Crown of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  What the hell? Gemma couldn’t believe the madness in the other room. She slid from the chair, winced, and moved to the mirror, putting her hand on the glass. “Does this mean they’re letting him go?”

  The silence behind her set her heartbeat on overdrive.

  By the time the FBI agent finished reading the letter, his face had turned several shades of red. A deputy entered the room and unchained Vasco from the table.

  The CIA agent turned to the towering beast. “Try anything, and the six guns around us will drop you.”

  Vasco shuffled behind him in his ankle cuffs. “Mentiroso.” Liar.

  He shrugged. “Make a move and find out.”

  Rover had pulled out his phone, no doubt calling his superior to find out what the hell was going on. The other men left the room, including Vasco.

  “No!” Gemma raced from the witness room, her legs giving way as she moved. She caught herself on the doorjamb and kept moving. Vasco towered over all of the men leading him away. “Stop!”

  They all turned. But it was Vasco’s cold, amused face that drew her attention. Someone leaned toward the CIA agent and whispered something. His wrinkled forehead eased, probably realizing she was the witness, or the latest victim. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even show any sympathy or remorse. He just turned and kept walking.

  Vasco winked.

  Her heart erupted in flames. “You’re going to let Reyna’s murderer go free?” she shouted after them.

  They didn’t give her a backward glance. “Matter of national security.”

  Brooks touched her shoulder. “You’re shaking, Gemma. Come sit down before you fall over.”

  The monster who’d ripped her heart out, destroyed her life, and tried to kill her for extra measure, turned the corner and left the building, into the fresh, warm air of freedom that Reyna once breathed. Her vision tunneled into red-hazed rage. She surged forward, using the wall to brace her, and chased after him.

  I’ll kill him myself.

  “Gemma!” Stefano shouted.

  “If these bastards won’t make him pay for Reyna, then I will.”

  “Stop her,” Rover called. “She’ll get neutralized.”

  Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She yelped at the twisting in her abdomen.

  “You can’t, Gemma.” Stefano’s dead eyes stared at hers. “Not this time.”

  She glared at Rover over the bodyguard’s shoulder.

  “What is it with this country? Agencies throwing pissing contests, letting killers go free. What for? To wave your dicks around to see whose is bigger?”

  Stefano cringed and muttered her name under his breath.

  Rover shrugged. “Theirs were bigger this time.”

  She pursed her lips. “Oh, I’ll show you bigger. Where’s my rifle?”

  “There’s only one reason why the CIA wants him.” Stefano forced her arm over his shoulder when she staggered. “It’s why the other world intelligence agencies hadn’t found him after all this time.”

  On an uneven warp in the floorboard, she tripped and winced. “Will you please start making sense?”

  He led her to a chair, and she inhaled sharply at the pain. Yeah, I overdid it.

  Stefano gave her a serious look. Combined with the shadows under his eyes, he looked like a ghost. “Vasco’s an informant.”

  Gemma stiffened. Her stomach turned to lead. “So, the U.S. has been protecting him.”

  “Seems that way.”

  “While André and Alanna have been fighting to secure new defense agreements with them?”

  Stefano’s jaw flexed. “It’s a way of taking down the Lozano cartel. Using an insider.”

  “And the insider can keep breaking laws and killing people at will, with the CIA in his back pocket?”

  His brow furrowed, and he pulled out his phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Gemma asked.

  “Prince André.”

  She eyed him. “I thought you were retired.”

  He looked directly at her. “I thought you didn’t love him anymore.”

  Her throat thickened, and it was hard to get a deep breath.

  Stefano blinked. “Your Highness, we have a problem.”

  ANDRÉ HUNG UP THE PHONE and braced his hands on the windowsill. His mind reeled.

  The bickering behind him drowned away, and all he could hear was the rain lashing the window. And the blood pumping between his ears. A storm had covered Solana just as parliament had agreed to table the monarchy dissolution bill, while authorities searched for three missing representatives. Coincidentally, all staunch supporters of the royal family.

  “Your Highness,” Tom Willows called. “Time is running out. Sign the agreement. No one knows when these animals will strike again.”

  André ground his teeth so hard, his jaw cramped. “Yes, you do,” he growled.

  The room silenced, and he forced himself to keep his hands clenched at his sides. He turned to face the American ambassador.

  Willows’ confused demeanor peeked out through his stunned expression. “Excuse me?”

  Even Alanna regarded him with doubt—as if he’d finally lost it.

  Maybe I have. “All negotiations stop right now.”

  If walls could breathe, they would have gasped.

  “Given how close you are to being voted out of power, that would be ill-advised.” Willows tossed the contract onto the table, and it slid across the polished surface.

  “The United States is currently harboring Vasco Mafak.” André placed his palms on the table and glared at him. “The assassin sent to kill Alanna and me. And Gemma.”

  Confusion on the man’s face melted into disbelief in two swallows. “That’s absurd.”

  “He’s being escorted out of a Texas police station as we speak, by order of the FBI. After he was successfully caught.” The only thing keeping him from spewing his minimal breakfast all over his royal sash was the knowledge that Gemma was finally safe. “Apparently, he’s a CIA informant and now in their custody.”

  “How could you know that?” Willows barked.

  “You honestly expected Solana to sign away our sovereignty to the U.S. while you’ve been undermining our efforts from the very beginning?” Alanna’s voice cut straight through the ambassador’s deflection.

  “It’s no wonder that Damon Ward was called out of here so quickly,” André directed to Alanna. Not ten minutes before, the enigmatic man had answered his phone in the middle of their talks, and then rushed out of the room without a word. “Aside from Solana, no one wants that criminal caught more than the United States. And while Ward technically works for the U.N. Security Council, I guarantee he’s propped up in that position by the Americans.”

  Willows sighed impatiently. “Vasco is just a device. Lozano is the real enemy. That’s from whom this contract protects you. If Vasco was caught in Texas, then it proves he’s not the one setting up explosives all over Solana.”

  “Why not? I was just in Texas twenty-four hours ago. Right where he surrendered.”

  Willows slipped on his suit jacket and lost any trace of diplomatic tone. “If you want defense for Solana, these are the terms.”

  “Here are mine.” André glared back. “The United States won’t have any chance at the ammephire rights until you turn over Vasco to Solana.”

  Willows sputtered. “I can’t even confirm we have him.”

  “You have him.” André rounded the table and put his hands in his pockets. “I clearly know more of what’s going on in your intelligence agencies than you do. I want him on Solanian soil in eighteen hours.”

  “No.” Willows stern face didn’t even flinch.

  He thinks I’m bluffing. So now I’ll up the ante.

  “The world has been at our royal doors for decades, begging for these precious gems. We have plenty of options aside from the United States.”

  “But you know the U.S. has the best resources to secure your defense,” Willows shot back.

>   “Not by much. Perhaps the countries of our forefathers would be willing to help. England or Spain. Or who’s to say China’s or Russia’s aren’t any better?”

  The ambassador scowled. “Approaching them would be very dangerous for our relationship.”

  “Yes, it would. So, bring me Vasco to ensure we won’t.”

  When the ambassador stormed out of the room—with the contract still on the table—André immediately searched through his phone’s contacts.

  “You can’t make empty threats like that.” With wide eyes, Alanna rounded the table’s edge.

  “Who said it was empty?” His heart pounded. Negotiations like this infuriated him, and sweat dripped down the back of his neck. He finally understood why his father had been so stressed. There was nothing more personal than the safety of his people.

  “What are you doing? Who are you calling at a time like this?”

  “The British ambassador. Before Willows has a chance to out-maneuver us.” After all, Queen Victoria’s blood runs through our veins, however small a measure.

  “This is the most dangerous gamble I’ve ever played.” Alanna scratched her scalp at the tiara. “I’m going to find Flynn and see if we can use his father’s contacts for Australian support.” She went to the door and gripped the handle. “No wonder Gemma hates card games—this is insane!”

  His heart squeezed in on itself. She has every right to hate them. Gambling destroys more lives than it saves. “Alanna, I’ll tell you something no one else knew over the last eight years I was gone. Not even Stefano.”

  Her face turned serious.

  “All those card games, I never bluffed. Not once.”

  THE SUN SCORCHED OVER GEMMA’S head in the Primrock cemetery, where Stefano knelt at his aunt’s grave. From a distance, she swallowed back her grief while the Solanian bodyguard whispered his farewell to Reyna in private. The simple pale granite headstone next to her husband, Harold Lawson, suited the former caregiver’s wishes perfectly. Sheriff Brooks had chosen well.

  The hike to the center of the cemetery winded Gemma, so she was grateful to rest on the little wooden bench outside the section reserved for deceased children and babies. Cherub statues stood in endless protection over the smaller gravesites. The air seemed more still over there, the flowers brighter. And shorter. Much like the lives of those children. Brilliant and short.

  Or perhaps her heavy soul was weighted down by the memorial pond on the other side, where the remnants of both her parents lay. With no money to bury either of them, Clark and Priscilla Westfall were spread into that pond in an unmarked eternal resting place.

  She stole glances at the pond but refused to walk over to it, let alone kneel beside it.

  Stefano made the sign of the cross, kissed his thumb, and rested his hand on Reyna’s headstone. He stood and returned to Gemma’s side.

  “You ready to go?” she asked.

  “Did you want to go over and say anything?”

  Gemma swallowed back the rock in her throat and shook her head. “She can hear me from here.”

  He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. During the awkward pause, his gaze kept drifting to the cherub statues behind her. The lines in his forehead deepened. “Did Prince André…speak to you in the hospital? About your injuries?”

  She frowned. “What for? I was a little busy breaking up with him.” When he gave her a quizzical look, she added, “To get him on the plane to Solana.”

  He shook his head but didn’t say more. Thank God.

  “You’re still determined to chase after Vasco?” he asked, looking over her shoulder and not in her eyes.

  He’s hiding something. That makes two of us.

  The rage in her stomach churned. She thirsted for justice for Reyna, but her injuries were more than minor. Weighing the two options tormented her. Risk losing Vasco’s trail while she healed, or follow the lead she had and die in the process before she reached her goal. “Aren’t you?”

  Stefano looked as though he’d swallowed curdled milk. “With the CIA covering his backside, there’s no way any government agency can hold him accountable for his crimes. But…” he sighed. “It’s clear he wants the Lozano cartel dismantled as well. Perhaps we should not intervene and let them do their work.”

  Gemma’s eyes widened. “You mean give up?”

  He finally looked at her. “The Lozanos are the real criminals here. The reason behind all this madness.”

  “So, we let Vasco continue his evil life, simply because he might be helping to eliminate a cartel drug boss? Where’s the vengeance for Reyna? How does that make it right?” By now, her yelling scattered a few birds from the oak trees around them.

  “It doesn’t,” he replied, his voice quiet. Too soft. “Nothing will ever make it right. Except you living your own life. Except us both living the lives we want. Not allowing the monsters to dictate our choices.”

  Gemma adamantly shook her head. “That’s not fair.”

  The man’s face was too passive, too understanding. Infuriating as hell. He needed to be as furious as she, as thirsty for justice.

  “It’s not about being fair,” he replied simply.

  “What, then? What are we supposed to do? Let them continue killing?”

  “We’re supposed to live.”

  “That’s what I was doing!” she screamed. “I was living! Raising horses with Reyna, a quiet life away from all the drama. I earned that life. Going to bed every night in my own cabin, without wondering where my next meal would come from. Without worrying what some debt collector would take away the next day, or how many times I’d be woken in the middle of the night by my drunk father. I was happy with Reyna, dictating who I let into my life. Which was no one. Until you two walked onto her porch!”

  The whole time she wailed, Stefano’s face never altered. Never turned angry, spiteful, defensive, or even a hint of pity. She wanted to punch him, sweep him, butterfly kick his ass into some kind of a response. But her wounds wouldn’t let her. Everything hurt too much.

  “Here.” She reached into her boot and tossed the napkin at him. “Oslob cliffs, Cebu. Whatever the hell that is. It’s a clue he gave me.”

  “Who?”

  “Vasco, after he knocked you out.”

  Stefano frowned and sighed. “Always chasing, Gemma. Always fighting. Will you never stop?”

  “He’ll be there, won’t he? We can go after him.”

  The man crunched the napkin in his fist, not bothering to look. “To what end?”

  “To kill him.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “What does it mean?” she urged.

  “What do you want, Gemma?”

  “I want Vasco dead!”

  “Then what?”

  She blinked. Her heart raced, but all of the breath was sucked from her lungs.

  “After Vasco is dead, then what?” he repeated.

  Nothing came to her mind.

  “Do you want to continue raising horses here in Texas? The money from Reyna’s policy she left you will accomplish that. If that’s what you want.”

  She rubbed her forehead, full of pressure. “I can’t do that. Not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  Gemma bit her tongue. Because after meeting André, my original plans aren’t enough.

  “Why not?” he pushed.

  “Because that bastard is still out there. I can’t let it go.”

  The silence from Stefano made the psychotic parts of her mind scream. Eventually, he sat beside her, both of their bodies faced forward, and their shoulders only inches apart.

  “Perhaps you’ve outgrown your old boots.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” she asked.

  “Your eyes have been opened to a life much bigger than you imagined. You are reluctant to move on from the life you led before, to which you so strongly clutched. That you protected. Almost to your own detriment.”

  She forced herself to calm down, if for nothing else than to
quell the pain from all the stitches. As she studied the pale, melancholic expression of the soldier who up until recently hardly spoke, his words finally sank in. “The same could be said about you.”

  He blinked and turned his head to her.

  “Is that what this is all about?” she asked quietly. “Your reluctance to let go of the life you had before all this? To which you so strongly clutched?”

  He pursed his lips. “Perhaps.”

  Gemma sighed. The hard-ass soldier just admitted he didn’t want that life anymore, something she never thought she’d hear him say. But as she recounted everything that had happened, it made sense. There was only so much chaos and intensity someone could withstand before his mind was physically done. “Aren’t we the pair? Both strung up over the same guy.”

  Stefano scoffed. “Not quite.”

  “Does Cataline want a life here? Away from Solana?” She picked off a piece of bark from the tree beside her. “Ranch-life?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, and his features softened a smidge. “She told me she wanted a life wherever I was.”

  “I think you deserve some peace for once. Both of you have devoted your lives to that royal family.”

  “Stop focusing on my life, Gemmita. Yours is ahead of you. If you constantly look back, you’ll miss out.”

  “You’re wrong.” The words came out harsher than she intended. But at least he looked at her. “My boots still fit just fine. Living here, raising horses, the quiet life will always appeal to me. I haven’t outgrown this place. I just wish he…”

  A breeze rustled through the leaves above and flitted her hair into her face.

  “Were not a prince?”

  “No, that’s not what I was going to say.”

  He waited in silence for her to clarify.

  “I wish he wanted this life too. But he doesn’t.”

  Stefano’s jaw twitched and his brow lowered, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Even if he did, he can’t have it.”

  “How do you mean?” he asked.

  “It’s unfair to ask someone to give up who they are. Even if he had the choice, I wouldn’t want him to make it. Because then he’d just grow to resent me.” The silence between them dragged on in the hot air. Another breeze swayed the large oak tree over their heads, creaking. “He’s better off with that Vivette woman anyway. She fits a royal profile much better than me.”