A Player for A Princess: Dirty Players Duet #2 (9 page)

A
nother day gone
, and still no answers. Freddie has scoured every cargo captain, and not a one has connections to Totrington. Most cargo ships are based in the islands or in the U.S. and they carry produce or oil.

“What about this guy?” Freddie says, pointing to an online manifest. “Adem Tanipar?”

“That sounds Turkish,” I say, walking to the large computer screen and leaning forward.

I’m holding the papers on a Russian captain Logan ran background checks on yesterday. No connections to any southern European countries. Still, it’s the closest we’ve come—until now.

“Your uncle fled to Turkey after the shooting at the race.” He looks up at me, and my eyebrows rise.

“Where is Reggie now?” I drop the Russian captain’s papers on the table as adrenaline spikes in my veins.

“We haven’t been able to locate him.” Freddie moves the mouse, and I hear the printer start to work. “He didn’t accompany Wade to Tortola. It seems they’ve split up.”

“Where could he have gone…” I say it as much to myself as to Freddie.

We’re in the large library on the first floor of the palace, and an oil painting of my mother reading a book is situated over a burgundy leather chair with shiny brass buttons. My eyes fix on her, and an idea flashes through my mind.

“Have Logan run a full background check on Adem Tanipar. I’m going to speak to the Queen.”

M
y mother is sitting
at the blonde wood writing desk in her bright, yellow study with a stack of linen thank you cards beside her. The tall windows are covered in thin, lace curtains, and it all feels very cheerful and summery. I’m working hard to keep my temper under control.

It’s not my manner to be angry with Olivia, but the realization I just had makes me want to shout at her.

“I need to speak to you, Mother,” I say, striding into the room.

“MacCallum,” she says without looking up. She’s holding a cloisonné fountain pen, and she doesn’t pause in writing on the pale linen notecard in front of her. “I haven’t seen you since you returned from your trip. Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected,” I say, pacing the room. My hands are clasped tightly behind my back. It’s going to be difficult to keep this up for long.

“You seem agitated.” She’s still focused on her letter. “Would you please fetch a bottle of the Canard-Duchêne?”

My eyes flicker to the clock. It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. A bit on the early side, but not shockingly so, and the Canard-Duchêne is her favorite champagne as well as mine.

I go to the small wine refrigerator and open the door. Taking a black bottle from the rack, I set it on the counter and proceed to remove the foil, loosen the basket, and carefully slide the cork from its place.

Two flutes are on the portable wet bar at the window behind her desk, and I pour us each a glass before returning to where she sits.

Finally, she places her pen carefully on the blotter and folds the linen paper. “Now, what in heaven’s name is troubling you, MacCallum?”

I let a moment pass, watching as she calmly seals the envelope with a stamp and places it to the side.

“You, Mother,” I answer, and her blue eyes flicker up to mine. “You’ve been keeping up with Reggie. You never stopped communicating with him when Rowan turned him out of the kingdom. You know everything he does and you can get in touch with him whenever you wish.”

Leaning back in her chair, she lifts the champagne flute and takes a small sip. “I don’t know if every word of that is true. I don’t know everything he does, and I can hardly reach him whenever I want.”

I’m at my limit. Stepping forward, I place my palms flat on her desk. “Where is Reggie, Mother?”

“I’m not sure where he is at the moment, MacCallum.” Her eyebrow arches, and she looks up at me. “Despite what you think, my brother does not send me his daily itinerary.”

My jaw clenches, and as much as I respect my mother, murderous thoughts flicker across my mind. “When is the last time you spoke to him?”

Standing, she walks to the empty fireplace and sets her champagne flute on the mantle. “You and Rowan are determined to make Reggie into a villain. If you would take a step back from the situation, I can explain how you are wrong.”

The tightness in my chest makes it difficult to be patient. “I’m all ears.”

“When your father died, Rowan was thrust into a position of leadership whilst at the same time attempting to deal with a tragic loss.” Her blue eyes are fixed on the blackened grate in front of her.

For a moment I study her short grey hair, styled in a perfect helmut. Today she’s dressed in a different, severe pantsuit. It’s cream with navy pinstripes, and her pearls are, as always, perfectly arranged at her neck. Total control.

“I think Ro did a fine job stepping into leadership,” I say. “He’s never been one to be overcome by personal matters. Even now. He inherited your nerves of steel.”

I add that point in case she might try to implicate Ava somehow for distracting him from his “duty,” although the whole idea he should find a wife originated with her.

“He did a fine job,” my mother says with a slow exhale. “You’re right. Rowan is a true Westringham. He has the sophistication and the innate elegance to lead. The fire he inherited from the Tate side.” She looks at me and allows a little grin. “You, my dear, seem to have received a straight injection of Tate fire with only a touch of Westringham to temper it.”

“Enough of this talk.” My patience is gone, and whether it’s the Tate in me or simply my love for Zelda, I don’t have time to sort it. “My uncle has been working with Wade Paxton, and I want to know how much you know about his plans.”

Her face grows serious, and she returns to her desk. “It’s true. Reggie has been working with Wade since your father died.”

“You’ve known about their connection since Father died?” I take a step forward, and my hand brushes over a brass statue of a pointer dog positioned on an end table. I’m angry enough to smash it through a window.

“Control yourself, MacCallum!” My mother’s voice rises, and her eyes flash. “Your uncle has been working with Wade Paxton on my orders. I’m still the Queen of Monagasco!”

Her voice echoes slightly in the room. My lips part, and for a moment, I’m not sure how to proceed. She is still the leader of our country. Rowan has not succeeded her yet. The succession referendum has not even been drafted, so for all intents and purposes, our mother is still in charge of this country. She is eager to retire and has been increasingly ceding responsibility to my brother, but she has the power.

“Mother,” I say, dropping to the seat. Her confession changes everything, from the ransom demands to the reason I entered this room in the first place.

Only one word crystallizes in my mind: “Why?”

“Your father had a heart condition, MacCallum. He had a short temper and he was significantly overweight.” She looks down at the table and murmurs a brief prayer. “I’m not speaking ill of the dead, but the fact is, you cannot blame your uncle for Phillip’s death.”

“I might not, but Rowan certainly does.” It’s not an attack. I’m simply stating the facts.

“Your brother was very hurt and angry by what happened to his father, and it was a most appropriate way to respond. However, our country has been in jeopardy since before the two of you were born. Reggie and I made a vow to save Monagasco at all costs.”

“At all costs? What does that mean, Mother?” My tone is edged with ice. “What do you consider a cost?”

“Hubert joined forces with Wade, and Reggie was determined to stop them. He is as committed to keeping Monagasco independent as your father ever was. His goal was to infiltrate their plans, report them back to me, and help us destroy them from the inside.”

Silence. The ticking of the brass clock on her desk.

“You say that was his plan.” I’m thinking about what I know. “How did it change?”

“When Rowan kicked the entire cabinet out, Reggie went with them.” She returns to her desk and lifts the cloisonné pen. “He had to choose whether to continue tracking your father’s betrayers or come clean and lose all access he had to them and their plans.”

“He chose to stay in league with Twatrington.” I say, finishing her sentence.

“To protect his country. Reggie is one of us.”

For a moment, I think about what I know of my uncle’s involvement in the plans to overthrow our government, in the plans to sabotage Rowan’s car at the grand prix, in the attempt to kill Ava, in the kidnapping of Zelda… I know very little, actually.

“When he returned with Zelda and Ava, did you have a role in that as well?”

She does a little shrug. “I only know your uncle needed to get back into the country somehow.”

“So this bit about him finding an heiress for Rowan to woo—all of it was simply a coincidence, considering you had just proposed the exact same solution and planned a ball to facilitate it?”

Her blue eyes snap up to mine. “Your uncle has always been very resourceful.”

“You told him what you were planning.” It’s all clicking into place. “He simply had to find a woman—or in this case two—to be his ticket back inside Monagasco.”

“Wade Paxton was already here. He secured a pardon from Hampton de Clare and had begun drafting the treaty to unite our countries. Hampton was already in the process of strong-arming members of both parliaments behind the scenes, creating stories of Rowan’s risk-taking and inexperience—”

“So Rowan was right. The King of Totrington is supporting Wade’s efforts,” I clarify.

“Once Hampton let him back in, I needed your uncle to return from exile.”

My brow lines, and I walk around the space trying to piece everything she’s saying together. It’s going to be hard to think of Reggie as an ally in this.

“Why not simply tell Rowan everything?” I ask.

She lets out a long sigh. “Remember the part about his Tate fire? Rowan has a tendency to overreact when he feels threatened.”

“He can’t throw
you
out of the kingdom, Mother.”

“Either way, Reggie is in a precarious position. If we embrace him now, if Rowan pardons him and brings him back into the fold, we risk losing everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish.” She levels serious eyes on mine. “Wade Paxton is a thug. If he finds out your uncle is a spy, he will kill him. Most likely in some sinister way.”

Now I’m at a loss. I’m trying to figure out what to do next or how to move forward. Rowan needs to know about this. He needs to know everything, and we need to make a new plan.

“Do you know about the ransom note? Their demands?”

I watch as she takes a sip of champagne. “I heard something about it. They want Rowan to forego his right to succession in favor of uniting the countries.”

“Among other things.”

“They seem to think the succession referendum has already been drafted, that I’m already planning my retirement celebration.”

“They’ve given us a pretty tight deadline.”

She pushes out of her chair and starts for the door. “I think we should take a holiday at Occitan. I think we should go there and discuss my displeasure with Rowan’s choice in fiancée. We should have several very loud and clear debates on my decision to continue on as the titular leader until he comes to his senses. I’ll be sure to use simple language even a rat can understand.”

I’m on my feet and following her to the exit. “You know about the security breach at Occitan?”

Pausing at the door, her voice is thoughtful. “I think we should feed our rat some poisoned cheese and see where the carcass leads us.”

It’s an idea that can definitely buy us time. “You’d better tell Rowan everything before you start attacking Ava, even fictitiously. He can handle it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she says, giving me a sly smile.

“The three of you go ahead, and I’ll join you in a day or so.” I kiss her cheek, heading back for where I left Freddie. “Please let my uncle know I’ll be here waiting to speak to him.”

I
find
a mirror in a drawer under the kitchen cabinet. Beside it are a tiny canister of talc and the smallest bottle of cologne I’ve ever seen. I open the bottle, and it smells like baby powder.

“This must be Selena’s,” I say, deciding against borrowing her brush.

Lifting the mirror, I’m startled when I see my face. The bruise on my lower cheek is purple, and my mouth is swollen. Dried blood is stuck in the corners of my lips. I smile, and the hole where my tooth used to be is exposed.

“At least it was in the back,” I say pulling my lip down. I don’t look as terrible as I could, but my hair is insane. “I need to get cleaned up.”

I glance over at my sleeping friend. She hasn’t moved since I tried to put the blanket over her, and I don’t want to bother her over something I can probably find myself. One last look in the mirror, this time I study my eyes. My pupils are not dilated, which gives me a bit of relief. I’m still not okay, but maybe it’s not a concussion.

Shoving the mirror back in the drawer, I take off out of the house determined to learn about my surroundings. A different woman is watching me from the third cottage, and I try again doing a small wave, giving a little smile. She doesn’t run away, but she doesn’t return my greeting. I decide to wait for Selena before attempting to make contact. They can’t understand me anyway.

Going to the back of the house, I find a little garden. It’s four rows wide, and I see tomato plants, okra, what looks like cabbage growing in it. Green sprouts over what must be carrots are beside the longer tops of onions. I’m impressed and a little discouraged. She’s growing her own food?

Between the outhouse, the lack of electricity, no glass for windows or even wood for doors, I’m concerned we really are cut off from everything. My only hope is Selena goes to school somewhere, which means she has a teacher, and a teacher will have contact with the outside world.

Walking through the brush, I look down at my hand, and I see Cal’s ring. My chest squeezes as I remember the twinkle in his eyes as I begged to keep it. He was right. A purplish-green line is on my finger just beneath the tin band. I hold it against my chest and wonder what he’s doing. Is he worried? Is he searching for me?

I try to imagine what he thought when I never returned to meet him. Wade took my picture holding that newspaper as some sort of “proof of life” image, but what kind of demands is he making?

No one knows about our engagement—I’m not even sure it’s official. Even if it were, Cal isn’t Rowan. I remember Reggie said if something happened to the crown prince, Cal would take his place. Does that make me valuable? I don’t know enough about the politics of their countries to answer this question. Although, if I’m not valuable…

The thought churns my stomach. It’s only a matter of time before they get rid of me. Looking around, I know I’ve got to find a way off this island.

The dirt path continues to the edge of the forest. A strange succulent that looks like a giant aloe vera plant is at the tree line. It’s as tall as I am, and makes me think of something out of the dinosaur era.

I’m away from the little camp, but I’m not any closer to signs of a town or civilization. The trees are thinner. I keep going a few more steps, and they part. I’ve found a deserted beach, but it isn’t sandy. It’s covered in stones the size of my palms.

Picking one of them up, I study the smooth surface. It’s large and gray, but others are red. Some are blue. Some are yellow and green. It’s actually a vivid assortment of colors. Massive rocks are up ahead, and I climb over one to find several smooth, gray boulders surround a clear pool of turquoise water. It’s like a hidden bath. This place is so beautiful—pristine and undisturbed. How is it possible no one’s found it?

It’s completely deserted as far as I can see in all directions, so I carefully untie the halter-top of my dress and slide the zipper down my side. I ditched my panties after the first night, so I’m totally nude when I lower my aching body into the cool water. One enormous boulder is in the center, and a little ring of soft white sand surrounds it. I sit on its flat surface and reach down for the sand to rub over my skin.

I don’t have soap, but the salt water is cleansing, and the sand scrubs away the feeling of dirt. Lifting handfuls of water, I clean the blood off my mouth and cheeks, and I lean back to clean my hair. For several long moments, I float on my back with my eyes closed. I feel like a castaway lost on a deserted island, and except for the small band of women back at the camp, it’s possible I am.

When I finally decide it’s time to head back, I sit on the rock a while, letting the sea breeze dry my skin. I feel refreshed and encouraged, and I wonder if Selena will be home when I get back. I’m finally dry, and I climb over the rocks and put on my dress.

It takes me a few minutes to find the path I followed to get here, but I’m headed back, noticing familiar landmarks as I make my way. The dinosaur plant is at the edge of the path. As I walk, I notice another large palm with brilliant pink flowers up ahead. I didn’t notice it before, and I consider picking some of the blooms for my friend back at the house.

I’m about to step into the forest to do it when the man from last night charges out of the brush screaming.

“ABO! ABO!” He grabs my forearm in a vise grip, and the bruises and blood on my friend’s face send me into a panic. I’m not sure I can take another beating just yet.

“ABO NO TA SALI ESAKI KAS!” He yells, black eyes flashing with rage.

Still holding my arm, he drags me behind him a few paces in the direction of the houses. He’s not very tall, but he’s strong, and he’s talking so fast… Well, I wouldn’t be able to understand him anyway. Still, the way he’s shouting in a foreign language makes my heart race.

“I don’t understand!” I scream, and he gives my arm a violent, forward jerk that sends me scrambling to the path in front of him.

“ABO NO TA SALI ESAKI KAS!” He yells, storming toward me, black eyes blazing.

“Saying it louder doesn’t help me understand!” I scream back.

I’m on the ground, and my relaxing bath is ruined. I’m panicked and dirty, and I don’t know what he’s saying. Reaching down, he catches me under the arms and hauls me to my feet. Then he pushes me forward in the direction of the houses.

I stumble catching my balance, relieved when I see the small garden I explored on my way out. Once I know where I am, I pick up the pace and start to run to where I hope Selena is waiting.

Rounding the corner of the house, I charge through the curtain that serves as a door, and relief hits me so hard. My little friend is sitting at the table with a book in front of her. When she sees me, her green eyes go round.

“You’re alive!” she whispers, and my stomach drops.

The door behind me opens in a swirl, and the small dictator is in the house again, causing my friend and her daughter to fly screaming to the back corner, crouching on the floor between their cots.

“ABO NO TA SALI ESAKI KAS!” He says, looking at them but pointing at me. “Bisa su! BISA!”

Their panic causes me to panic, and now I’m standing with the small table between him and me. I look from him to my friends and back again quickly.

“INGLES!” he says, and finally Selena speaks.

“He says you’re not to leave the house.” Her voice is so small, I want to run and stand in front of her and her poor battered mother.

Instead, I nod quickly. “Si, SI!” I shout at him.

The man’s eyes flash and he storms toward me. I circle the table, keeping the small furniture between us.

“Abo hasi problema pa mi,” he hisses, “Ami hasi problema pa abo!”

My eyes are straining as I look to Selena. Her voice is barely audible. “He says if you make trouble for him, he’ll make trouble for you.”

Holding my hands up, palms facing him, I nod as quickly as my aching head will allow. “SI, SI!”

He stands in the house several moments longer surveying me with that evil light flashing in his black eyes. Finally, he seems satisfied and starts for the door. I move around the table, still keeping it between us in case he changes his mind before he leaves. He doesn’t, and when he’s finally gone, the room feels very quiet and empty.

The soft noise of Selena’s mom crying is the only sound apart from my panicked breathing. I look over to see Selena hugging her mother and stroking her hair. The woman clings to her daughter, and I feel my heart breaking.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, going to them.

The woman continues crying, and I sit on the cot reaching out to touch her back gently.

“I’m so sorry, Selena,” I repeat, trying to keep from crying myself. “I wanted to bathe. I was dirty.”

“We have a shower in the trees behind the toilet,” she says, her voice still trembling. “I can show it to you.”

“Who is that man? What did he do to your mother?”

She blinks down as if ashamed. “His name is Mako. He owns us.”

“Owns you?” My head involuntarily jerks back. “What does that mean? Is he your father?”

“NO!” she shouts, causing her mother to jump and whimper.

Selena speaks to her in their language, and I stand off the cot. “Let’s help her lie down.”

The girl speaks to her again, and they rise slowly off the floor. Her mother moves onto the bed and resumes her position facing the wall.

“What… happened to her?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

Selena’s voice turns cold. “A boat came.”

My heart leaps at those words. “A boat? That means—”

“The men come, and they take my mother. They take the other women.” Today there is no fear. Today she is quiet rage. “One day they will come for me.”

Now I’m the one gripping her arms. “No!”

I’m in no position to promise anything, but it’s like having Ava again. I won’t let Selena be hurt.

The little girl walks to the kitchen, and I watch as she reaches into the cabinets, taking out a bag of cornmeal. A bowl holding carrots and onions is beside that, and today she goes to the box I guessed correctly was a small refrigerator. In it is what looks like a very small piece of meat.

Looking back at the woman on the bed, my voice is quiet. “What is her name?”

My young friend looks up. “Ximena.”

I take a step forward and touch her shoulder lightly. “I’m going to get us out of here, Ximena. I don’t know how, but I won’t leave you behind.”