ANDRÉ’S FACE BURNED. HE’D ONLY caught a portion of the conversation between Stefano and the other Guardsman, and it was more than enough to piss him off. His choices—relationships—were criticized once again, like a teenager back under the discipline of his father.

But he was still reeling from the initial greeting upon entering the cottage. It had been years since he’d been around the military leaders, and even then he was just a prince. ‘Your Majesty’ was reserved for his father and mother. Hearing the title on his shoulders further cemented the pain of his shame. Because he didn’t deserve the honor.

They had been fighting for their country without him, braving the chaos themselves while they watched their island ripped apart by a maniacal cartel-controlled psycho. Eighty-one people—no, eighty-two—had died defending his responsibility.

Now he was here. With one chance to prove he was worthy of being their leader. At least until his sister was found. He’d save the throne for her.

Then maybe a future with Gemma was possible.

If they survived.

Gemma moved back into the room with two glasses of water and a distinct scowl. The headache must be worse. She handed one glass to Rico, who was busy listening to the radio with a soldier. Then she moved to André, most of the gazes following the sound of her boots on the wood floor. Her demeanor was reserved, but by the look in her eyes she was still calculating, waiting for the right moment to speak her mind. Her fingers were cold as she handed the glass to André, and the muscles in her jaw twitched.

“Gracias,” he murmured with a smile.

Without a word or another glance, she went back to the kitchen. Then brought out a third glass and set it on the table by Stefano, where he perused a map with a Guardsman. When he nodded, she glared at him.

“Your Majesty.” Colonel Flores cleared his throat and bowed his head.

“Your Highness, please Colonel,” André interrupted. “I am not the King.”

The officer and his men stared at him dumbfounded. Eventually, he continued. “If I may review the plan of attack. We should move quickly.”

André nodded and plastered on his father’s austere look.

“Now that the prince and Stefano have arrived, we will move forward with the next phase. We’ll coordinate our strikes on the various outer battalions, focusing on their ammunition reserves by the marina, to draw attention away from the palace, giving the Guardsmen a chance to infiltrate the grounds. From there, they’ll corner Bendetto to force a surrender.”

“Bendetto will do whatever it takes to save his own skin, once he realizes there’s no one left to defend him,” Stefano added. “The mercenaries are only in this for the money. If Bendetto isn’t around to pay them, they’ll leave. Especially if the Army is persuading them with oppressive fire.”

The colonel nodded with a hand on his weapon. “Our forces will continue with the attacks until we receive word on the radio that Bendetto has surrendered.”

“What is the casualty risk?” André interrupted. “There are many homes behind the marina, including the market.”

“Moderate risk, since it’s dark already. People have been hunkered down in their homes for most of the week.” The colonel’s jaw line tensed, and André caught the momentary flicker of anger. “They’ll know to stay off the streets.”

Yes, I haven’t been here to see it. But I am now.

“How realistic is your chance at capturing Bendetto?” The colonel directed to Stefano, his mustache twitching. “My men have been biding their time for the right shot, only to see more of their comrades slaughtered by these madmen. I want this to be the end of it.”

“We all do, Colonel,” Stefano answered. “None more than His Highness. Getting into the palace is the easy part. If the intel is accurate, Bendetto should be sleeping in the king’s chambers with only a few guards on that level.”

“You have a man on the inside, I take it?”

André and Gemma both glanced at Stefano. His jaw tensed as he stared at the map on the table. “Of sorts.”

From across the room, André watched Gemma tense and fixate on Stefano. When he didn’t look up, she moved her gaze to André and raised her brow. Something didn’t smell right.

A man on the inside? He was too confused to be angry that Stefano had kept more secrets from him. About his country, his people. Who could this inside man be? Why does he still not trust me?

 

 

 

The hike through the underbrush felt slower than before, but only because they had a further distance to travel with an additional three behind Gemma: the two guardsmen from the cottage, Felipe and Carlos, and a soldier named Quintana. Prickles raced along her spine from the idea of three additional guns aimed at her back. She wasn’t used to backup.

The jaunt up and over the hill to the backside of the palace gardens was steep, but easy to stay concealed under the expansive trees. What a sight this place would be in daylight. Solana was a major tourist spot, before all of this havoc ripped the island apart. From the brief info Stefano and André had told her on the plane, Solana was the wealthiest island in the South Pacific, with a revamped marina for luxury cruise liners and expanded airport allowing for triple-seven planes. Most of the citizens were at least modestly rich with very little unemployment, thanks to the income from the ammephire mines and industry. New five-star hotels were built every other year, with a casino currently under construction. Even an accredited university with specialties in Marine Engineering, Sciences and Business programs drew more people as permanent residents. Though tourism was their new bread-and-butter, the precious gem mining kept the country desirable to outsiders. But the highest ranked feature on her list was the beaches. Gemma hadn’t been on one before, but if they survived she’d add a tropical vacation to her bucket list.

From the top of the hill, the palace shined brightly through the trees, a white oasis with cerulean rooftops and greenery covered archways lit up by spotlights. The pool was illuminated with underwater lights, easily visible in the back, and large enough to swallow a yacht, with waterfalls in every corner—all twelve of them. Security roamed the grounds at every entrance like black ants with Uzis, including by the cabanas.

Another white building stood in the corner of the grounds, crawling with guards. Beyond it was an expansive grass area that stretched to the edge of the shadows. That had to be the stables. For the horses André’s mother had purchased from Spain. Gemma would’ve loved to see the inside of those stables. A lump lodged in her throat, remembering her horses’ screams…

Not now, Gemma.

The gardens spread across another ten acres behind the cabanas, hilly and lush with fewer spotlights, though every inch pristinely manicured. A massive fountain in the middle rivaled the tall palm trees around the edges. The rose beds were at the far back at the bottom of the hill, under a trellis of ivy and red blossoms Gemma couldn’t identify. Not a single guard in the garden.

Their crew had stooped behind several trees at the top of the hill. Stefano and Carlos surveyed the layout with binoculars. “The target is the second to last rose bed on the left.” Stefano handed the binoculars to André.

Gemma wasn’t looking for the rose bed. Her eyes were focused on the windows, the hundred or so on the backside. Which ones had people in them and what kind of weaponry did they hold? Was Vasco sleeping in any of them, licking his wounds?

André handed her the binoculars and scooted closer to her side. “The lower center window is the backside of the throne room,” he whispered. The warmth of his breath in her ear distracted her, a small comfort from her jacked heart rate. “From there, go up and six windows to the left, that’s my mother’s drawing room. Three more windows to the left are the king’s chambers, spanning across another four windows. Bendetto will be in there.”

“Which means more guards on that level, not just at the entrances,” she deduced.

André gripped her hand and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Whatever he wanted to say, he couldn’t get the words out.

“Save it.” Gemma swallowed and squeezed his hand. “Tell me when we’re done.”

Before she could lean in to kiss him, an explosion shook the ground. The sky lit up like fireworks. Or one big one, with a hell of a lot of fire in its wake.

In the distance beyond the palace, a fireball rose into the dark air, casting an orange glow over a half mile wide. The black ants skittered toward the front of the grounds and the distant sounds of gunfire captivated the night.

“That’s our signal.” Stefano didn’t bother to whisper. He snuck down the hill with his weapon at the ready, the rest of their tiny crew following close behind. The sky continued to light up in short intervals with more gunfire and blasts shaking the palm trees. Gemma kept her shotgun up and eyes on André’s back. The gardens appeared behind a row of palm trees, the lights overhead exposing them to any watching eyes. Gemma prayed the explosions kept Bendetto’s men distracted. Beyond the trellises of the rosebeds, the fountain rose like a spire, the naked mermaids and water sirens carved in pink marble, spewing water from their mouths.

The scent of roses and other unknown tropical flowers strengthened from this spot, almost an overpowering perfume. Gemma gripped her shotgun and followed behind Stefano and André, dashing across the damp grass to the rose bed. Hidden in the surrounding bushes, more iguanas skittered away, making her jump and curse. Before she reached the target, Stefano had already uncovered a hidden latch and pulled up, revealing a hole into the darkened interior. Like a tornado shelter back home, but with a metal ladder instead of concrete stairs.

Carlos went in first, followed by André. Gemma couldn’t see the bottom, but trusted the ones before her and slung her shotgun over her back, grabbing the rails. When she reached the bottom, a small light switched on. She spun, grappling for her shotgun.

Carlos was a few yards ahead of her, checking the tunnel while André kept his back to the wall. Gemma let out her breath and lowered the gun. Stefano and Felipe came down behind her, along with Quintana who’d closed the latch behind him with a creak. The smell of damp mildew filled the space.

“We’re in a death trap if anyone’s down here.” Gemma’s heart still raced.

“Then move fast.” Stefano brushed past her with his weapon up.

Moving through the tunnel took longer than she wanted. The straight-a-ways were broken up by the occasional corner where Stefano or Carlos would hold up their fist and check the turn before scurrying on ahead. Every fifty yards or so, they’d pass another overhead light, sputtering on its last legs like the tunnel itself. This place had been forgotten over the years.

Then why are the lights on?

The closer to the palace they came, the tunnel shook more with every firebomb or grenade from above. Death trap, indeed. We need to get out of this box, now.

Stefano stopped and turned to face the group, his face hard. “The exit for the pantry is just ahead. Carlos and I will go up first, clear the kitchen and wave you up. From there, we’ll go in groups of two across the hall to the linen closet where the stairwell to the Queen’s drawing room is hidden.”

“What about the cameras?” Quintana asked from the back of the group. The man’s face was young, but his eyes were aged.

“I’ll head to the surveillance room first and take out the cameras. All other teams head to the queen’s drawing room and clear the way. We’ll capture Bendetto together.” Stefano ordered. “The prince and Felipe are with me, Carlos with Gemma, Rico with Quintana.

Gemma’s eyes flared. André hadn’t been out of her sight since Reyna’s death, and she wasn’t about to break her word now. God knew what could happen to him, even with Stefano at his side. She opened her mouth to protest, but another vibration from an explosion shook the tunnel. Footsteps raced above their heads, followed by angry voices.

The voices grew louder, in Spanish, too fast for Gemma to make out. Seconds later, doors slammed. No one in the tunnel moved or made a sound for an agonizing moment. Stefano climbed the ladder as quietly as possible and pushed the latch up an inch.

A breath later, he’d opened the hatch and climbed through, the other two guardsmen on his heels. The shadowy interior above her kept everything hidden, but Gemma could make out Felipe’s boots. Then they moved away. Silence endured for much longer than she liked. André stared back at her, his dark eyes as intense as she felt.

Pop! Pop!

Gemma threw herself against André, shoving him in the corner of the tunnel and spun, keeping her weight against him as she aimed Lil’ Pete at the opening. Rico and Quintana aimed their weapons as well.

More gunfire sounded above them, but muffled and distant.

This position was not defendable. All it would take was one automatic rifle and they were all goners by the time they pulled the trigger. Gemma motioned Rico over to her side and then pushed him in her place.

She slung Lil’ Pete over her back and pulled the pistol from her thigh. As she climbed the ladder, Rico whispered no! but she kept her gaze glued to the shadows above her. She wasn’t going to let André die in a box with no escape.

She pulled herself up and stood in the middle of a large pantry, stacked with non-perishable foods from floor to ceiling. The only other door to the kitchen was slightly ajar. Out of one box into another.

Gemma gripped her pistol and edged to the door. Her heart raced, but her hands were steady. Peering through the opening, she surveyed the kitchen. Industrial sized stainless steel fridges, ovens, and stoves lined the walls. A huge grill stood in the middle with an even bigger vent overhead. A kitchen to cook for hundreds of people. Gemma’s heart jumped when she spotted the three bodies on the floor, blood seeping to the several drains in the white tile floor.

Mercenaries.

No one else was in the room.

“It’s clear,” she whispered over her shoulder. Shuffling up the ladder, Rico emerged from the tunnel, followed by André and Quintana.

“You should have followed orders and waited for Stefano,” Quintana growled.

“What if they got caught up somewhere? You want André in a box for easy killing?”

The soldier’s eyes flared. “Su Majestad is—”

“Silence,” André rasped. “Where’s Stefano?”

“I’m here,” the man answered low from the other side of the kitchen, gun raised as he stepped over a body. The other two men came in behind him. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” His glower was aimed at Gemma.

Gemma ignored the clutch on her gut and rolled her eyes. “Are we doing this or not?”

Stefano seethed, but looked to André. “His Highness is with me. Stay in your group and make it to the queen’s drawing room. From there, clear the way to the king’s chambers. Take out any of Bendetto’s men you see. I want the floor cleared. Wait three minutes after I leave so I can take out the cameras first. Carlos, you and Gemma proceed next.”

“Sir?” Carlos’s mouth parted and his eyes protested.

“Trust me,” Stefano returned to Carlos, then locked his stare on Gemma. “You wanted to fight for Reyna. Now’s your chance.”

Teeth clenched, Gemma’s heart steadied. Damn right, I want to fight. I’ll take this entire palace down if I have to. She stepped forward to join Carlos, but André grabbed her elbow and turned her back. The wild craze in his eyes almost scared her as his shaking hands gripped her skin. Before she could inhale, he locked his mouth against hers and guided his tongue along her lips. The kiss was hot, in more ways than one. Heat flushed up her cheeks.

When he pulled back, his chest heaved with every breath, and his pupils were almost dilated. “I swore I’d never let a woman step in front for me again. I beg you, be careful.”

Through the corner of her eye, Carlos and Felipe’s mouths dropped, but Stefano continued to bite on something bitter.

“You too, Your Highness,” her voice breathless.