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

My chest rises and falls quickly. I’m still standing.

“It’s slowing down!” Seth’s voice is eager, but it’s directed at me. He’s trying to snap me out of it.

If I blow this spin, we’ll lose everything. I’m on my own now. I left Cal behind, and even if he followed me, it changes nothing. I have to be able to take care of myself.

“Slower…” Seth says again.

With a blink I break Cal’s spell over me and lean down as if to adjust my ankle strap. A flick of my wrist and a curl of my toe, and the silver ball clatters into red seven.

“OH!” Seth bellows. “I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!!”

He slaps my shoulder, but I haven’t regained my footing. Pulling up quick, I’m slammed into Cal’s chest. My palms are flat against his jacket, and his warm breath skirts across my cheek. Strong hands grip my waist, and his warm-cedar and citrus scent floods my brain.

My insides clench. Whatever made him come after me, it’s certainly over now—unless now he wants to make me pay for what I did in Monagasco, my role in his brother’s assassination attempt. I might not have known what Reggie and Wade were planning, but I helped them get into the country all the same. I lied to all of them.

“Zee,” he says softly, his fingers grazing the skin of my lower back. The tiny hairs on my body rise, and my stomach flips the way it always does when Cal touches me. All the places and all the ways we’ve been together flood my mind.

“I’m sorry,” I manage, pulling away.

I can’t be here with him like this. It hurts so much knowing he knows everything. Everything we had, those moments with him were all stolen. It’s what I am. A thief.

And now he knows.

Seth grabs my upper arm, pulling me to his side. “I say, Miss Lampert, you must be my lucky charm.” The accent is still there, but ice is in his tone.

The muscle in Cal’s jaw moves, and I see his anger flash at my partner in crime.

“Cash me out.” I swipe my black clutch off the table, twisting from Seth’s grip.

My hands shake as I collect my winnings. I don’t even bother to count them. I take the money and run. Seth will meet me at the dock like we planned. Noises are behind me, but I don’t stop. I practically sprint to the doors and out to the line of cabs. It only takes a moment for me to dive into one.

“Grapetree Point,” I say, slamming the door.

I fall back against the cracked vinyl seat as we speed off into the night, tears lurking in the corners of my eyes.

S
he’s in St. Croix
.

In a casino, no less.

I’m standing in the shadows of the run-down resort, watching the dim-lit area fill with gamblers, waiting in the wings for her to appear.

Logan discovered the Divi on the largest of the U.S. Virgin Islands and decided to check it out. It was a long shot, but it paid off. We’d spent a day on Tortola, doing our best covert investigation, trying to adjust to “island time” despite our sense of urgency. We waited and waited, and neither Zelda nor Seth ever appeared.

Visions of Helen Regis dead in a Miami bathtub flickered in my mind, and my fists came out. I took a few chances asking questions around Road Town.

Harbor guards insisted no one matching her description had passed through any of the docks they monitor. I was on the verge of searching boat to boat when Logan suggested we try this place.

The resort needs renovations. It’s nothing like the Royal Casino back home, but I suppose I grew up in the gold standard. It’s not an entirely fair comparison.

A few green-felt tables for poker and blackjack are surrounded by brown leather high chairs. A wall of slots glows like a carnival, filling the air with their tinny music. In the center of the room is a roulette station.

Zelda is a shark at blackjack. I remember the night I watched her turn one hundred euros into eight hundred without batting an eye, and I was such a love-struck fool, I accepted her “Daddy taught me” excuse. It won’t happen again. I’m wise to Zelda Wilder. According to Ava, she’ll head for that shiny brass wheel if Seth decides they need money.

As much as I don’t want it, my stomach tightens at the thought of her with Seth. I’m simultaneously furious and over-protective. The first night I met him at the yacht party, I could see he made Zee uncomfortable. The way she flinched when he danced with her, the annoyance touched with fear in her eyes is on my mind.

She belongs at my side. I’ll deal with her lies and her role in what happened to Rowan, but when the reckoning is over, Zelda is leaving with me.

A thump pings my wrist, and I look down at the text on my smart watch. It’s from Logan:
Target spotted. Making my move
.

Every nerve in my body sparks to life, and I sweep the room again searching for her pale blonde hair. A man in a dark blazer approaches the table just behind the wheel. I see Logan’s tall, beefy form casually approaching from the left. My brow furrows, and I don’t understand why I can’t find her. I watch as he walks around the group. His eyes are fixed on a woman with her back to me. She’s wearing a black dress with straps of fabric crisscrossed over her back. Her hair is a severe, dark bob like the woman in
Pulp Fiction
.

Then it hits me—it’s her.

I watch as Logan speaks to her, and I recognize the movement of her shoulders, the way she pulls away defensively. I hold the brass rail in front of me to keep from storming out there and grabbing her, throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her out of here like some ridiculous cave man.

Lingering in the shadows, I watch her sit on the tall barstool at the table. She crosses her legs, and I allow my eyes to glide down them to the black heels she’s wearing. Zelda Wilder isn’t tall, but she makes up for it by wearing shoes that accentuate her gorgeous legs.

I’m furious and relieved, and as much as I have to keep this part of me on a leash, I want those luscious legs wrapped around my waist. She won’t run away from me again.

Seth strolls up to her other side, and my anger is back. I’ve researched this guy since learning how much influence he has over my girl, and I’ve learned several things—for starters, he is not a Kentucky colonel.

He’s a con artist from Kansas. He’s been arrested a few times for petty crime, nothing major. Still, I can tell from his track record he’s smart. The only thing keeping him from real jail time is his brain. He’s a tricky bastard with no clear motivation, which makes him dangerous. He’s helping Zelda in order to get something in return. But what?

Commotion at the table draws me from my reflection, and I see Logan pulling back. He does a little nod and walks away from her. We agreed to verify and walk away, hang around outside then follow them to wherever they’re hiding.

It’s what we agreed to do, but I can’t stay away from her. As if pulled by invisible chains, I take the short flight of steps down to the main floor. I cross the room to where she sits, her back to me as she faces the wheel.

I want to touch her, inhale her sweet scent. I want to hear her voice. I want her to know I’m here and come to me. I want her to say she’s sorry for all of it.

At the very moment I reach her, she steps back and makes a comment about leaving. I look at her stack of chips on the table, and while I don’t know what they’re doing, I know it’s something illegal. No one wins that much at roulette.

“You shouldn’t break a winning streak,” I say near her dark head.

Her entire body tenses as if I’ve shocked her, and she spins around. Crystal-blue eyes lock on mine, and my chest squeezes. Everything between us floods my brain. She can see it in my eyes. I can see it in hers, until she blinks away, pulling closer to Seth as if for protection.

No, beautiful. I’m the one who protects you
. I step into the gap left by Logan, closer to my girl. She’s cowering like a puppy who knows she’s done wrong. I’ll deal with her, but I won’t have her turning to a snake to escape me.

“Have we met?” I say softly, letting my warmth pass over her bare shoulder. Her little shiver makes me smile. “You seem familiar.”
Very familiar.

She twists her hands, not looking at me, and that asshole Seth gives her some order about staying. I want to pop him in the mouth. Instead I watch Zelda, waiting to see what she’ll do.

I know my Zee, and she’s strong. She’s smart as a whip, and she’s loyal. What will she do now that she’s cornered? I almost laugh as the answer springs to the front of my mind—she’ll slide open a window, jump into the ocean, and swim away.

And I’ll swim right after her.

“No more bets!” The dealer passes his hand over the table.

Her internal struggle is plain on her face, from the tiny line piercing her forehead to the way her blue eyes dart around the grid like little birds. She’s flustered by my presence, and I love that I throw her off balance. I love that as strong as she is and as much as I’ve given her, I still have the upper hand.

She leans down as if to adjust her shoe, and the roulette ball wobbles. My eyes dart to the table, and I watch as the silver ball shimmies and then drops straight into red seven.
So that’s their game.

It’s a clever scam, and one our security has dealt with before in Monagasco. Ours was a three-person job—one man placed the bets, a second distracted the dealer, and the third activated a radio transmitter from the next table over. It was actually a woman with the small transmitter hidden in her cigarette case. She pressed the button, and the metal ball dropped like clockwork into the corresponding space on the wheel.

Seth lets out a yell and slaps Zee on the shoulder. It sends her straight into my arms. I scoop her up, reveling in this familiar position. Her blue eyes blink up at me, round and full of… something very new. Is it shame?

“Zee,” I say, a crack forming in my wall of anger.

That bastard Seth jerks her away, and I’m ready to take care of him when she whips her arm out of his grasp.

“Cash me out,” she says to the dealer, and as soon as she’s handed her winnings, she practically bolts for the door.

I’m right behind her, but at that moment, a wad of garishly dressed tourists spreads out into the path blocking me.

“Excuse me,” I growl, trying to get around them, but we launch into a game of back and forth and by the time I’m away, so is Zee, speeding off into the night.

“Dammit!” I shout, but my irritation is cut short by a black SUV pulling into the circular drive and stopping in front of me.

The locks click open, and I see Logan in the driver’s seat. I’m in the vehicle at once, and we’re heading down the dark, two-lane road after her.

“I’ve been watching the door for her to come out,” he says, increasing our speed. “She was moving fast, but I at least caught their direction.”

“Good work—any idea where she’s headed?”

“None. They could be staying on the island, or…”

The way his voice trails off causes me to look up. “Or?” I demand.

“Or there are several piers hidden along this cove. They could have a charter at any one of them.”

I know how to contact her. I still have her cell number, but after the way she ran from me, after her not showing up in Tortola like she said, I’m not sure I want to alert her.

“I think it’s best if we head back to the airport.” Touching my fingers to my upper lip, I look out the window into the night.

“It’s probably the right call. We don’t know who might be watching us.”

“Right.”

We’re not the only ones looking for Zelda Wilder. My pulse ticks a little faster. I know the truth of that statement too well.

What are you thinking, Zee? Why are you running from me?

G
rapetree Point is
a secluded beach with a curved bay and deep water close to shore. It’s hidden from the road and difficult to find, making it perfect for our needs. I follow the very narrow path full of brambles from where I paid the cabby out to the soft beige sand. A small charter is waiting in the low ripples just a few feet out.

I don’t want to board without Seth. I don’t even want to be seen out here alone, so I walk deeper into the grape trees rising above the foliage. Although it’s still twilight, the gnarled trunks and low-hanging branches increase the shadows and darkness. I run my fingers along the strange, knobby limbs dotted all over with deep purple fruit.

Reaching up to my forehead, I pull the silly wig off my head along with several of the pins used to keep it in place. Blonde tendrils fall around my cheeks and temples, and I lean my forehead against a bare spot on the tree. I exhale a shuddering breath as Cal floods my thoughts. I remember his eyes—the heat
and
the anger in them. I wasn’t prepared to see him, especially not on a job.

A harsh, shushing noise in the brambles changes my moment of shame to fear, and my eyes go wide, straining into the darkness. Someone is coming down the path fast, headed this way. I step back, further into the shadows, rounding my shoulders and hoping to disappear in the trees. Good thing I’m wearing black, although I have too much skin showing to be completely camouflaged.

Another step back, and a dry limb cracks like a gunshot. The shadowy figure stops. “Zelda? Is that you?”

Seth!
Exhaling loudly, I step out of the trees toward him. “What took you so long? We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Don’t tell me what we have to do.” His voice is sharp, and he grabs my arm, jerking me toward the open shore. “Your boyfriend almost blew our cover.”

“He’s
not
my boyfriend.” My reply is emphatic. MacCallum Lockwood Tate cannot be my boyfriend in this realm of possibilities.

Seth is still fuming. “How did he find us, anyway? You’re in disguise. There must be a hundred islands here we could have gone to—”

“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t communicated with him since we left Miami.” It’s the truth. The last time I messaged Cal, I told him we were headed to Tortola, which was true at the time.

He waves a small LED light over his head back and forth, and a dark head pops up in the center of the boat, waving a similar light back at us.

“That is not fucking encouraging,” he says.

I watch as he rolls up his pants. “What do you mean?”

Green eyes flash at me. “I mean if he found us that fast, other people can find us just as easy. Come on.”

My blood runs cold at the thought, and I look over my shoulder for the thousandth time. In the dark, the gnarled trunks and twisted branches all look like men crouching forward, coming to kill us. I shake away my fear. The people looking for me don’t have to hide in the bushes. They can pull out guns and shoot me from hundreds of feet away.

“Just like they did to Ava,” I whisper.

“Zee!” Seth shouts. “Get on the boat!”

Snapping out of my trance, I look up to see him already across the narrow strip of water and pulling up on the bow of the small yacht. I wade into the warm waters, not even caring that the bottom of my dress is getting soaked. My clutch and shoes are high over my head, and when I arrive at the boat, I toss them onboard before pulling myself out of the water.

“Patch has clothes you can change into,” Seth says, handing me a towel. “Once we’re on Tortola, we can shop for something better.”

I think about the eight hundred dollars in my purse. Seth should have the same amount or more on him. He couldn’t have played roulette longer, as I have the transmitter in my shoe; however, he could have stopped off for a round of blackjack to beef up his winnings. I’m pretty good at the game, but Seth is better. He taught me to count cards when we first started working together in South Beach.

The roar of the boat engine fills the quiet night, and it takes only moments before we’re shooting out, away from St. Croix. We most likely won’t even use the sails tonight.

“Get comfortable,” Seth says, handing me a small stack of clothes. “It’s a five-hour voyage.”

Taking the clothes, I do a quick calculation in my head. “We’ll arrive after midnight?”

“Thereabouts.”

Turning, I go down the silver ladder to the small space below deck to change. “So you have a plan?” I call up, sliding the zipper down my side and quickly shrugging out of my wet dress.

I step into the boxers and jerk them over my hips, whipping the tee on just as fast. The entire time, I fight the memory of Cal, of catching his eyes on me in Occitan as I changed into his clothes the night I hurt my ankle. A hollow ache spreads through my chest, and in spite of everything, I miss him so much.

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Cal. I was hired to do one job—seduce his brother Rowan, expose him as irresponsible and unfit to rule—and then Ava and I would disappear, walk away and live the rest of our lives on easy street.

The only problem is Rowan is not irresponsible. He’s very focused and serious about his country, and his uncle is a bigger con artist than me. Reggie had us fooled from the start, and all he’d wanted was to get back inside Monagasco, where he and Wade Paxton could take over the small nation-state. They sabotaged Rowan’s Formula One car, nearly killing him, and shot Ava to silence us. They would have killed me if I hadn’t escaped.

“Oh, god,” I whisper, leaning my head against the corner of the small room.

When I reemerge above deck, Seth is sitting against the stern, watching Patch operate the large, silver wheel.

“We have to split up,” he says, and a splinter of fear clenches my chest.

My involuntary response frustrates me more. I hate being dependent on Seth. I don’t like being dependent on anyone, but least of all him. Still, without Ava, I don’t have much choice. On my own, I’m a sitting duck—or more like a fish in a barrel, an easy mark.

“Why?” I ask, working hard not to sound afraid.

He does a shrug. “Together, we’re easier to find. All anyone has to say is a new American couple just moved to the island, and they’ll head straight for us.”

“Then what made you think we’d be safer in Tortola?”

“You got a better idea?” he shouts at me, and I walk away.

“No,” I mutter, leaving him for the front of the boat.

The last thing I’m in the mood for is a Seth Hines poor-anger-management moment. I’ll stay in the bow until we get there.

When we ran from the killers in Monagasco, he said he had friends on Tortola who could hide us. Now we’re splitting up. Whatever, I’ll figure it out. It’s not like I believe for a moment it means Seth will leave me alone. I have the black American Express card with our shared money on it.

Like a joint-custody arrangement, it ties us together no matter how much I never want to see him again. I promised him five thousand dollars in Monagasco, and he’s not going anywhere until he gets it.

The boat rocks, moving fast, bouncing over the waves. It’s a dark night, and we’re the only ones on these waters as far as I can see. We’ll likely pass a cruise ship or two before we reach our destination, but they’ll take no notice of us.

I lean back against the bow, using the plastic bag containing my clutch, dress, and wig for a pillow. Closing my eyes, my thoughts go where they always do at night—to Cal’s smoky hazel eyes. I remember his warm hands cupping my cheeks and lifting my mouth to his. I picture his broad shoulders, his six-foot-two frame towering over me. I think of the way his golden-brown hair goes all sexy-messy when he pulls his shirt over his head just before he climbs into bed. I remember his lined torso and his strong arms. I feel his hard body pressed against mine, urgent and demanding as he takes what he wants, what we both want…

A large hand shakes me roughly, and I jump awake with a gasp, throwing my arms out. “What?!”

“Get up,” Seth snaps. “We’re here.”

I stretch my neck to the side, trying to orient myself. “I’m must’ve fallen asleep.” My voice is scratchy, and I rub my shoulder. “I slept in a weird position.”

“I’m surprised you slept at all with what’s hanging over us.”

Seth has no clue how Ava and I grew up, how many nights I barely slept listening for anyone creeping up on us. They might not have been men with guns, but some wounds go deeper than bullets. I follow him, walking low to the back of the boat to the long pier. It’s dark and deserted at this time of night.

Seth climbs up the wooden ladder then reaches back for me. “Like I said, we’ll split up,” he says. “I know a few guys from South Beach here. Blix is pretty connected. He’ll let me know if anybody’s snooping around, asking questions.”

We’re walking toward a deserted shopping area. A large clock mounted on an iron post tells me it’s after two in the morning.

“What kind of a name is Blix? Is that German?”

“Short for Blixen. He was a baron or something. Lost all his money and spent some time in Miami before moving further south.”

Sounds like a Nazi. My nose wrinkles at the thought. I know what kind of shit Seth was involved with in South Beach. “More like he’s on the lam.”

“Things were different ten years ago.”

I don’t believe that, but at this point, all I care about is a bed. “Do we at least have rooms?”

“You’re at Frenchman’s Hotel. I’ll be at Maria’s.” We’re through the small mall in an alley where the road diverges in opposite directions, and he stops. “I’m taking off. Here’s your address and info.”

He shoves a piece of paper in my hand, and a charge of panic hits me. “You’re leaving me here? In the middle of the night?”

“You’ll be okay. Tortola is relatively safe.”

“I’m sure it is—for the average tourist.”

He exhales a loud breath. “Look, my hotel is five blocks that way,” he points behind him, then he turns me roughly in the opposite direction. “Yours is two that way. Walk straight, don’t act suspicious, and no one will suspect anything.”

“You’re a jerk,” I say, shoving his hands off me.

“A jerk who saved your life.” His voice is impatient. “Look, I don’t have a gun. I’m not a fighter. If somebody jumped us, we’re better separated. Then I can get help.”

I notice he doesn’t say
he’ll
help me.

“You realize if something happens to me, you get nothing. No money.”

He’s already walking away from me toward his hotel. “You’re a survivor, Zee. Survive. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Seconds tick past, and before long, I’m alone in the night. Seth is gone, and the only sound is cicadas screeching loud in the background. I take a step toward a hotel I’ve never seen. A knot tightens my throat, but I fight it.
I will not cry.
My jaw clenches.
I stopped crying in Tampa years ago.

“Asshole,” I mutter instead, sucking up my fear and walking faster. “A purposeful, determined stride,” I say.

Everything in me wants to run, but I won’t do it. I’m taking back control. Seth is right—I’m a survivor. I’ll survive this, and I’ll be stronger for it. They can’t break me. If I let them scare me, they win.

A sign up ahead glows in the night like a beacon. It’s wood painted white with a golden fleur de lis and the word
Frenchman
painted in precise black lettering. I feel a small victory over the bad guys. I found my hotel on my own.

I’m just at the path leading to the door when a loud
BANG!
makes me jump a foot into the air. An involuntary scream flies from my throat, and I run the final steps into the hotel, shoving through the door and hiding around the corner.

Several seconds pass where the only noise is my rapid breathing. Gripping the doorjamb, I lean forward to peek, at the shadows lining my path, searching for the source of that noise. A black and white cat stands beside the trashcans, looking my way.

My stomach is in my throat, and I exhale a swear. “Fucking cat.”

No one is behind the counter. “What now?” I say to myself.

Lifting the sheet of paper Seth shoved into my hand, I see a room number and a combination for the door lock written on it.

“Convenient.” I skip the rickety old elevator and take the stairs to Room 213.

I’m so tired, I don’t even care that the stairwell smells like piss and the hotel is probably the seediest place I’ve stayed since leaving Tampa. A concrete balcony leads to my door, and I pause to tap out the combination on the lock. A buzz and it’s open.

The doorknob flies in my hand, jerking me into the room. “Jesus!” I squeal, my heart galloping in my chest.

Someone has left the balcony door open, and the suction of the wind makes it nearly impossible for me to shove the room door closed. Falling against it, I use my entire body weight to force it shut and twist the deadbolt locked.

I drop the plastic bag on the small table without even switching on the lights. Stopping at a small mirror hanging on the wall, I reach up to pull the remaining bobby pins out of my hair. It falls in smooth waves around my face and over my shoulders. I lift the thin tee over my head and toss it to the side when the skin on my arms prickles.

I’m not alone. In my peripheral vision, I can just make out the silhouette of a man sitting in the darkness on the edge of the sofa. He’s watching me, and my stomach is in my throat.

“Who are you?” My voice is calm, level, and totally fake. I’m terrified.

He rises fast, closing the space between us.

“Stay BACK!” I shout, scrambling away until my bare back hits the wall.

He catches both my hands in a tight grip, pinning them beside my face, and my body is trapped beneath his hard frame. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I recognize the deep voice, but my fears aren’t eased. “Cal?” I’ve never seen him like this, so forceful and furious. The swell of my breasts rises and falls with my gasps. “How did you find me?”

He speaks through clenched teeth. “Were you hiding from me again?”

“No…” My voice trembles. Still, as frightened as I am, I can’t stop the desire unfurling low in my stomach.