A Player for A Princess: Dirty Players Duet #2 (7 page)

S
amarkand is elaborately designed
with striking mosaics in an assortment of turquoise, sea, and royal blues. Pointed arches line the walls, and the jewelry cases are low, square boxes arranged in a maze around the room.

I enter, and a few clusters of obvious tourists are ahead of me looking at the array of Rolex watches and glittering cocktail rings. I stroll to the one filled with diamond engagement rings and pause. A beautiful art-deco style ring with a square setting and what look like tiny angel’s wings flaring on each corner catches my eye. It’s perfect.

A salesman in a white linen coat and pants approaches me smiling. He is clean-shaven and wears a black skullcap.

“May I help you, sir?” He smiles and does a little bow.

“I like this setting.” Pointing in the case, I fish in my pocket and pull out the dull tin ring. “I need it in this size.”

His brow lowers and he squints, taking the piece of tin from my fingers. “You did not get this in our store.”

“No, actually, it came out of a gumball machine,” I say with a smile.

Black eyes dart up to mine. “A…
gumball
machine?”

I haven’t been addressed with such disgust since my mother saw the photo of me snorting coke off the toned ass of an unidentified supermodel. I can’t help wishing Zelda were here, since she is the one who mentioned
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.

“It’s just outside the store,” I happily turn and point to the door, but the man shakes his head and raises his eyebrows as if I’ve offended him.

“It matters not,” he says.

“Either way, I didn’t know the lady’s ring size. It was my only idea.”

He shrugs. “It will have to do. Now, which one did you say?”

“This one here, the rose-gold art-deco—”

“Ahh!” he clasps his hands. “An excellent choice, sir!”

I take that to mean I’ve just picked out the most expensive piece in the entire shop, but I don’t give a shit. Only the best for my girl.

“If you could just be sure it matches that size,” I say. “How soon will it be ready?”

He looks over my shoulder. “Will you be staying overnight? I can have it sized, polished, and gift wrapped for you by tomorrow morning?”

It’s not what I had in mind for our lunch date today, but I like the attention to detail. “What time tomorrow?”

We’re settled up, and I have the claim ticket in my pocket as I sit outside in the warm afternoon sun. Pulling out my phone, I notice it’s been more than an hour. Tightness moves across my shoulders, and I look up the street in the direction I last saw Zelda headed. She’d been so pretty in her halter dress. Her pale blonde hair was styled away from her face in that cute, messy bun, and I smile remembering how excited she’d been about a silly piece of tin.

Opening my messenger, I tap out a text.
Did you get lost looking at ur first piece of jewelry?

Leaning back, I wait for her reply. A cool breeze sweeps through the courtyard, and I watch a slim woman with skin the color of milk chocolate dance to a classic Billy Joel song. “Zanzibar.”

Examining my palm, I try to dismiss the tightness in my chest at the delay in Zelda’s reply. It’s been longer than she said, but perhaps it took longer to transfer the money than she thought it would?

Looking again up the street in the direction I last saw her walking away from me, I don’t like the uneasiness settling in my gut. I push off my knees and start to walk the direction she went. My hands are in my pockets, and I’m taking a leisurely pace. I’ll meet her on the way back. I don’t want her to think I’m going to be one of those helicopter husbands always checking up on her if she’s the slightest bit late.

I’m a block from where I was sitting, about to cross the street, when a black Mercedes cuts me off with a screech. Anger tightens my throat, and I’m about to shout at the driver when the door opens and Logan stands out of the driver’s side.

“Sir!” His voice is sharp, and a lead weight is in my stomach.

Pulling the rear door open, I’m in the car before he’s had a chance to say another word. “What happened?”

Freddie is in the passenger’s seat, and he turns to face me. “We’ve just received a communiqué from Wade Paxton.” His voice is grave, and the skin on my forehead tightens.

“What does it say?” I ask, my voice flat.

His eyes are full of concern, and he looks down. “It says, ‘When you’re ready to discuss terms, we’ll be waiting.’”

My voice is a notch below a shout. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” He turns his phone to me, and the image on the face almost makes me lose it.

“Stop the car!” I shout, and Logan immediately pulls onto the shoulder.

I’m out of the vehicle in a flash, pacing the small space between the car and the road. My hands are clutched in my hair, and all I can think is
No, No, NO!!!!

On the face of Freddie’s phone is a grainy photo of my love sitting on a brown tile floor against a dirty beige wall. Her hands are tied behind her back, and a black sleep mask is over her eyes. Her pretty hair is messy, but what guts me is the palm-sized purple mark on the side of her face and the brown stain of blood on her mouth.

“Jesus!” I shout, bending at the waist.
How the fuck could I be such a fucking idiot? How could I let her go alone like that to meet that bastard?
“If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Sir?” Logan approaches me with slow, measured steps. “I’ve already alerted His Royal Highness of the situation, and we’ve gained access to the security cameras at the hotel where she went to meet that man. We’ll find her, Sir.”

I take a few deep breaths before straightening. Logan is in front of me, hands open at his sides, palms up. Freddie is behind him, nearer the car, and both share the same expression of concern mixed with quiet determination.

“We can’t let this happen to her.” My voice breaks, and my insides are a mixture of rage, fear, and desperation. “Take me to that fucking hotel.”

“Sir,” Logan starts. “We—”

“NOW, god dammit! I want to see that fucking security footage NOW!”

Freddie is in the car, and Logan nods, turning swiftly to head to the driver’s side. I’m in the back seat, and we’re speeding down the parkway in the direction of the hotel in less than a minute.

I
ce is
in my stomach as I watch the black and white image of Zelda crossing the lobby sideways. That fucker Seth tracks her movements, and my chest is tight as I watch her keeping as many obstacles as possible between the two of them. She’s trying to run, but he’s not letting her go.

“God help me,” I exhale. I can’t see her eyes, but I know my girl. She’s doing everything to reach the door, to survive, and I see the moment she knows she’s not going to make it. I can barely take watching this unfold.

“Run, Zelda,” I say under my breath, even though I know that isn’t what happens.

My fists are so tight my knuckles ache as I watch him grab her arm. Seth Hines will be the first to die when I catch these bastards. We all stand like incompetents as we watch that dick push my love into a black SUV that rushes into the circular drive.

A knot is in my throat and my muscles ache with needing to help her. I see her jerk back, trying to escape, before she’s shoved inside.

“No…” Turning fast, I pound my fist against the wall.

Logan is at my side. “I’ve compiled a list of all Americans living on the island. Unless you need me, I’ll start questioning them now.”

“Go.” I clench my aching fist. My teeth grind. “Tell me the minute you find anything. Tear this island apart. If anything happens to her—”

“Nothing is going to happen to her,” he says, his large hand grips my shoulder briefly before he’s out the door.

Freddie is at the laptop running plates and crosschecking what we have. “The SUV matches a vehicle currently in long-term parking at the Beef Island Airport.”

He looks up at me, and I can read his expression. “FUCK!” I shout, slamming the heel of my fist against the wall again. I look toward the door where Logan just left.

“Let him search,” Freddie says. “He might find a clue to where they’re headed. In the meantime, I think we should return to Monagasco.”

My brow lowers. “You think Paxton will go to the continent?”

“He has the most support in Totrington,” Freddie says in a measured voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve tracked a thug, but I wouldn’t put anything past this…
prime minister
when it comes to your fiancée.”

This
thug
has my Zelda. I’m unfolding strategy, regarding and discarding ideas in my mind when I register what he just said. “My fiancée… How did you know? We only just agreed—”

“As you know, it’s our job to keep eyes on you at all time.” A sad smile crosses his solemn face. “We step away when we’re sure you’re not in danger, but your brother… His Royal Highness, has given us strict orders to protect your person.”

I’ve grown up with guards and security, so it would be ludicrous for me to act modest at this point. “It’s always a surprise when someone knows information no one else has been told.” I think about my brother’s decision to enter the Grand Prix two weeks ago. “We have a mole at Occitan.”

“What’s this?” Freddie’s on his feet, concern lining his face.

“Someone in the house—it has to be someone on staff—is keeping tabs on us. It’s got to be how they knew she was here.”

Freddie’s chin drops, and he speaks slowly. “Seth Hines appears to be how they knew she was here. We have reason to believe he’s been working with Paxton since he appeared in Monagasco.”

“WHAT?” Acid burns in my stomach. “How long have you known about this?”

“It’s only been confirmed in the last twenty-four hours. Your brother’s team has been working nonstop to find the man who shot Ava. It’s possible Seth Hines was the shooter.”

“We have got to find that bastard.”

“Of course,” Freddie says, giving me a slight nod. “Your car is out front waiting to take you to the villa so you can pack.”

I start for the door. “Contact the airport and have a plane standing by. Tell them it’s for me, the Prince of Monagasco. No point in being undercover anymore.”

“I’m on it.” Freddie is holding his phone to his ear. “I’ll text Logan to let us know if he uncovers anything.”

A brief pause as I consider my stocky guard’s interest in my fiancée. “He cares about her,” I say.

Freddie’s stern expression falters. “We all do. She’s a captivating subject.”

Nodding, I think about my Zee and her cons, her globetrotting, and her penchant for besting the bad guys. “She’s pretty incredible.”

“We’re going to find her, Sir.”

Digging in my pocket, I place my hand on the claim ticket for her ring. “Text me the second you find Hines.”

C
onsciousness fades
in like the raising of a dimmer switch. I open my eyes slowly, but all I see is dark. A black hood is over my head, and I’m lying on a very cold, very hard surface. Placing my palm on it, it feels like metal, and a sudden vibration followed by the echo of what sounds like a drill comes from somewhere far below me.

Inside the hood, my lips are crusted and dry. I still taste salt and coppery blood in my mouth, but I’m not actively bleeding. Still, my jaw is painfully sore from my missing tooth, and I’m so thirsty.

Lying here, I feel rocking, an occasional dip. As I listen, I try to place the sensation until at last I realize, I’m either on a boat or I have a concussion. Or both. The last thing I remember is Gorilla Man’s fist slamming into my skull.

If I live through this, I’m going to stick a shiv in Seth Hines.

“She’ll stay on the island,” an accented male voice I don’t recognize says.

“It’s not on any map.” That voice I do recognize. It’s Wade Paxton. “They won’t even know where to start searching for her.”

“How did you find this place?” the other man asks.

“When I was in Turkey, they told me about an island where the Australians sent Islamic refugees. It’s larger, more densely populated, so I continued searching. I found this little island about a thousand miles east of there.”

Fear trickles through my veins. I don’t move.
Where are they taking me?

The noise of the door, and another male voice joins Wade and his companion. “We’re twenty feet off the shore of Uranu.”

“Good work, Blix,” Wade says. “You’ll stay with them until it’s time to dispose of her.”

“Yes, sir.” More noise of doors, and we’re back to just the three of us.

“Who knew she would prove so useful?” From the sound of his voice, Wade is standing above me. It’s almost impossible to keep from shivering. “To think I almost wasted her life in Monagasco.”

“What do you expect to get for her?”

Wade turns, and I lie still, listening. Perhaps if I know what he wants, I can figure out how to escape.

“Power. Leverage. She’s the sister of the crown prince’s fiancée. She’s the presumptive heir’s girlfriend. They’ll come to the bargaining table in exchange for her life.” My stomach tightens, and I can’t help the shiver that passes over my shoulders. “Ahh, and it seems she’s awake.”

The hood is jerked off my head, and bright light dazzles my eyes. It takes a few moments of blinking and squinting before I’m able to make out Wade’s greasy hair, slimy face, and thin moustache.

I’m in a small cabin on a boat that has three twin beds arranged around the walls. In the center is a small table and one long shelf system runs along the perimeter. A veranda is in the very back, and I can see the green brush of an island through the glass door.

The clicking of a photograph makes me jump and look at the other man. He’s holding his phone up and taking pictures of me.

“Hold this.” He shoves a newspaper at me, and I look down at the cover. It’s a
USA Today
, and the date is June 12. “Turn it around.”

“May I please have a drink?” My voice is dry and rough as sandpaper.

He grabs a tumbler and fills it with an inch of water from the small sink before handing it to me. I drink the small amount so fast, but it’s not enough to ease my thirst.

“Do as you’re told.” Wade steps forward and roughly shoves the newspaper in my hand again. I place the tumbler on the floor beside me and look up at him. The camera snaps come quickly.

“Where are we?” I ask, not sure how long I’ve been unconscious, and trying to figure out how I can possibly escape.

We’re on a boat, in the ocean, headed to a small island. It’s all I know.

“The last place you’ll ever live.” Wade sneers, and a cruel light is in his eyes. “Make yourself at home, and don’t make trouble. Your guard’s only instruction is not to kill you. As long as you’re useful.”

My insides shudder, and I’m afraid I’ll be sick. The door opens again, and a tall man with white-blonde hair and dead blue eyes surveys me up and down.

“Zelda Wilder, Blix Ratcliffe.” Wade pushes me toward the man.

My head is still dizzy, and I have to grab the corner shelf to keep from falling. The edge digs into my hip, and I exhale a painful noise as tears burn my eyes. I will not cry. The last thing I will do is appear weak before these men.

Blix only turns and walks out into the hallway. I look in the direction he went then back to Wade Paxton.

“We have all we need for now,” he says, walking forward and pushing me out the door.

I stumble over the bottom lip, across the narrow hall, and the door slams shut in my face. I’m left standing in only the denim halter dress I put on… this morning? Yesterday? My espadrilles are gone, and only cheap rubber thongs are on my feet. My hair is matted, and my arms and legs are bare, except…

Looking down, my throat tightens, and I almost lose my battle with the tears. The tin ring is still on my finger. I lift my hand to look at it, and I see the purplish-green mark it’s already leaving on my skin. It’s the only reason they didn’t bother taking it, but they have no idea how much strength it gives me. With a shuddering breath, I hug my hand against my heart.
Cal…

Blix is back, and his expression has gone from dead to livid. He grabs my upper arm in an iron grip and shoves me ahead of him in the walkway. “Stay with me,” he says, continuing on at a fast pace. I have to trot to keep up.

“No one told me what to do.” My voice is so dry, I sound like a forty-year-old smoker.

He stops so fast, I almost bump into him. “Don’t make me speak to you again.” His voice is very deep and his accent is clipped.

I don’t smile. I don’t nod or acknowledge his directive. He starts to walk, and I continue after him to the center of the boat and then down flight after flight of stairs until we’re at the bottom. I wait as he shows documentation to the men waiting at the exit. They look possibly Turkish, and I wonder how far we’ve traveled… or maybe it’s simply a foreign crew. It has to be the latter.

Outside, on the long pier, a white Jeep-truck hybrid is waiting. Blix shoves me toward the back, and I climb over the tailgate as he gets in the driver’s seat. He turns the ignition, and I barely have time to stumble forward and sit with my back against the cab before we’re moving.

The sun beats down on me strongly. It heats my skin, and I know I’ll burn quickly on this small island. I don’t have anything to pull over my shoulders. I look up and around. We pass a series of short buildings with tin roofs. They look like military housing, and they’re painted white with bright pink squares on the sides. I don’t know what it means, since I’m relatively sure there are no military personnel on this island.

I look in the opposite direction, back toward the beach, and I see a hollowed out gray structure. It’s an enormous, four-story barn of a building with rusted tin walls and a long gable roof. It’s completely deserted.

My head hurts from my injury and the sun is making me squint. I don’t want to lower my eyes. I need to see where they’re taking me, so I can try to run away. Only, I don’t see any people who I might convince to help me were I to escape.

Blix takes a sharp left turn and we drive further inland. The canopy of green on each side of the Jeep grows thicker the further we drive, and the despair twisting in my chest grows tighter.

We must still be in the Atlantic, but where? If only I could see a native, I might be able to signal to them or at least examine his or her clothes for signs of what country I’m in.

The truck bounces violently, and my head feels like it’s splitting in two. I splay my hands and feet out like a starfish trying to stay seated in an upright position.

Another sharp turn, and we’re out of the forest. We’re plunged into sunlight, and my breath catches. Blix pulls the Jeep up to park at a line of small, cinderblock buildings. They’re all painted white, and they have holes where windows and doors should be. Only, they have no glass or wood. They’re empty except for faded white curtains hanging over the spaces.

I hear the truck door slam, and a dark face appears in the window of one of the small buildings. It’s a woman with long, straight dark hair. Her brown eyes are round as she stares at me. I don’t move. I sit and stare back at her.

“Halo,” Blix says.

A male tenor voice replies. “Bon bini.”

“Mi tin un muhé a abo,” Blix replies.

“Bon, bon,” the man says.

I have no idea what language this is. I don’t move. I only sit in the bed of the truck, my eyes locked on the black ones staring back at me from the shack.

The loud slamming of a palm against the side of the truck snaps me from my trance. I look up to see Blix is there, his blue eyes simmering with anger.

“Get out,” he orders. “I’m leaving.”

Terror grips me at those words. “Where am I?” I say desperately. “You can’t leave me here. What is this place?”

He steps forward and grips my arm, dragging me roughly across the bed of the truck. I let out a little squeal, and he jerks me up and over the side of the truck then releases me.

“OH!” I shout, flailing for anything to grab as I fall all the way to the sandy ground. I hit the sand with a hard
Thud!
that rattles my teeth and sends screaming pain through my head.

I lie on my side on the sand unable to move. I don’t fight the tears this time as my vision tunnels. Too late, I realize Blix is in the truck and revving the engine.

He hits the accelerator so hard, the tires spin, shooting sand into my face and all over my body. I twist quickly away using my hands to protect my nose and mouth. He’s gone before I even open my eyes. I don’t want to open my eyes. My limbs are heavy, and I’m so tired. I feel like I might vomit again, but instead, I give up the fight and fade into the blackness.