Shit. This is it.
The Devil smiled again, the gesture cracking his tanned, wrinkled skin. With a single motion, he released the magazine from the gun, popped the bullet out of the chamber—scattering it across the floor—and set the weapon on the counter. Then he sat in the visitor’s chair, crossing his leg over his knee.
The gesture froze her solid. She was helpless. There was no better chance to finish her off. And he sits?
“He used to be faster.” His accent was thick but clear as he gestured his head toward Stefano.
The former royal guardsman never moved. Is he dead?
“Don’t worry. He’ll wake up in a minute. With a splitting headache.”
“What are you waiting for?” Her stitch-filled gut had jumped up into her throat, but her anger was just as potent.
“Backup.”
Her gaze narrowed. What’s close? Something that can hurt him. A scalpel? Needle? Anything. Or just whack the gun against his temple.
“I can see the cogs turning in your head. Exit strategy. Searching for self-defense weapons.” She could hear the grin in his voice, as if he was thoroughly entertained. Jackass. “But the world is much bigger than you, señorita. Unlike the media makes you believe.”
“Then what was that shit back at the ranch for? If I’m not important, why bother trying to kill me?” Her voice shook. She refused to admit it was from fear, but anger.
His shoulder barely lifted in a shrug. “At the time, you were worth something.”
“And now?”
He smiled, revealing perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. “Now, you’re my gateway to freedom.”
“Your what?”
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a white napkin. With two fingers, he flicked it onto her bed. But her arms were trembling so badly, she didn’t dare pick it up.
“If you’re smart, you’ll only show that to the geriatric wonder-boy here. Don’t let the badges have all the fun.”
Two officers pushed the door open and aimed their guns at the calm assassin in the corner. Too calm. “Hands up! On the floor!”
Vasco’s grin widened, and she nearly wet herself from her body trembling so badly. “There’s the backup.” He raised his hands, stood from the chair achingly slow, and knelt. As he was cuffed and searched for weapons—from which they found a long, serrated knife at his ankle—he never once took his gaze off her.
The room filled with officers, both local and federal. Nurses roused Stefano, dazed and bleeding from a cut on his forehead. His knuckles were already bruised. Gemma glanced to the floor on the other side of the room and found the bullet, next to the item Vasco had thrown.
A knee hammer.
She tried to get up to help, and her fingers skimmed the coarse napkin on the bed. When she opened it, she read the barely legible writing:
Oslob cliffs, Cebu
DESPITE THE MOON COVERED BY smoke plumes in the middle of the night, the marina was lit up like a hot afternoon from the smoldering remnants of the Royal Yacht. Along with dozens of other nearby ships and sailboats, the flames combined with the swirling lights of ambulances, fire trucks, and army vehicles aiding in rescue efforts to light up the night sky.
Flynn could barely swallow, looking at the destruction from several miles out through the passenger window of a local’s car. He’d run out of the palace, determined to help, when a passerby stopped and agreed to take him down there. The man hadn’t said much. Flynn was thankful for that.
Until the sounds of the chaos were close enough to hear through the window. Screams, cries melded with the endless sirens from emergency vehicles. Vicious screeching from jackhammers and motor saws cut people out of debris.
“You’re the princess’s boyfriend, right?” the old man asked. His face was leathery and weathered, and his voice raspy like gears grinding against each other.
He didn’t want to confirm it, not sure what the driver’s agenda was. Or his intentions. “Why do you ask?” He texted Marcus again. Where are you? Go to the marina.
“I didn’t expect a member of the royal family to come down here and get their hands dirty in the cleanup. Not usually their thing.” The man’s face hardened.
“I’m not royal.” Flynn tried to keep his gaze on the marina. Being in a stranger’s car without control was unnerving enough. Still no response from Marcus.
“But you may be…if you marry her.”
Flynn blinked. He hadn’t really thought about that. Now wasn’t the time for it either. “Get me as close as you can. I’ll take it from there.”
The man nodded and turned around a bend, hiding the marina behind a hill for a moment. “You’ll be good for her. For all of them.”
He cast cautious eyes at the old man. Can’t he just drive faster? “What makes you say that?”
“Some people are questioning the Peraltas all together. But they’re just scared. Nothing more.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“So you can tell her.” He turned over another hill, the last one, and the marina came back into view.
“She knows that. Everyone is scared.” He texted Marcus again. Marina. Two minutes out.
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He stopped the car at the police barricade, keeping everyone away who wasn’t emergency personnel. “She may be young, even naïve, but she’s strong. Just like her father, God rest the king’s soul.”
That pulled Flynn’s attention to the man’s face, who appeared even older than his first glance, but more aware. “She is. Very strong.”
He nodded. “Don’t listen to rumors. You’ll be good for her.”
“What rumors?”
The man’s smile was sad. “Exactly. Teach them it’s okay to get their hands dirty. Hiding in a palace couldn’t save any of them the first time. So let them be seen. It’ll be good for all of them.”
A police officer waved the man off. Flynn opened the door, but stopped. “What’s your name?”
The man smirked. “Talino.”
“Thanks for the ride.” Flynn stepped out.
“Tell André I said life is much better outside the box.” Talino gave him a crooked smile and winked.
Flynn cocked his head. “Uh, sure.”
He drove off.
Without a text from Marcus, Flynn chewed on his lip. Why isn’t he responding? He turned to the police officer directing everyone away.
He looked directly at Flynn and said something in Spanish, his face stern but weary. Then his eyes widened in shock. “Señor Gabriel. Lo siento, I didn’t recognize you. What are you doing here?”
“Where do you need me?”
The officer blinked, and his jaw dropped. “It’s much too dangerous. I have orders…”
“Let him through, Ignacio.”
Flynn looked over the officer’s shoulder where a tall man covered in ash and grime came through the barricade.
“Marcus? Are you okay?”
His pearly white teeth peeked through the smoke, but didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re late.”
“I’ve been texting you.”
“You think I have time to look at my phone? Is Alanna okay?”
Flynn nodded. More paramedics emerged from the smoke, carrying bloodied victims to safety and pulling debris out of the way.
Solana had become a warzone. Again.
“It’s not pretty in there,” Marcus warned. “You ready to work?”
“At least this time, we’re not carrying rifles, right?”
Marcus frowned. “I hope not.”
“How are the sailing rigs? Anything left?”
His frown deepened. “Not much.”
Flynn sighed through the disappointment. Weeks of work all destroyed. He hoped he was as strong as Alanna, to stomach the heartache.
“This prince parades her around as his prize like she’s something special…you know what, Solena, or however you pronounce it—you can have her!”
The detestable man’s interview had been rep
layed over and over on international media sites for the last few hours. Dozens of people were murdered the previous night, the rescue efforts at the marina still visible from the palace windows. And this is what the news focuses on.
Cataline’s expression from the corner was just as disgusted, while Alanna sat in her father’s former sitting room. The furniture was dark with chocolate fabric cushions on the sofa. Dark, like her mood. She watched the plasma screen on the wall and perched herself on the armchair’s arm, a habit her father disliked in the royal princess. But with the gravity of reality weighing her down, she’d sit anywhere she damn well pleased.
“As if the international crisis and national destruction wasn’t enough to worry about,” Alanna seethed. “Now there’s even more slander against André and his choice of partner. Parliament must be drooling over this unwelcome distraction.”
The news replayed the video clip of André grabbing Rock’s shirt, the ugliest glare on the royal prince’s face on full display in high-definition.
“Not as much as them drooling over that image,” Cataline added.
Alanna’s stomach rolled when the caption lit up the screen:
Scandalous Prince—Fit to be King?
Next, the screen filled with one commentator after another, each coining their own catchphrase to describe her torment.
Solana and Gomorrah
Royal Rogue
Desperate Housewives of Solana
Sluts of Solana
The last one made Alanna cringe. She glanced at the portrait of Queen Elise hanging on the wall by the fireplace. Her distant great-grandmother stared down at her in condemnation.
She switched off the television and tossed the remote on the sofa.
“Should we issue a statement?” Cataline asked.
“No,” she sighed. “There’s no point. It would only fuel their fire.” Enough is already burning around us. “But after this, there’s no way parliament will trust André with the crown.”
LOZANO SMIRKED AT THE TELEVISION on the lavish G6 plane en route to Palau, via Kuala Lumpur. Their stop in Malaysia gave him a decent night’s rest and time to enjoy his youngest son’s handiwork on Solana from a distance. The royal yacht explosion had him drooling. News helicopters swarmed the area, the large pieces of the boat itself still on fire in the black bay, ambulances and police vehicles carpeting the streets, and soldiers everywhere. Fear was plastered on everyone’s faces.
So beautiful.
Perfectly timed for my arrival.
Raul certainly had a talent for explosives. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind now. His youngest would take over his vast, wealthy empire. Especially after last night’s events. This cartel needed strength and viciousness at the helm. Rico embodied both perfectly. The only thing left to decide was when his ambitious son would ascend his throne.
Ricardo and Sophia tried to keep their voices hushed in the plane’s back cabin, but Lozano could hear most of their argument. He sipped on a brandy while Memo slept in a leather chair by the wall. Nothing woke the massive brute, except perhaps the smell of fresh steak. Lozano absorbed more of the new bride’s latest yammering.
“I can’t stand this!” she hissed. “I had no idea he was this vicious. How can you continue to listen to him?”
“He’s my father,” Ricardo replied, softer than his wife. “And he’s as infinitely smart as he is brutal.”
Lozano smiled at that. He didn’t need affirmations from his family. From anyone, actually. But it was nice to hear his reputation spoken aloud.
“You want the lap of luxury?” Ricardo continued. “The brilliant jewelry, lavish vacations, and servants at your whim? He’s the pocketbook, Sophia. As long as we either do as he says or stay out of his way.”
She said something in return, but it was too low to make out. It didn’t matter. Money always kept people under his thumb. That, and the threat of torture.
A few moments later, Ricardo’s voice snapped back. “I’ll handle it!” Then he stormed out of the back room and plowed through the aisle. After scrounging in the wet bar for a whiskey, he downed a full glass and then filled it up again.
Lozano smirked again. He can’t handle shit.
His son plopped down in the chair on the opposite side of the lounge and stared out the window. An endless view of ocean on both sides displayed exactly how dependent he was on his father, a position Lozano relished.
“You ruined my wedding,” he finally blurted, directing the words outside the window. Not to his father’s face.
That was the liquor. A strengthener of stiffer backbones and loose lips.
“Without me, there wouldn’t have been a wedding.” Lozano sipped his brandy again and muted the television. He liked watching the carnage on the screen, so he didn’t turn it off completely. “Now you’re on your way to the most brilliant honeymoon in history. Your own private island with unlimited resources. What bride could want more?”
Ricardo pressed his lips together and faced his father. “To have her friends and all her family present on her wedding day? To get a chance to dance with her father at the banquet, as they’d been practicing for weeks? Not to be threatened with death at the start of her marriage by her father-in-law? To enjoy a honeymoon without a chaperone intent on killing her? Take your pick.”
Lozano sucked on the bitterness in his mouth. He’s grown too headstrong. This turbulence is bound to derail operations, unless quashed now.
“I didn’t raise you to accept the whipping of a woman. When did your dick soften?”
His son’s jaw flexed. “Perhaps we both resent being dragged along to your latest conquest.” His tone turned cynical. “Nothing wishes a young couple more happiness in marriage than overlooking a beautiful sunset, as militants unload a cargo ship of illegal arms.”
Lozano’s insides flooded with rage. But he forced a deep breath to calm his heart. I need this body to hold out a little longer if I am to enjoy the spoils. The boy’s new status as a husband had flamed his arrogance. His need to be a man. How annoying. “Careful, boy. This conquest will ensure a lifetime of happiness with your pretty wife. When it’s over, you can outfit your wife’s entire wardrobe with diamonds, and bathe in ammephires.”
The shake of his head was barely perceptible as his expression turned to disgust. “You cost me my best man.”
“That was Julius’s own fault. Anyone caught by authorities is lazy or stupid. You should pick your friends better. Are you ready for your wedding gift? How would you like to make love to your wife all over the Solanian Royal Palace?”
Ricardo’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s to say this attack won’t end up as disastrous as the first?”
“Because I’ve cut the dead weight. A lesson you should have learned long ago.” Another stab of pain in his left arm and an ache in his torso turned his breathing shallow. He forced another deep breath and continued. “I’ve put the right weapons in place and have the whole world turned against the royal family. A war from within. It’s easier to topple a dynasty when the foundations are already crumbling.”
Ricardo’s scowl slowly erased, and he nodded. “It certainly is.”
THE SQUABBLING INSIDE THE PARLIAMENT chambers on the other side of the door hummed in André’s ears, even louder than the engines on the jet he’d been on for what seemed like forever. He’d come straight to the Capitol building upon landing. But on the other side of those doors were the representatives gossiping and arguing over the upcoming vote. The explosion of the royal yacht, the murder of a respected politician, and the fear gripping the rest of the country…there was much to fuel the flame of gossip.
Not to mention the blasphemous interview from Rock Pierce.
Who knew a redneck like him could aid in the overthrowing of a whole country?
André pressed his forehead against the warm windowpane, the streaking sunrise casting shadows over Tres Banderas below. The monument of three flags just outside the Capitol building steps commemorated the countries that held power ove
r Solana throughout history: Spain, England, and the signature blue and gold Solanian flag.
Armed guards surrounded the Capitol steps. Some from the military, others from the Royal Guard. Though he was used to seeing guards around him all the time, the image must have been terrifying for the people.
Karma. All of my mistakes have caught up with me.
Te fallé, Madre. Lo siento.
This was where over 200 years of Peralta rule ended.
The door to the royal sitting room swung open, and Alanna strolled in. Her sapphire suit with knee-length skirt matched well with the cream sash across her bust. The simple silver tiara in her hair conveyed a humble authority. But her eyes were darker.
Flynn followed in a black suit and periwinkle tie, his expression broody, as always.
André turned and opened his arms, allowing his sister to enter into them. “Thank God you’re all right.”
“And you.” Her hold was tight on him, and then she drew back. “That Lozano psycho is trying to scare us into submission.”
It’s working. “The U.N. is sending more forces back to the island. Tom Willows is handling that personally.”
She nodded. “The Royal Guard is already so overworked, they need the relief. But we need to cancel all other meetings for the next two days, especially outside the palace, until they get here.” She pressed her lips together, and Flynn shifted in his polished shoes. But Alanna continued. “The risk is too high, since we know the cartel is still on Solana.”
“How?” he asked. “The military corralled up all of the mercenaries. How did they get back on the island?”
She shrugged and bit her lip. “Some must have been hiding. Or found another way in.”
Flynn moved beside her and gently rubbed her shoulder. The man hardly ever said a word, but his massive presence was unavoidable. André sighed and realized he’d been a fool to rush to judgment. He extended his hand to the American.
Flynn raised his eyebrows, but took his hand and held it firm.
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