Their tongues collided, coiled around each other, and savored. She’d never tasted so sweet.
“I can’t feel my face.” She cupped her cheeks, breathing deep.
“You’re welcome.” He laughed. With a final kiss between her breasts, he said, “Don’t move an inch.” He slid from the bed and escaped to the bathroom for a wet cloth. He returned and gently cleaned her.
“What about you?” she asked.
“There’s plenty of time for that. This was about you.” He slowly slid her panties back on and then sidled up next to her. He wrapped his arm under her neck, and she settled into the crook of his shoulder. Their hands joined over his abdomen. The sounds of the ocean in the distance mixed with the parrots and other tropical birds outside the palace gardens, lulling Gemma’s breathing to an even tempo. She closed her eyes.
I’m home for good. With my Gemma. Just when my people may vote us out of power forever, but at least I’m home. Whatever may come.
Gemma lost track of how long they laid there, listening to the sounds of the island welcome her to her new home. The sun rose higher, casting a brighter light through the windows. But the looming plans for tomorrow’s parliament vote darkened her peace.
Both André and Alanna could be killed, the plans still too rough without thorough plotting. This might be the last chance she had with André. The last time they’d…
No. Bury that thought. Just be here.
She caressed his knuckles, memorizing every millimeter of his hands. Those expert hands.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep.” He kissed her forehead.
“You’re more peaceful than pain meds.”
He chuckled, which resonated in her chest. “How do you feel?”
“Perfectly numb.”
“Excellent.”
“There’s a lot to do today. I hate to admit it, but we can’t lie here and dream the afternoon away.”
“Sure you can.”
She adjusted her head to look directly into his eyes. “Don’t think for one second I’m going to be kept in the dark on these plans.”
“Of course not.” He kissed her forehead again. “But you need your rest, if you’re going to make it through tomorrow’s marathon.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead.” She sat up, albeit slowly with several twinges of pain. Her abdominal muscles had taken a beating from Vasco, not to mention the surgery.
André sighed. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to prevent.”
“No…” She stood and faced him. “It’s your death we’re trying to prevent.”
But his eyes were glued to her breasts, still bare and almost glowing from the daylight streaming in. Then his gaze drifted lower, to the bandages at her side. His awe morphed to an expression she couldn’t identify.
“Do you even want children at all?” The question came out of nowhere.
Gemma blinked. “Is now the time for that discussion?”
“As good a time as any.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but her mind was garbled. “Do you?”
“Someday, yes. Several.”
She sighed. Of course he does. He’s royalty. Continuation of the family name, lineage, and all that. “Do you even have a choice?”
His eyebrows crunched. “Absolutely.” His face softened. “Especially after Alejandro was born. The love my brother held for his son, the joy on Tulio’s face. I want that kind of love, too.”
He rose to his knees and rested his hands on her waist. He kissed her jawbone, small touches with his lips down to her mouth. “But I asked if you wanted children.”
Her heart pounded, and it was hard not to frown. Her childhood flashed in her mind. All the disappointments, the running from one apartment to the next, and the repetitive tragedies. Then after her parents were gone, her rebellious phase spiraled out of control; that had surely caused Reyna countless restless nights. What in the world would I offer a child?
André leaned back and studied her eyes. “Gemma?”
“For a long time,” she finally started. “No.”
His face fell a millimeter, but she caught it.
His disappointment ripped at her heart, but it was important to be honest. She hated liars, so she couldn’t be a hypocrite and tell him something that wasn’t true. “I never wanted a baby, because I honestly didn’t expect to live this long.”
He blinked, but he waited for her to continue, keeping his hands firmly on her waist.
“With my fucked up childhood and uncertain circumstances, I didn’t want to bring another life into that with nothing to offer. What good could a baby bring for it to grow up and hate me? Resent me for my life choices, or have the world crap all over its happiness?”
“Why would you assume they would grow to resent you?”
“Because that’s what life does.”
André’s hands dropped from her waist, and his face turned blank. “Not for everyone.”
She blinked and tried to quash the coldness rising in her chest. “Just for those like me. So why bring a child into it?”
Three long seconds passed before André responded, “You still have a lot of resentment towards your father.” He smoothed one of her eyebrows with a gentle finger. The gesture was oddly soothing. “I understand that. Given your experiences, it’s expected. But you’ve also seen exactly what you don’t want to become. You’re hell-bent determined not to be the same way. I think that’s a very safe bet.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her father had been dead twelve years, and negativity stuck to her like hay on wet cow patties. After all that time, she still hadn’t forgiven him. Will I ever?
She moved away and braced her arm against the large bay door overlooking the royal gardens. Bare-chested. Freeing. Liberating. The warm breeze carried the rose and lilac scent across her cheeks. “I was happy at Reyna’s ranch. Being alone, in charge of my own life. With no intention of settling down with anyone. And then you showed up.”
He came up behind her and wrapped a lavender robe around her shoulders, followed by his arms around her waist. Soft and safe. She could feel his smile against her hair. “And blew your plans to pieces.”
“Love tends to do that.”
A long moment passed before he replied, “I find love tends to bring the best out in people.”
Gemma shook her head. “Not everyone.” She turned in his arms, and his forehead creased. “Love made my mother a fool. I loved her so much, but she wouldn’t leave my father. Or see him for the disaster he was. Love only led her to a life of poverty, with a useless husband, and to an early death from a drunk driver as she drove to the courthouse to bail my dad out of jail for illegal gambling.”
Pity crossed André’s face, but only for a second. “You’re forgetting one important thing.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Their love made you. The very best of both of them, wrapped up in you.”
Gemma curled her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. He threaded his fingers through her hair.
“You can have whatever life you want, Gemma.” He pressed her tighter into his hold. “I have no doubts you would be a phenomenal mother if that’s what you wish.” He pulled back, smoothing the hair away from her face, and his smile so gorgeous it melted her soul. “So long as you’re with me.”
THE SMELL OF FRESH HAY filled Gemma’s nose, and she smiled. There weren’t many smells in the world much better than that. When she moved through the barn doors, her eyebrows hit her hairline. The royal stables were far more impressive than those at Reyna’s ranch. An immaculate housing for thoroughbred horses, worthy of the world’s envy.
Inside, more than a dozen people tended to feeding and cleaning the brilliant animals. A palomino stallion at the end, at least eighteen hands high, had the shiniest coat she’d ever seen. Its white mane and tail were full of luster. Several people recognized her and bowed their heads with a smile. “Good morning, Señorita Westfall.”
S
he nodded back and kept walking.
Some tried to hide their stares, no doubt from her fresh bruises that rivaled heavyweight boxers. But she smiled at them and continued.
A stableman brushed the palomino’s back from the other side, with long strokes that massaged and soothed. Gemma recognized the care and strength of the motion, and grinned. “They’ll let anyone in here nowadays.”
The brushing stopped, and Rico’s eyes peered over the stallion’s back, then widened. “Gemmana!”
He ducked under the horse’s neck and approached with opened arms. His Latin smile was warm and endearing. But then when he saw her full on, his smile faltered.
“Chingado paso aqui?” Rico gasped, and his step slowed. “You look like you were stampeded.”
She smirked. “Thanks.” She gave him a one-armed hug, to which his response was much more gentle.
He stepped back and looked as though he swallowed a pile of manure. “I know you’re fond of kickboxing, but this is taking it too far.”
“This wasn’t sparring.”
His eyes darkened. “Then who do I need to kill?”
She scoffed. “Get in line.” She motioned her chin to the beauty in front of her. “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Pegasus.” He grinned.
Gemma rose an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Rico nodded. “He’s rowdy, but I’m working on him. Going to be the lead horse for the royal carriage in the parades.”
“Parades?”
“Sí. They have parades here, too. Royal functions, independence days…weddings.” Rico winked at her.
She smirked back and smoothed her hand over Pegasus’ shoulder. “He’s beautiful.”
“He’s my favorite.”
“Which one is Alanna’s?”
“A white mare, Andalusian called Seraphim. She’s in the other barn for a checkup.”
“André’s?”
Rico chuckled. “Which one? If you mean the one he rides the most, that’s Archangel. A chestnut stallion, six years.” He pointed to a stall with a large horse, maybe seventeen hands, with a slightly darker mane and a white stripe down its nose. “Though he hasn’t ridden much since I’ve been here.”
She frowned. Hopefully, I can change that. She approached Archangel and let him smell her hand. Then she rubbed along his cheek and up to his ear. “I’m detecting a theme here.”
Rico nodded and pointed to various stalls calling out their names. Dominion, Neptune, Apollo, Andromeda, and she lost track after the ninth horse. But they were all equally beautiful. Majestic.
Reyna would’ve loved this place.
“You seem to fit right in here.” She smiled at Rico’s enthusiasm.
He nodded. “I’m useful. Learning a lot, and they don’t have to keep selling off horses to stay afloat.”
Gemma frowned as she rubbed Archangel’s nose. That was an aspect of Reyna’s ranch she didn’t care for either. It took a lot of selling for her business to continue, to the point where she no longer ran a horse ranch, but instead raised all cattle. Only a few horses remained at the time of her murder.
“With you here, these horses are already spoiled.” Gemma smiled at Rico, and they strolled through the rest of the barn. He pointed out his favorite horses and watched the trainers break in an eighteen-month-old champagne colt.
“Where’s the prince?” Rico asked.
“He’s being fitted for…a suit.” With a built-in bulletproof vest.
Rico nodded. “As if he needs another.”
I’m not a fan of this plan either.
“Do you plan on sticking around this time?”
She sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you before I left.”
“I understand. You had to go back at some point to arrange Reyna’s burial and other things. Was the sheriff mad?”
Her eyes widened. “Understatement.”
Rico frowned and kicked a rock by his foot. “Are they looking for me?”
She shook her head. “Not anymore. Brooks took care of Reyna’s burial and handled her estate. She left you some things, by the way. Stefano arranged to have them shipped to the palace.”
He nodded with a sniff. “Muchas gracias. And the ranch?”
“Goes to Stefano. As it should.” She paused. “Her life insurance policy was split. Half is yours.”
To that, he gawked at her. “Que?”
She gave him a sad smile. “It’s enough. You don’t have to be stuck here, if you don’t want to be.”
“I like it here.”
She shrugged. “Good.”
“What about you?”
She glanced across the manege where the colt trotted in a circle guided with a rope. She smiled again. “It’s growing on me.”
Rico nodded. “Welcome to the club.”
She took a deep breath and crossed her arms over the wooden beam separating the training ring. “Are you aware of what’s going on tomorrow?”
“Some big government vote.”
Gemma bit her lip. “Some of the representatives don’t want a royal family anymore. Tomorrow they’ll choose André and Alanna’s future.”
Rico scowled and nodded. “Everyone here is worried about it. They love the Peraltas. You should hear the way they speak of them. Like the way you speak of Reyna.”
She swallowed hard, unsure of whether to tell him the rest. That there was a legitimate threat against them by a psychopath with the means to accomplish it. But the plans to thwart it depended on everything being as normal as possible. No one else could know.
“Do me a favor, Rico.”
He laughed. “Your favors always involve pissing someone off.”
This time will be no different. “Tomorrow, keep your gun on.”
His forehead creased.
“If things turn south, don’t be a hero. Just run.”
His eyes locked onto hers. With a fierceness she’d never heard him use before, he said, “I’m finished running. You should be, too.”
THE MASSIVE CROWD OUTSIDE THE parliament building made Raul’s mouth water. Hundreds of Solanians waved flags and banners, celebrating the historic vote: to keep or dismantle their monarchy.
The carnage would be epic.
His clandestine forces, all fifty, surrounded the lemmings and lambs. Armed, ready to fire on Raul’s signal. It didn’t matter that a few chose to quit when they discovered his second-in-command was dead. Fifty would be enough. He found a sweet little perch—an office building fourth-story window he’d acquired when its occupant retired…behind his desk in a pool of blood. At least twenty mercenaries blended in with the crowd’s outer edges, camouflaged with Solanian flags and cheers, concealing automatic weapons under their shirts.
The U.N. and Solanian soldiers were too overwhelmed to notice them. Raul bit into a peach from the former employee’s lunch sack. He swiped juices from his chin with his sleeve. Then glanced at his watch. The royal family was due to arrive in five minutes.
If all went as planned, his father would arrive just as Raul declared himself the new ruler of the island. Then I’ll have him dragged before me as I sit on that gilded throne and slice his throat.
A black limo rolled up and stopped at the parliament gates. Several guards stepped forward and let out the prime minister. He waved to the crowd, only to receive a resounding boo from his citizens, with a meager scattering of applause.
The people clearly didn’t want their prince and princess voted out of existence. Raul grinned. He’d give their rulers a much more important send-off than a mere vote.
Thirty minutes later, he was foaming at the mouth. These pricks are late. He’d tried to pick out a few of his moles in the crowd, but he couldn’t get that great of a look without revealing his position to the ever-present security.
A cheer rose in the assembly, and another limo rolled up. The masses surged forward, waving their flags with more vigor. The car stopped, and Raul braced his rifle against his shoulder. Sweat rolled down his neck, and his palms
grew slippery on the handle. Hold it together. So much like Christmas morning.
The guards crawled to the door like snails, then opened it. The occupants moved inside, but far too slowly. A black-and-silver-haired head popped out, much too old to be the prince. He turned and scanned the crowds, then the buildings. For a second, Raul could’ve sworn the man looked right at him. But then he stepped back and held out his hand. Tiny, feminine fingers took it and emerged, followed by a full head of blonde hair.
Raul blinked. What the hell? She’s supposed to be dead.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Another text message. He ignored it. This was his moment. Nothing would distract him.
The American cowgirl turned, her eyes covered by dark sunglasses, but clearly scanning the mass of bodies on the other side of the car. And strangely pausing in his direction.
Raul tucked back in the window, just in case, but careful to keep the car in his sights. A very important head was about to enter his cross hairs, and that perfect face would be marred with a distinctive pink mist.
Another head popped up from the car—tan, wavy hair. Wide shoulders appeared with a thick frame in a black suit. Too wide to be the prince. Raul growled.
That must be the princess’s boy-toy. Not unless André grew four inches overnight and ingested a case of steroids.
But no matter. The next person out of that car had to be a member of the royal family. Another rush of noise surged from the crowd, followed by a few screams, but Raul kept his gun on target.
Any second. The world drowned out, and he focused on his heartbeat, keeping the rhythm steady, ready to fire.
A fourth head appeared; dark, wavy, and masculine.
The prince. Raul grinned. One…aim…two…inhale…three. “Goodbye.”
A jolt shoved him forward against the window frame, and the rifle fired. The crowd shrieked, but not as loudly as his own heartbeat. Then a burn radiated down his torso and spread into his arm. He turned his head and vaguely noticed several blobs racing toward him, all in black, with dark hoods and fuzzy faces.
The burn morphed into a raging stab, slicing through his abdomen. He glanced down, and a red gooey substance trickled out of a hole in his chest.
Crown of Solana Page 22
