“COULD IT BE JUST ANOTHER fishing trolley?” Stefano grabbed the binoculars from the ledge. His forehead wrinkled as he studied the shape on the horizon.

“Not with that big of a hard-on to catch us. They’re at full speed.” Talino downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

Gemma’s heartbeat kicked into gallop at the sight of another speedboat on the horizon, growing larger with every second. The wake proved it a bigger vessel. And faster. Heading straight for them like a bull at a red cape.

“Vapor’s fast, but I can’t outrun them. And definitely not if you want to sneak into Solana. I’d say ten minutes before they’re alongside us.”

“Damn, you have good eyes, Talino. Keep up the ruse of fishing,” Stefano ordered. “André and Gemma will need to hide in here until they’re gone.”

The thought of staying below deck flipped her gut over, let alone hiding from gunmen in a place with no exits.

“Rico and I will stay out here to help pull off the ruse.” Stefano emptied the cushioned seats to create room. “No one fishes alone. Not a boat this size.”

“What about Talino? They won’t try to kill him?”

“Don’t worry about me, little bird,” he called over his shoulder. “This ain’t my first tussle with the likes of them.”

“You and André must stay hidden,” Stefano urged.

“Why me?”

“There’s no way they’d believe a female fisherman.”

The tiny bench somehow looked smaller when emptied. She doubted she’d fit, let alone André as well. André grabbed their duffel bag and pulled out several handguns. He shoved one in his back waistband and handed another to his bodyguard and Rico. All three faces were emotionless. As if running from someone was just another day in the life of royalty. Gemma wasn’t afraid to shoot someone, just wasn’t familiar with her surroundings. Adjusting a shot for wind while riding a horse was second nature, but not adjusting for the sea’s dips and swells.

André held out a Ruger for her to take, but she shook her head. “I want Lil’ Pete. Grab my shotgun.”

“If we need to use a weapon, you won’t have the space for a shotgun.” André’s serious gaze locked on hers. “Handguns are better for this.”

“He’s right, Gemma,” Stefano murmured over his shoulder and tossed a bundle of ropes in the corner.

Gemma bit the inside of her cheek, and gripped the pistol. But André didn’t let go. They both held the metal in their hands, watching each other.

What the hell is he thinking?

Without a word, he pulled her toward him and locked his other hand around her nape. Pressing his chest against hers, he closed his mouth over her lips, harsh and urgent.

A growl formed low in his chest, and it rumbled through her lips. His tongue slid against hers for a moment, searing his fresh and sweet taste to her memory.

Just as quickly, he pulled back and gestured for her to climb into the open bench. His eyes darkened and cheeks flushed, kicking her heart into overdrive. She’d have rather climbed on top of him, if they weren’t so close to being discovered and killed.

“You first,” she breathed.

“We don’t have time to be afraid, mi amor. Get in.”

“I’m not afraid. I’ll cover you if we’re found.”

André dropped his hand and scowled. His dark hair hung over his forehead and brushed his eyebrows. “I protect you. Not the other way around.”

“I’m not the ruler of a country,” she threw back at him, ignorant of whether her raised voice came from anger or arousal. “You have to be protected, whatever it takes, Your Highness.”

“I will not cower under a woman while she lays her life on the line for me.” His voice morphed back into the one he used when they first met. Commanding, conceited, and infuriating.

Too late for that. The thought slammed into her brain before she could stop it. It wasn’t his fault Reyna stepped into the bullet for him. But it still hurt to look at him and feel this way.

Gemma grabbed his chin and watched his eyes widen, as if he thought she meant to punch him. But instead she locked her lips against his and tasted his mouth until his neck went slack. She could suck on that sunbeam taste for hours if they had the time.

I can silence you with just a kiss, too.

When she pulled back, his lips were swollen and glistening.

“Get off your high-horse and into the damn box.” She pushed him into the bench. He threw his arms out to catch himself and landed ass first. Before he could get out, Gemma grabbed his feet, flung them over the ledge and then climbed in on top of him. If she lay flat against him, they’d both fit into that tiny box. But only if she straddled him.

His eyes widened again as she split her legs and saddled him. Before she closed the lid over her head, Stefano threw her a mischievous smile.

The lid closed and everything went dark, save for a single peephole at the end for air. The bench rattled as Stefano piled things on top.

“I’m sorry for this, Your Highness. Keep quiet,” he murmured through the wood.

André’s breath was hot against her cheek and echoed through the enclosed cage. It was fast and shallow. We he pissed or scared?

“Slow your breathing,” she cooed and forced her own deep breaths through her nose. “We have to be a lot quieter if they board us.”

“I should be on top,” he panted. From the sound of him, she couldn’t tell if he was smiling. She guessed not.

“Not used to a woman in control, huh?” She studied the faint light shadowing his face from the peephole. “Sounds like you need to try new positions.”

The temperature in the box quickly elevated. Everything heated beneath her, and a drop of sweat formed at André’s temple, barely visible in the small beam of light.

“This is hardly the time, if you’re offering.” His breathing grew even more shallow and rapid.

“Silence,” Stefano hissed. “They’re here.”

André squirmed beneath her, his hips and groin wiggling against her sex. His hot breath caught, and his hand shook against her back.

He’s starting to panic.

Gemma did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him, long, slow, and thoroughly. Swirling her tongue against his and along his teeth, she felt his breath slow and match hers, beat for beat. His grip on her back tightened, and pressed her closer. His member grew rigid and searing along her groin, pressing against his jeans. She couldn’t resist grinding her hips into him, feeling the throb between her thighs. Her sex instantly wetted, remembering what it was like to be filled by him. Pounded, breath for breath, stroke by stroke. Taking what she wanted.

A muffled call of Spanish broke through her throbbing, and she released him. A nearly inaudible rumble lifted from his throat. With one hand, she covered his mouth while the other lodged against the side of the bench to keep her weight balanced. Between the voices chatting outside, in a Spanish she couldn’t catch, André fluttered kisses against her palm, wet and hot.

The boat lurched and bumped into something, jarring their bodies harder together.

The other boat was alongside. André stopped kissing her palm, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. The light from the peephole, tiny as it was, probably lit up the worry on her forehead.

When another thump sounded outside—most likely one of them boarding their deck—the engine switched off. The only sound was the lapping of the waves against the hull, and the rocking increased. Only then did Gemma realize the nausea had stopped.

Looks like I found the perfect cure for sea-sickness. Adrenaline and André between my legs.

Footsteps reached the door and Talino joked with someone in Spanish, not Stefano. Gemma listened hard and focused on translating.

“Just dropped off my latest catch in Guam and we’re out for more. There’s a sweet Mahi Mahi spot about an hour south of here.” Talino kept his rough voice upbeat and a little slurred.

Is he trying to sound drunk?

The peephole wasn’t positioned well to see anyone, but from the voices and footsteps, they were still by the door.

“No one goes to Solana,” a sharp voice barked over Talino’s gabble. “Show us what’s in your hold. Now, pendejo!”

“I’m not going to Solana,” Talino lied in that slurred speech he faked well. “Are you deaf? I just said we’re going fishing. I got an empty hold waiting to be filled. Look.”

A hatch opened just outside the door.

“See?” Talino’s voice sounded so casual. Like being boarded and harassed was normal.

“Who are they?” the sharp voice barked again.

“My two greenhorns, from Palau. Santoso and his son, Leo.”

“Quite a direct stare from a greenhorn. You look too old to be green.” Someone spat somewhere. The tension in the air crackled.

Stefano’s direct stare was one thing Gemma liked most about him. No bullshit, unlike his captain friend. He was good at faking bullshit.

“Search the galley. You better not be smuggling anything, old man.”

“I’m too old to be smuggling, junior,” Talino quipped, an edge tingeing his tone. “I’ve been fishing these waters before your mother spread her legs for your papa.”

No, no, Talino. Too much bullshit. Just get them off the boat.

More footsteps surrounded the room and cabinets opened and closed. From the pungent smell of rotting fish, they’d searched the freezer chest as well. Thumps and shakes reverberated through the box they cuddled in, but no one opened it. Yet.

“Pinche cabrón! I had those organized,” Stefano rasped. His voice sounded lazier than usual with a slight lisp. “Leave my maps alone.”

Suddenly a foot kicked their bench, which rocketed through her head. She saw the boot through the peephole—black, with laces up the ankles. They dropped a lit cigarette and stamped on it. The ash and smoke filled the peephole and Gemma nearly coughed. Instead, she let her eyes water and turned her head, ducking her nose into André’s neck. He fluttered a kiss on her cheek.

“What’s in here?”

“Your mother,” Talino laughed. “Along with Hustler magazines and sex toys she loves so much. What do you think, muchacho? Ropes and more gear.”

“Watch your tongue, or I’ll cut it out and throw you over the side. All boats close to Solana get searched, that’s the law.”

“Since when does Solana care about what goes on hours outside its waters?” Talino wheezed back.

“Since King Bendetto took over, that’s when. You don’t like it, jump overboard and swim for New Guinea.”

André’s whole body shook, tense with rage. Gemma couldn’t blame him. King Bendetto. She wanted to rip the guy’s throat out, too.

“You keep your gear in a locked bench? Open it.”

Shit. This whole plan will be over before we ever make land.

Silent as the womb, Gemma pulled her pistol from her waistband and her finger hovered over the trigger. Just one squeeze, and that’s all it would take. She prayed Stefano could handle the rest.

“Open it!” The man kicked the box again.

Her grip on André’s shoulder tightened as she watched his eyes harden. His jaw flinched and he shook his head.

Whatever it takes, Gemma.

This man is mine. He may be a Prince of Solana, a king to many and a bounty to others. But today he is mine. For however long he’s in my arms, they can’t have him.

A lid swung open. Gemma tensed.

Everything was still dark.

“See? Just more gear,” Talino chuckled.

The man had opened the bench beside them. His heavy breath on the other side of the wood smelled rancid. But they were still safely concealed.

“Señores,” Stefano called with his exaggerated lisp. “Your capitán is calling for you.”

A dozen footsteps followed each other out of the galley. Only when the boat tipped again and the engines roared to life did Gemma let out a deep breath. And let go of the trigger.