THE SOUNDS OF NIGHT WERE drastically different on the water. No crickets, coyotes, or frogs, things that normally helped Gemma sleep. The moonless sky was accompanied only by an endless lapping of waves against the hull. Even the stars were different, reflecting off the choppy sea and disappearing into an invisible horizon. The boat could have drifted off into outer space for all the comfort it gave.

Only a single light far in the distance signaled land. At least, according to Talino. To Gemma, it looked like nothing more than a star kissing the ocean.

Kissing the ocean. That’s what it was like with André. That feeling, that unidentifiable taste when she first touched her lips to his. Ever since that moment, her body craved his touch, his exotic scent.

She had no intention of sleeping with him again, but she couldn’t help herself. Those dark eyes kept hypnotizing her, and the current between them was like a lightning storm. Flushed and on the edge of control—minutes from death—he’d never looked hotter. Yes, sex was a release for her, how she handled the mass of tension and confusion clouding together. It was a dark part of her she swore never to revisit, but André brought out those instincts in her. Every morsel of arousal and frustration and unbridled lust amplified and centered on him. Yet with him, it didn’t feel wrong. Quite the opposite.

A deeper part of her admired him for attempting to defend his home, no matter the odds. The ridiculously unfavorable odds. Pride was an agonizing virtue, one she knew too well.

Gemma bit into a biscuit, one of the few foods on board her stomach could keep down. She rested her elbows against the railing and swallowed the dry bread. Functional, yet unfulfilling. Much like the rest of me. She broke the remnants into pieces and flicked them over the side into darkness.

The prick was right. I’m in love with him. I’m in love with the Prince of Solana, and I don’t know whether to kiss him or punch him in the face.

A shuffling made her turn, and Rico climbed the two steps from the galley onto the deck. His pants and T-shirt were black, along with his boots, though in the dark it was hard to see his expression.

“You ready for this, Gemma?” His voice carried the lilt of a Colombian accent and a touch of apprehension.

“Too late if I wasn’t.”

“Here.” He handed her the pistol from earlier. The same she’d used to guard André in the box. “Stefano says there are extra clips in his duffel bag.”

Up close, Gemma noticed Rico wore shoulder holsters over his shirt, a gun in each one. Not just a ranch hand anymore. Clearing her own pistol, she nodded at one of them. “You gonna be used to those up there? Not like reaching for your waist.”

Rico shrugged, but his eyes were hard. “It’s comfortable.”

Gemma snorted and checked the clip. “When this is all over, you and I will find another ranch to work on. We’ll be ok.”

She expected him to give the usual nod and hook his thumbs in his belt loops. But he didn’t move at all. Even his breathing seemed to stop.

“I don’t think so, Gemma.”

“What do you mean?”

The boat dipped and they both grabbed the railing, but it was his continued silence that worried her more.

“If we get out of this,” he started.

“When—” she corrected.

“I can’t pretend like none of this happened. There’s nothing left for me in Texas, or in the States at all.”

She and Reyna knew Rico was an illegal immigrant. Sure, he could have applied for asylum and probably won, but the risk was too great he’d be shipped back to Colombia with a death warrant on his head. He was a good kid looking for a new start, and Reyna needed the help. Gemma had never had a brother before, and Rico was the closest thing to one. Now he was leaving.

“What will you do?” Keeping the disappointment from her voice was hard.

Rico scoffed. “Survive the night, for starters.”

“Just stick by me. You’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t the ranch, Gemma.” He touched her arm. “Sharp shooters and trained soldiers will be firing back. We don’t know the layout or even decent shooting spots.”

“A lush island full of trees and bushes. Sounds like a hell of a lot more hiding places than on the ranch.”

“Exactly. They can be hiding anywhere. With a bunch of innocent people as bystanders. We can’t save all of them.”

“I’m not here to save all of them,” she bit out. “Just one.”

He frowned. “You’ve known André for a week and he’s already that important to you? To risk your life?”

“You heard Reyna. Keep him safe, whatever it takes.”

“Because she was Solanian. He’s her king, not yours.”

“When we left the ranch, I leaned over Reyna’s body and kissed her forehead. I swore I’d make them pay. Don’t you want justice for her? This is the time to fulfill that promise, too. My promise of justice.”

“Justice for Reyna, or Andre?”

Gemma opened her mouth to fire back, but nothing came out. Silence filled the space between them, except for the constant lapping waves. She looked out over the waters, to the single light in the distance.

“What if I said both?” she murmured.

“I know the two of you…like each other, but he’s a king now. With a whole other world of responsibilities. Do you think you’d fit in to that life? More importantly, is that what you’d want?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to—Wait.” Her voice dropped. “Stefano asked you to say something to me, didn’t he?”

Rico dropped his gaze. Guilt in any language.

“Worried about his precious king’s reputation.” Gemma shook her head and raised her stare over Rico’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Stefano?”

The man climbed the steps onto the deck and gripped the railing, bracing his legs against the swaying boat. “And yours, Gemma.”

Rico stepped out of the way, and Gemma seethed at the darkened bodyguard. He was also all in black, but his muscles fit the shirt better than any man his age. His shoulders were back, like a domineering father-figure chastising a teenager. Which is probably what pissed her off most. “No one tells me how to live my life. What happened between André and me is no one else’s business.”

“The prince’s choices affect more than just himself. Forgive me, but what happened between the two of you is also my business. As a matter of State.”

“Spit it out, Stefano,” she growled. “Stop being so damn formal and just tell me what you really want to say. I’m not good for him. Or good enough. He has a life of duties ahead of him, of ruling a country. A life full of crowns, princesses and State dinners. A poor country girl with a foul mouth like mine couldn’t possibly fit into that. You don’t think I know that?”

Stefano looked at Rico and motioned his head for him to leave. When the younger man went below deck, Stefano leaned against the railing and crossed his arms.

“Don’t insult yourself like that,” Stefano murmured over the lapping waves against the hull. “I didn’t know you were interested in that life. Solana is small, Gemma. Not the wide spaces you’re used to in Texas. And it’s a long way from your home. Disconnected in many ways. The woman he chooses to marry will be required to live a certain life, one that involves sacrifices of her freedom, which I don’t believe you’re willing to make.

“However, I know for a fact you are good for him. In more ways than you know. He’s not the same rebellious, lost man as when he left. That’s partly because of you.”

“But?”

His deep sigh filled the empty sky above their heads. “But much has happened to André in the past two weeks that will take years to sort through and overcome. I don’t want either of you to make decisions now—under significant stress—that you may regret later.”

“I can handle stress.”

“Given your childhood, I have no doubts of that. But he can’t. Not as well as you.”

“That’s a problem for a future king.”

“Yes it is,” he answered gravelly. “You see my concern.”

Gemma glanced at the light in the distance again, smelling the salty, damp spray of the sea. André’s home, under siege from the same people responsible for destroying her life.

“Do you love him?” Stefano asked simply. But the words ripped her in half.

Gemma buried her forehead in her hands. She couldn’t say it, too many years of burying her emotions kept her from the words. Kept her from feeling, from being hurt again. Do I love him? Yes, with all the pieces of my heart.

“I’m keeping my promise to Reyna.” Her voice was scratchy. Something coiled around her heart and it was hard to breathe. “I’m not running away anymore. This boat carries what’s left of everything—everyone—important to her. Important to me. I’m going to do the only thing I know how. Fight for it.”

Stefano gave her a hard look. Even in the dark, she could see his jaw muscles flex. Without another word, he reached behind him and pulled a pistol from his waist and handed it to her, grip first.

“I have one,” she said.

“You’ll need more.”