then scowled at the pair of them in the open doorway.

  Alanna’s eyes could’ve flash boiled the whole damn ocean. Suddenly, she threw a towel in Flynn’s face. The damp fabric smelled of cucumbers.

  “It wasn’t just the location you had a problem with before, but also the company.” Her voice sliced through his conscience like razor blades. “You’ll want to wipe that crap off before it stains your self-righteous clothes.” She whirled around and stomped down the hallway.

  Alfred tried to stop her. “Hang on there, princess. We need to talk.”

  Alanna waved him off. “Despues,” she spat.

  “Where are you going?” Flynn called after her.

  “Donde no estas!” She disappeared up the stairs.

  Where you are not.

  “Does she plan on sleeping on deck?” Flynn asked Alfred, who’d maintained his scowl. It could’ve been cloned from his father’s face. One he’d seen more often than a smile from the man he’d hardly known, until he was discharged from the Navy. Only then had his father taken an interest in him. Then proceeded to tell him how to live for the next several years.

  “Didn’t you listen to anything I said earlier?” Alfred asked.

  “She kissed me,” Flynn complained, while trying to wipe off the lipstick. It still smelled, no matter how hard he rubbed. “I couldn’t force her off fast enough.”

  Alfred sighed. “Well, you’re on her bloody radar now. You’d better lock yourself in the engine room from now on.”

  Flynn rolled his eyes and threw the towel on his bed. This is the shit I get for keeping to my
self?

  “But not before you and I have a little chat,” the Brit demanded.

  “I’ve had all the chats I can handle.”

  “The farce is up, Yankee.”

  “Farce?”

  Alfred motioned inside the cabin. Flynn relented and skulked into the bunk. The old Brit shut the door and crossed his arms. The cabin was tiny, allowing only enough space for one person to pass through at a time. Which meant Alfred was much too close for Flynn’s comfort. His skin crawled.

  Here comes another damn lecture.

  “I saw Princess Alanna’s picture on the telly. She’s on the run, and from some nasty bugga’s, it sounds like. Spill it.”

  Well, shit.

  “I won’t say anything without her here. And it doesn’t look like she’ll be coming back anytime soon, Al.”

  “Who are you?” His stern expression never softened.

  Flynn clamped his jaw together.

  “Special forces? Her Royal Bodyguard, what?”

  Flynn scoffed.

  Alfred’s eyebrows dipped lower. “There’s no way you’re just some random bloke helping her out of the kindness of your heart. You have a hard, calculating look of a CIA agent, or international con artist. Which is it?”

  He wanted to laugh, yet he couldn’t allow Alfred’s insult to stand. “She asked for help. So I’m helping.”

  “Why?”

  I don’t have a fucking clue.

  “Are you hoping for a reward or something,” Alfred pushed. “Money? Position? A good rogering? What’s in it for you?”

  “Enough!” Flynn yelled. Every single move questioned again, and unending pestering, even from strangers. The room closed in on him.

  Can’t someone help her because they can? Must every decision have a reciprocal gain?

  “She ran up to me on the docks in Solana and asked for a ride. So, I said yes. After a bunch of chaos and nearly getting my head blown off—twice—here we are. I feel responsible for her, all right?”

  Alfred’s disapproving glare dissipated into a slack-jawed stare.

  “What?” Flynn nudged.

  “You’re just an average bloke? No training, nothing?”

  “Do it. Tell me how crazy I am. That I don’t have the slightest chance getting her out of this alive. That I’m not good enough.”

  “Well, now that you mention it…” Alfred rubbed the graying stubble on his chin.

  “Go away.” Flynn waved him off.

  “What I was going to say before you jumped all over my ass, was what can I do?”

  Flynn stared at him.

  “You aren’t Special Forces or a trained bodyguard,” Alfred continued. “You need all the help you can get. Unless, you really think you can keep her safe with just your bulging muscles and prickly attitude.”

  The taste in his mouth putrefied. Flynn hated asking for help. Worse than the smell of that hideous lipstick, or even Alanna’s disapproving glare. But Alfred was right. They would need major support to make it to Singapore alive.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked Alfred.

  The man looked at him dumbfounded. He finally shrugged. “I like the girl. She reminds me of the daughter I never had. I don’t know. Just something about her.”

  Flynn nodded, more to himself. Yeah, just something about her. “You want to help me?”

  Al shook his head. “I want to help her.”

  “Then get us to Singapore…and keep that other woman off my face.”

  He scowled, motioning to Flynn’s neck. “You’ll want to toss that gift overboard. Or there will be a lot more than Stacia in your face.”

  “YOU LOOK LIKE AN OCTOPUS with dreads,” Stacia cackled, as Becca fitted the mask and regulator to her face. One of the deckhands, Marcus—a Thai national with a lean frame—held the air tank up behind her, so she wouldn’t fall over on the two steps to the water in her green flippers. The tank was attached to a BCD vest, a buoyancy compensator device, which would make Becca maneuver underwater more easily. Marcus was the designated scuba instructor for the clients.

  Becca wheezed through the regulator, turning to the ocean. Holding the device and mask in place as she was taught, she took a giant step over the deck and splashed into the Sulu Sea.

  Alanna imagined the cool water enveloping her in the sweltering heat. Instead, she sweated under the balcony, waiting for the next request. She rubbed her neck, her muscles stiff from spending the night in an uncomfortable deck chair. Still, anywhere was better than being in the same room as Flynn. Not only had he refused her, he’d kissed that despicable hellcat.

  Rejection hurt.

  Her pride had been tested on so many levels during this escape, though she never expected to be in this position. Watching another woman get chosen over her. Pride before the fall, indeed.

  I’m supposed to be focused on saving my people. Reaching the U.S. Consulate and finding my brother. Not some adventurous romance with someone I’ll never see again.

  To add more gasoline to the flames, now Alfred knew her true identity. What would he do with that information? Hide them or turn them in?

  Before her shift started with the spoiled brats on deck, she’d asked to use the bridge phone to call her family. Liang had nodded, his face as stern as ever. Once again, every line was busy or voicemails full. Feeling more hopeless than ever, she stared into the sea, wishing she could have a moment’s peace in the calming waters.

  Kinsley and Marcus followed Becca below, signaled OK over their heads, and went under the gentle waves. The ocean was clear today, so Alanna could see them from the surface, no matter how deep they went.

  The only downside to their little sidebar excursion—other than further delaying their arrival into the next port—was that Stacia hadn’t joined them. The temptress claimed diving was boring, but Alanna saw her wary look when she thought no one was looking. She was terrified. Not even snorkeling could lure her back.

  The bully is terrified of open water. Not a great vacation choice. Alanna kept a snicker to herself.

  Sadly, this meant Stacia’s attention would be more focused on her favorite activity—harassing the crew.

  Especially Alanna.

  Stacia peered over the edge at the divers, and then adjusted her bikini, a pale orange one that left even less to the imagination than the others. Slim straps crisscrossed in the front, accentuating her bust with barely enough fabric to cover her nipples. The bottoms had the same design, with a large silver rhinestone over the top of her…well, definitely meant to draw the eye lower.

  Worn for Flynn, no doubt.

  The image of that hideous lipstick all over his lips made her want to heave. But he’d been below deck most of the day, hiding and playing around in the engine room. Probably the smarter move.

  He was lucky he didn’t get slapped last night.

  “Earth to Lanna!”

  Alanna blinked. Stacia stared like a bleached Medusa. “Yes, Miss?”

  “Another damn mai tai, if you can rip your eyes off my ass!”

  Alanna scowled. Had I been staring?

  Portia giggled and stretched on the circular lounge chair she’d occupied the last hour. Beside her was a massive burgundy-looking slushy, a hangover drink Alfred had concocted. Portia was on her second.

  “I’m not into girls, so stop fantasizing,” Stacia sneered. The savage brutality on her face made her look like she’d sucked on a scorpion pepper. “Who do I have to screw for a Snickers bar?”

  Alanna forced a smile and turned to fetch the requested items.

  Flynn hiding below deck was just as infuriating to her. He didn’t have to put up with the horrible things the client dragged her through.

  Lucky little shit.

  Alfred had the mai tai ready by the time Alanna grabbed the tray, including a handful of mini Snickers bars circling the base of the glass.

  “Heaven forbid her Royal-Assness doesn’t have her chocolates.” Alfred winked, and Alanna snorted.

  “I’m sorry for b
eing short with you yesterday,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have—”

  Alfred shook his head. “Don’t you worry your precious head about it. Your secret is safe with me,” he whispered. “You need anything, let me know.”

  With a smile, Alanna grabbed the tray.

  Alfred touched her hand. “Anything. Flynn and I have your back.”

  Her eyebrows rose. Crap. How much did Flynn tell him? It was as equally unsettling as reassuring.

  When Alanna returned to the deck, Stacia had plopped herself into a lounger on the lower deck, now lathering her arms with sunscreen.

  These chocolates will melt in minutes out here, unless she stuffs all of them in at once. Probably a better color on her than that awful red lipstick.

  Alanna set the drink and candy on the small table next to Stacia, having learned her lesson about handing them to her directly. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Get your ass out of my sun.”

  Alanna bit down on her tongue.

  The scuba trio returned to the surface. Alanna helped them aboard—with thanks from everyone except Becca—and pulled up the rest of the gear. She knew her way around a BCD vest and tanks. Taking off the heavy equipment in the water and hauling it up after was considerably easier than lugging it up on someone’s back.

  “We saw a black-tip reef shark!” Kinsley bragged to Stacia. “Becca got scared, so we had to come up.”

  “Whatever!” she barked, trying to wipe off the mask marks on her face. “I didn’t want it mistaking my fringe for food.”

  Portia laughed. “They do look like calamari.”

  Alanna knelt and leaned over the edge of the boat to retrieve the last BCD vest. The sun beat down on her skin, and she realized too late that her shirt had lifted, revealing her lower back.

  “Oh my God!” someone squealed. “Is that a fanny pack?”

  Before she could turn, someone grabbed the buckle at her waist, and yanked the bag away. Alanna’s heart jumped into her throat, and she whirled.

  The necklace!

  Stacia dangled the bag in the air like a dead fish, an evil grin plastered in place. “This is so 1985, and hideous!”

  Becca giggled as she dried off.

  “Give it back to her, Stacia.” Kinsley slipped her fins off and shook her head.