A Player for A Princess: Dirty Players Duet #2 (8 page)

A
va sprints
across the tarmac as I descend the steps of the small jet. Her green eyes are red-rimmed, and I see unshed tears in them. “What’s happening, Cal? Where is she? Do you know anything?”

I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my chest in a hug. My eyes squeeze shut as I fight my own desperation. I feel every bit of the pain tearing her apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise to you.”

“NO!” she wails, and my insides crumble.

Her body shudders as she cries, and I look up to see Rowan waiting beneath the covered walkway. The moment he sees her break, he’s across the space to where we’re standing and pulls her into his arms.

“Welcome home,” he says, giving me a nod.

I can’t answer him. I told Ava I wouldn’t come back without her sister, and here I stand, empty-handed.

Rowan and I have been communicating since I left Tortola, and he’s up to speed on everything we’ve been able to uncover over the last four days—which isn’t much.

“Wait,” Ava turns in my brother’s arms, pushing the tears off her cheeks. “You found Seth, right? What did he say?”

My jaw clenches in frustration. “We didn’t find Seth. He left the island before I even knew Zelda was gone.”

“What do they want?” Her voice is almost a shriek. “I understand trying to hurt me, but not Zee! Zee doesn’t have connections to anyone! She doesn’t possess state secrets…”

It’s a question I’ve been turning over and over in my mind. No one knows about our engagement. We weren’t at Occitan when I proposed, and the villa we rented was completely secure. Even more, this kidnapping was planned. It’s the only explanation for how easily they took her and disappeared so fast and so thoroughly.

I’ve only been able to reach one conclusion.

“It’s my fault,” I say quietly. “By going after her, I basically confirmed their suspicions about her value. If I had sent someone in my place, someone nobody knew to bring her back—”

“Stop!” Ava grabs my arm with surprising strength. Her green eyes are wide, and she infuses her words with so much emotion. “You couldn’t help going after her. You love her, and what she did was… What
we
did was wrong.”

Rowan’s deep voice cuts her off. “We’ve already gone over this. Reggie tricked you, and Zee felt compelled to keep you safe.”

“Still, Cal needed answers.” She slides her hand down to mine. “It’s not your fault.”

“Thanks,” I say, unable to smile. “I’m sorry I don’t share your opinion. I was angry, and I wanted to make her confess what she’d done. I wanted to…”

My voice trails off. I can’t say the truth out loud, that I’d wanted to hurt her the way she’d hurt me
.
The truth of that statement cramps my stomach.
If anything happens to her…

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back,” I continue. “We’ll never stop searching until we’ve found her.”

“Let’s go to the palace.” Rowan says, leading us to the waiting Towncar with Ava tight against his side.

Once we’re on the road, she uses a tissue to wipe her eyes. “Seth disappeared, Zee disappeared, they all just vanished?”

My lips tighten, and I look down at my hands. “From what we pieced together, they were only there for one reason—to take Zelda.”

“Do you have any idea what they intend to do with her?” Her voice is just above a whisper, and I hate that I don’t know.

“They took her for leverage, which is a good thing,” Rowan says. “It means…” I watch as he covers Ava’s small hand with his larger one.

“It means they won’t kill her.” Her voice wavers as she says the words.

Bending my elbows, I rub my hands across my face. I’m tired and I’m anxious, and I haven’t slept since this ordeal began. “It would be a lot of pointless effort and planning if they did,” I say.

She blinks rapidly and manages to smile. “So she’s alive, and they want something. We just have to wait and see what it is.”

My brother puts his arm around her again, hugging her close. “That’s exactly what it means. In the meantime, you need rest. You’re still getting over your own injuries.”

Looking up at him, her expression softens. She touches his face and places her thumb on his lips. The familiar gesture causes me to turn away and look out the window. I don’t know how I couldn’t see they were sisters before. I was so blind.

“I’ll be better once I know something,” she says.

“Still, when we get back, I’d like you to go up and rest.” He says gently. “I’ll tell you anything we learn. Okay?”

She smiles and nods as Hajib guides the car through the enormous palace gates and into the circular drive leading to the entrance.

O
nce we’re alone
in the war room, I rehash what we know bit by bit. After viewing the security footage…
Jesus, that security footage.
The sight of my Zelda fighting for her life still sends shards of rage ripping through my chest.

We’d gone to Seth’s hotel room and found the entire place scrubbed clean. We tore it apart anyway, looking for anything—a scrap of paper, a notepad, a magazine, anything that didn’t belong. We found nothing.

We went to Frenchman’s, where he’d put up Zelda that first night, but the owner claimed not to know Seth or any of the men in Wade’s group. She insisted she took the reservation over the phone from an American for his sister, and the sister left the next day with another man. A man who she thought looked a bit like me.

No fingerprints, fibers, paperwork, or even scraps of trash were found in the abandoned SUV. It was emptied the same as Seth’s hotel room and left in long-term parking.

No one matching Zelda, Wade, or the large hirsute man from the video passed through airport security that day or the next. Freddie scoured the security footage and found nothing. The port authority had no unscheduled cruises. They even provided the roster of every charter in or out of Tortola for the past two weeks, and nothing.

“God dammit!” I shout, pushing back against the heavy mahogany table. I’m frustrated again that we have no leads. “It’s like they disappeared into thin air.”

Rowan’s voice is even. “When Zee left, she said they’d been planning this for months. She said they had everything in place before they even locked her in that bathroom. They’ve been ahead of us from the start.”

“Now is the time for the succession referendum,” I say, leaning forward in my chair. “The wisdom you showed cleaning out the cabinet after father died couldn’t be more obvious than it is now.”

We’re alone in the ornate cabinet chamber. A heavy mahogany table monopolizes the space, and thick velvet curtains hang over the twelve-foot windows. Our family’s coat of arms stands oversized above the head chair.

“I remember a time when this room was filled with men our father trusted,” my brother says. “Now they’re all trying to seize control.”

“Not all, brother,” I say, rising from my chair. “Have you made any progress tracking down the leak at Occitan?”

I consider how dangerous our position has become. Everyone is at risk, and until we know more, I don’t even want to visit that gorgeous estate on the coast. The first place Zelda and I ever made love…

“No,” he says, anger clear in his tone. “It’s like we’re in the middle of an undeclared war!”

He turns to the window and looks out. His hands are clasped behind his back, and I’m struck by how kingly he appears tonight, trying to solve our problems and protect our country. I wonder if this is Ava’s influence in his life.

A sharp knock on the door draws both our attention. “Come in!” Rowan says.

The large door opens slowly, and Logan enters. He’s carrying a brown envelope, and his expression is grave. I’m on my feet at once.

“Logan, what do you have?”

“You might want to sit down, sir.”

My brow tightens, and I take the envelope from his hands before he can stop me. Pulling the tabs, I hastily open it and reach inside to remove three large photographs. They’re black and white, and I do sit when I see the subject.

“Zelda…” I whisper.

She’s still in that denim halter dress, but a large bruise covers her face. Dark circles are under her eyes, and her mouth is smeared with dried blood. Her hair is messy like she’s had something over her head, and she seems disoriented. My fists clench at the sight of her this way.

“I’m going to kill Wade Paxton with my bare hands,” I growl.

“That leaves Seth to me,” Logan says with equal intensity.

Sliding the next photograph from the stack, it’s her again, but this time, she’s holding a newspaper. A man’s hand is in the frame, holding the cover page under her chin. I can’t see what it says.

“What is the date?” I ask.

The stocky guard pulls a scope out of his pocket and hands it to me. “The date is what he’s showing us.”

Dropping the print on the table, I place the round piece over the date field and lean forward. June 12. “Yesterday.” I look up at him.

“Where were these taken?” Rowan demands, and Logan is quick to answer.

“We’re not sure yet, your majesty. As you can see the walls are bare beige, and the newspaper could have come from anywhere in the Western Hemisphere.” He flips through the three photos, and pulls out one, pointing to a glass on the floor beside Zee.

“Use the scope again and look at the reflection on that tumbler,” he says.

I do so, and the setting opens before me. They’re in a room with a veranda. From the arrangement of the beds and the shelf, it looks like…

“They’re on a ship? But we checked all the cruise ships…”

“Yes,” Logan says, slowing down as if leading me to the answer. “We checked all the
cruise
ships.”

In a flash it hits me. “They sneaked her out on a cargo ship!”

“It’s the only option that makes sense,” Logan smiles, and I’m out of my seat. It’s the smallest break, but we need it so much. “We checked all the cruise ships and charters,” he says. “They must have known we would do that. But a cargo ship—”

I’m pacing, thinking. “They could carry her onboard and wouldn’t even have to worry about papers.”

“Especially if they knew the captain,” Logan says in a knowing voice.

My eyes flash to his. “You found a connection?”

He shakes his head, dampening my enthusiasm. “Freddie is searching the list of captains operating cargo ships in and out of the area. He’s looking for any who might have a connection to Totringham. It’s only a matter of time.”

It’s the best news we’ve had so far, and I turn to Rowan. “We need to tell Ava—”

I stop short when I see his face lined with concern. He’s holding a sheet of what looks like printer paper. “How much time will Freddie require?”

Logan’s face drops as if he knows why my brother is asking. “He’s moving as quickly as possible. He knows about the deadline.”

“What deadline?” My tone is sharp, and my brother passes me the sheet.

My throat tightens as I read.

D
ear Sirs
:

We are holding Miss Wilder at a secure facility on an uncharted island. If you ever want to see her alive again, you have six weeks to complete the following tasks:

1-Cancel the contract with the American tech company.

2-Reinstate Monagasco’s oil leases in Tunis and reinvest the profits in future leases there.

3-Decline the succession referendum naming Rowan Westringham Tate King of Monagasco.

4-Sign the Open Borders Treaty uniting Totringham and Monagasco as one united, free-trade cooperative overseen by elected members of parliament.

5-Sign the pardon for Wade Paxton for his alleged role in the Grand Prix assassination attempt and reinstate him as Prime Minister of the newly united kingdom.

Confirmation these tasks have been completed is required by August 1 or you will receive a piece of Miss Wilder every day until either it is done or until nothing is left.

Enclosed are photos starting the clock, and your first piece of Miss Wilder as a gesture of sincerity.

We look forward to working with you.

D
ropping the sheet
, I rip the envelope open looking for what the hell they’ve done to her. “Where is it?” I shout.

My eyes fly to Logan’s, and he slowly reaches into his pocket. “I’m sorry, sir, I wanted to keep it safe.”

“Give it to me!” I’m nearly blind with fury and fear and anger when he produces a small, white bundle.

Snatching it from him, I quickly unroll the parcel, searching for what might be inside. It unrolls and unrolls, “Good god,” I mutter in exasperation and impatience.

Until with a little tap a tooth drops onto the table. I scoop it up in my fingers, feeling my insides straining.

Grasping my forehead, I can’t bear to think how this happened. “Did they use medication. Did she suffer?”

“We have no way of knowing,” Logan says quietly. “Although if you look at her photograph again, you can see this large bruised area.” He moves his finger over my love’s battered face. “It’s possibly a byproduct…”

He doesn’t finish, and I feel as if I might be sick. Dropping into the chair, my face is in my hands, and I clutch my hair trying to hold it together. Rowan’s warm hand covers my shoulder, and he gives me a squeeze.

“Six weeks,” he says quietly. “It’s more than enough time. We will find these bastards. We will stop them, and when we do, they will pay.”

I’m fumbling for control. I take the small tooth and carefully roll it in the damp gauze as if it’s a precious artifact. Pieces of Zee.

“We have to decide how much to tell Ava,” I say quietly. “Until we know how this happened, I’ll take responsibility for keeping it from her.”

Rowan’s expression is grave. “Only for a few days. We will tell her when she’s stronger.”

“We have to double our efforts,” I say, rising from my chair. “Take me to where Freddie is working.”

I
’m lying
on a stiff cot when I wake. The ache in my mouth has diminished, but my head feels like the top of my skull is breaking open. I’m pretty sure that blow to the temple did more than knock me unconscious. The bright light hurts my eyes, and I try to remember the signs of a concussion.

When I try to sit up, my head spins and my hip throbs from where Blix ripped me over the side of the truck and then dropped me flat on the sand.

“Bon bini,” a soft voice is at my side.

Squinting, I see the dark eyes I remember from the open window before I blacked out again. Her skin is the color of mocha and her long, dark hair hangs stick-straight down her back. She looks Hispanic or some kind of Native American. I remember seeing a photo of the Anasazi once. She’s like that.

“Where am I?” I say with my sandpaper voice, easing slowly into a sitting position.

Her brow lines, and she stands, crossing the room to a small table where a bucket sits. Using a gourd, she scoops water and returns to me.

“Bebe,” she says.

Her voice is soft but direct, and she only meets my eyes briefly before looking down again. I take the cup and hold it to my lips. The water is warm, but it’s wet, which is all I care about. I slurp it down with all the decorum of a Labrador retriever.

“Thank you,” I say, gasping for air.

She’s up and across the room repeating the procedure and giving me another scoop of water. Again, I drink it down in record time.

We repeat this process once more until I’ve had enough. She looks around the space, and I do the same. We’re in a one-room, cinder-block structure. The table is in the center, and an ancient, small stove is in the corner. A box, which I guess is a refrigerator, is a little further down. My cot is against the eastern wall under an open square that serves as a window. Two other cots are on the opposite wall from me. I assume that means another person shares this shelter with us. Is this woman married? Is it for another woman? I have no idea what to expect.

“Baño?” she says, doing a nod and holding her hand toward the door.

I think about the word. I’ve heard this word in Miami. It means bathroom. Suddenly my bladder feels like it might burst.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Si,” I try, and she lights up at that.

“Si!” she repeats, smiling and nodding.

She stands. I try to do the same, but my knees shake so hard I have to sit down again. Dizziness hits me. I don’t know what I’m doing as instinct takes over, and I lean forward moaning, holding my head.

“Dushi!” she says, sitting beside me and rubbing my back. “Sori!”

It’s hard to think through this hurricane of pain, but I recognize the last thing she says. I need to make it to the toilet. I’m not sure if I’m about to vomit all over myself or pee in my pants—or both.

“Help… me.” I say, barely able to see. “Help,” I whisper again. “Baño.”

Her arm is around my waist and mine is over her shoulder. Together we rise slowly, and I lean heavily against her as she walks me across the dirt floor to the thin cloth constituting the door. It gets caught up around us, but we keep going until it gradually falls free. Thankfully, the bathroom is only a few paces down from where the line of side-by-side cinder block houses stands.

It’s a closet-sized tin room and inside is a chair with no cushion over a hole in the ground. The tin door slams shut, and the smell of urine and fecal matter hits me full force. I immediately vomit all over the ground and flies rise around me. I start to cry again.

“Oh, god…” My shoulders shudder, and my heart feels like it’s breaking.

Breathing through my mouth to avoid the stench, I pull my skirt up and my panties down and hover over that bottomless chair as I pee in that hole. When I’m done, I look around. No toilet paper. No surprise.

I wait, doing a little hip-shake, hoping the final drops fall away. When I can take it no longer, I step forward, pushing through the door. The blast of fresh air that hits me has me gasping frantically.

“Oh, god!” I gasp, leaning against the wall of the outhouse.

My new friend looks at me and nods. “No bon.” She motions to the trees around us. “Baño.”

Blinking at her a few moments, I try to understand. Is she telling me to pee in the woods? It would certainly make more sense than enduring that torture test every time I need to relieve myself.

I nod as if I understand. The vomit followed by peeing cleared my head a bit. I’m able to walk back toward the cinder-block houses by myself, but I need to lie down again. I stagger through the cloth hanging over the door and make it to my bed.

For a minute I sit watching the makeshift door, but my new friend never joins me. After what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a few minutes, I give up and lie on my side to sleep.

Voices rouse me, and when I open my eyes again, I see my friend is back and with her is a little girl. I say “little,” but she’s probably twelve or thirteen. She’s skinny and tall, and her dark hair is wavy, unlike the woman’s.

I watch a few moments as they move around the kitchen talking in their strange language. The girl is animated and fun, as if somehow she’s managed to rise above the squalor surrounding us. She’s also dressed in a plaid skirt and a white, button-up shirt. It looks like a school uniform.

Whatever my friend is cooking smells delicious. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten in two days. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and wonder if I can figure out a way to communicate with them.

“Wak! Wak!” The woman motions to me, and the girl turns.

She looks at me, and I’m struck by her clear green eyes. Clear green eyes, wavy dark hair, tall and skinny… She’s so much like—

“Hello!” the girl says, skipping to my cot. “I’m Selena. What’s your name?”

I’m taken aback. “You speak English,” I say through an exhale.

“I go to school,” she says with a cute, superior look.

Her friendliness and happy manner are so out of place. My throat tightens, and I miss Ava. “That’s good,” I say, blinking fast, swallowing my tears. “I’m sure you’re a very good student.”

“I’m at the top of my class!”

The woman says something, and she replies in their language before turning back to me. “Mama says do you feel like eating?”

“Yes,” I answer quickly. “Si!”

Her mother smiles and returns to stirring the pot on the stove. I smell tomatoes and peppers, and I wonder what type of meal she’s cooking.

That makes my little companion smile. “So what is your name?”

“Zelda,” I say. “But you can call me Zee.”

“Selda,” she says, substituting the
Z
sound with an
S
.

“I like the way you say it.”

“I’ve never heard that name before.” She walks to the table. “Where do you come from, Selda?”

“Miami.” I’m starting to feel better, and I push the blankets aside to try and stand. I’ve got to move around. I’ve got to get my strength back.

“It’s in America,” Selena says. She looks down as if I said I came from heaven. It gives me an idea.

“Where are we, Selena? What is this place?”

She blinks around the tiny room. “This is our house.”

“Yes, but where are we? What is this island?”

“The island is Uranu.”

It’s the same name Wade said on the boat. The tiniest spark of hope lights in my chest. “And where is Uranu?”

Her slim brows pull together. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Taking a careful step forward, I do my best to remain friendly and not intimidating. “I just mean… Where is Uranu? Is it part of Mexico? Puerto Rico?”

Again, she looks confused, and her mother interrupts our conversation. “Tempu na kome.”

My eyes flicker to the woman’s then back to the girl. Selena smiles, “It’s time to eat now.”

Three plastic chairs surround the metal table. We each have a small bowl containing corn meal mash mixed with tomatoes, jalapenos, and okra. I take a bite, and exhale a groan. It’s delicious. The slimy okra cuts the spice of the jalapeno, and the tomatoes give it a savory goodness. I’m so hungry, Selena and her mother have barely started eating, when I empty my bowl.

They don’t notice or comment, and I sit at the table, feeling the comfort of a full stomach. That small flicker of hope grows stronger, and I start to think I might be able to get out of here. I just need to know
where
is here.

I’m on the verge of trying to find out again when a man bursts through the curtain door.

“Tendé!” he shouts.

He’s not very tall, but his presence sends Selena running behind her mother’s chair. My friend rises quickly and holds her daughter behind her as she backs toward the wall where their cots are placed.

“Bo a na hasi un trabow!” He crosses the room to my friend, and she starts to scream.

“NO! NO! NO!” She’s wailing, and Selena is screaming with her, holding her arm and crying.

The man shouts back, and the cacophony of noises, violent, shrill, and piercing, cuts through my head, reviving the intense, nauseating pain. My hope and optimism disintegrate as I stagger, practically crawling to my cot.

Tears are in my eyes as I squeeze them shut. Lying down, I pull the skimpy blanket around my head, trying to cover my ears. I hear a struggle in the room, but I’m helpless to intervene. The pain in my head paralyzes me.

Selena is crying. That man is taking her mother away, but I can’t do anything to help them. I can’t even stand. With every beat of my heart, pain flares through my limbs.

I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m hurt, and I miss my sister. I want to go home. I want Cal. I close my eyes and without even trying, the darkness comes.

W
hen I open
my eyes again, it’s morning. Selena is gone, and my friend is on her cot with her back to me. Sunlight fills the space, and from the angle of the light, I think it must be noon. For a moment, I blink around the room. The table is clean, and only the bucket sits there with the gourd beside it. All signs of struggle are gone, and it’s the same as it was when I opened my eyes the first time.

I’m starting to question reality when my bladder tells me I have to pee. Slowly I climb out of the bed and stand straight. The first thing I notice is my head is better. I don’t feel like I’m pitching over the edge of a cliff or I’m about to vomit all over my shoes. I do feel like I’d better get to the baño quick.

Slowly, I go to the door, encouraged that I don’t have to hold the wall to stay upright. I’m getting better… For whatever that’s worth. I have two things going for me: Selena speaks English, and I can actually walk on my own to pee.

I bypass the outhouse of horror and opt for peeing in the bushes behind a tree. As I make my way back to the cinderblock house, I’m able to look around at my location better. Another woman watches me from the window of an identical house as the one we’re in. Her eyes are just like my friend’s—dark and curious.

Pausing for a moment, I give her a little wave. Then I smile. Her expression doesn’t change, but she walks away from the window. Only an empty black hole stares back at me.

A wave of loneliness passes through my stomach, but I dismiss it. Why should any of these women trust me? I don’t know why I’m here, and I’m sure they don’t. If Wade is as cruel to them as he is to me, they’re right to be wary.

Thinking back to last night, I wonder who that angry little man was. I want to know why he came in here and why he upset my friends so much. Entering the room, I pause for a moment, surveying Selena’s mom. She’s still lying on her side facing the wall, but she isn’t covered with a blanket.

It’s not particularly cool or warm, but I decide to return some of the kindness she showed me. Crossing the room, I go to where I assume she’s sleeping and take the thin blanket from the foot of her bed. I’m just about to spread it over her shoulders, when she gasps and turns to face me.

“Kí bo ke!” she shrieks, and I jump back.

“I’m sorry! Sorry!” I say holding my palms out.

I drop the blanket. She’s shivering, and I see now that her face is battered. Her lip is split and dried blood is in the corner of her mouth. My insides twist, and I understand they needed me last night. The man who came here was a bad man, but instead of helping, I was too weak. I hid under the covers when they needed me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, picking up her blanket and putting it on the foot of the bed.

I go to the bucket on the table. Taking the gourd, I fill the bowl and make my way slowly back to where my friend has returned to facing the wall.

“Are you thirsty?” I say, knowing she can’t understand me.

She doesn’t move for a few moments. I wait, looking at the clear water in the bowl and wondering if there might be a way to make it cooler. I know I would’ve preferred cool water when my own face was so beaten.

I’m about to walk away when she moves. She turns onto her back and looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Danki,” she whispers, cupping the gourd with her hands and drinking slowly.

I know that word. I heard it on that old
Heidi
movie I watched as a kid. Heidi was a little orphan girl from Germany… or Switzerland. Why would they speak German here? I don’t know if any of the islands are owned by Germany. I didn’t even know France owned some until Cal told me. Once again, for the millionth time, I wish I’d stayed in school.

“You’re going to be okay,” I say, trying to encourage her.

She only turns to face the wall again. I have no idea what happened last night, and I don’t even know where I am. Returning to the small table, I put the gourd beside the bucket and force myself to rally.

I’ve been injured. I don’t know where I am, but I’m still Zelda Wilder. If Ava were here, I’d grab her hand and figure it out. Ava’s not here, but I haven’t changed, and I’m not giving up.

Selena will be back this afternoon, and Selena speaks English. I’m going to find out what’s going on here, and I’m going to figure a way out of this. It’s what I do. I might not be Cinderella, but I am a survivor.